The Show Stoppers

[Terminally Chill]

“Magnum...”

“... Fist...”

“... Magnum...”

“... Everything...”

A raucous rumble rolled across the expanse of the West Blue, a phantom roar with origins difficult to trace. The western weather was characteristically fair, sky devoid of the black behemoth of a cloud capable of producing such a booming racket. Much like the sky above, this particular stretch of the sea was clear of much activity. Only a single ship streamed across the open waters, chugging along with a low buzz drowned out by the thunderous swell. The vessel was peculiar, modeled in the visage of a gaudy flaming bird and carrying three teenagers whose ragtag alliance was even stranger than the ship speeding them to their destination.

Upon closer inspection, the mysterious noise could be quickly attributed to one of the odd ship's passengers: Magnum Garands, self-proclaimed Pirate King and an all-around jerk. The blue-haired demon was passed out hard on his back atop the ship's avian figurehead, mouth agape with a small stream of drool flowing freely from the corner. His hand held his prized Pirate King Championship even in slumber. Apparently, Garands' snoring was just as loud and obnoxious as literally every single other thing he did in his life. The teenage firearm's violent mind surely dreaming up fantasies of punching through Liger Delgado's face, the result of Garands' last confrontation with the suited luchador displayed in the form of bandages bound around much of his body. The lazy king was ensuring the wounds sustained from the festival's trying battle healed appropriately by engaging in copious amounts of sleep, the area around him littered with cans of discarded food and old bandages.

The ship gifted to the trio by Aman Delgado was undoubtedly fast, but the trip to reach the Flying Delgado Company's headquarters had still taken a few days. Perhaps the only way Bailey Barnum and Arcis Erranta had been able to handle an extended period of time with Garands was the fact he hadn't said a single word to either of them since waking up from the bout of unconsciousness following his skirmish with Liger. Since that moment, the bare-chested barbarian's routine atop the figurehead was solely sleeping, eating, and doing a ton of push-ups in preparation for the redeeming title fight against the Delgado family's patriarch.

A sudden sway shook Garands from his slumber with a series of confused grumbles. The coal-fueled propellers whirred to a halt and the ship gradually began coasting across the water. Arcis' knowledge of navigation had proven to be exceptional judging by the small island awaiting them in the distance. Lifting his blade-like shades, Garands rubbed the sleep from his eyes and peered to the sight before the trio: a great, ominous tower lording over the sea in a shroud of darkness. The loud-mouthed Pirate King grinned with a devilish excitement, the sight of their destination instantly snapping him from any sort of grogginess.

“Now this is what I'm talkin' about!” Garands sprung onto his feet in one fluid motion, red cape dramatically flourishing behind him as he stood cross-armed at the ship's helm to receive the first wave of the Flying Delgado's Company's forces. As their eye-sore of a vessel approached, the great tower slowly came into view. As the pure scope of their destination was revealed, there was no doubt the Delgado's family's headquarters was...!

… Pretty lame.

The tower was definitely... tall? And yeah, generally pretty large, but that was really the only sort of impressive feature. Otherwise, the building was an endlessly boring wall of windows on all sides, placed atop a manicured lawn stretching across the entirety of the small island. There were definitely ships anchored around island's edge, but not a soul graced the neat expanse of green. The only break in the grass was a welcome walkway stretching from the wooden dock about to greet their drifting ship, leading right to the Tower of Dull itself. The sight was a painful contrast to the bombastic flair the Grand Floating Festival provided; it was hard to even fathom the same organization could be involved in both constructions. Finally absorbing the immense mediocrity of their enemy's stronghold, Garands slowly turned to address his two fellow passengers for the first time in the voyage's span. His face was an unimpressed scowl, arm weakly pointing in disbelief at the lackluster setting.

“Shit's weeeeeeaaaakkkk.”

[Tori Tori Chopper]

'They've never really been known to have a lot of, uuh..'

The magician wiggled her fingers like she was trying to cast some sort of spell to the remaining ocean ahead of them, attempting to gesture the families known lack of 'bazazz' amongst performing social circles. She had to speak with a fairly forced volume, the wind and waves healthy competition to her fairly quiet tone, though her chosen perch atop the abomination that was this duck-swan shaped steamboat wasn't doing her any favours. She had to have some victory over this horrible vessel they had chosen to ride, and although she seemed to slightly struggle sitting atop it, legs dangling off one side while lightly jolted back and forth in sync with the engines functionality.. She seemed damn near adamant to look casual. She subconsciously declared a draw as she dismounted, sliding down the neck into the drivers port and reorganising any ruffled bandages or clothing that seemed out of place, running a couple of fingers through her hair to tuck it back behind her one ear and sensibly leaving her hat to not have to battle the gales should it be atop her head. She gave the wheel a light tap, placing them on a direct course, kicking through the bombshell that had dropped around Garands general location before finding herself a seat in the somewhat wind-protected innards.

A creature of habit, she had gone over plans of attack and in general for the majority of the ride, hardly being able to sleep unlike a certain other passenger. She couldn't help but shiver at the sensation that washed over her that they had arrived, action in whatever shape and size would soon commence, and all this reckless abandon and justice seeking on a whim.. With these guys. 'The hell am I doing this for anyway's..' A small uncontrollable breach of character had he quickly retracing her steps, letting out a forced cough and deep breath before clicking her fingers to a neutral happy-go-lucky expression. She looked back and forth to her audience, for the strangest of reasons expecting a bone-head and mute knight to break the ice in conversation. 'Alright! we 'gotta castle to storm! It dont look much..' She began to mumble ever so slightly, reaching into her bag and digging rather deep to procure a scrap or paper and a writing utensil. 'But from what I've heard they cram what we have on a ship twice this islands size into that tall-as-heck tower..'

She placed the fairly neat yet hasty drawing on her lap.

'The towers split into levels, everything's 'gotta chain of command, see.'

She began to layer the slightly 3D rectangle from the base up.

'Like a pyramid, lesser dudes in mass at the bottom, important dudes at the top.'

She circled the top, for the more mentally challenged of the group.

'Liger's office is probably at the top, naturally.'

She finally layered a huge question mark over the completed piece, spinning the pencil rapidly between her fingers as she concluded. 'I wish I knew more about the set-up, like going into a robbery not knowing where the loot is..' She stuck her tongue out to one side, tapping the writing tool agaisnt her chin as she pondered. 'I wonder if they even expected us to follow them.' Her thought process was cut short, wobbling slightly from the sudden introduction of stubborn waves that ricocheted agaisnt the land-mass it battered, she hadn't even realised they were that close.

With much gusto Bailey barrelled over the ships side, battle ready and snarling only for her internal battle music to awkwardly shudder much like her knees down. She literally and practically froze to a halt, the chilling waters that inevitably would be underneath a boat jolted through her nervous system before kicking into gear and skipping out onto actual land, panting as if she had just been in a battle with a ferocious sea creature. 'Should've gotten Arc to pull the boat in.' The lack of sleep was clearly a mistake, but not one she could take back now.

The small intermission had her side-tracked, quickly looking up to scan the area in panic had her adrenaline suddenly pumping for no reason at all. The quiet and tranquil garden landscape whistled gently back to her to confirm her theory. This place was dead. No welcoming army, no guards? What kinda hullabaloo business was this guy running?! For some odd reason the Barnum magician in title alone expected some sort of resistance, despite earlier clearly noting that Liger might have been so blinded with pride as to have not expected retaliation.

'The nerve..'

She had hung around with the blue hedgehog for too long, she wanted to smash something for absolutely no reason simply because the best case scenario of not having to fight their way in was clearly set out right before them. She looked back to her companions, crashing her foot down with a grunt before stamping towards the towers large and only double doors, even going as far to kick to occasional plant pot and hedge on her way up the small length path. She inhaled sharply, ready to bellow through the solid door only to realise it didn't open. Her uncharacteristic anger and uncontrolled breathing patterns had no output, slowly reverting from a hunched mad woman to a slightly disappointed lady.. More specifically her polite nature quickly got the better of her, once again looking to her party for direction.

'D-Do I knock, or..'

[Tsin]

Unlike from the other two members of the improbable trio-- spending their time on the ride over focusing on the future of their little adventure with thoughts of battle plans and possible tactics, or an aggressive and frankly ridiculous amount of chest workouts-- Arcis spent it mostly distracted in the present. He curiously pored over all manner of the ship's documents, navigational or otherwise, as a means of passing the hours, though the exercise actually turned out to be pretty useful as the paladin was occasionally called upon to correct the course of the magnificent swan ship. It was an easy job, given the information left on the graceful vessel and its self-propelling nature, though Arcis had no reason to chase the circus magnate to his home base... For their own reasons though, it looked like Garands and Bailey emphatically did, and he figured ‘why not.’ The ship was already on the move, and he certainly had no better plans between here and Grand Line, however that destination would be reached.

And in a similar vein of thought, he was now humoring the azure enchantress again as she scribbled away, roughly outlining the tower and its general setup. The sentinel’s head nodded along with her explanation right up until the very moment she tumbled over the handsome gondola’s railing at the beckon of a rough wave. Predictably, the young man didn’t physically waver a millimeter in response, although... ”Guess I should’ve been focusing on pulling the boat in.”

With his knightly instincts revving up, Arcis stood and peered overboard at the young lady. Hidden somewhere deeeeeep beneath his indifferent visage, there was the smallest hint that he was considering asking if Bailey was okay, not that there was anything he could offer her if she wasn’t-- not even a clean change of clothes despite having changed his own charred outfit sometime during the voyage, the origin of the new set being entirely unclear. Not to mention where the hell that suit of armor went.

The way that she stomped onto the island and ahead to the tower’s massive doors did something to dissuade the stoic youth though. He simply shrugged, as if to say ‘seems fine.’

Speaking of the island and tower…

“Shit's weeeeeeaaaakkkk.”

Having had no expectation of his own, Arcis… well, Arcis also had to admit that it was all a bit underwhelming. Honestly could just be mistaken for some old man’s front lawn if it wasn’t for that gigantic, gaudy tower in the middle of everything. And that goddamn tower-- From a strategic point of view, it was so incredibly stupid. Why would a man, apparently somewhat prone to making enemies, construct the very core of his empire in an enormous and apparently unguarded column so close to the ocean? It was in plain view and easy range of any shitty ship armament just passing by… Guess there was some element of ‘the high ground’ at play here but it would just be a long way to fall after a couple of cannonballs knocked the freaking thing over like a wooden dowel.

And for all these critical thoughts, Arcis returned Garands’ grimace with his usual disinterest and uttered, “... Yep.”

Hefting the considerable mass of the Adamant onto his back, the sentinel disembarked, patting the neck of the stately swan in a small gesture of thanks as he leapt onto the walkway. Though it wasn’t exactly the kind of place he was expecting have a life of death conflict, indeed if a life or death conflict happened at all, there was a certain serenity about the simple environs. It was as if its incredible lack of features and ultimate dullness somehow spoke directly to the indomitable knight’s soul, something that could easily be imagined as also being… really really freaking bland.

“D-Do I knock, or..”

“Kinda thought this was a business, actually. Seems like we should be able to walk right in?” Arcis placed a gloved hand against the tower gate and leaned forward into it, bracing his legs against the walkway in preparation for a hearty push. He paused in that position for a few seconds though, staring directly at the closed door while rolling a thought around his head… “Seems a guy like Liger is probably pretty busy though? We don’t have an appointment or anything. Guess we shouldn’t.”

And in the end, he only rapped his knuckles against the entryway a few times. An anti-climax befitting of this darn island.

[Terminally Chill]

“D-Do I knock, or...”

“We don’t have an appointment or anything. Guess we shouldn’t.”

The scathing scowl slapped onto Garands’ face was only sinking further. Besides Bailey’s brief assault on the path’s landscaping, the epic assault on the Flying Delgado Company’s headquarters was off to an excruciatingly dull start. The Pirate King was uncharacteristically still beside his makeshift allies, the heroic gale dancing across his great crimson cloak upon arrival long dead and leaving frayed fabric sagging sadly across his slumped shoulders. Perhaps he was still stunned into an unimpressed stupor by the barrage of boredom – somewhere between the tower’s stifling sight, Bailey going over a freaking plan or something, and Arcis knocking on the front door of Garands’ current sworn enemy, Liger Delgado. The vein in the loud-mouth king’s forehead was swelling to dangerous proportions, teeth threatening to crush one another as the usual rage burst into a boil and the welcomed calm in his stormy demeanor undone in a flash.


“RuuuUUUUAAAAGH!” Garands forewent distilling his anger into language and instead unleashed a barbaric howl to the sky , reeling a fist back and exploding past his allies with every intention of smashing through the thick double doors. Despite their great girth, they swung open quite quickly after receiving Arcis’ courteous knock. The blue-haired demon’s blow missed its mark, sending him tumbling through the gaping doorway in an embarrassing heap. Garands grunted and growled as he waded through the blood-red cape twisted around him. With a sheepish cough, the bare-chested brute climbed to his feet and straightened out the blade-like shades resting across his nose.

“Oi oi, you two need to handle the light work,” Garands spat back at the knight and magician as he stormed impatiently into the bland stronghold. “I’m savin’ every punch for Liger this time around.” The self-proclaimed Pirate King exercising any sort of restraint was hard to believe, especially considering he was about to smash through the very first mild obstacle in their thus-far carefree road to revenge.

A great expanse of marble gleaming with the excitement of white bread greeted the ragtag trio. Much like the entire tower, the size of the giant room was the only remotely impressive factor. Garands raised a disbelieving eyebrow as he soaked up every forgettable detail of the vanilla space. A short set of steps brought them to the first sign of life amidst the barren marble waste: a single, simple desk with a figure sitting stationary behind. A row of three plain, black chairs were set neatly to the side. The details of their first potential enemy became clearer as they approached.

“Of course…” Garands growled as his fiery eyes rested on the peculiar sight of a formally-dressed woman sporting a black luchador mask. Despite the mask, she was unassuming in every other way imaginable. The masked receptionist paid the unlikely party no mind, attention occupied by the novel resting lightly between her two fingers. She turned the page without a word. The novel’s cover was occupied by two intimate masked figures, the unfortunate title of Suplex of Passion clearly visible. This was all getting to be too much.

“Oi oi, look here lady!” Garands barked, slamming his palms on the top of the plain desk. “You better tell Liger to get down here right god damn now for our Title Fight!”

“Do you have an appointment?” the receptionist replied flatly, unfazed in her attention to the novel of luchador love.

“A-appointment?! What the hell is up with everyone and appointments!” he shouted angrily, shooting Arcis a venomous glance before jerking his head back to deal with the receptionist.

“So you do not have an appointment,” the female luchador said with a sigh of thinly-veiled annoyance. “Fine. Your name?”

“The name’s Magnum Garands and I’m the godDA—”

“Right, Garland. I’ll pencil you in now.” Her hand did not move from the novel’s pages in any attempt to write the butchered name. “Please take a seat and wait. Mr. Liger will be with you shortly.”

“WAIT?! Who is even ahead of us?! There’s no one else here!” Garands’ enraged roar bounced across the barren reception room, blue spikes shaking as he frantically searched for any other signs of life in the room.

“Mr. Liger is a very busy man, sir.” The icy cool professionalism quickly doused the berserker’s fiery temper. “Please step aside so I can take down your friends’ names as well.”

“FRIENDS?!” Garands’ voice swelled to even more impressive decibels, the claim of companionship with Arcis and Bailey perhaps the greatest offense of all to come out of the receptionist’s mouth. A shining hammer suddenly sprung to life from the teenage magnum’s elbow as he quickly positioned his fist to slay the finely-crafted furniture. Before the desk-demolishing blow could be delivered, Garands’ knuckles stopped inches above the sparsely-decorated surface. The hammer vanished in a flash, the future satisfaction of every bullet-force punch driving into Liger’s smug face saving the desk’s existence.

Garands whirred on his heel with an enraged snort, stomping away from the receptionist and grabbing hold of one of three chairs. He dragged the single seat away from the other two with a screeching grate on the floor before driving it hard into place. The legs buckled and bent beneath the force. The blue-haired demon collapsed onto the solitary seat, damaged chair flipped around so his tattooed arms were folded across the top of the seat.

The King sat on his rickety throne with a menacing glare, growling assorted curses as he waited for the next step in the most boring revenge tour ever.

[Tori Tori Chopper]

'Duuude..'

'RuuuUUUUAAAAGH!'

'Duuuude!~'

CRASH!

Squeak~

THUMP!

'Hahaha~, Dude..' She was to entranced by the series of events unfolding past her and stupidly onto the ground to mind her method of speech, not one to usually minimise her fascination in things down to just one word, a case of the giggle descending upon her as she then casually entered the now lodged over door, sparing the information that she had spotted a doorbell as Garand's came tumbling past her. She was however captivated by the choice of décor, despite her party probably seeing the blander side of white marble reflecting the brown and black details riddled about the hollow room.. The acoustics? Hell, she had to stop herself from jumping up and down on the spot as she tapped gleefully up the stairs with a childish skip in her step, going as far as to checking her hair in the reflection off the floor. She beckoned their armoured compadre with hidden intent, listening intently to the noises his metallic soles would make on the surface. All the while practising the occasional spin with such a velocity that her skirt would twirl in attempt to keep up.

'Light work?! The he- Oooh..' She reverted to a memorable snarky persona for but a second, her shout immediately catching her off guard as she glanced around as if watching her voice bounce about the room. 'Woooooah...' Screw Liger, at this rate she'd be content with kicking back on the first floor.

'INTROOOODUCING!~'

'Ahem!~'

She had struck a majestic pose as if she had descended from the ceiling or risen from the marble beneath her, slowly lowering her head in slight fear at the sharp glare that looked back at her, masked under formal luchador headgear and reading glasses balancing at the end of her nose. She squinted with one eye, the action enough to have Bailey jump in fright on the spot, hands quickly retreating to her chest. The magician let out a clean cough to fill the silence, bowing and receiving a nod in return before Garand's had chosen his next target.. Hopefully more efficiently handled the the door prior. Much to her dismay she clasped her hands over her face, their esteemed leader yet fickle ally chose to breach the issue in the only way he knew how, why was she even surprised? She politely took a seat as the receptionist suggested it, patting down her attire and resting her hands on her knees with a tapping foot to boot as she eye balled the blue menace stomping across the master-crafted surface and in a rebel yell skidded his chair across to sit in an inverted fashion. She looked to Arcis, who presumably would want a seat too, she opened her mouth to suggest it but quickly envisioned a hulk of a man crippling the chair and only ending up on the floor in the attempt. She shook her head and opted out, giving Arcis a a head titled earnest smile instead.

Wait..

'The hell am I doing sitting around for?!' The silence was so captivating from the days of being on that claustrophobic ship accompanied with loud by day, snoring by night Garand's, she was simply swallowed into the serenity of it all! Hell to that she had a tower to siege!

'Ma'am!'

'Your Name, Please.'

'Oh my..'

Her yell was matched by a stern tone, like being scolded as a child, she shook herself out of it before continuing. 'Bailey Barnum! I'm here to meet with Liger on important business! If you could just let u-' She raised her finger from behind her book, motioning a moment as once again Bailey seemed to on command become passive and composed, bobbing her head from side to side with a tune in her head while the Receptionist leant towards her desk, using her free hand to shuffle through some paperwork, her book not so much as wiggled from its position through the whole process. 'I have you down for an appointment, but you're late.' The response did slightly unnerve her, there they were thinking an attack on ivory tower would be something unexpected due to their crippling defeat, turns out they were just lacking punctuality. 'You'll have to wait alongside Garfield, Madam. Liger's currently in a very important meeting.' She looked like she had simply been taken back in time before her eyes, the lady retracing her actions to return to her book in an incredibly efficient manner. There had to be a way to speed this up.

She looked to the stroppy hedgehog, deep in his curses yet showing a level of restraint unknown to her in their short time together, to Arcis who presumably took patience as the order of the day once more. She scanned their first foe, there was something about her that halted even the reckless abandon in her company, was it instinct that halted his assault? A detection of power? Oh! the book! 'Suplex of Passion!' The name was easy to read at a distance, regardless the woman's ears perked at the statement. 'That's the edition where Maria realised Fernando wasn't the father ri-!' The noise was crippling, it was one thing to halt a sentence but an entire train of thought collapsed as she broke the entire book in half with the tensing of her fingers. 'O-Oooh you haven't read that faaar...' A nervous chuckle poured out from her, slowly sitting back down as it to pretend it didn't happen while the spoiled fan rose with a hiss emitting from her nose. 'Eheh.. Oh dear..'

'I stand corrected, Liger did put you in for another appointment.'
She placed her hands firmly against her desk, enough to hear the wood cracking at her grip.

'You're right on time.'

WOOF!

The table had pulled off at least a 720 spin before crashing into Bailey's previous position, muscle memory kicking in for the embarrassed acrobatic as she glided over the rampaging furniture with a single hand delicately placed on it as she spun over its threatening advance, Garand's would have to deal with it in his own fashion, her landing was only met with a very well dressed woman at the ready to meet the unprepared Barnum magician, a stern kick from a high-heeled foot meeting her stomach before her own feet even considered touching the ground, a still airborne and upside-down girl then sent flying into the armoured accomplice before beginning her confident assault on the three visitors.

Spoiler Alert.