The heavy, reinforced tungsten doors of the Thousand Sunny’s ga Workshop slid shut with a satisfying, pressurized hiss, locking out the noise of the ocean and the distant sounds of Sanji clattering in the kitchen.
Inside, the workshop was an absolute paradise of engineering. The magically expanded, hangar-sized room humd with the quiet energy of automated laser cutters, precision welding arms, and rows upon rows of glowing holographic diagnostic screens.
Franky stood in the center of the room, turning in a slow circle. His massive, scrap-tal forearms hung loosely at his sides. For a man who had spent the last decade building warships out of garbage and sunken galleons in the back alleys of Water 7, stepping into this room was like stepping through the pearly gates.
"Bro," Franky whispered, his voice trembling slightly. He reached up and lifted his sunglasses, tears freely cascading down his cheeks. "This... this is beautiful. The structural organization... the alloy synthesizers... the pure, unadulterated aesthetic of the tool racks! It’s making weep! It’s SUUUUPER beautiful!"
Ben walked past the sobbing cyborg and sat on the chair.
"I’m glad you approve of the workspace, Franky," Ben said, casually leaning against a drafting table that was currently projecting a 3D hologram of the ship’s keel. "You are our primary shipwright now. This room is your domain. Whatever you need to build, you can build it here."
Franky wiped his nose with the back of his massive tal hand. "I’m gonna build so many weapons. I’m gonna build a laser that shoots smaller lasers! No, wait! A cannon that fires swords!"
"We can definitely brainstorm the ammunition later," Ben chuckled, pulling up a sleek, rolling stool and taking a seat. He gestured for Franky to sit on a reinforced steel bench opposite him. "But right now, I brought you down here to discuss sothing a little more personal. I want to talk about you."
"?" Franky pointed a thick finger at his own chest. "What about ? I’m a masterpiece of self-engineering!"
"You are incredibly resourceful," Ben corrected gently, his golden eyes scanning the patchwork of steel, iron, and rivets that made up Franky’s body. "You survived a collision with a Sea Train and managed to rebuild your entire anatomy using nothing but abandoned scrap tal from a ghost ship. It is an engineering miracle."
Ben leaned forward, lacing his fingers together. "But that’s exactly the problem, Franky. It’s scrap. It’s heavy, it’s prone to rust, and frankly... your power source is incredibly inefficient."
Franky crossed his arms defensively. "Hey now! Cola is the nectar of the gods! It gives the carbonated kick I need to fire my Coup de Vent! It’s aerodynamic!"
"Why cola?" Ben asked, genuinely curious. "Of all the combustible, volatile, or kinetic energy sources in the world... why did you hook your artificial heart up to a soda fountain?"
Franky’s defensive posture dropped slightly. He looked down at the small glass hatch on his stomach, where three bottles of cola currently rested in a refrigerated compartnt. He sighed, a rare mont of vulnerability crossing his face.
"It wasn’t really a choice, Magician," Franky admitted, leaning back on the bench. "When Tom-san was taken away, I tried to stop the Sea Train with my bare hands. I got crushed. I was dying. I drifted into the hull of an abandoned ship floating in the ship graveyard."
Franky tapped his tallic shoulder. "I had to operate on myself to survive. I didn’t have a sterile lab. I didn’t have refined fuel cells. I used what was on that ghost ship. There was scrap iron, so old cannons, and... a massive, intact crate of cola. It was the only pressurized liquid I had access to that was compatible with the crude pistons I was building into my chest cavity to keep my lungs pumping. It worked. It kept alive. So, I just... stuck with it."
Ben nodded slowly, his expression softening with respect. "You built a life-support system out of junk and soda while bleeding out. You truly are a genius, Franky."
"Damn right I am," Franky sniffed, his pride inflating again.
"But you don’t have to survive on scraps anymore," Ben said, his tone shifting back to business. "You are a core mber of the Straw Hat Syndicate. We are going against the world now. Cola won’t be enough to fight Admirals, and you can’t risk running out of fuel in the middle of a warzone. I want to upgrade your core."
Ben reached into his spatial storage and pulled out a small, circular device. It was no larger than an apple, but it glowed with a blinding, pure blue light. It pulsed with a quiet, infinite thrum of power.
A miniaturized Arc Reactor.
Franky’s eyes bugged out of his head. He stood up, leaning over the table, his face bathed in the azure light. "That’s... that’s a smaller version of the engine powering the Sunny! You’re giving one?!"
"I’m suggesting we switch your power source from carbonated sugar to clean, self-sustaining thermonuclear energy," Ben said, rolling the reactor between his fingers. "With this, you will never run out of power. Your lasers will hit harder, your kinetic output will multiply by a factor of a hundred, and you won’t need to stop mid-fight to chug a beverage."
Franky was vibrating with excitent. "Infinite power... I could shoot a Coup de Vent that levels a mountain! Let’s do it! Rip open my chest and put it in!"
"Hold on, that’s only step one," Ben raised a hand to stall the eager cyborg. "The Arc Reactor provides the energy. But your current scrap-tal chassis cannot handle the output. If you fired a full-power blast with this core, your iron arms would lt into slag, and the recoil would shatter your spine."
Franky blinked. "Oh. That’s... not super."
"Which brings to step two," Ben smiled, a glint of mad science in his golden eyes. He reached into his spatial storage and pulled out a sleek, heavy glass vial. Inside the vial was a strange, silver-violet liquid that seed to move on its own, shifting and shimring like rcury.
"What is that?" Franky asked, leaning closer to the glass. "Liquid tal?"
"Close. It’s an aggregate of Vibranium Nanites," Ben explained, his voice dropping into a focused, clinical tone. "Microscopic, programmable robots forged entirely from Vibranium—the indestructible, kinetic-absorbing tal I used to reinforce the ship’s hull."
Ben set the vial on the table next to the Arc Reactor.
"I’ve been conceptualizing a specific build for you based on a blueprint I call the ’Generator Rex’ protocol," Ben elaborated. "Right now, your weapons are static. You have a gun hidden in your left arm and a fridge in your stomach. To change weapons, you physically have to rebuild yourself."
Ben tapped the glass vial. "These nanites will bond with your biological nervous system and the Arc Reactor. Instead of carrying bulky, permanent weapons, these nanites will live inside your body. When you think of a weapon—say, massive, engine-powered chanical fists, or a pair of hydraulic jumping boots—the nanites will instantly flow out of your pores, assemble themselves into that exact machine in a fraction of a second, and then dissolve back into your bloodstream when you are done."
Franky stared at Ben. His jaw unhinged. It dropped lower. And lower. Until it hit his tallic collarbone.
"I..." Franky stamred, his mind completely unable to process the sheer magnitude of the coolness being offered to him. "I can just... think of a giant cannon... and my arm will instantly build it out of indestructible liquid tal?"
"Instantly," Ben confird. "And because it’s Vibranium, the weapons will absorb the recoil. Furthermore, because the nanites can retract, you won’t need to walk around with massive, bulky scrap-tal arms anymore. You can look completely human until the mont you decide to go to war."
Franky didn’t say a word. He just stood there. Slowly, he raised his hands to his face and began to weep waterfalls of absolute, religious joy.
"IT’S A CYBORG’S ULTIMATE DREAM!" Franky wailed, striking a pose so hard his joints squealed. "MAGICIAN! YOU ARE MY NEW GOD! PLEASE! REPLACE MY FRIDGE! GIVE THE MAGIC TAL BUGS!"
Ben laughed, standing up from his stool. He tapped the communication bead on his wrist.
"Sunny," Ben said.
"Yes, Papa!" the cheerful, boyish voice of the ship’s AI echoed from the ceiling speakers.
"Tell Chopper to go to the dical Bay imdiately. Tell him to prep for a major surgery. We are opening up the shipwright."
"Copy that, Papa! Paging the Doctor!"
"Co on, Franky," Ben grabbed the Arc Reactor and the vial of nanites. "Let’s go make you a monster."
The dical Bay
Ten minutes later, the pristine, white-tiled doors of the dical Bay hissed open. Ben and Franky walked into a room that looked like it belonged in a futuristic research hospital.
Chopper was already there. He was currently in his Heavy Point form, wearing a sterile surgical gown, a mask, and a pair of customized gloves. Trays of scalpels, bone saws, and laser-cauterizers were neatly arranged on the tallic tables.
"I’m ready!" Chopper announced nervously, holding his hands up. "Who’s hurt?! Did Zoro get lost and fall down a flight of stairs again?!"
"No one is hurt, Doctor," Ben smiled reassuringly. "This is an elective procedure. An upgrade."
Chopper blinked, looking up at Franky’s massive, bulky fra. The worry instantly lted from his furry face, replaced by the sparkling, intense curiosity of a dedicated scientist.
"An upgrade?!" Chopper’s eyes turned into stars. "We’re doing cybernetic surgery?! Oh wow! I’ve read about biochanical integration in the Drum Kingdom archives, but I’ve never actually perford one! What are we doing?!"
"We are replacing his obsolete internal combustion engine and refrigeration unit with an Arc Reactor," Ben explained, walking over to the surgical bed. "And then, we are flushing his cardiovascular system with programmable Vibranium nanites to rewrite his external chassis."
Chopper gasped. "That... that is the most advanced surgery in the history of the world! I get to assist?!"
"I need you to monitor his biological vitals," Ben instructed. "The Arc Reactor is easy. Wiring it directly into his remaining organic heart and nervous system without causing a massive electrical shock requires your dical expertise. You keep the flesh alive; I’ll handle the steel."
"Aye aye, Chief Surgeon Ben!" Chopper saluted, bouncing excitedly on his hooves.
Franky hopped onto the surgical table. It groaned loudly under his imnse weight. He looked at Ben. "Do I need a piece of wood to bite down on? I did my last surgery with no anesthesia."
Ben chuckled, drawing his Elder Wand. "We’re a bit more civilized than a ghost ship, Franky."
Ben pointed the tip of the wand at Franky’s forehead.
"Somnus."
A wave of heavy, irresistible magical sleep washed over the cyborg. Franky’s eyes rolled back, and his head hit the pillow with a heavy clank. He was out cold, his breathing deep and steady.
"Alright, Chopper," Ben set to work, grabbing a specialized laser-scalpel. "Let’s open the hood."
The surgery was a masterclass in collaboration. Ben moved with the chanical, flawless precision of Tony Stark, slicing through Franky’s thick iron chest plates and exposing the crude, rusted machinery underneath. Chopper stood by with his stethoscope and monitors, expertly managing Franky’s blood pressure and heart rate as Ben carefully detached the heavy, sloshing cola refrigeration unit.
"Removing the primary power source," Ben muttered, lifting the heavy, sticky contraption out of Franky’s chest cavity and setting it aside. "His heart rate is going to drop. Keep him stable."
"Administering adrenaline!" Chopper injected a asured dose into Franky’s organic shoulder. "Vitals are holding! He’s strong!"
Ben picked up the glowing blue Arc Reactor. With the dexterity of a watchmaker, he lowered the core into the empty cavity. With a subtle flex of his magic, he instantly fabricated the exact micro-wiring needed, fusing the palladium core leads directly into Franky’s cybernetic nervous system and wrapping protective insulation around his organic heart.
"Connection established," Ben whispered, fusing the final wire with a spark of alchemy. "Powering up."
The Arc Reactor flared. The blinding blue light illuminated the entire surgical room.
Thrum-thump. Thrum-thump.
Franky’s organic heart synced perfectly with the rhythmic pulse of the infinite energy source. The monitors beside the bed beeped steadily, the readouts displaying a power level that was mathematically impossible for a biological organism.
"His vitals are incredible!" Chopper gasped, looking at the screens. "The energy isn’t burning his cells; it’s feeding them! The integration is perfect!"
"Phase one complete," Ben wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. "Now for the fun part."
Ben picked up the heavy glass vial containing the silver-violet Vibranium nanites. He walked over to the open chest cavity, hovering the vial directly over the Arc Reactor’s primary distribution valve.
"Doctor, monitor his core temperature," Ben warned. "This is going to rewrite his physical structure on a cellular level. It might get hot."
Ben unstoppered the vial and poured the liquid tal directly into the reactor.
The mont the nanites hit the energy core, the reaction was instantaneous. The reactor’s blue light turned a brilliant, violent violet.
The liquid tal didn’t just sit there. It moved. Like a swarm of billions of microscopic insects, the silver fluid surged outward from the chest cavity, diving into Franky’s bloodstream, his artificial veins, and his rusted iron plating.
"His temperature is spiking!" Chopper yelled, frantically checking the dials. "It’s 105 degrees! Wait, it’s 110! 120!"
"Keep him under! The nanites are incinerating the scrap tal!" Ben ordered.
Franky’s body began to convulse violently on the table. Steam erupted from his pores.
Right before their eyes, the bulky, disproportional patchwork of scrap iron that made up Franky’s arms and legs began to dissolve. The nanites were breaking down the crude steel at a molecular level, digesting the impurities and replacing them entirely with a sleek, flawless Vibranium weave.
His massive, Popeye-esque forearms lted away, the tal shrinking and condensing. His bulky, boxy shoulders smoothed out. The heavy iron plates on his legs vanished.
As the steam cleared, the transformation finalized.
Chopper dropped his clipboard, his jaw hitting the floor.
Lying on the surgical table was not the hulking, bizarre cyborg they had brought in. It was a man. Franky looked completely, utterly human. He had broad, muscular shoulders, proportioned, athletic arms, and normal-looking legs. His skin was a healthy, tanned peach color. The only indication that he wasn’t entirely biological was the faint, srizing silver sheen that rippled beneath his skin when the light hit it, and the glowing blue circle of the Arc Reactor visible beneath the center of his chest.
"He... he looks normal," Chopper whispered in awe. "He looks like a regular human! Where did all the tal go?! He weighed three tons!"
"Mass conservation is tricky," Ben smirked, his eyes glowing gold. "While the nanites were rebuilding him, I used spatial runes to carve microscopic spatial expansion pockets into the marrow of his bones and the inner lining of his limbs. All the excess Vibranium mass, the billions of idle nanites, and the weaponry... it’s all stored inside pocket dinsions within his own body. He doesn’t carry the weight until he summons them."
Ben waved his wand over Franky’s head. "Rennervate."
Franky groaned. His eyelids fluttered open. He blinked against the bright surgical lights.
He sat up slowly. He didn’t hear the usual whirring of rusty gears or the sloshing of cola. He heard nothing but a quiet, powerful hum in his chest.
Franky looked down at his hands. He stared at his normal-sized, human-looking fingers. He looked at his perfectly proportioned arms. He patted his stomach, finding solid, muscular flesh instead of a glass refrigerator door.
"Bro..." Franky whispered, his voice trembling. He jumped off the table. He felt unbelievably light. He felt fast.
He ran to a mirror on the wall. He stared at his reflection. He looked exactly like Cutty Flam, the handso, athletic shipwright he had been before the Sea Train accident, just with blue hair and a glowing chest piece.
"I’m... I’m human?" Franky touched his face, tears welling in his eyes. "I look human again."
"You look human," Ben corrected, tossing Franky his trademark Hawaiian shirt. "But you are far from it. How do you feel?"
Franky caught the shirt. "I feel... I feel like a coiled spring. I feel like I have a volcano humming inside my ribcage. It’s... it’s SUUUUPER overwhelming!"
"Good," Ben grinned, grabbing his coat. "Let’s go to the training room. It’s ti to test the hardware."
The Training Room - The Awakening of the Arsenal
Ben, Chopper, and Franky stepped into the ship’s dedicated Training Room—a massive, reinforced chamber designed by Ben to withstand the monster trio’s spars without sinking the ship.
"Alright, Franky," Ben stood near the control console, Chopper beside him, holding a dical scanner. "The nanites are linked directly to your neural pathways. They respond to your imagination. If you can conceptualize the blueprints of a machine in your head, the nanites will instantly construct it using the Vibranium stored in your spatial pockets."
Ben pointed to the center of the room. "Think of your old ’Strong Right’ punch. But bigger. Think of an engine."
Franky closed his eyes. He focused on his right arm. He imagined the heavy iron, the pistons, the raw crushing power of a massive chanical fist. He envisioned a V8 engine block strapped to the forearm.
The response was explosive.
SH-SH-SH-SHING!
The faint silver sheen under the skin of Franky’s right arm suddenly erupted outward. A torrent of liquid Vibranium exploded from the spatial pockets in his wrist. It flowed like a waterfall of quicksilver, swirling and solidifying in a fraction of a second.
"WHOA!" Chopper shrieked, jumping behind Ben.
Where Franky’s normal human arm had been, a colossal, terrifying chanical gauntlet now resided. It was the size of a small car. It was sleek, painted in striking blue and silver, featuring massive, articulated tal fingers and a literal, roaring engine block built into the forearm with exhaust pipes venting steam.
(A/N: Smack Hands)
"YEOOOOOW!" Franky roared, his eyes wide with absolute mania. He swung the massive fist. Despite its enormous size, the Arc Reactor powered it effortlessly. It felt as light as a feather to him.
Franky slamd the giant chanical fist into the reinforced titanium floor of the training room.
KRA-KOOOOOOM!
"THE POWER!" Franky scread, laughing hysterically. "IT’S UNREAL! I DIDN’T EVEN FEEL THE RECOIL!"
"Vibranium," Ben smiled smugly. "It absorbs the shock. Try sothing else. Ranged."
Franky didn’t hesitate. He willed the giant fist to vanish.
Vwoosh. The massive gauntlet dissolved back into liquid tal and retracted instantly into his skin, leaving his normal arm behind.
Franky imagined artillery. He imagined the heavy cannons of a battleship.
SH-SH-SHING!
The nanites erupted from both of his shoulders and his back. They wove together over his head, locking into place with a heavy, satisfying chanical CLACK. A massive, dual-barreled plasma cannon now rested on his shoulders, drawing power directly from the blue core in his chest.
(A/N: Slam Cannon)
"Target practice!" Ben snapped his fingers, conjuring a block of solid steel at the far end of the room.
"SUPER... SLAM CANNON!" Franky roared.
A blinding beam of concentrated, blue Arc energy shot from the barrels. It vaporized the steel block instantly, leaving a glowing, molten crater in the wall.
"Incredible!" Chopper cheered, frantically writing notes. "His heart rate didn’t even spike! The energy draw is perfectly optimized!"
"Legs," Ben commanded. "Mobility."
Franky retracted the cannon. He focused on his lower half. He imagined pistons, hydraulics, and sheer speed.
SH-SH-SHING!
The liquid tal poured from his calves, engulfing his legs. It constructed two massive, towering chanical boots. They featured heavy treads, hydraulic shock absorbers, and glowing blue thrusters on the heels.
(A/N: Punk Busters)
Franky revved the boots. The thrusters flared.
ZOOOM!
Franky rocketed across the massive training room, bouncing off the walls like a pinball, his laughter echoing over the roar of the engines. He flipped mid-air, landing flawlessly in the center of the room. The hydraulic boots hissed, absorbing the multi-ton impact without a sound.
"Vehicles," Ben commanded next. "Full mobility."
Franky grinned. He willed the boots to retract. He imagined the roaring engines of a high-speed hover-bike.
SH-SH-SHING!
The liquid tal poured from his hips and legs, reconstructing the space around him. In seconds, his lower half was seamlessly integrated into a sleek, heavy-duty tallic hovercraft. He leaned forward, gripping the handlebars that extruded from the chassis, the blue Arc energy flaring from the rear exhaust.
VROOOOM!
Franky tore around the training room, banking sharply and leaving a trail of blue light. "This handles like a dream!"
He brought the hover-bike to a sudden halt, the tal instantly dissolving back into his skin.
"Now for the ultimate test," Franky yelled, his eyes shining. "My signature form! Prepare yourselves for the majestic... FRANKY CENTAUR!"
Ben and Chopper braced themselves. For sothing ridiculous.
But the Vibranium nanites didn’t build a joke. They built a war machine.
SH-SH-SH-SHING!
A massive wave of silver liquid cascaded from his waist. It rapidly assembled into a colossal, forward-facing equine lower body made entirely of armored Vibranium plates. Instead of hooves, the four massive legs ended in heavy-duty tank treads. Glowing blue energy pulsed through the segnted joints. It was a chanical beast of war, standing fifteen feet tall, equipped with side-mounted missile pods and thick shock absorbers.
Franky looked down at his new, terrifyingly badass lower half. He blinked.
"It’s... it’s facing the right way," Franky whispered, wiping a tear from his eye. "And it has treads! It’s so... SUUUUPER beautiful!"
Franky retracted the centaur form. He stood in the center of the cratered room, breathing heavily, completely overwheld by the god-like versatility he now possessed.
He looked down at his normal, human hands. Then he looked up at Ben.
Franky threw his arms together above his head, striking his pose with more passion and volu than he had ever mustered in his entire life.
"SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUPEEEEEEEEERRRRR!"
The roar shook the dust from the ceiling.
Ben walked forward, clapping slowly. "The blueprints in your head are no longer limited by what you can build in a shop with a wrench, Franky. You are the shop. In the future, if you construct any machine, the nanites will help you control it."
Franky fell to his knees, openly weeping manly tears of joy. "Magician... you didn’t just give an upgrade. You gave a whole new life! I am the ultimate shipwright! I am the ultimate battleship! I can build anything!"
"Yes, you can," Ben smirked, adjusting his glasses. "Welco to the Vanguard, Iron General."
Franky wiped his eyes, a fierce, determined grin spreading across his face.
"Just point at the enemy, Boss," Franky cracked his knuckles. "I’m gonna show the Whole World what a real SUPER cyborg looks like!"
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