Chapter Text
The chains are heavy. They make the cuffs cut into Franky’s skin like blades. It doesn’t hurt like it should, not after the modification he’s put himself through after Tom was taken, but it’s not a pleasant sight. And it does hurt. Because hell knows what those bloody Marines put into their iron. Franky doesn’t have devil fruit powers, but they might have cuffed him with seastone just to be sure. Franky feels weak. The chains are probably not the main reason for his exhaustion though.
Blood is dripping down from the cut in Franky’s head. The soaring pain in his back is a constant reminder of the three bullets that finally took him down. Because Franky fought. He fought like hell, growling, and biting, and shooting. Even when he was laying on the ground, slowly bleeding to death. Even when he knew it was over.
Being walked through dark corridors to the Gods know where makes Franky wish that it had been over. Right there and then, on the cobblestones of Water 7, the only city he had ever called home. Surrounded by the bodies of the people he loved. It wouldn’t have been the worst way to die. In a way, it would have been a do-over of his failed attempt to stop the sea train years ago. But he failed. Again. Only this time, he was the one taken onto the train.
A guard hits him in the back with his rifle. Despite his best effort, Franky grunts. “Move. We don’t have all day.”
“Oh, too bad,” Franky presses out between clenched teeth. “You have somewhere to be?”
Unsurprisingly, that earns him a second hit. “So do you.”
Franky has his suspicions where that might be. Dread rises in him. But Franky isn’t dead yet, and he’ll be damned if he shows those nameless, meaningless soldiers even an ounce of fear. “I’m in no rush.”
He’s kicked further down the corridor. His vision is blurry. Guards melt together with doors and corridors. Despite Franky shaking his head every few seconds, he’s almost unconscious with blood loss and exhaustion when they finally reach their destination. Franky is startled enough by the sound of a key being turned in a lock to look up and see a row of small cells before being unceremoniously dumped into one. Franky promptly falls to the floor.
At least, it’s not another butcher’s table. For now.
When he looks up, the guards have stepped back.
Another man is approaching the cell bars. His Navy cape and aura tell Franky that he’s an important man. Franky doesn’t know his name. He doesn’t want to know it. He thinks he should.
“All of this is entirely your doing, you know.” The man watches Franky through the bars. “If you had talked in Water 7, or on the train, or on the ship to Marineford, it would all be over already.”
Franky gives his best impression of a smile. “What a nice way to say that I would be super dead.”
“Being dead isn’t the worst thing to be.” The man’s voice is empty. Void of human emotion. “In this world the only way to be without cares is to be either dead or immortal. It’s only mortals who fear pain and death.”
“I can’t argue with that. It changes nothing though. I have no idea what you want from me.”
It’s all he said when they shot him down in Water 7. All he mumbled when they slapped and kicked him on the train to Enies Lobby. All they could get from him when they took knives to his wounds and reopened them on the ship to Marineford.
“I see. And the sketches? The shipyard? If you can call it that.”
Franky doesn’t answer. Because he isn’t going to tell them the truth. Because there is no point in lying. They know. They just don’t know everything yet. It’s what he’s here for.
The officer waits for a long moment.
Eventually, he pulls up one lip in an almost-smile. “Have it your way, then. We’re prepared to entertain you as long as needed. You will talk. The only question is how long you’ll scream before you do.”
Again, Franky says nothing.
The only sound piercing the silence is made by the footsteps of the man and his guards as they march away.
Franky can’t help but draw a breath as soon as they’re out of earshot.
“Rough first day?”
Franky turns but there is no one behind him. The cell is empty. It takes him a moment to realize the voice is coming from one of the other cells down the hallway. The walls between them are solid, so it’s impossible for either of them see the other but voices carry well enough, apparently.
Franky laughs tiredly. “I guess you could say that.”
He carefully feels the wounds on his back. He’s lost a lot of blood, but the bullets didn’t hit anything vital. The blood is already solidifying. It’s going to hurt like hell for a few days, but he’ll live.
“I thought they’d take me to Impel Down.”
Franky doesn’t know why he says it. Only that it’s true. He only realized they were taking him to Navy Headquarters when he looked out of a porthole and saw Marineford in the distance.
“Nah.” The voice must belong to a man, but Franky can’t make out anything else. “Impel Down is for people they want to forget. Scum they don’t mind being tortured and then disposed of. It’s hell, of course, but at least they forget about you. Being here? It means they still want something from you. They won’t let you die before they have it.”
Franky closes his eyes. “Great.”
“You’re stronger than me,” the other man says after a moment. “I told them everything I knew the first day they tortured me. It didn’t do me any good, unfortunately.”
“Why?”
“’Cause they don’t believe that, of course. They still think I’m hiding something from them. Ha. Like I could. Their fault for overestimating me, really. But they are. Those transponder snails aren’t just for your sake.”
“Huh?” Franky looks up. In the dark, he needs to search for a bit until he spots the telltale shape of a transponder snail in the corner. Of course they’re monitoring him, them, even now. “Ah. I see.”
“They don’t, actually. Only hear us, I think. Funny, really. When they never actually fucking listen. JUST KILL ME ALREADY, YOU FUCKING PRICKS. I DON’T KNOW SHIT.”
Franky starts a bit. No one else reacts.
The other man sighs. “See. What did I tell you.”
Franky frowns. “How long have you been here?”
“The hell do I know. A while.”
“A while like a few days or a while like… super long.”
The other man doesn’t bother to reply. Franky doesn’t probe.
“I’m Franky.”
Again, the other man is quiet.
Franky has made his peace with getting no reply again, when his companion finally says: “And what… are you doing here, Franky?”
Franky closes his eyes again. That’s it, isn’t it.
“I grew up in this town, Water 7. There was this shipwright who took me in. Me and… some other guy. He taught us everything we know. But he had a secret. Turns out there’s these Ancient Weapons and he had the blueprints to one of them. The government hunted him because of it. They tried to get him to give them the plans, and when he didn’t… They killed him.”
It still hurts, after all these years.
Franky clears his throat with effort. “Thing is, he didn’t have them anymore. He gave them to us. Iceberg… the other guy… he had them. So, eventually, they came after him, too. But he was smart, you see. A damn of a lot smarter than me. He made himself almost untouchable. For years. But it didn’t last. We knew it wouldn’t.”
This wound is new, but it hurts no less.
“They came for him?”
Franky is glad for the cue. It makes him say the words: “Two days ago. They burned his house down. But it didn’t help them any. Because Iceberg didn’t have the plans anymore, either.”
So, why.
Why the fire.
Why all of it.
But the why doesn’t matter anymore.
“They know he gave them to me.” Because he can admit it, here. When it’s not to their faces. They do know, is the thing. Franky admitting it doesn’t change anything. “So, now I’m here. I don’t even know if he’s alive or not.”
Franky’s people aren’t. The Franky family. The ones who tried to protect Franky when they came for him. But Franky can’t find those words yet. Because he can still see their empty faces and blood-soaked bodies. Because the voice is so loud, the voice constantly saying they died because of you, if you had only let them be, they’d still be alive right now, why do you keep killing everyone you love…
Yeah, Franky isn’t sure he’ll ever have the words for that.
A weak sound. “That… is quite the predicament. I’m sorry. I really am.”
Franky leans against the wall. Blinks the tears from his eyes. He’s never been one to hide his sadness. But he’s not going to show it here. He’s not going to give them this satisfaction.
He clears his throat again. “So, after this super depressing story… What about you? Who’re you? Why are you here?”
A moment of silence. “It’s better if you don’t know.”
Franky snorts. “Alright, Mr. Sad-and-Mysterious-Guy. I think that’s what I’m going to call you, actually. Sady for short.”
“… Sady? Really?” Franky smiles hearing the mild annoyance in the other man’s voice. He likes that far better than the emotionless lilt it had before.
“When the name fits.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Then give me your real name, and I’ll call you that.”
Another moment of silence. “Sady’s fine.”
The corners of Franky’s mouth tilt up. “Nice to make your acquaintance, Sady.”
They sit in quiet for a long while.
Eventually, Franky can’t stand it any longer. “They’re not going to keep us here forever, right? They’ll take us… somewhere eventually.”
“Nowhere good.”
Franky suspected as much, but still… “Is there no other way?” He has to ask. “It’s just… a bit bleak here. I might not look like it right now, but I’m a fun-loving guy. I need a bit more tada and wow at some point. That’s just the kind of person I am.”
It’s a performance, of course. Just in case. Just in case they are currently listening through the snail. Just in case it’ll cheer Sady up, even if just a bit. Just in case if he just says it often enough, it’ll still be true.
It’s not. Not here. Not now, with the mark of death all over him.
And Sady’s voice is still gloomy. “Maybe. But it’s not that kind of world.”