Sandman, Crocodile

"Hmmmm..."

As a Devil Fruit user and public megalomaniac, Borneas Boreen Morpheus (formerly and formally known as 'Sir' Crocodile and Mr. Zero) knew it was important to keep up with happenings in the world. He had only come to realize this after failing to take over that one desert kingdom that one time; if he had payed more attention, maybe things wouldn't have turned out quite the way they did.

As a man recently released from prison ('released' being the optional word here), and having known only those other inmates that kept asking what day it was, the man knew the best way to do so -keep up with the times- was via newspaper. Despite public opinion, newspaper had plenty of uses, especially for the sand-sand man. For instance.

What could he use to cover his head when it rained in this backwater town he'd jumped ship -well, submarine- to?

Newspaper! What could he use to whack the estranged native animals away when they attempted to eat him?

Newspaper! What could he use to hide his face while waiting for his food in a restaurant after seeing a WANTED poster depicting the man he used to look like, along with those of the (other) seven Shichibukai?

His lunch menu!!

What? Oh, sorry, that was wrong. They already took up the menus. NEWSPAPER!!

"This... is somewhat troublesome..."

Needless to say, the man had found a new respect for newspapers. Especially so because there happened to be a heavily fortified and independent militant organization of former Marines on this island. His dining partners, however, could not understand his paranoia.

Then again, taking a look at who they were, the reason why becomes obvious.

"Whatcha lookin' at, Croc-boy~?" The karate man should have been in danger of falling off the thin stack of utensils he stood on top of, even then above the uneven table. As it was, he just continued to spin on the tip of a knife... balanced on a varying arrangement of tea cups, spoons, forks and napkins. That reached at least three feet, straight up.

"Really now, how long do you think you'll get away with calling him that, Clay?" The hooded one whispered loudly from next to the window, the very essence of the phrase 'way too incognito'. Obviously from his style and the way his hands shook, he'd already had one too many cups of coffee... or hadn't been near a mirror for a while. After all, there was no hiding the drooping 3 that sat atop his... top-knotted... head? Does that make sense?

Scratch that, no wonder he gets owned all the time.

"Hmmmm...." The sharply dressed man (no shit) next to Morpheus meditated... essentially ignoring the two idiots. Wait, he was meditating, right? Either that, or he was sleeping with his eyes slightly open. Either way the result was the same; intimidate weaker-minded people without really doing anything.

Yes, they had at least half of the entire diner to themselves. The other half was overcrowded with the slightly more sane, native population... all of whom were somehow completely ignoring the four monsters.

"Oh~, he'll tell me when he gets tired of it~! Either that, or he'll try to kill me~! Whichever way he chooses, I... hmmm, probably won't stop anyway~!!"

Oh, yes. Morpheus -Crocodile- was familiar with the nickname by now, such to the point where he could ignore it on purpose. Not that he ever answered to the name anyway. Then again, what with the WANTED poster being right there on the wall, and people giving him strange looks -almost as if they had the feeling that it was him- he actually wanted to stop being called that now. Partially because he despised that nickname, partially because he would not be referred to as such by someone younger than him...

But mostly because that nickname ruined his chances with any lady he happened to have his eye on at the moment. So it needed to either stop or be condemned to River Styx.

'Hmm, what can I use to cause this fool bodily pain and suffering enough to cut it out with the name?' Well there was his hooked hand...

"OWIE!!"

... But the newspaper won out in the end. In a smooth move, a vital part of Clay's 'tower' went missing, sending the okama crashing into the table... at least, it would have had he stopped spinning. As it was, he landed safely on his strangely powerful toes... but three whacks later one of Morpheus' former subordinates was lying face first down on the table, three lumped knots rising from his head.

"Can't say I didn't tell him..." Another whack, this time aimed across the table. "Hey!"

"Shut up and get this fool off the table before I dry you out again..." Ah, yes, there was that menacing tone. He'd missed that menacing tone. That menacing tone got things done, unlike some people...

What? Come on, the guy was in the lowest known level of Impel Down, stuck with quite a few people, like, that much stronger than he had been. Down there that voice had meant nothing... mostly because there was nothing to do in the first place. He was bound to go insane sooner or later. Don't believe it?

'Ah... it's the glasses. Nobody recognizes me like this, but I'm like that much scarier with them... I totally rule...'

Yeah. Believe it. Anyway, life was good...

At least, it was until the shadow of one Fleet Admiral Sengoku (The Buddha) usurped his personal space. However, unlike some tactless people, one in particular, his first reaction was not to gape up at the imposing figure, who was rumored to never leave Marjoria except in dire situations...

No, his first reaction was to completely snuff the admittedly older man, look outside of the window, and note the small troop of Vice-Admirals staring right at him outside the diner. Counting them all up, he looked higher, to the dust cloud growing darker on the not-so-far-away horizon.

Smirking, he turned back to see that the ignorant townspeople mentioned earlier now had a murderous intent hanging over them. Still not looking at the former-Admiral, he sipped his coffee.

"Pirate scum... you do realize that you are under arrest, yes? Or is that too hard for your under-developed brain to comprehend? No need to read you your rights, then..."

"Incompetent fool." This statement obviously caught Sengoku (the Sengoku, dammit!!) off-guard, if the shifting look on his face meant anything. "There's something you don't seem to understand here... once you're an ex, you despise the organization that kicked you out. That hate makes you grow stronger, stronger, to the point where you have to be insane to handle so much power. You used to have that kind of hate... but you don't anymore."

"Is that so?" Obviously the fool did not translate. Morpheus sighed. No real need to be patient anymore...

"This is the New World, Marine. The first island. You do remember what this island is, yes?" It was as if the others, his subordinates, had disappeared, and it was just him, the Admiral, and a herd of angry townspeople in the room. He smirked at the bead of sweat rolling down the older man's face. Ah... and here I thought this day would never come...

"This is Jintel, where all Marines' brats get bumped off when their parents die. And you know something? After all this time, all the hate they must feel for the bastards that kicked them out for no reason, bastards that don't even live two day's journey away... they've all gotta be pretty angry after all these years, right?"

Next the townspeople disappeared, and all was silent. Checking outside of the window again, he smiled.

"Thank god for the rednecks," he muttered as he flipped his newspaper open.

O.o Err... no, Tor-san has nothing against rednecks, just... no other word does them violent, bloodthirsty justice like... well.. that. And hey, this is Crocodile here, he would try to call them all hicks. Oh, and by 'change in his appearance', he means he's wearing normal clothes that a normal human would wear, and a pair of glasses. Don't you just love how oblivious people can be?

Had most of this one up for a while, and the manga is actually up to speed on this point. Hoo-shaa for Oda and scantalators!! Kind of dark, though, and unrealistic, don't ya think? This chapter? And blast this crappy, beautiful, hard-ass, delicate piece of junky hardware!! Let's me type the rest up, then goes on the fritz and won't lemme check out my own work for five hours straight, THEN CRASHES!!

But then, this counts as, like the second thing Tor-san posted today. So... sorry Terminal!!

Disclaimer: If the guy writing this story owned One Piece, why would he have come up with this?