Miss Bakkin stood at the entrance of the laboratory, lingering for a moment as she looked back at the rows of gleaming experimental instruments inside.
To her surprise, she actually felt a pang of reluctance.
All that equipment had been gathered piece by painstaking piece, at no small cost to her time, money, and dignity. And now she had to abandon it all and walk away.
"Or maybe…"
Hesitating, Miss Bakkin suddenly thought of something else.
She could sell it.
Even if she had to let it go at a discount, that was still a sizable fortune.
After thinking it over for a moment, she seemed to come to a decision.
"Sell it. Once I leave, I'll be burning money every step of the way. Out on this sea, you're dead without cash."
Clack.
Miss Bakkin shut the lab door and locked it, then headed into the alleyways.
"I'll find Victor. That guy is the biggest secondhand dealer on Beehive Island. He'll definitely be interested in this batch."
…
Time rolled back to an hour earlier.
Inside the prison.
Dragon quickly made it back to Garp's side. After one explosive clash between Garp and Whitebeard forced some distance between them, Dragon flashed in beside his father.
He lowered his voice.
"Old man, the mission's done. I've already released the prisoners on the bottom two levels. They'll be breaking through from below any minute now."
"That's when we make our move."
Garp rolled his neck, and the next sentence nearly made Dragon pass out on the spot.
"Your old man's fists still haven't had enough fun."
In the distance, Newgate clearly heard that and immediately shouted in displeasure.
"Garp!"
"What are you two father and son whispering about over there? Don't tell me you're scared of me, Whitebeard!"
That one line made Garp's eyes bulge. He glared back furiously.
"When has this old man ever been afraid of you, Whitebeard?!"
"Old man!!"
Cold sweat broke out across Dragon's forehead. He was genuinely afraid he wouldn't be able to hold back this bull-headed father of his.
"Time's not on our side! If you fall here, do you want your black-haired son to bury his black-haired father?"
Of course…
Right now, Garp's hair was still black. He was only in his thirties, right at the peak of his life.
Dragon pressed both hands on Garp's shoulders.
"Don't forget why we came. This is not the time to indulge yourself in a fight."
Boom, boom, boom
The sound of violent impacts rang out. One of the prison gates was blasted open, the heavy steel door slamming onto the floor with a crash.
A motley crowd of pirates stood beyond the twisted bars tall, short, fat, thin, men and women alike…
But without exception, they all wore striped prison uniforms.
They were the inmates of Levels Five and Six.
"What's going on? How did all the prisoners get out?!"
Newgate stared, stunned.
He had blocked Garp.
So why had the bottom two levels still been opened?
The strength of the Level Five and Level Six inmates far surpassed that of the prisoners in the upper four levels. Compared to the monsters below, the inmates of the first four levels were basically small fry, trash that could be swept aside.
But the ones down here…
They'd all once been notorious pirates with names that shook the seas.
Whitebeard had deliberately chosen to intercept the Marines on the fourth level so they'd step deeper into the "trap" pinning them between the inner blockade and the outer encirclement, making escape much harder.
He had not expected the bottom two levels to be emptied.
"This is bad…"
Whitebeard's expression turned grim.
He knew he couldn't just let this lot run free.
He shot Garp and Dragon a burning glare, teeth grinding.
"This is your handiwork, isn't it?! Just to rescue trash like the Celestial Dragons, you really will stoop to anything!!"
"Garp! Next time I run into you, I'll smash your skull in!!"
He hefted Murakumogiri and charged toward the prisoners without another word.
Compared to the Marines, if these people escaped, no one knew what Beehive Island would turn into.
Garp was so furious he wanted to rush up and repay Whitebeard's words with his fist, crack that stubborn head wide open but Dragon held him back again.
He led the Marines in a retreat out of the prison.
While they were gathering their forces, quite a number of the Level Five and Six prisoners had already hacked their way out and crashed right into Golden Lion Shiki's blockade outside.
Which led to the scene of a crowd of prisoners besieging the Golden Lion.
But at the same time…
It also bought the Marines an opportunity to escape.
Watching the Marines flee, Shiki ground his teeth so hard they almost shattered.
"Damn Marines… Where the hell is Captain Rocks? Why hasn't he shown up yet?!"
…
The timeline returns to the present.
When Miss Bakkin arrived at Victor's home and knocked for ages without a reply, she glanced at the doorknob.
Dust had gathered there.
Clearly, he hadn't been back in days.
"Victor's not here… Could he be at the warehouse?"
"Might as well check."
As the biggest secondhand dealer on the island, Victor owned quite a few storage sites and often spent his time sorting through goods there.
"Warehouse" was a generous word.
Most of them were basically huge containers, with everything sorted by category for easy selling.
Soon enough…
Miss Bakkin found Victor.
She got straight to the point.
"Victor, I've got a lot of precious lab equipment to sell. Come take a look and give me a price."
"The island's a mess right now. This isn't the time for business. Come back in a few days."
Victor turned her down.
Miss Bakkin frowned.
"You're sure you don't want it? The gear's in good condition. You could flip it and make a tidy profit."
"No need. It'll still be there in a few days. The stuff's not going to sprout legs and run off."
Victor refused again, then added calmly:
"With the island this chaotic, wait until things settle down."
"…Fine."
Miss Bakkin could see he had no intention of dealing, so she turned to leave.
But as she walked away, she kept turning it over in her mind.
Something felt wrong.
"Victor is a thoroughbred, dyed-in-the-wool profiteer. No way he'd turn down an easy deal like this. And…"
"In the past, whenever we traded, his eyes were always glued to me, leering like he wanted to scoop my eyeballs out and roll them over my chest."
"So why is he acting so weird today…?"
"Unless…"
"He's not Victor."
"Then who is he?!"
A woman's intuition had always been a strange, accurate thing. Some people called it a "sixth sense."
Thinking back over what she'd seen on the streets and everything that had happened today…
Miss Bakkin suddenly froze.
A wild guess formed in her mind.
"Could that fake 'Victor' actually be… a Marine?"
"Or someone from the World Government?!"
It felt like she'd stumbled on something very, very big.
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