Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece... Sad but true!
Author's Note: So this is chapter five and the last chapter that I currently have done. I have no idea when I'll get the chance to get some more of this wonderful story done but I do intend to continue it when I have the time. So stick with me folks.
"Mihawk, please call 170. Mihawk, please call 170, thank you."
Mihawk sighed as the page echoed throughout the store. Reluctantly, he stepped away from where he was standing and giving the Electronics associate the evil eye, causing said associate to continually go into spastic fits of fear, and walked over to the nearest phone. As he walked into the Lighting department, he could hear the telltale sounds of the Furniture associate building, well actually destroying and then haphazardly throwing together, the display furniture. He chose to ignore that for now in favour of calling the Managers office.
"Shanks here," the store manager casually answered.
"What?" Mihawk asked in disinterest.
"Mihawk? About damn time! Look, I need you to go down to Receiving and get those assholes in gear. We had three trucks last night and four on the way. Get them busting their asses!"
Mihawk narrowed his eyes into his patented glower, not caring that Shanks couldn't see it. "You can't do this because?"
"Doing what exactly?"
There was silence over the line for a few beats before Mihawk heard Shanks sigh. "I needed a drink, okay?"
"A drink?! It's not even eight-thirty," Mihawk exclaimed. It wasn't unheard of for Shanks to hide away and have a small drink but that was usually after a particularly hard and trying day, usually when his associates destroyed merchandise than the store had sold. Not at eight-thirty in the morning when they'd only been open for just over thirty minutes.
"Yeah, I know but... I'm so doomed. I needed a little pick-me-up. I just had half a glass I swear, Mihawk."
Rolling his eyes at his boss' pleading Mihawk replied, "Alright, I'll go and talk to the receivers. You owe me. Oh and lay off the apple juice, you know it just makes you emotional." Before Shanks could stutter out a denial, Mihawk hung up.
He quietly made his way towards the back warehouse, only stopping briefly to yell at the Furniture associate to stop destroying their stock and to get the hell back to his actual job. When he got to Unloading there were only three out of the four receivers present. Mihawk had to hold back a small smile when the three Receivers that were there snapped to attention upon seeing him approach.
"Where is he?"
Only one of the three Receivers present was brave enough to step forward and answer the question, his entire body shaking so much in Mihawk's intimidating presence that his glasses kept sliding down his face. "He... He's d-d-doing the usual, Sir," he stuttered out.
Mihawk sighed and rolled his eyes at that. Looking at his watch, he counted down the remaining seconds before the store's Head Receiver went about his morning routine. Ten, nine, eight... four, three, two, on-
The P.A. began to crackle. "Attention Walmart customers! Today in the store... THE PIRATES ARE COMING!! THE PIRATES ARE COMING!! RUN, RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! PROTECT YOUR BABIES AND YOUR BOOTY!"
There was silence for a moment before laughter floated out over the P.A. as the Head Receiver burst out into uncontrollable laughter. "Gotcha!! Hahahaha!!"
Mihawk looked pointedly at the four-eyed receiver and without a word the young teen ran off to retrieve the Head Receiver from where he was taking over the intercom. Within seconds he could hear the laughter of the older teen approaching and he was regaling the four-eyed teen with false tales of his adventures as a brave warrior of the sea.
"I once took on a thousand Sea Kings just to save a small whale from their evil clutches. I even took down the almighty Clown pirates with a spoon and a for-"
"Usopp," Mihawk interrupted.
"Shush, I'm telling of my adventures on the high seas! Anyway, the Clown pirates were the most notorious villains on the sea. That is until I, the Great Captain Usopp, came along!"
Mihawk, not one who liked being ignored, grasped the gold cross necklace that he always wore and pulled out the small three inch dagger that was hidden inside it. He pressed the tip of the blade into Usopp's abnormally long nose, enjoying the cry of terror and fear that escaped the teen's voice.
"So glad that I have your attention now," Mihawk snarled evilly. "We had three trucks last night and four more on the way. Get all of this," he gestured to the stock scattered around the entire back room with a graceful wave of his dagger, "shit loaded onto the skids and out onto the floor. Now."
The three younger Receivers, Carrot, Pepper, and Onion, sprung to work in fear of the assistant manager's wrath. Stock started being stacked on the skids in the blink of an eye. Usopp on the other hand, his face had contorted into one of immense pain and he clasped his stomach as though he was trying to keep his organs from escaping.
"As much as I would love to help," Usopp gasped out. "I can't. My chronic I-can't-work-all-this-stock disease has come back."
Mihawk's hawk like eyes narrowed as he took in the Head Receiver. He didn't know how many times he had heard this pitiful excuse ever since the curly haired teen had been hired but this was one time to many, especially with the looming CEO visit. But a good dose of fear would get the lying slacker back to work in no time.
He leaned forward menacingly and practically whispered into Usopp's ear. "You better overcome this disease of yours pretty quick, otherwise I'm going to have to deal with you personally. Understood?"
Usopp gulped at the thought. "O-o-okay... I'll get to it then, shall I?" He was so scared that every part of him was shaking. Before anything more could be said he tore off towards the other three and started manically stacking skid after skid of stock and ordering the others to get them out on to the sales floor.
Sheathing his dagger, Mihawk sighed once more – he was doing that a lot today – and walked out of the back warehouse. He was happy that things were finally getting done by the Receivers but he had really wanted to hurt someone and Usopp would have been perfect. Grumbling to himself, he headed off to the front offices. He was determined to get Shanks off his ass and away from the apple juice and if he found his boss still drinking when he got there, well he was just going to have to use "tough love" – a.k.a. a swift punch to the face – to get the store's manager on the right track.