Anyways. All those physical features, yeah. She says to us, “I’ll go get somebody to help you, then,” and walks away. The tension’s so thick, you could cut it with a piece of paper. We dunno if they’re gonna try to lead us to someone else… or worse. I look at Nami to tell her that maybe we should be escaping right about now, when her face turns slack jawed and wide eyed. “Oh my God,” she murmurs, “Usopp, he’s got your nose.”
When I turn, I see a square face attached to a square nose - which I don’t have, thank you very much, Nami! - and he cracks his square knuckles and grins with square teeth, and edgily, says, “You are detective Usopp?” and…
Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit shit, we’re going to die here. He’s coming right at us when a flash of black and blonde flies in front of us and blocks the square-face off. I think my heart’s beatin’ a million miles a minute.
“Sanji!” Nami exclaims. “You followed us?”
In response, the cook looks at me, and says, “You gotta learn how to protect a lady, shithead,” and then looks at square head. Looks like he’s still planning to fight with a cig in his mouth. Now, any other time, I’d tell him that that’s stupid, but he is right on the count that we need to get out of here, so I grab onto Nami’s arm and run the hell away.
In the distance, we can hear, “Fuck! You…burned my nose?” …Maybe there is some virtue to fighting with a cigarette in mouth. Anyways, when we run to the door, we see three, four guards there, and there’s no way to get through these powerhouses, so me and Nami, we decide to find a back exit. Through the winding halls, though, another guy reaches out for us with a wolf like grin, and there’s no Sanji to save us.
“Nami!” I yell at her, “get outta the way!” And I’m about to fling one of my many projectiles at him when Franky comes runnin’ outta nowhere, flanked by his lackeys. He glances at Nami and says, “I’ll take care’a this punk, Little Missy. You go do what you have to do.”
Well, needless to say, we get outta there as fast as we possibly can. But when I look at Nami to ask her if she has any idea as to where the exit is, she shakes her head, her mouth a grim line. “No, Usopp, we gotta solve this. Something’s happening here, and it’s connected to Brooke.” Which is completely stupid.
“Brooke’s dead! Us dying won’t do anything to-“
“I’m not sure if he’s really dead, Usopp.” She frowns, grabs my elbow. “Come on.”
The place is like one of those mazes you put mice through and wait for them to get the cheese at the end. Except I’m startin’ to think that it’ll be a mousetrap waiting for us instead. We keep on running, because hey, what else can we do? I’m a great detective, not a superhuman warrior, even if I did manage to vanquish the evil tribe of Bedlam and… never mind.
But then two very strange looking men stand there and look at us, one with pink hair and one with… very little hair, and when they charge, I’m pretty sure we’re doomed. My father, Yasopp, was a master of the gun (or so I heard). I, the Great Usopp… have a slingshot from when I was a kid. I mean, I can shoot a gun pretty well, but I generally don’t carry ‘em around, ‘cause as I’ve figured out from my last case, if you carry around a loaded gun, it’s easy for the enemy to shoot it right back atcha. And that results in pain. Terrible, terrible pain. So I take out my slingshot, and fling one of my devices at them-basically a water balloon. Except with gasoline. More durable, though, and… it’s sort of hard to explain. And a bit embarrassing. No Great Warriors I know fight with slingshots.
But it’s hard to feel that embarrassed when you throw a match on ‘em and the pink haired guy’s long hair catches on fire, and the other guy screams in shock. This does not have the desired effect, though, as two men on fire start to charge at us. Jesus Christ.
When I turn, I see a square face attached to a square nose - which I don’t have, thank you very much, Nami! - and he cracks his square knuckles and grins with square teeth, and edgily, says, “You are detective Usopp?” and…
Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit shit, we’re going to die here. He’s coming right at us when a flash of black and blonde flies in front of us and blocks the square-face off. I think my heart’s beatin’ a million miles a minute.
“Sanji!” Nami exclaims. “You followed us?”
In response, the cook looks at me, and says, “You gotta learn how to protect a lady, shithead,” and then looks at square head. Looks like he’s still planning to fight with a cig in his mouth. Now, any other time, I’d tell him that that’s stupid, but he is right on the count that we need to get out of here, so I grab onto Nami’s arm and run the hell away.
In the distance, we can hear, “Fuck! You…burned my nose?” …Maybe there is some virtue to fighting with a cigarette in mouth. Anyways, when we run to the door, we see three, four guards there, and there’s no way to get through these powerhouses, so me and Nami, we decide to find a back exit. Through the winding halls, though, another guy reaches out for us with a wolf like grin, and there’s no Sanji to save us.
“Nami!” I yell at her, “get outta the way!” And I’m about to fling one of my many projectiles at him when Franky comes runnin’ outta nowhere, flanked by his lackeys. He glances at Nami and says, “I’ll take care’a this punk, Little Missy. You go do what you have to do.”
Well, needless to say, we get outta there as fast as we possibly can. But when I look at Nami to ask her if she has any idea as to where the exit is, she shakes her head, her mouth a grim line. “No, Usopp, we gotta solve this. Something’s happening here, and it’s connected to Brooke.” Which is completely stupid.
“Brooke’s dead! Us dying won’t do anything to-“
“I’m not sure if he’s really dead, Usopp.” She frowns, grabs my elbow. “Come on.”
The place is like one of those mazes you put mice through and wait for them to get the cheese at the end. Except I’m startin’ to think that it’ll be a mousetrap waiting for us instead. We keep on running, because hey, what else can we do? I’m a great detective, not a superhuman warrior, even if I did manage to vanquish the evil tribe of Bedlam and… never mind.
But then two very strange looking men stand there and look at us, one with pink hair and one with… very little hair, and when they charge, I’m pretty sure we’re doomed. My father, Yasopp, was a master of the gun (or so I heard). I, the Great Usopp… have a slingshot from when I was a kid. I mean, I can shoot a gun pretty well, but I generally don’t carry ‘em around, ‘cause as I’ve figured out from my last case, if you carry around a loaded gun, it’s easy for the enemy to shoot it right back atcha. And that results in pain. Terrible, terrible pain. So I take out my slingshot, and fling one of my devices at them-basically a water balloon. Except with gasoline. More durable, though, and… it’s sort of hard to explain. And a bit embarrassing. No Great Warriors I know fight with slingshots.
But it’s hard to feel that embarrassed when you throw a match on ‘em and the pink haired guy’s long hair catches on fire, and the other guy screams in shock. This does not have the desired effect, though, as two men on fire start to charge at us. Jesus Christ.
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