Chapter Text
Z̴͎̰̩̭͖̑̉̃̈́͒͆͐͆͝ͅǒ̶̢̨̨̨̙̭͍̟̖̪͙̞͓̙̰͎̤̥͈͉̖̲͙̣̤̳̫͔͚͎͕͓͔̽̍̂̋̐͐̃̌̈́́̏͜͠͠r̴̡̛̬̖̖̹͈̜̪̘̘͍̻̟̖̼̦̜̟̺͙̍̾̔̒̑͆͛̏̈̀̃̋̃͠͠o̶̰̭̹͉̪̠̪̗̦͎͓͙̱̒̂̀́͐̐͗̒̄́̾̑̂̊̿͋̎̑͒̋̚͝ͅͅ ̴̢̛͎̞̜͙̞̦̻̬̘̠̻͕͓̬̼͕̻̮̤̯̼̪̋̀̇̇̾͌̽́̏̈́̈́͋̏̓͐̀̇͌̀̃̋̋̈́̀̑̔̍̐̄̊͂͑̏̈́̈́̊̅̀̚̚͘͘͝͝ͅd̵̡̨̛̲͇̞͔̟̙̟̤̜͕̺̳̠̹͚̿͂̽͐̾̾̿͗̀̐̎̈̈̃̃̎͋͑̒͊̓͆̎̆̀̏̍͘̕͝͝͠ͅo̶̡̨̡̨̧͎̩̦̭͈͖̤͉͙͈͚̝͓̖̖̝̗̼͖̪̖̘͖̖̥̹̥̬̘̪͚̩̊̍͒̎̀̀̃͛͌͐͂̾̓̄̈́͐̈̂̆͑͑̀͌̚͜͝ ̵̢̛̛̻͕͍̦̳̭̩̲͍̝́́͌̄̌͗͊͐̆̉̂̾̉́͗́́̈́̀̄͆̈́͑́̆̎̓̂͐͊͛̎̾̋͐̓̉̔͝͠ͅỵ̶̣̗̆̔͒̂̓̚o̸͓͈̟͖͎̘͚͖̝̪̠̭͛́̒̀̀̓͂̔̆̔̊͆̊̉͆̂ͅͅư̵̛̛̫̖̩͍̩͉̮͎̘̰̜͓̰̘̅̅̀̒̆̋̉̎͑̐̍̾̒̄͐̐̌̃́̕͘͘͝͠͝ ̷̢̧̧̡̛͚̼̗̺̥̼̹̭͉̟̥̼͍̩̗̫̫̣̞̩͇̭͎͔̪̲͕͇͖͖̮͓̦̼̦̣͕̦͕̥͔̺͎̗̊̅͐͌̾̈̄̆͐̅̎͒͑͆͂̏̑̐̈́͊̐̔̋̀͐̒̀͘͘̚͘͘͜͝͝ͅr̸̳̉̈́e̶̢̛̛͙̪̺̮̝̬̪͖͋͂͑̿͐͑̑͐̏̈́̉̿͌̎̿͗̔̾̅͒͗̉̐̂̄̒́̎̀̿̚͘͠͠͝͠m̵̢͕̮̲͚̙̠͉̗̈́̉̑̿̃͑̽̆̃̒̐̐̃͂̿͋̍̒͗͘͝͝ȩ̸̨̡̨̨͎̤̗̤̲̤͇̰̫̝̰̰̯̫̬͔͇̏̄̑̅̑̉̿̌͆̐̎̓̒̆͛̌͊̌̀̕͜͜͝ͅͅͅm̶̢̢̛̙̫̫̮̲̺̅̀͛̃̌̄̉͒͑̆͊͒̋͒̎̆̽̉̈́̀͒̑̓̇̋͐̎̀̅̈́̅̄̀̒̂̃͑̅͂͘̕͜͜͠͠͠ͅb̵̨̛̲̣̼̖̦͍͉͓̜̣̭͉̘̘͓̉̆́̃̆̏̊͒̃̇̿͐̄̆́̔̈̀̐͒̑̕ȩ̵̤̪͙̗̺̫̄̀̃͆̃̈́̇͂̎̐̀̐̈͋́̽́̒̓͛̈́̌̽̓̍͌͘̕͘͘͠͠ŗ̸̨̡̡͓̱͉̜͖̝͎̹̼̼̰̞̤̪͇͇̹̮̱͇̭̘͈̹̩̣̩̣͍̜̟̭͇̬̺̜͍̣̼͔̩̩̹̤̘̎̒͋̐̏͆̇̓͗͑̋͗͗̇͑̀̏̅͗͗̽́̄̽̇̂̆̀̔̿͗̀͒̊̇́̌̇̕͝͠͝͝ͅ?̸̨̡̥̱͙͉͎͚̺͕͎͈͛͌̅͗̃̂̊̊̈̈̓͒͛̍͝͠I̶̧̡̡̡̯̫̟̘̱̻̹̖͕͇͉͚̟̟̥̤͓͇̘̠̫̅́͆͆̈̀͗̐́̌͑̄́̉̋́̐͒̈́͐̋̇̒̀̏̊̀͊͂̎̒͐̒̔͒̀̓̍̂̉͌͘̚͘̚͜͝͝͠͠ͅͅ ̷̧̳͕͎̠̩̝̞̪̬̣̩̣̺̫̼̦͕̺̗̟̪͔̣̞͓̖̫͇̮̘̺̫̯̱̺̲̮̝̾̆̐̉͑̇͊̍̀̔̆̂̎͑̄̏̽͊̇̿̑̎͆̈́̈̒̌̋̉͐̌̇̔̓̎̕͜͝͝ͅͅš̵̛̹̘̭̱̜̭̝͎͚͔̭̤̭̆̾̏̀͒͐̉̍̊̆̎͆̑̀́̽̓͆̃͊̎̈̍̓͂́͊̈́̉̑̇̉̃̋́̈́̂̚͘͝͠͠͠͝ẁ̴̨̱̩̦̤̹͔̟̗̗̦̬̦̼̞͇̫̻̰̭̣̗̟̤̱̞͓̠͎̙͔̺͓̻̿̍́̋̅̂̒̔̓̌̌͑̓̉̓̉̉͋̍͐̔͋̈́̊̔̓̂̓͗̄̚͘͘͜͠͝͝͝͝ͅe̷̛͇͉̹̓̍̈́̐̑̃̒̃͋̅͑͑͘͝a̶̺͑ŗ̵̨̡̯͔̲̼͚̮̪̗͇̱̱̲̥̲̰̫̹̝͈̗̭̪̥͎͓̭̣̱̪͎͕̈́̍̌̅̈́͒̏͛̐̿̆̆̈́̈́͆͆̈͐̑̐͌̊͛̄̿̈́̾͋̉̿̽̈́̒͘̚͘͜͝͝͠ͅ ̷̢̢̧̢̧̨̹̜͉̮͖̥͍̠̞̙̩̫̖̫̳͉͖͖̱̫̤̤̗̞͓̞͓̰͔͕͖̜̟̻̺͚̖̠͈̦̱̅̎̀̓͆̄̚͜͜ͅį̸̨̨̺̖̩͍̝̤͎͚̹̝̙̺̝͈̦͉̖͈͓̭̘̗͚͎̹̲̗͙̝̞̣̼̫̬͇̟͙͔͓̣̞͛̌̐͊̋̃̽̾͌̈́́̈́͊͂̃͌̈̍͐͒͒͂̂̀͑̿̒͌͘̚͝͝ͅt̴̡̢̨̨̨̧̧̛̩͔̘̜̻̩̻͔̪̘̣̱̜̤͚̻͚̺̥͇̣̥̪͕̦̃̄̉̌͒̂͗̐̅͛̿̀́̉͐̆̿̈́̋͋͛̓͌̓̏̓͐̏͐͗̎̀̒̍̀̚͘͝ͅͅ
̸̛̲̳̤̦̳͉̣̝̳͈̮̰̼̠̳̺͖̠͇͓̞͆̈́̿̏̋͐́͂͆̇͆̈̈̐͗́́̓̾́̽̇̽̍͐̒̎͆͌̑́̕͘͝͠͝͝͝w̷̨̛͔͎͇̹̤̻̻͔̤͇͉͖̰͉͕̦̙̱͔̮̱̩̯͖͔̥̥̲̉̏̿̽̃̽̔͐̈̽̓̀͋̋̊̽͒̐̔̐̽͛̄̈́̓͌̇̊̿́̌́͐͑̾̔̈́́͘̕̚͜͝͠͠e̸̢̨̞̻̪̘̗̭̜̘̦͈͎͔̞̲͚͕͖̱̖̗̜͎̥͙͍̮̮̣͊̔̀̍̑͆̅̓͒̈́͐͋̒̈́͑̅̎̇͐͂̈́̃͘͘͜͝͠ͅͅͅ ̴̡̛̙̣̺̖̱͙̖̠̪͓̥̰͇̑̅̃͂͂̒̏̿̊̀̓͋̎̅̓̈́̀͒̈́̿̔͒͗́̈́͑͜͠͝͝ą̴͔̬̳̻̅͊̓̈͑̎͐͐̈́̄̒̒͑̄͗̎̀̔͊̑̒̋̔̏̂́͆̓͝͠͠r̵̨̧͕̯̠̫̳̗͉͔̠͓̺̫̙͇͉̺͇̩͕̜̦̘̙̲͓̪̼͗̓̀͒͊͌͊̌͆͋͌͌͂͜͝͝ͅe̵̢̛̟̯̦͖̥͎̣̋̓͋̋͐̍́̅̈́̈́̓̒͂̍̓̑́̋͆́̈́̆̏͑̓̕̕͝͝͝ ̵̧̛̗̲̝̖͇͎̻̪̩̝̉́͌̔͗̈́̎̐́̊̆̓̇̄̃͂́̒͋̒̀͂̕̕̕͝ͅņ̵̢̞͙͔̫̗͔̾͆̓̔̇́̉͛̇̏̉̎͋͒̽͌̐͒̅̍͆̐͑̂̔̃͛̑̇̚̚͝͝͝͝͝ǫ̴̢̡̭̬̪̳͕̺̲̼̝͙͔̖̟̮̱̱̞̥̖̞͗̋̄͌̀̋̋͆̿̒͊̽͋̈́̈́̇̏̇͑͛́̈̿̅̓̽̓̉̉̿́͋̅́̕̚̕͘̕͜͜͝͝͝t̴̛̛̤̼̤͌̋̓̑̊̽̎̀͂̒͐͋͌͋͆̇̀̑̈́̽̿̀̀͐̉̏̋͛͂̕͝͝ ̴̢̧̧̛̬͙̠͈̖̦͓̩̭̘͚͔̮̯̭̣̙̺̠͇̦͇̝̩̗̠͙̱͚̻͙̤̻͚̰͙͎̹̱̅͌̐́͗̀̽̎͑́̂̈́́̅͒͂̒̏̓̌̈́̀̍̅́̐̊̀͑͒̿͋̍̓̈̐̾̏̊̈́̏̚͝͝͝ͅl̷̨̡̧̢͚̩̺͎̣̬͎̝͍̳̘̠̣̺̳͍̪̝͉̞̰̫̟̮͓͖̻̲̫̲̣̱̘̟͎̘̰̯͚͛̔͊́̌̿́̾̓̃͑̔̋̐̈̒̍̆̎̀͑̆̏̅̎̄͊̂̏͗́̉́̕͜͝͝͝͝͝y̴̨̡̟̝͎̖̦̩̌̂̋́̈̆̑͒̾́̎̑̍͐͂̉̊͊̓̈́i̴̧͇̼̩̹̙̲̯̯͙̩͍̜̗͓̹͓̟̗̱̗̼̮̪̱͈͎̅̆̀̓͑́̊́͂͑̅̌̆̓̎̆̊̈́̉͛̉̿̈́̄̀̆̃̇̍̊͒̀̆̃͆̅͆̊̊͆̕̕͘͝n̴̡̧̨̠̝̩̞̺̠̻̖͍̬̜͉̪̜̬̤̣͇͎͓͔͖͍̦̜̩͈͖͎̭̜̣̼̫̰͓̞̟̮̍̄̍̈́̌͒̈́̋̚͜ͅg̷̡̧̹̤͓̜͇̞̥̫̮̦̘͇͈̳̥̘͉̺̺͙̜͎̮͖̠̯̣̥̮̜͚̞̲̻͔̥̥͔̦͂̎̀̎̆̎͌̒̏́̈̂̑̂̈̋͗̾̐͌͒̎̃̒̽̃͐̊͆̆̄̀̃̚͘͘̚͜͜͝
̷̧̨̳̯̗͓̮̼̭̜̮̩͍͓̪̥̃̔̓̈͛́̾̾̇̽̐̽̂̇̿͋̿͗̑̓̑́̄̅̍͛̋̀͆̈̚̚͠w̷̢̢̧̢̢̗͈͇̘̗̭͖͉̺̬͍̝̭̳̜̲̠̮̻̯̲͔̙̣̃͆̈́̄̊̆͌͑͆̐̓̀͒̕͠ͅę̵̢̧̺͍̟̱̟̭͇͎̠̺̞͓̼͙̫̦͍͖̣̱̝̩̪̮̲͇̺̖͕̦̪̱͓͉̘͉͙̞͈̰̦̝͙͉̹͑́̀̃̀͌͒̍̃̒̏̋̋́̆̏̔̇͗̌̑̽̿̄̓̅̍͋͠͝ͅͅ ̵̳̩͔̞̼͈͎̯̜͚̹̥̻̘̟̬̻̞̱̮̻̤̺̻̅̕͜͜͝ḁ̷̢̧̨̧̧͚͈̩̩͓͕̖͍͚͍̺̤̗̬̰͙͖̠̃̀͂̆̕̚̕͝r̴̨̧̡̡̛̛̯̣̼̦̮̰͕͚͚͎̬̺͇̫̟̬̱̪̳͍̳̥̤͍̘̞̰̭͖͈̜̗͑̿͌͑͗͒̇̆̏̾̓͋̌̂̓͗̆͐̈́̕̕̚͘͜ͅe̴̢̛͖̫̳̘̬̮͚̪̞̟̹̘̩̠̙͖͚̥̰̜̰̘̦̜̥̗̮͈̰̦̼̒̍̆͂̑̀̂̿́̒̾͑̀̓̏̎̂̈́̉̓͌͂́́̀͌̔̇͋́̊́͗̅̽̋̚͠͝͠͝ͅͅ ̶̨̨̡̫̘̠̮͚̦͚͍͍̞̺̥̳̰̟̞̼̻̦̭͍͖̘͙̜͖͖̹̙̮̲͉̝͂̀̆́́̏̈́͝k̵̡̢̡͚̜̭͙̮̻̱͇̲͖̝̣̦͉͍̱̖̤̰̤͚͇̥̤̺̲̤̀̍͋͋̎̑̿̀̈̿͆́̈́͛͆́̔̇̑̃̉́̐̀̂̀̓̎̽̊̄͑̒̀̇̑͂̓̌͑̽͐͘͜͠͝ͅͅͅͅe̴̠̲͖̣͓̖̲͉͔͉̜̺̣͓̥͚̗͎͉̘͓̝̲̘͛̀͊̉͋̏͑̒̍̊̓͆̊̓̉̓̿̓̊͐̎̎͆̇̌̃͑͊̾͛̂̈́̍̀̂̆̈́͊͛͑͆̅͋̚̕̕͝e̴̡̨͉̪̟͕̻̦̟͊̇̍̐̉̈́̊̿̐̊̇͆͊͒̅̐̒̂̓̌͒͒̕̕͝p̸̧̨̧̢̢̛̛̤͈͇͕͎̜̻̼̮̻͕̜̟̦̲̞̗̥͖̦̠̱̈́̈́́̏̈̈́͗̇̿̾͛̓̇̾͋̈́͐̓̀̓̐̈͛͂̾͊̋͐͊̋͗͒͒̉́̍̕̕̚̕͝͝͠i̸̢̭͉̘̠̜̘̖͖͚̿̽̂͒̏͘ͅn̴̨̡̡̬͖̬̹̙͎̰̼̝̘̲̳͇͖̝͉͛̎̐̇͑̈̑̅̏̊̃̇̾͜͠͝͠g̸̡̢̡̡̨̨͓͔̪̱̠̜̹̗͎͖̬̟̞̤͚̖͍̙̙͍̥̠͎̻̺͔͈͚̝̩͍͑̉͊͛͆̍̽̓͆͑̉͂̉͒̒̆͛̇̐̿̕͜͠ͅ ̷̢̡̛̬̼̘̘̦̫͇̯̣͈̠̳̱͉̹̪̯̘͇̙̣̰͖̑̀͂́͋̑̋̔̓͋̽͛́͆̐͒́͘ẏ̷̡̞̲̳͚͓̞͇͖̫͕̟̘͈͖̗̬̻͓̞͚̟̩͇̯̣̞̥̫̱̖̻̭̣̻̅͊̽̈́͆̓̎͂͂̃̀͋͑̎̾͗̉̕̚̚͜͜͝͝͝ͅơ̶̳̦̅̈̐̐̆͗͋̽͐͝ų̵̧̛̛̛̲̖͖̭̜̦͔͚͖̫̪̫̾͛͗̋̋̀̒͐̒̊̑͌̈́̏͐̈͊̅̊͆̅̿͐̏͘͝͝͝͠ͅ ̸͖̜͈͖̻̝̙̭̟̀̈́̊̈̏́̓̋̀͌̽̐̐͋̃̉̂̏̕s̴̨̲̝̱͔̖͉̭̞̙͍̤͖̬̞̻̪̖̼̀̾̿̿̅́̉͂͊́̈̈̎̈͌̈́̈́̎̓̂̑̂̀́̈́͂̃̍̚̚͝͠ả̵̰͔̹̖̮̼̳̞̼͊͆̓̈͊̓̿͋̈́͆͋̐̀̌̓̀̊̚f̵̧̲͙͐́̍͌̈̄̀̀̈́̈̆͗̂ė̸̢̨̨̡̲̲̖͉͓̮͍̙̱̥̙͙̘̪̮̩͙̣̣̪̻̥͎̭̲̮͚̬͔̗͔̦̹̫̮̹̜̘̈́̾͆͘͝ͅͅ
̶̧̢̧̢̨̮͚͔̦̰͍̙̖͓̰͙̲͎̝̹̗̮̲̙̲̝͍̣͇̼̘̻͖͛͋̈ͅͅͅͅį̴̡̛̰͕̜̞̙͙͚̯̲̟̲̙̤͉̣̮̟̥̗̖͚̝̜̠̲̘͈̤̟̦̟͓̪̟͍̹̹̰̣̹̬̙͖͇̼͌̀̈́̿̾̈́̋̈́̓̓̈͋̊̇͋̋̈́̎͌̈́͐́̕͘͝͝ͅm̴̨̡̨̡̧̲͈̜͕͖̞̪̹͎̣͍͎̥̝̠̳͎͇̬̬͇̭̰͍̩̀̋̅͑̑̿̎̑͛̿̾͌͐̏̀͒͋̒̓̈́̃̾́̑͆̔̂̂̏̃̐̕̕͜͠͝͠ͅͅ ̵̢̡̖̖̺̼͓̫̰͍̽͑̈́̈́̋̌̑͐͒̓̐͗͊̇̊͑̔̎̓̓̆̑̑̂̓͂͌̑͗̇̏̉͐͋̒͛̇́̄͛́̓̂́̚̕͜͜͝͝͠n̸̡̨̢̧̛̛̤̲̩͖̭̱̦̞̱̭͉̪̯̠̘͈̲̟͈͚̮̫̦̗͎͙̼̦̠̜̥̘̓̌̒͆͐̑̆̋̅̃̆̄̂̎̈́̇̓̆͂́̈̍̿̔͆̈́͌͛̂̍́̽̏̒̌͋̈́̕̚̕̚͝͠ͅǫ̷̨̢̧̛̻̥̼̼̰̦̟̜̼̰̰̲̫̣̙̯͎͍̝̜̖̯͕̦̼̠͎̥̙̝͕̖̝̱̲͆͌̆̇̇͆̿̽̀̄͑͊̈́̿̑͂̽̾͋̆̄̅̿͑̈́̋̉̀͂͌͂̐̍̄̔̐͐̉̂̚͘̚͝͝͠͝͝ͅt̴̺̖̝̬̼͒̄ ̴̡̛̰͖̈̿̿̽̈́͂͐̏̔̉̈́̑͛̿͌͌̓̓̏͒́͘̕͘͘̚͜͝ą̴̨̢̨̳̦̮̣̘͈̻̖̞̘̩̦̦̖͓̳̞͍̤̹͕̔̽͂͛̎͛͗̑̍̏̿͒̍̓̓͂ͅͅ ̷̧̧̤̟̣͚̣̈̆̃͆̋̏̀͗͂͊̄̇͂̀̓̓̓̈̑̊̌̓̅͛̈́̂̇̅̽̎͝͝ḿ̴̡̼̪͚͔̼̫̝͔͎̫̟͖̗̈́͒̈́̌͂͋̌̐̀̎͑̊̓̍͗̍̎̚͘̕͝͝ǒ̷̞͍͕̤̳͐̈̽̽̓̔͆̊͛̋̓̄̊̓̄̌̾̾͛́̏͂̒̒̾̈̀̆̕̚̕̚͠͝ñ̶̡̨̛̘̟̟̻͕͈̯͕͓̯̻͍̯͔̠̭͙͇͖̣̦̻̙̩̲̮̻̱̣̬̯͌̉́̇͌̒̑̎̿͆͐̾͐̄̎̃͋̂̈́́͜͝ͅs̵̨͓̮̦̭͈͎͔̣̟͖̲̤̦͍̩͖͕̲̘̺̜̥̭̋͋̎̄́̾̆̄̄̐̄́̽̈̋̿͂͑̊̾̍͜͝͝t̸̛̛̛̰͎͇͖̝͖̘͕͚͉̬̳̩̼̘̜̦͍͚̮̙̰̤̝͓̪͎̖̞͔͓̬̮͔̊̈́͂̆̅͗̍̏̈́̇̊̆̈́̓̈́͊̂̃̄̓̇̕͘̚̚͝e̶̬̟̰͊̏̀́̾̇̐̒̿͌́͌͂͆̈̀͐͑́̍͂̊͒̉́̇͂̓͒̏͌̾̃̄̒̐̑̋͑̆͒̽̒͘̚͠͝͠͝͝r̶̛̛̭͚̼̙̥̼̣̫̞̃͂̆̇̀̒͂̏́͛͑̾̔͐̃̉̾̋̊̆̿̈́͑̑̉͗̈́̓͋́͛̇̓̿̎̽̾͘̚͘͠͠͝͝
̸̧̢̧̢̧͙͕̭͓̝̯̹̠͙̯͉̜̘̥̣̲͉̝͇̭͖̝̤̞͉̭̣̞̒͆̄̉̾̉̀͗́̈́͘ͅͅi̶̛̙͂̽̄̾͛̓̊̒͆̌̌̇̀̍̾̾̌͒̉̍̌̿̆͋̾̃́͆̓̾̄͆̀̍͌̓̔̉̄͛̇͘͝͠͝͠m̵̤̦͓̱̭̭̰̣̫͓͙̳̺̫̫͕͎̠͕̤̯̬̳͍͍̯̣͓̦͕̑̎̊͑̈́͜ ̴̹̺̗͇̳̙̬̪̣͊̅́̿͝y̷̧̧̨̨̢̢̡̢̨̧̛̤̩̱̺̝͓̖̙̳̠͎̣͕̼͙̪͙̖̮̺̭̹̞͉̺̞̫̋͗̋̾͂̏́̀̿̈́͋̀̈͐͗̾̄́̍̂̈̈́͛̎́́́́̄̐͑̍́̌̂͘̚͜͜ơ̵̡̢̢̛̠̠̪͈̯͍̙̩̬̳̙̮̫͉̫̹͗̈́̾̓̈́͑̏̇̆̉̚͜͝ǔ̴̢̢̙̹̻̳͚̖̳̞͇̓̽̒̈̉̋̐͂͆̇̅̑̃̔̈́̂͐̏͂͑͂̇̔̇́̀͋̈́̈͐̑͘͘͘͠͝͠͠͠ͅṟ̵̢̢̧̛̝̤̯̙͊̿̈̓̌̉̈͋͆̀̍̉͂͛̎̓̓̈́͊̅̈͂̓͘̕͘͠͝͝͝ ̸̨̨̨̨̢̰͉̟̭̥̻̘͙̠̭̟̗̯͇̰͖̗͉̙̲̙̬̺̯͔̦͔̠̊̈́͐̽͌͋̀͂̎̀̾̍̓̍̐̈̓̈́͒̂̈́̆́̇͌͑̈́͘̕͜͠f̶̢̡̨͙͈̫̰̮̱̙̳̠͔̩͍̘̩͙̜͕̳̰̮̯̹̭͎̲͍͉̪͇̠̬̻̟̫͈̿̌͂͋̂̑̓̆͋̏̌͑̎̌͂̃̌̾̚͘͝r̸̢̧̦̫̮̙͈̼͕̣͚͙̜̬̮͚̭̪̥̰̯̒̀̂̅͌͆̑̒̉̋͑̇̈́̇̀̓̍͂̅̎̈́͆̄͊̈́̾̒͊̕̚͘͠͝i̵̡̝̹͉͌̇̃̓̀͂̾̽̾̎̾̒̎̈́̈͗͐́̇̊͒̐͆̏̒͗̂͒̈́̾͗̒̚͝͠͝ͅȩ̴̡̛̱̱̯̹̰̯̻̫̙͉͙̤̬̬͔̱̜̜̟̮̠̫͖̻̱̣̣̬̳͇̟͈̟̈́͂͐̚͠ͅn̸̛̬̆̾̎͌̓̃̓̌͌͋̔́̿̽̒̍͋͂̏̈͗͆̏̈́̎̒͘̕̚̚ḑ̴̧̧̧̛͍͓͓̥̙̞̹̭͙̻̤̥̖͈̘͔̣͕̼̯̻̫̟̭̙̰̯͍͇̯͚̫̯̜̥̓̈̃̀̇̋̄̐̐̂͆̐͒͊̒̈́̾̀͑̔̾́̏̓̽̏̉̓̎̏̀͛͗̍̋͊̍̈́̍̕͘͜͝͝͝ͅͅ
̵̢̧̛̟̟͇̫͖̞̠̱̬͇̮̖̤̳͕̪̻͎̟̫̜̬͕͙͕̂̊̐́̔̆̍̕̚͠͝ͅy̷̧̛̫͍̖̰̻̫̼͚̬̘̮̓̀̑͆̉́̎̕̚͘ơ̸̡̛͍̲̭͙͈͎̱̪̜̬͙͖̰̫͍͎̫͙͉̲̾̆̆̾͋̂̈͊̒̍̅͊͋̔̂̚͜͝͠u̸̡̱̜̩̫̪͔͕̘͈͔̰̤͍͈̦͙̩̗̙̹͉͉̩̓̋̎͑͊̂͐̐̈̅̈́͂́̍̓͜͠͝͠ ̷̧̡̡̨̧̡̧͙͕̜̳͎̥͇̱̩͎͚̰̠̫̟͓͕̜̠̫͔͕̙̘̞̪̹̹͕͎̟̩͚̩̳͗͊̽̅͆̏͛̌̒́̈́͝͝ļ̷̨̨̛͙̗̦̠̲̞̜̬̗̭̥̰̮̜̩̼̯͕̟̖̰̪̞̇̊͊͆̏͊͐̕͜͠͠ͅơ̴̢̢̡̡͎̖͉͍̟̩͕͉̜̮̼͓̼̰͙̲̩̞͙̰͍̹̞̖̩͔̹̬̙̖̘̟͖̻̠̠̟̯̓̐̇̀̾͐͆̓̃͊̇̓͊̌͋̽̃̊̓̇̐̋̀̔̓̏̋̈́́̂̿̈̈̒̌̂͋͂̈́̀̚͘̚̚͠͝͠ͅͅv̶̢̡̛̟͍͕̣͓̤͎̠̣̥̮̯͕̗͉̭̩͙͙̥̂͋̉̂̀̒̑̄̔̈́̂̈́͆͌̎͌̈́͂̾͒͗̿̽̕͝ē̶̢̛̞̞͔̤͕̣̳̪̩̳͇̲͙̣̼̗̤̭̍͊̆̀͂̍̌͗̋͑͂̇͐̅̆̆̔͂̾͋̿̈́̈́̌̒́̈́͊͌̄̔͗́͑̅͆͐́̒̕̕̕͠͝͠͝͠ ̵̢̡̨̨̨̛̼̞͇͖̱̯̤̯̖̦͉̗̻̮̫̥̭͓̞̗̮̳͓̠̬̬̗̫̤͓̟̫̎͂̊͗͒̓̋́́̋͐̓̓́̃͐m̶̧̨̛̹̥̹͍̥͙̪̪͔̂̄͐̀̀͊̐͊̒̓̿̈́̏͘̚͘͝͝͝e̴̥̭̭͐̄̑̒̃̊̌͆̈́̄̊͌̉̉̄͐͑̀͗́̍̒̒͋̈́̇͒̉̑̿̈́̆̔̿̇̌̃̋̽̓̃̄̕͠͠
d̸̨͖̟͙̦̠̯͖̀a̵̡̢̩̙̗̼̣͔̯̳͔̟̘̖̱͈͐̈͗̉̉́͆̋̌̿͌̔͂́̽͂̊̓ḋ̶̡̢̧̧̧̢̢̛̥̼̪̪̼̤̜̥̯̱͖͈̣̟̪͙̪̜̳̪̪̤̰̖̖̥̳̤̟͕̰̖͊̑̿͆͌̀̓́͒̾̿͐́̿̈́̊̿̃̈͆͒̚͘͝͝͝͝ͅ
̴̧̛̛̬͉̐̓͂͐̆̓̄́̌̐̈́͐̏̋̔͒̀͐̈́̀̿̎͌̃̾͋̕̚͝͝d̴̢̧̧̡̡̢̡̨̨̰̤͖̥̩̰͎̮̞̜͔̣̘͎̞͖̥̯̰̙͙̮̣̺̥͓͉͎̘̙͇̤͍̔̆͑͗̀̒̈̒̃̇̅̊̇̔̎̀̊̈́̑̈̓̊͐̓̐͛̾̃̕̚̚̚͘͜͝͠͝ͅͅͅa̴̡̡͇̟̫̹̻͇̪͕̟̰͓͕̲̦͈̭͚̹͔̮̪̘̖̱̥̫̬̹̻̬͍͇̖̪̳͉̩̟̲̹͔̱͙̯̜̻̒̀͊̋͛̅̆̀̀̔͌̌́͝͠d̷̡̨̛̛̰͕̰̜̮̘̱̯̬̰̘̼̙̮̤͕̱̤̭̼͚̺̙̪͈̬̥͇͉̯̫̠͚̮̙͍̦̞͔͈̻͂́̄́̽̅̏͊͆̄̉́̀͑̕͝͝ͅ ̵̨̡̡̡̼̩̫̤͇̟͍͎͉͈̖̩̖̻̰̞̝̞̣͙̩̭̲̀̃̓̌̀͐́̈̂͋͗͂̿͛̑̾͜͝w̷̡̨̧̩̥͉̜̥̞̞͔̟͇͓̯͈̟̙͈͉͙̣͖͇̪̬̒̎̍͆̍̀͊̒̾̏̑̈̈́̔́͛̈͂̋̈́̎̈́̄͂͒̒̍̒̐̇̇͐́͑́̕̕͘̚͜͝͝͠ḩ̵̛̛̭̼͙̰̦̩͎̞͚͕͍̻̰͍͍̳̥̙̣̼̤͓͎̩͐̂̎́̔̿̈́̈́̈́̉̽͊̄͗͂͆́̽̀̈́̐͒͊͋́͐̈͗̾̊̐̌̂͘̕͜͠͠á̸̛̪̘̙͖̞̇̌̂̂́́̀̓̑̀͌͘t̷̢̨̛̻̬̰͈̞͙͍̗͖̦̥̘̻̩̺̮͖͕̩͔̠͇̭͙̳̭̾͗̆͛͛̄̑̂͌͒͑̐͆͂̃͂̓́̿̐̍͗̐̒͆̀̑́̅̚̕͜͝͝͠͠ ̴̡̢̧̱̺̹̭̗͈͙̙̱̹̝̝͖͔̫̳̫͙̻̩̦̹̳͊̐͆̓̓͌̑͐͛̀͜ͅd̸̡̢̧̛̛̦͕͍͓͓̹̦̭̦̭̯̪̥͉̬̪͖͍̭͇̪̹͇͚̝͔̬͎̜̥̗̬͚͓͉͚̮̩̺͙̏̔͂́͊̑̒̅͌̓̒͊̔͛̿́͑͑̊̀̈́̀͌̆͑̚͜͜͝͝͝͝͠o̸̡̢̧̱̖͇̫̥͉̳̱͕̥̹͇͉̞̤̫̹̗͍̮͈͇͚̝̤̦̓̂͌͘͘͜͝ͅę̵̡̡̢̛̼͓͍̫̻̬͉͓͔͈͔̗̭̦̻͕̳̩̙̭̼̪͓̤͓̝̖̟͐̌̃͂͛̀͒͒̈́̃̏̉͐̀̅̑̐̅̈̾̔́͒̈́̆́́͂̎̇̀̎̋͊͒̆͊̕̚̚̕͘͜͜͠͠s̸̨̢͙̺̯̮̗̦͔̬̖̮͚̖̜̤͕͕͖̥̲̥͖̰̣̫̗̗̖̿̅́̈̀̿͋̓̀̈̿͑̌̽̈̌̄̉͐͑͌͊̓͒͒̆͋̒̏͆̀̓͐̿͗̾̆̾͘͝͠ͅͅͅ ̸̢̢̡̬͖͕̜̠̭̠͎͎̲̄̀̈́ͅt̷̢̨̩͖̰̼̟͈̙͖̣̜̼͇͙͖̯̯̝͔̫̲̃͜ḩ̶̣̗̪̬͍̙͈̫̝̗̯͙̭͓̖̣̲̼̗̥̝͇̱̞̹́̏̋̔̽̐͆̾̏̇̅̑̈́͑̓́̂̅̅̀̓̂̆̎̏̍̋̃͛̎̍̇̈́̀̍̊̈͛͂̇͊͌̑̆̚͝͝͠ĭ̸̲̠̾̒͆͋̽̈̿̑̒͊̀͒̌͒́̓̏͛̔̄̐͆̂̽̂̕̕̚͘̕̚͠s̴̢̨̢̢̡̨̢͈̳̳͙̜͇̤̦͕̣̳̝̪̺̹̳̥͖̱̪̗͙͉͈̘̗̩̟̯̰̱̞͚̟͍͛̾̋͒̽̽̏̈͗̏̋͂̔͆́̅̄͛́̈̿̓̆̐͘͜͠ ̴̧̨̢̛̫̣̝͓̫̫̲͔̭̰̪̝̙̭̮̬̩͚͚̱̗̂̌͌̆̀̇̃̐́̀̇̂̒̈̓͆̓̔̒̈̀̍̌̉̈̐̉͐͑̄̕̕͝ͅm̴̢̧̙̱͍̰̜̮̩̲̬̟̹̥̲̞̘͈̟̞̞̆̈́̉̓͛̓̋͗̎̈̍͒̂̀͝ȩ̸͇̟͎͕̮̫͕̏̏̐̀́̀͜à̶̡̛̙̟̼̝̣̹̼̬̙̞̙̜̤̰̱͈͕͎̩̤̯̰̺̦̤͖̲̭̠̰̦̠͉͈͓͇̱͔̔͋͑̇͑͋̈́̂̋͒̅͛̃͋̔̈́͂́̍̂̊̓͗̇͛̾̇͒̓͆͆̋́̿̅̑̉̾̓͂͛͘̕̚͜͝͝͝͝n̴̨̢̙̙̜̘̠̰̺̙̈͘͘͜͠ͅ
̷̧̪̒̍͗ỳ̸̢̛͚̠̙̻̙̺̖̭̲͚̤̥̩̐̊̈́̈́̏̓͛͒̓͆̈́͑̉́͌̈̊̐͒͛̃́̀͂̽̽̕̚͝͝͝o̸̢̨̡̡̟̠̘̗̺̖͓̟͈̲̣̮̹͖̜̝̲̹̼̯̖̲̜̼̞̜̣͖̫̥̹̳̤̱͚̰̭̥̺͗͐́̄̓͌͊́͌͆͂̈̂͛͋̂̕͝͠ͅǔ̴̜͈̙̣̱̳̫͈̦͔͈͇͎̥͙̝͚͈̲̓̈̊̊̓̉̍͜ ̵̡̛̛̣͓̳͎̼͗̂͗͌̆̎̋̾͋͛͐́̿͗̋͑̏̈́̋̐̒̍̈̉̓̂͗̊͑͆̔͘̚͝͝͠ķ̸̡̨̡͚̜̜͎̝̞̹̘͍̜̙͈̖͕͈͓̯̬̹̯͈̹͖̖̤̲̯͊̂̌̈̇͋̏ͅņ̵̧̧̛̛̛̣͔̤̣̼̭̹̱̻̩̟̖͚̠̩̠̟̠̮͈̲̞̬͚̺̰͓͖̞̗̳̤̫̝͕͚̬̿̐͌͗̒̐̐̓̂̀͋͑̏̎̈̄̂͋̈́͑̓̔͝͠͠͝ͅͅè̴̦̺̝̪̫̼̘͈̮̬͎̮̳̭̘̘̰̩̼̜̣̿̒̋͛̈́̍̍̏̀̾̑̄̇̄͒̒̌͒̽̑̑̾̃͊̅̊͗̑̃̀̒͐͋̚͘͠͝͝͝w̴̨̢̞̣̠͉͖̼̝̘̫̳͓̟̣͖͉̺̦̦̺͎̜̯̞͓̗͙̦͖͔̮̲͚̜̮̤͔̫̞̭̬̜͇͖͉͙̫͙͌͒͆̂̏̄͆̌̐̂̊̊̓̀͑͆̀̓̿̓̈́͗̅͘͝͠ͅ ̴̜̗̉̂͘y̸̡̡̛̰͕̬͍̭͈̠̺̯̝̖̺̱̼̺̞̙̝͍̟̣̗̪̺͕̜̺͑̐̓́̈̃̉̓̇̉́̑̑̐́͒̓͛̎̊̕͘͜͝͝ͅͅǫ̸̡̮͕͕̬̪̱̩̯͕͔̼̺̥͖̖͈̬̙͉̹͓̺̜͚̭͙̮̲̺͎̪̩̮͈̞̘̥͕̪̖̬̱̳̗̆̀͐̐̎̏̂̒̎̓̋̇̒̔͗̒̏͋̄̋̒̀͜u̵̢̢̢̹̖̩̮͎̫̼̞̲̖̙̱̠̙̗̱̻͎̭̦͓̩̅̋͋́́̆̅͆̏̓͗̄͐̆͗̄̈́͘̕̚͜͝͝͝ ̴̨̧̢̡̬͔̙̼͉͈͚̩̦͔͍̝̻̘̰̩͍̦̼̞̺̱̺̜͍̟̩̤̥̟̖̗͖̪͔͉̱̼̪̽͌̓̔̈́͋̈́͛͛͂̃̍͛͑̾͜k̴̡̨̛̲̪͕̖̜͎̱̹̣̱̯̯̫͍̫̙͎͈̹̼͚͓̲̠̟͂̍̓͛̽͋̋̃͊̍́̒̊̀̾̈́̔͂͛̈́̿͗̔͒́͑͋͑̔̐̆̓̀́͑́̚̚̚͝͝͠͝ͅͅn̴̢̧̧̢̛̜̙̘̣̮̗͚̮̰̯͕̞͇̤͇̦̼͈͔̦̽͋̈́̍̑́̒͋̇͂̑̋̈̐̾̈́̀̍̑̈́͝ͅe̵̛̻̊͋̋̎͒͛̄̅̒͐͐͋̅̒̏͌̔̈́̃̀͒̀̽̎́̅̄͑̿̀͆̉̽̅̈́̋̄͂̿̆̂̕̚̕͘̕͝͝w̶̧̢̛̛̯͓̹̺͚͇̣̱̱̪̰̗̟̫̬͓̟͗̍̆͊̀͒̋̂́̏̉̇̊̌̌̐͋͗̆̎̿̓̓̊̓̐͌͌̉͌́͂͒̏̍̾̕̚͝͝͝ ̶̛̛̩̱͓̤̖̝̪̪͍̤̯͈̝̱̣̦͔͂̌̒̈̀̍̐̌̎͂̇͒͑͒̒̎̽̈́͂̈́́͑͗̕͝ͅȳ̷̡̡̢̨̲͉͓̗̮̦͚͉͖̘͍̥̜̘͙̙͙̳̬̹̟̖̙̜͔̣̬̜̹̰͆̿̊̅͒̐̈́̿̓̈͛̔͂̉͆̓̊͋̾̽̏̈̄̅̈̄̀̉̔̾̉͘̕͘͘͜͠͝ͅò̶̧͓̖̼̻͍̰͉̲̮̤̀̽̈͛̆̒̃̑̄̽̎͂̐͑͑͆͑̉͗̈́̅͆̆̒͂̄̈̈́͂̆̏̚ų̶̧̛̛̻̪̦̟̣͕̠̖̦̳̞̹̱̜͈̙̰̰͈̯̹̙͇̭͔̟̳̬̼͖̳̥̖̼̪̫̳͎̖̜̙͔̙͎̞́͒̉͂̄͊̐̆̏̈́̂͆͑̍̏̆͛͑͐̕̚͜͜͜͠͝͠ ̶̡̨̨̧̛̺̟̩̮̟̰̳͙͚̤͎͎̫͇̺̳̦̟̳͍̬̳̯̦̟̰̟̫͖̲̘̄̏̋̉̂̆̔̔̈́̾͋͋̓̎̽͋̀͐͘͘͠͝͝͝k̵̨̢͍͍̠̜̩̰̘̞̻̺̬̰̗̩̯̤͉̟͈̠̒̉̋͌̈́̓̈́̉͐͒̌̿̊̿͐̆̌̃̈́͋̅͊͗̍̀͐͂̇̑̏̋̀̈́̀̀̏́͛̾̈͘̚͜͜͝͝͝͝n̴̨̢̡̧̛̬͚̫̻̜͓̫̯̣̤̺͍̭̯͔̘̜̪͉͚̪̫̤̪͖̆̔̍̔̐̆̆͑̐̌̓́̀̃̄̉͌͑̾̇͒̾̑͋̏̈́͐́̋̃͐̿̓̂̐̄͗̚͝͝e̴̢̧̛̛̖̰͔͕̜̩͚̫̘̼̫͕̝̪̬̰̎̊̾̀̉̀͛͛̄̑̉͋͒̀̌̀̅́̒͌̑̂̾̄̾͛͛͗̿̋͐̾͊̈́̒͘͠͠͝ͅw̴̡̧̛̝̱̰̫̘͍̳̖̯̥̪̯̼̳͔̤̯̱̘̮͉͖͙͍͚͉̫̲͍͆̽̐̍͑̾͗̿͐̍̾̑͋̇̂̎̉͗̓̌́̍̑̎̅́̒͗̽̑̆̑̀̆̓̊̉̃̋̕͘͜͝͝͠ͅ
.... .. / -. --- - / ... ..- .-. . / -.-- --- ..- / .-. . -- . -- -... . .-. / -- . / -... ..- - / .. / -- .. ... ... / -.-- --- ..- / .-. . .- .-.. .-.. -.-- / .. / .-. . .- .-.. .-.. -.-- / -.. --- / .. - .----. ... / -. --- - / ... .- ..-. . / --- ..- - / .... . .-. . --..-- / ..-. .-. .. . -. -.. .-.-.- / .. / .... --- .--. . / -.-- --- ..- / ..-. --- .-. --. .. ...- . / -- . .-.-.- / .. / .-- .- ... -. .----. - / ... - .-. --- -. --. / . -. --- ..- --. .... .-.-.- / .. / .-- .- ... -. .----. - / ... - .-. --- -. --. / . -. --- ..- --. .... .-.-.- / -... ..- - / .. / .-- .. .-.. .-.. .-.-.- / .-- . / .-- .. .-.. .-.. / ..-. .. --. .... - .-.-.- / -.-- --- ..- / .-- . .-. . / -- -.-- / ..-. .. .-. ... - / . ...- . .-. -.-- - .... .. -. --. --..-- / .... --- -. . ... - .-.. -.-- .-.-.- / ..-. .-. .. . -. -.. --..-- / ..-. --- . .-.-.- .-.-.- .-.-.-
Zoro was pretty sure Usopp marked his grave the moment he opened the hotel doors in the middle of the night in what would probably be considered a total crackdown.
But that's exactly what happened.
They had a strict rule: the hotel closed at 12 AM, because no matter how much he despised the regime, Zoro knew midnight was the exact time anomalies began manifesting in their districts. Keeping one inside meant grounds for arrest. Arrest meant more paperwork. An anomaly inside meant panicked guests, and Zoro detested damage control or things that had no further merit.
So actually, he was a teeny bit wrong. Surprisingly. Usopp had marked his grave for his stunt, whether it be by his hands or whatever creature he let inside.
"What do you mean you let the creature in?" Zoro growled, storming into Usopp's space the moment his co-worker confessed. The clink and clatter of performers in the main lobby wedged his head between two sources of discomfort, and although it could be unfair, this all definitely stemmed from Usopp and Usopp alone.
The man in question gave him a presumptive glare.
"Because boss," Usopp yelled over the cacophony, backing off, "the guy threatened to air out our secrets if I didn't let him in—he had receipts! Do you not see my conundrum?"
"Nice logic," Zoro deadpanned, "If it weren't for the fact that most anomalies know how to lie! And now that you've let him in, the military's going to breathe down my neck if he stays the entire night through."
"That's your concern?" Usopp grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him to watch an array of visitors patrolling in and out of the hotel lobby. "He could hurt someone!"
Zoro rolled his eyes. Of course he knew. That remained top of his list in terms of priorities, contrary to his zero vocalization of said priority, but saying that out loud would imply fear. Zoro didn't do fear. He was his father's son. Simply, he was better.
"So that's all that you'll do? Whine at me for doing what any normal person would do in my situation?" Usopp bit back.
"Normal," Zoro scrunched his nose. He grinned. "I should make you find that creature yourself."
Usopp's eyes widened.
"Look man, I know life's been hell for you these couple weeks but you have to man up. I told you the creature dispersed into the crowd the moment he got in. Best thing we can do is find him and ask what he wants!"
"Talk to me about manning up," Zoro responded gruffly, already running his hand down the assortment of weapons he had in store. Which wasn't much, but far more than any normal human. Normal human, that is, being those without a cop father.
He flexed his fingers, wondering how much force it would take to break an anomaly's neck. Wouldn't be that hard, presumably. They focused more on aesthetically looking like a human than adapting their core functions. Or at least that his theory. Maybe he was wrong and that particular anomaly could end his life. Didn't matter all too much. Not when they're both dead.
Well, it's about time he test it.
Usopp looked at him funny. "Or is Roronoa Zoro too scared of a single anomaly? What would your good ol' pop say?"
Which was, ha, the opposite of what he was thinking. So Usopp made a mistake. Again.
"Shut up." Zoro replied smoothly, massaging his shoulder. His satchel weighed heavily on his waist, a collection of leather-strapped knives and one perilous material, Qxygen bound in a simple tin canister. Glinting, of all things, for lack of use.
With all things considered, however, Usopp wasn't an idiot. Occasionally. So as much as he hated it, Zoro would be more of an idiot for standing there useless like a bag of meat waiting to be pulled taut.
"Okay, let's go."
As a precaution, Zoro took out out the second canister, throwing it to Usopp who caught it in one satisfying swoop.
"You're the only one who needs protection," Zoro shrugged, already on his way before Usopp quipped.
"Nuh-uh. You're going. I'll wait." Usopp frowned. "It's better I uh, protect the guests while you search."
"You—" Zoro huffed, too pissed to properly close his satchel. By the end, it didn't even click. Probably fine. Not like it would accidentally explode. Or something.
As Zoro walked out, the last thing he saw Usopp do was run to the surveillance room. He might as well. Zoro didn't really need his help, anyways. He just wished Usopp wouldn't get himself killed, or worst, make the situation worse.
Zoro focused back at the task at hand. An Edo-themed, black and white hotel stared at him in defiance, walls painted with swords, folding doors painted with murals, hanging ropes neatly drawn out from the canopy. He couldn't decide on the specific decor. He prided himself on it, though. A horrible place to get dirty.
Turns out, anomalies were really hard to rat out in a crowd of several dozen. Zoro made quiet a name for his hotel, seeing as it was the only one bold enough to disobey the "perfect and pristine" rules the regime laid out, running a bar on midnight, a bunch of singers and performers gathered in the hotel lobby after curfew. Profit was a good thing, but when there's a head at every corner, ratting out a human-like creature was like poking a thread into a needle.
So Zoro continued his search, wadding through the hotel's smoke and bumping into drunk guests equally psyched to be out here in the dead of night. This was futile. As much as Zoro reigned supreme as a navigator, every turn he took was a turn back to where he started. When he believed a clue glinted out in the open, the open would close, and Zoro, despite his obvious competence, would find the door closing on his face.
Lovely.
Something should be off about the anomaly's facial features. Eyes with black scleras. Hands with teeth. Skin admonished by scales. The government listed a ton of features, most of which Zoro had seen before. But the place was engulfed in a thicket of shadow, the ambiance a double-edged sword far more cursed than the ones he proudly displaced booby trapped in his entrance, so the signs look...Like there wasn't at all.
"Damn it," he whispered. The guests look...Normal. Canny. Like this was one of Usopp's many lies, and Zoro victim to his drunken stupor.
Zoro gave in, straying a little too far from the crowd. His guard dropped down a bit. His eyelids droop a millimeter in length. For some odd reason, he somehow ended in the hotel bar, of all places.
Laughter. Zoro raised his eyes, watching the bartender with relative ease. Maybe Usopp lied after all. Maybe this was part of his plan to ruin his night, further, mind you, because most of his nights were on a path to ruination, anyhow. He could use a beer. Then he'd fight clearer.
Yeah. Like anomalies were any normal night.
And it's peculiar, really, how the humidity dropped, how the air scorched, how his vision blurred...
He squinted at the bartender. A couple of ladies brighten up at seeing him make his tricks, adorning his person like they were all gathering up to listen to his grandeur tale.
"I don't mind serving you for the rest of my life, mademoiselle," the bartender chuckled, easily balancing shots on his shoulders, glass clinking as the ladies continued to swoon. For some reason, this made Zoro displeased. Bartenders should just do their job. No point in straying. Some tequila and...Wait. Wasn't this a self-serving bar?
Rubbing his eyes, Zoro slowly unsheathed his pocket knife, blade long enough to be a miniature katana.
A crash.
Something, a gust of wind, barreled into him—nearly knocking him to his feet. Big mistake.
"Asshole," Zoro hissed, protecting his satchel and slamming his unarmed fist on the stranger's nose. Gurgling—the crisp sound of gurgling chipped at his ears, some horrible noise before Zoro's vision blackened, revealing a singular red sclera bright amidst the darkness. Almost immediately, Zoro's shin was hit with something akin to a leg.
Then the light flickered back on, the stranger's eye back to normal, as normal as it could get, as the world somehow—glitched—as their bodies dispersed, floundered into thin air. What the hell?
Light. A feather. He felt like a feather, some omnipotent observer as the rest of the world melted away, limited to him and the creature alone. So this was how it felt to be invisible, huh?
Zoro's eyes adjusted to golden hair more luminous than the marquee letters neon plastered on their hotel signs. A flustered stranger. An anomaly.
Zoro clamped his mouth.
Act cool.
"What the hell do you want?"
The anomaly's eyes, incandescent and blue, blinked at him in shock. His eyebrows swiveled where a normal humans would unfurl. Uncanny, like cherubim plastered on old foreign books. Run, the voice in Zoro's head whispered, but he had gotten used to tuning out the noise for safety. Zoro felt heat rupture past his lungs, worming its way into his intestines as dread nestled itself into his gut. It felt like he had just digested smoke. It was intense. Zoro feared for his life. Zoro was beyond excited. Zoro was going to get himself killed.
The anomaly sneered, attempting to kick at Zoro's head. Zoro blocked the kick with his forearm, but before he had the chance to retaliate, the stranger resumed its original position.
The anomaly didn't stop. He swung and swung, leaving Zoro on the defensive. His arms stung blow after blow, his legs shifting at every attack. Before Zoro could attempt another punch, a kick finally lands on his gut.
When he was a child, his father always noted that he had the misguided instinct to run towards danger. A muscle head armed with guns? Nah. Not a risk enough for Zoro to back off. His own seething father? Scary, yeah, but Zoro held his own.
This creature the government warned him about? Well they're a piece of shit anyways, and half of their warnings weren't even true.
But still had to admit. This was beyond the most foolish thing he'd ever done. And honestly, he did a lot.
The air squeezed out of Zoro's lungs. He opened and closed his mouth, but his voice came up in gasps. The anomaly had the nerve to smirk before opting for another kick. Zoro doesn't like one trick ponies. He blocked the kick with his palm, bending the creature's long leg and tugging it forward to land a punch to the thing's torso, but completely missed. His grip released, and anomaly free to knock Zoro to the ground.
Anomaly. Zoro recalled trainings with his father. Don't panic, steady your emotions. Avoid contact if possible. The VHS tapes, the ones he used to watch as a child, used to warn him about these creatures being able to devour human souls. Well Zoro's debunked that theory, but that didn't make them any less surprising. It always came down to this question: if a murderer had an anomaly's power, how would he wield it?
And this guy...Probably some sort of criminal.
With a satisfied smirk, the anomaly dug his foot into Zoro's chest. His shoe was neatly polished, black and sleek. Zoro didn't know what he needed that for. All he could register was the heel close to crushing his bones. Close. Too bad the anomaly didn't see this coming.
Zoro opened his mouth wide, biting the anomaly's ankle. He made sure to spit out the dust accumulated on the anomaly's pants. To level the playing field. Or test his luck further.
"Ow!" And Zoro was promptly let free.
"So you do speak," Zoro smirked, "I thought your eyebrows obstructed your mouth."
Hopping back on his feet, he ignored the protests of his chest, and landed a solid punch on the anomaly's cheek.
But the anomaly smiled.
As if he won.
Zoro stared at his person. His satchel was gone.
No.
All Zoro heard next was the sound of giggling coming from the body in front of him. Giggling. This grown man—
A kick landed squarely on the back of Zoro's shoulder blade. His knife clattered to the ground, picked up and twisted by the creature who suddenly manifested behind him.
Turning around, it was at this moment Zoro noted the faint line of stubble on the anomaly's chin. Zoro had the uncanny itch to drag his finger on it, feel it's sharpness cut his skin. Because maybe he'd let him. Maybe Zoro would survive unarmed. That this creature, yeah, Curlybrows over here, wasn't actually here to kill him and his guests.
But that was a foolish thought to have when Curly was advancing. Towards him. With his own knife.
He closed his eyes. That was how you gain their trust. He knew. It worked for him before, before everything—
Zoro managed to still his breathing to a steady pace, keeping his eyes locked on the railings whenever he decides to peak. Don't panic, he repeated in his head, a mantra that his father used to say whenever he'd train Zoro on how to deal with these things. Clear your mind, which was around the time Mihawk would ruffle his hair and call him an idiot for closing his eyes way too hard.
That and stay calm. Anomalies feed on dread.
"Hey," He leveled, "cut this out."
Curly squinted. "Are you one of them, then?"
"I don't—"
"A suck up to the regime," Curly sneered, stepping closer and leaving Zoro with no choice but to be pinned to the wall. He pressed the knife to the spot near Zoro's ear. Was he going to die? Were the VHS tapes telling the truth all along, despite his convictions, despite—
"Do you think I'm a heartless monster out to get you?" Curly asked, gesturing towards the hotel residents casually transfixed on their conversations. Unaware as if Curly never materialized in their life at all. "Do you think I'm going to devour your guests and eat you alive, son of Dracule?"
The anomaly let the last three words hang in the air. Dracule. Chief of police in their district. A man whose captured more anomalies than anyone ever had.
Of course this was about him.
"You—" Zoro gasped, something akin to fury blocking, blocking his chest, "you blackmailed my staff! You're trying to kill me. You're not a monster," Zoro chuckled, shifting his head to the side, away from the knife, "you're a pathetic lowlife thug that happens to be an anomaly."
Curly furrowed his brows.
"What?"
"You heard me," Zoro wheezed, heat throbbing in his torso, "you're a low life, man. You..."
The anomaly's eyes were the bluest thing he'd ever seen.
"You're not actually going to kill me."
The world transposed again, the bright cacophony returning, bar songs back to full volume as Curly eyed him, stunned. The satchel and knife hit the floor with a thump.
"You think I'm not a monster?"
Without a second wasted, Zoro grabbed the knife, taking Curly's stillness as an inopportunity to lurch forward and slam him to the wall.
The creature was surprisingly light, all things considered. Near death experience and all.
Cool. So Curly actually allowed himself to be manhandled. Sick freak. Zoro should be kinder more often. Or something.
"You," Zoro heaved, "have exactly a minute to explain yourself before I throw you out of here myself. Now spit, what do you want?"
"Tough talk for someone who I could have killed seconds ago. Not that I..." Curly swallowed. "Nothing."
"Okay," Zoro frowned, "what do you want?"
"What I want," the anomaly began grimly, his voice smooth for the smoke obscuring his face, "is to lay in bed with a woman who would love and cherish me for the rest of my life."
Zoro made a face at that.
"Bullshit."
"Let me finish!" The anomaly snapped. "But nooo. I have to go to this place run by some meathead in the middle of the night so I can check if its any good for the resistance. Well guess what, Sabo, the customer service is shit!"
"You understand that I have zero idea of what you're talking about, right?" Zoro hissed. "If I let you go, do you promise to be nice?"
"What do you think I am? A child that can't behave?"
Zoro thought about it. "Yeah."
Curly screeched, or something inside him did, given that his mouth didn't move. Surprisingly, some of the guests took notice. So he could turn that...Effect off?
"Throw that can out."
Zoro frowned. "Okay." He didn't see a problem in this. Keeping an eye on Curly, he picked the can and shoved it into one of the nearby garbage cans at near the entrance of the bar. He inverted his pockets and showed his hands. "Happy?"
The anomaly made a display of nodding, walking towards Zoro's disgruntled stare. It was probably safer to examine what he was dealing with. Curlybrows was at least a centimeter shorter, making Zoro incredibly pleased.
"Your bell hop is admirably loyal unless you threaten his life, you know."
"I doubt it," Zoro shook his head. "Well?" He motioned outside. The part of the hotel before the bar was at least more silent. Curly grimaced, stepping out after Zoro.
"You humans have such a lovely display of disgust and intimacy," Curly said, folding his arms, cigarette firmly in his mouth. His hotel had a no smoking rule. Prick. "But I was lying. I'm not here to blackmail you"
"Huh," Zoro frowned, "I would have thought otherwise."
"I hate to admit it, but Sabo was right." Curly huffed. Civil Curly scared him more than whatever the hell Curly was earlier. It felt like conversing with a flaming sword. "You're not a mindless servant of the state."
Geez. Thanks.
He still didn't trust this guy. Not ever, maybe.
"Plus," Sanji butted in. "Your interior really needs some reshaping. Those poor performers are swaying to a heap of dull, gray colors. And there's this tacky design all over the place. For a man with moss for hair, you don't even have a touch of green anywhere in this place."
"It's a sword themed hotel." Zoro gritted out. The anomaly grinned, his eyes crinkling like a humans'. Horribly like one.
"So you do care about what I say. You're open to improvement. That's good." His tongue clicked as if mentally jotting down notes from a checklist. "Sabo would be pleased."
"Sabo this, Sabo that, all that name dropping and..." Now where did Zoro hear that name before? A human senator's son. A human himself. Just what was this anomaly doing working with humans? "And you are—"
"Sanji." the anomaly cut off. "Just Sanji. And you passed the test. We think this could be a great front for our resistance."
Zoro didn't think he would ever allow Sanji in his house. Or anyone besides his tight knit group of comrades. Scratch that, not even his friends were allowed entry. So why this hotel?
"Resistance?" But that made him curious. Zoro used to entertain resistance, like most of them did. It was futile, however. Futile. Zoro wasn't stupid. There was a reason why anomalies wanted resistance. There was also reason to run for his life. His thoughts clashed, molding together until he was unable to rip them apart using brute force. He hated the regime. He didn't know what these anomalies were. His father was the chief of police. He...
Resistance didn't work. Not unless both sides were even. Not unless both sides were...When Zoro stared back at the anomaly, the remnants of glitched surface hanging in the air, his mind jostled with wonder. "What a joke," Zoro bluffed.
But he wasn't prone to blind trust. Not with these beings.
Curly narrowed his eyes. He shoved a finger on Zoro's chest with more vehemence than Zoro's seen on most humans. It sunk deeply into Zoro's shirt, and might have left a hole had the creature not been so agitated. "No you pathetic moss for brains, it's good, and you will listen. You will..."
Zoro stepped back, the finger having sent sparks blazing through his skin. It felt nice, actually. A hot tub. Yeah. Too nice. Zoro was slowly going insane. As Curly continued to rant, the fool began to pace further and further away until...
Zoro's eye twitched. Curly backed his way towards a hidden button.
"That's—"
Qxygen started rushing out of the vents, gushing out like an open wound.
"Poison! Yeah, no shit." Curly yelled, glaring at Zoro with the little energy he could pull. His pupils turned to slits, hands rushing to his throat. "Wish you warned me about that, asshole," he croaked out.
Zoro watched as his mind geared towards headlock. The heat left as Curly's body collapsed on the floor. Now he felt cold. Really cold and it hurt. Zoro stood for a while. Unmoving. He stared down at his hands and momentarily cursed himself for what he would do next. Taking a deep breathe, he began to walk.
Fuck.