Broken Faith

Observation 17: It doesn't take much to become a monster

It took all you had to keep a straight face.

As it turned out, leaving your train car had been relatively easy. The rest of the Marines (since lets, face it; there must be more of them somewhere) had vacated this carriage entirely, save for one grizzled commander who was obviously only there to be a point of contact. So there was little to no argument when you plonked yourself on a nearby couch complaining how, 'you couldn't be in an enclosed space with that wretched criminal for any longer'. Surprisingly little argument come to think of it... Although that could be because they wanted to keep an eye on you given the situation with the intruders.

Intruders who, strictly speaking, you weren't supposed to know about yet.

And since no one had told you about the Straw Hats boarding... you were having to make certain that you let nothing slip. Which was much harder than it looked.

He shifted behind you. Making vague sounds that made you extremely uncomfortable given he was completely out of view. Some of which sounded disturbingly close to sniffing. Although it could just be your imagination at this point.

With a wave of nausea you pushed back the growing feeling of discomfort. This wasn't bad. This wasn't 'Dear Cousin' level of restless panic. But it was close. Very, very, close. So much so that you were a little worried at your own reaction. Was there something else you hadn't realised? A certain aspect of Rob Lucci's behaviour that warranted such an intense reaction?

Or was this the first time in what felt like an eternity that you felt small. Insignificant.

Like a brat.

It was fortunate that fear just made your body stiffen, rather than go into an overdrive of flailing arms. Otherwise you would have been outed a long time ago. An expression of near permanent annoyance constantly plastered on your face also didn't hurt. So... you were going to be fine...

Close your eyes. Suck in a breath.

It was going to all be fine.

Exhale, slowly.

You were going... to be fine...

Once you felt your heart return to a more neutral rate, you opened your eyes to Kalifa's inquisitive arching eyebrow on the other side of the aisle. For a moment your brain scrambled to think of an excuse, before realising you needed none. You were a World Noble. Why should you give your reasonings to anyone? Crossing your legs you stared at her, cocking your own head. Daring her to ask. She didn't. Although... No. It must have just been because of the flickering light above. There was no way she could have smiled. Nor any reason for her to. You were just seeing things.

Yet your brain had started ticking. Connecting the vague notions of what could be potentially feasible. Government agents... In your debt... How could said debt be repaid... Perhaps...

WHAM!

Your train of thought promptly derailed as the most ear-torturing sound of breaking wood shot through you from behind. Alertness flooded back to you. The train car. The storm outside. The fact that the commander who had been here previously had suddenly gone and hadn't walked past you... meaning he'd gone into the car with Robin and Usopp in...

The body of an odd looking government agent slamming into the ground in contorted unconsciousness in the aisle next to you.

A corner of your lip twitched as you gazed over the various scrapes and bruises that littered the body's face. This was Wanze, the chef if you remembered correctly. In all honesty you were secretly glad that he'd been beaten to a pulp. You'd always been wanting an excuse to get rid of him. Too many health violations.