Soon enough, the months flew by as the Donquixote family vanished from the eyes of the world completely once again, delving themselves into hellish level training. Finally, as the ti flew by, the month of September approached, and the world had sowhat returned to a montary lull as the World Governnt had dropped the manhunt for the Donquixote brothers.
Even the disappearance of the Road poneglyph from Fishman Island seed not to catch the attention of anyone, and even the current condition of Fishman Island was too chaotic for anyone to care. As promised, Issho had disposed of anyone who knew about the matter with the exception of Shirley, and currently the kid was part of the family, but it was all going to change today.
In the heart of a remote South Blue Island, nestled amidst the tranquil beauty of the surroundings, stood a marine base. Within its walls, a couple of marines sat leisurely at the front desk, engaged in casual chatter about the weather. Their voices mingled with the gentle breeze that wafted through the open windows, creating an atmosphere of relaxed camaraderie.
As they conversed, a man strolled into the base, his steps unhurried and his deanor calm. The marines paid him little attention; their focus on their conversation was uninterrupted. Oblivious to the man’s presence, they continued their banter, their laughter echoing softly in the room.
Clearing his throat, the man attempted to catch the marines’ attention, but his efforts were t with dismissive gestures. "Wait your turn," one of the marines muttered, waving him off without a second glance. Ignored and unnoticed, the man stood silently, his patience seemingly endless.
Finally, unable to bear the disregard any longer, the man spoke up. "I wish to surrender myself to the marines," he announced, his voice calm yet resolute. His words hung in the air, montarily ignored by the marines, who erupted into laughter at the audacity of his request.
"What cri have you committed to rit imprisonnt?" One of the marines jeered, his tone mocking. "Do you have a bounty on your head, grandiose enough to warrant our attention?" Another chid in, his laughter echoing throughout the room.
Unperturbed by their mockery, the man reached into his cloak and withdrew a crumpled bounty poster. With a swift motion, he slamd it onto the desk before them, the sound reverberating through the room like a thunderclap. The marines’ laughter faltered, replaced by a stunned silence as they stared at the poster in disbelief.
The marine at the reception desk hesitantly reached for the bounty poster, his hands trembling slightly as he unfolded it. His eyes widened in shock as he beheld the face staring back at him from the worn parchnt. It was the bounty poster of none other than the Pirate King himself, Gol D. Roger.
A chill swept through the room, freezing the air and sending shivers down the spines of all present. The marines stood rooted to the spot, their faces drained of color as they gazed upon the wanted criminal standing before them.
Roger’s gaze t theirs, unwavering and filled with a quiet intensity. In that mont, the marine base was gripped by a profound sense of fear, as the realization dawned upon them that they were face-to-face with the most infamous pirate in history.
The silence stretched on, broken only by the soft rustle of paper as the bounty poster fluttered in the breeze. And in that mont, the balance of power shifted as the marines found themselves at the rcy of the man they had once dismissed with laughter.
"So, should I wait for my turn?" Roger remarked with a wide smile.
As the gravity of the situation sank in, a marine soldier burst into the base, his footsteps echoing loudly in the otherwise silent room. His face was pale, his eyes wide with fear, as he sprinted towards the office of the captain, his heart pounding in his chest as if death itself were chasing him.
The other marines watched in stunned silence as their comrade rushed past them, his panicked movents a stark contrast to the casual atmosphere that had prevailed just monts before. Sensing the urgency in the soldier’s actions, a sense of unease began to settle over the base, spreading like wildfire among the ranks.
"Captain! Captain! Urgent news!"
In the captain’s office, the soldier’s arrival was t with a flurry of activity.
"Soldier, what’s the urgency? Speak quickly." The captain questioned the marine, who took a few monts to catch his breath and yelled.
"Sir, it’s... it’s the Pirate King. He’s surrendered himself to us."
The captain, a seasoned veteran with years of experience under his belt, imdiately recognized the gravity of the situation.
"Roger? Surrendered? Get the word out imdiately. I want all units on high alert. Secure the periter and fortify our defenses. We cannot afford to be caught off guard."
With a steely resolve, he sprang into action, issuing orders to his subordinates with precision and authority.
The soldier nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation, and quickly relayed the captain’s orders to the rest of the base. Panic rippled through the ranks as marines scrambled to carry out their duties with newfound urgency.
Within monts, the entire marine base was thrown into chaos as word spread like wildfire that the Pirate King himself had surrendered to the marines. Panic swept through the ranks as soldiers scrambled to secure the periter and fortify their defenses, their training kicking in as they prepared for the inevitable onslaught.
Marine 1: "Did you hear? The Pirate King surrendered himself!"
Marine 2: "No way... This can’t be happening."
Marine 3: "We need to stay calm and follow orders. This is not a drill."
anwhile, back at marine headquarters, the news of Roger’s surrender sent shockwaves through the highest echelons of command. Admirals and high-ranking officials convened in ergency etings, devising strategies to deal with the unprecedented situation. The realization that the most notorious pirate in history was now in their custody sent a ripple of fear and excitent through the ranks of the marines.
For so, it was an opportunity to make a na for themselves by capturing the most wanted man in the world. For others, it was a daunting prospect, knowing that they now held the fate of the entire world in their hands.
But amidst the chaos and uncertainty, one thing was clear: the era of Roger, the Pirate King, had co to an end. And with his surrender, a new Chapter in history was about to unfold, one that would test the ttle of the marines and shake the foundations of the world to its core.
***********************************
Impel Down, the infamous underwater prison nestled within the unforgiving depths of the Calm Belt. Also known as the Underwater Prison and the Great Prison, this formidable stronghold served as the pinnacle of the World Governnt’s justice system, housing the most dangerous criminals and pirates known to man.
As one approached Impel Down, they’ll be greeted by a towering, subrged structure rising ominously from the sea bed. Surrounded by the tranquil waters of the Calm Belt, the prison’s imposing silhouette is juxtaposed against the serene backdrop, a stark reminder of the darkness lurking within.
But one mustn’t let its serene surroundings fool them; beneath the surface lies a labyrinthine network of cells and torture chambers, each ticulously designed to contain and punish the most hardened criminals. Constructed entirely from seastone, the cells serve as impenetrable fortresses, rendering even the most powerful Devil Fruit users powerless against their confines.
Within these grim confines, the air is heavy with the stench of despair and suffering. The sound of echoing screams and the crack of whips reverberate through the corridors, a constant reminder of the brutality that awaits those who dare to defy the law. Torture chambers, equipped with instrunts of unimaginable cruelty, stand as a testant to the prison’s unwavering commitnt to justice.
But perhaps the most chilling aspect of Impel Down is its guardianship by the monstrous Sea Kings, whose colossal forms loom beneath the surface, serving as both protectors and deterrents to would-be escapees. Alongside these behemoths, the prison is fortified by a fleet of Marine battleships, ready to intercept anyone who dares to approach.
In the heart of Impel Down lies its core, a central hub of activity where guards patrol tirelessly, ever vigilant against the threat of rebellion. Here, prisoners are subjected to the harshest of punishnts, their screams echoing through the darkness as they endure unimaginable tornt.
However, even within the formidable walls of Impel Down, a deadly silence reigned supre. The Pirate King himself, Roger, sat nestled within the confines of one of the prison cells on Level 6. Surprisingly, even the notoriously unruly inmates of eternal hell seed to have fallen into an ominous silence. Whether out of fear, admiration, or respect, no one dared to disrupt the deadly serenity that had enveloped the once chaotic prison.
Roger, however, seed unperturbed by the hushed atmosphere surrounding him. Despite being shackled, he exuded an aura of majesty that commanded attention. The shackles restraining him were little more than a formality; he could easily break free from them if he so desired. With a smirk playing on his lips, Roger awaited the arrival of his visitor, the sound of light footsteps echoing through the corridor as they drew nearer.
"Roger! You bastard! What ga are you playing at?" Garp’s booming voice echoed through the corridor as he stood opposite his long-ti rival, Roger, who wore a goofy smile inside the cell.
Garp had rushed back to Impel Down upon receiving news of Roger’s surrender in the New World. His frustration was palpable as he confronted the pirate king.
"You vanished for more than a year, then popped out of nowhere and suddenly turned yourself in. I was supposed to capture you, you bastard!" Garp’s anger simred beneath his gruff exterior, his fists clenched in frustration.
Roger’s laughter filled the air, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he faced his old friend and rival. "Hahaha, it just ans I win, Garp. You’ll never be able to capture ," Roger remarked mockingly, relishing the opportunity to tease Garp once more.
Despite his jovial deanor, Roger could sense the sadness that Garp was trying to conceal. He knew that his surrender had co as a disappointnt to his rival, a stark reminder of the end of an era that they had both helped to shape.
As Garp’s frustration lingered in the air, Roger’s carefree deanor contrasted sharply with the gravity of the situation. Despite being confined within the cell, Roger exuded an aura of confidence and authority, his smirk unwavering even in the face of Garp’s fury.
"Playing gas until the very end, eh, Roger?" Garp’s voice rumbled with a mixture of exasperation and admiration. Deep down, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of respect for the man who had been his rival for so many years.
Roger chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "What can I say, Garp? Life’s too short not to have a little fun, even in prison."
Garp shook his head, his expression a mixture of disbelief and begrudging admiration. "You always did have a knack for finding trouble, Roger. But surrendering yourself like this... it’s not like you at all."
Roger’s smile softened, a hint of solemnity creeping into his gaze. "Tis change, my friend. The world is shifting, and perhaps it’s ti for to step aside and let the new generation take the reins."
Garp’s features softened at Roger’s words, a sense of lancholy settling over him. Despite their rivalry, there was a deep bond between them forged through years of shared experiences and battles.
As Roger’s unexpected revelation hung in the air, Garp’s expression shifted from gloom to shock, his mind racing with a mixture of emotions. Here he was, face to face with his longti rival, discussing matters of life and death in the confines of Impel Down.
"By the way, where is that protege of yours?" Roger’s inquiry hung in the air, a genuine curiosity evident in his tone. "I thought he would co to et now that my ti is coming to an end. It would be nice to have a chat with that brat who might be at the center of the future era."
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