Dock 7 smelled like salt, rotting fish, and old blood.
Drake walked through the warehouse district with his scythe across his shoulders, drawing stares from dockworkers who knew trouble when they saw it.
This wasn't the clean, tourist-friendly part of Loguetown this was where ships came to unload cargo that didn't have proper manifests, where deals happened in warehouses with rusted doors, where Marines didn't patrol unless they had a very good reason.
Or unless someone paid them not to.
The warehouse John had specified was older than the others, weathered wood and peeling paint. Two men stood outside smoking not guards exactly, but watchful. They saw Drake approaching and one of them disappeared inside.
Drake's instincts prickled. This wasn't a simple bounty hunt. John had been deliberately vague in his note, and that vagueness felt intentional.
The remaining man nodded toward the door. "He's expecting you."
Inside, the warehouse was mostly empty a few crates stacked against walls, light streaming through gaps in the roof. John stood in the center, but he wasn't alone.
A woman sat on one of the crates, maybe forty, with the kind of eyes that had seen too much and decided to keep going anyway. Her clothes were merchant-class but worn. And beside her, holding her hand, was a boy of maybe ten.
"Drake," John said. "Thanks for coming. This is Mira and her son, Tomas."
Drake's hand didn't leave his scythe. "Your note said there was a situation."
"There is." John gestured to Mira. "Tell him."
The woman's voice was steady despite the fear Drake could see in her posture. "My husband captained a merchant vessel.
Three months ago, his ship was attacked by pirates. The cargo was stolen, the crew killed." She swallowed. "The Marines investigated. Captain Hendricks himself took the case. He declared it an act of piracy, filed the reports, and that should have been the end of it."
"But it wasn't," Drake said quietly.
"No." Mira's hand tightened on her son's. "Because last week, I saw our cargo. In a Marine warehouse. Being loaded onto a Marine supply ship bound for headquarters."
The air in the warehouse felt suddenly thicker.
"That's a serious accusation," Drake said.
"It's the truth." Mira pulled a piece of cloth from her pocket silk, deep blue with silver threading. "My husband's ship carried specialty fabrics from the South Blue.
Custom work, one of a kind. I recognize the weave. I helped make some of it." She held it out to Drake. "I took this from the Marine warehouse two nights ago. Nearly got caught doing it."
Drake didn't take the cloth. He looked at John instead. "Why are you involved in this?"
The bounty hunter's expression was unreadable. "Because Mira came to me a week ago. Asked me to investigate. I did some digging."
"And?"
"And it gets complicated." John pulled out a ledger, small and leather-bound. "I found this in a harbormaster's office. Took some creative borrowing. It shows ship manifests cargo arriving and cargo departing. There's a pattern. Merchant ships get attacked by 'pirates,' their cargo disappears, and then Marine supply vessels leave port with mysterious unmanifested goods."
Drake felt something cold settle in his stomach. "How long has this been going on?"
"At least six months. Maybe longer." John flipped through pages. "The attacks started increasing right after Smoker was transferred out. And the common denominator is always the same Captain Hendricks signs off on the piracy reports."
"Hendricks." Drake remembered the Marine captain. Professional and Competent. The man who'd tried to recruit him just yesterday. "You're saying he's behind it?"
"I'm saying the evidence points that direction." John closed the ledger. "But here's where it gets interesting. I did some asking around, carefully. Hendricks has a reputation. He's clean or he was, before Smoker left. No history of corruption, no complaints, nothing."
"People change," Mira said bitterly.
"Maybe." John's tone suggested he wasn't convinced. "Or maybe someone's using Hendricks's name and authority without his knowledge. The signature on these reports…" He tapped the ledger. "I'm not a handwriting expert, but it looks off to me."
Drake processed this. "So either Hendricks is corrupt, or someone in the Marines is framing him."
"Or the attacks really are just piracy, and Mira's wrong about the cargo," John said evenly. "I deal in evidence, not assumptions. And right now, the evidence is contradictory."
"I'm not wrong," Mira insisted. "I know my husband's cargo."
"I believe you," John said gently. "But believing and proving are different things."
Drake looked at the woman and her son. Tomas hadn't said a word, just clung to his mother's hand. Ten years old and he'd already lost his father. Now his mother was accusing the Marines of murder and theft.
If she was right, she was in danger.
If she was wrong, she was about to make dangerous enemies.
"What do you want from me?" Drake asked.
"Witness," John said simply. "Tomorrow night, there's another Marine supply ship leaving port. If the pattern holds, it'll have cargo that doesn't match. I want to check it. But I can't do it alone, and I can't do it without someone who…" He paused, choosing words carefully. "Someone who isn't afraid of the Marines."
"You want me to help you break into a Marine vessel."
"I want you to help me find the truth." John met his eyes. "If Hendricks is corrupt, he needs to be exposed. If someone's framing him, he needs to know. And if Mira's wrong…" He glanced at her. "Then she needs to know that too, before she gets herself killed pursuing this."
Drake looked at the three of them. John, calm and professional, treating this like a contract negotiation. Mira, desperate but determined. Tomas, silent and scared.
This wasn't like fighting pirates. Pirates were simple they attacked, you defended. This was politics. Corruption. The kind of messy situation where everyone lost and there were no clean answers.
"Why me?" Drake asked. "You're the professional. You could find someone else."
"Because you're not from here," John said bluntly. "No connections to Loguetown, no loyalty to the Marines, no reason to cover anything up. And because yesterday, I watched you turn down a Marine recruitment offer without hesitation. You're not someone who follows orders blindly."
"That doesn't mean I'm someone who breaks into Marine ships."
"No," John agreed. "But I think you're someone who wants the truth. And I think you're someone who doesn't like it when powerful people hurt innocent ones."
Drake thought about the little girl in Kokumo Village. About Marcus's warnings. About standing at Roger's execution platform and feeling something resonate in his chest.
What are you going to do with all that power?
"If we do this," Drake said slowly, "and we find evidence of corruption. What then?"
"Then we take it to Marine Headquarters," John said. "Over Hendricks's head if we have to. This is bigger than one captain."
"And if we're caught?"
"Then we're criminals." John didn't sugarcoat it. "Breaking into a Marine vessel is a serious crime. We'd be hunted. Probably bounties on our heads."
"I need to think about it."
"Fair." John pulled out a pocket watch. "The ship leaves tomorrow at midnight. Meet me here at eleven if you're in. If you're not…" He shrugged. "I'll figure something else out."
Mira stood, still holding Tomas's hand. "Please. My husband died for that cargo. His crew died. If the Marines… if someone killed them just to steal, they deserve justice."
"If it happened the way you think it did," Drake said, "they do. But if it didn't, and we go after Hendricks based on assumptions, we're no better than criminals ourselves."
"That's why we need proof," John said quietly. "One way or the other."
Drake left the warehouse with his mind churning.
He walked through Loguetown's market district, barely seeing the crowds. Vendors called out their wares. Marines patrolled in pairs. Civilians went about their business, unaware that somewhere in this city, someone might be using their protectors' authority to commit murder.
Or maybe Mira was wrong. Maybe grief and desperation had made her seen stuff that didn't exist.
Or maybe John was wrong. Maybe Hendricks was exactly as corrupt as the evidence suggested.
Drake found himself at the execution platform again, looking up at the weathered wood where Gol D. Roger had died.
*I left everything this world has to offer there.*
The Pirate King had built his legend on breaking every rule the World Government held sacred. But he'd also had a code his own sense of what was right and wrong, regardless of what law said.
Drake pulled out the wanted poster he'd bought from a vendor Luffy's poster, still fresh with a 30 million berry bounty. The Straw Hat captain had passed through here about a week ago. Had he stood here? Had he felt this same weight of history and choice?
"Interesting reading material."
Drake turned to see Captain Hendricks approaching, his Marine coat clean and pressed, his expression neutral.
"Captain," Drake said carefully.
"Drake D. Carter." Hendricks stopped a respectful distance away. "The young man who turned down my recruitment offer. Have you reconsidered?"
"No."
"Pity. We could use someone like you."
Hendricks looked up at the platform. "Especially now. Loguetown's been… unstable since Captain Smoker's left.
More pirates, bolder criminals. It's exhausting."
Drake watched the Marine captain's face, looking for tells. Signs of corruption or deception.
He saw only weariness.
"Must be hard," Drake said, "filling Smoker's shoes."
"Impossible, more like." Hendricks smiled without humor. "The White Hunter had a reputation that kept half the East Blue's pirates from even trying. Now they all think they can make a name for themselves here." He paused. "But I'm managing. The job gets done."
"I'm sure it does."
Hendricks gave him a long look. "You're a careful one. Weighing every word. Good survival instinct." He turned to leave, then paused. "A word of advice, Carter. Loguetown is more complicated than it looks. Not everyone who seems like an enemy is one. And not everyone who seems like a friend can be trusted. Choose your alliances carefully."
Then he was gone, leaving Drake alone with the execution platform and a choice that felt heavier than any fight he'd ever faced.
Tomorrow at eleven PM.
Dock 7.
The truth, or a trap.
Justice, or another mistake.
Drake looked at Luffy's wanted poster one more time, at that grin that didn't care about complications or politics or careful choices.
Then he folded it away and walked back toward his inn.
He had twenty-three hours to decide who he was going to be.
End of Chapter 13