Shaking his head, he changed the topic.
"Ready for our first deployment to Lvneel?"
341 sat there, thinking. His plate was scoured clean, spoon set perfectly vertical in the center. His head tilted as he pondered.
He has a habit of tilting his head, doesn't he?
"I will train hard."
What was I expecting?
Still, something about the statement nagged at him. He couldn't place why. Shrugging, he stood up to leave, surveying the crowded dining hall. A bunch of 20 year old looking clones eating and laughing. Looking for all the world like regular new military recruits.
Wait, 20 year olds? Where the hell are all the older ones? They have to age, right?
Only one place came to mind. The fighting rings.
The crown jewel of the training grounds was surprisingly simple. The octagonal cages dotted a large field, with clones sparring, both barehanded and with practice weapons.
Many of the clones were visibly older, a rare few even dotted with scars.
The duo walked over to a cage, observing two older clones locked in combat.
One of them was short and squat, but with arms like an orangutan. They were so long, they would have dragged on the floor as he walked.
A speed type with reach then?
The other was big and bulky, with comically small legs.
If that guy can move faster than a waddle I'll eat my… I don't really have any belongings I can get rid of right now do I? Better not to risk it.
Midget man had clearly developed a unique fighting style based on his body type. Darting around the cage, he swung his entire torso to generate force, using his apelike limbs as whips.
The big guy was like a mantis shrimp, hands in front of his head, boxing stance, soaking up all the damage, waiting for a moment to strike.
The dwarf was fast, sure, but still definitely within human limits. There was no soru involved. In a burst of speed, he darted behind the giant and leapt. Twisting midair, his torso bent almost ninety degrees to the left, positioning his right arm vertically. It swung forward like a pendulum, forming a hammerfist ready to connect to the crown of the gorilla's head.
Despite this impressive display, the giant had prepared for it. With a deceptively fast half step to the side, his massive fist jabbed out with impressive speed. The wind up of the giant's punch was shorter, so it connected first with a crunch. The dwarf's nose shattered, and 427 was pretty sure he saw a few teeth fly.
Yeah, I'm not getting in that death trap.
"Let's get in that ring."
Goddamn it.
Just as he was trying to figure out a way to tell 341 no- It's not that he didn't know sparring was necessary, but he'd at least like to hit a dummy first!- a roaring laugh came from behind them.
427 turned around and saw… a wall? He looked up and saw a clone that was absolutely massive. He was around 9 feet tall, but unlike the created large clones, with their thick necks and traps, he had a physique that looked closer to someone like Whitebeard. His hair, while cropped close like all the other clones, had streaks of grey in it.
Why the hell isn't Judge making more clones like this guy?
"Bwahahahaha! Two rookies making their way over to the rings? Usually takes you lot a while to get interesting!" His head tilted back as he laughed.
427 honestly wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he took a page from 341's book. He stood there in silence.
The man didn't seem to mind. He clapped the both of them on the shoulders, making their knees buckle.
"You can call me 9." All of a sudden the smile disappeared from his face, and his voice got dead serious.
"This time, I want a response."
"Yes sir!"
Thank God for those built in instincts.
"Bwahahaha!" The laugh was back, like nothing ever happened.
"It's a bit too early for you to be here. Normally you go through basic training before hitting the rings." 9 stated with an easy smile.
Do we… respond again?
"Y-yes, sir!" They responded hesitantly.
"Good! You're smart! You smart ones usually get the strongest!" He punctuated that statement with another round of roaring laughter.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
427 steeled himself to ask something that was, honestly, rather shameless.
"Sir! As a senior to us new recruits, would you be willing to give us some tips?" His heart pounded in his chest as he asked.
Before this he wasn't sure if 341 could show emotion. Now? If someone made a bet on the blank expression being a death stare, he wasn't sure he'd say no. Thankfully, 9 didn't seem very likely to pop their heads like water balloons.
"Bwahahaha! Very shameless!" 427's heart rose. Like whiplash, 9's expression froze, and he stopped laughing.
"No." It popped.
Is this guy bipolar? How does he switch like that?
"I don't bother teaching dead men." He cleaned his right ear with his pinky finger, looking up at the sky.
"Come back after next week's campaign, and maybe I'd consider it." Like clockwork, he burst into laughter again as he walked away.
What a whirlwind.
427 and 341 tacitly looked at each other and silently agreed not to speak about what just happened. Turning around, they continued to watch the senior clones fight.
Serious injuries like the ones in the midget-gorilla cage match were rather rare. Even if they could heal fast, an injury serious enough might last until their next campaign. No one wanted to go into the field with a higher chance of dying, regardless of what they were programmed to think.
Somewhere along the line, 341 wandered off to the firing range, bored by the physical contests of the ring. 427 stayed behind, thinking about what sort of weapon to use along with his speed training.
Don't be fooled by Garp and Luffy. The vast majority of combatants in the One Piece world used a weapon of some sort. Kaido and Big Mom had the two most naturally gifted physiques in the series, and even they used weapons. Sanji? His body was literally engineered to be the weapon.
Maybe the Monkey family has some unique physique of their own? Probably to make up for the lack of survivability their intelligence gives them.
Honestly, 427 didn't want to use a sword. They were cool and all, but the danger of being caught without one was enough to dissuade him. In addition, at the level of combat he was at, they used guns.
Ever tried to put away your rifle and draw a sword mid fight? Yeah, there's a reason none of the characters did that in the show. They probably died before they made it on screen.
No, he didn't want a large weapon. Then… a knife?
I'd probably die of embarrassment if I brought a knife to a sword fight.
He could already imagine it.
"Who does this guy think he is? Mihawk?"
He shuddered. No, the only thing he could think of, that fit his requirements, were claws. Not Kuro claws. The idea of putting away your gun and pulling on those monstrosities was probably more ridiculous than the knife.
By claws, he meant gauntlets with sharp tipped fingers.
Clawed gauntlets? Gauntlet claws? Whatever they were called.
The question then became, did Germa even have these in stock? Regardless, he wouldn't find out anytime soon. 9 had stated how unusual it was for new "recruits" to come to the ring. If he started searching for weapons, he didn't even want to know who would take interest then.
The horn for dinner rang like Spongebob's alarm clock. It was only his second time hearing it, yet it was starting to get on his nerves.
Dinner was, surprise surprise, exactly the same as lunch. The same mindless conversations and questions, same beige slop and biohazardous red juice, and the same 341 sitting silently with his finished plate. Actually, he was a bit different somehow.
"Are you… excited?" Against his better judgement, 427 hazarded a guess.
"No."
...Okay then.
"But tomorrow's firing range lesson seems quite interesting." 427 was speechless.
So you ARE excited?No, interest doesn't necessarily mean excitement. It's just because that's what he was programmed to do in the field.
Then another realization occurred to him.
"Lessons? How do you know what this week's lessons are?" 427 asked, confused.
"The back."
"What?"
"The back of the parchment."
You have to be shitting me.
He pulled out the folded paper from his pocket, and unfolded it with a crinkle. On the back was the weekly schedule. Skipping all the extraneous fluff, he broke it down to its main points:
Today was Sunday. Oddly enough, the year and date weren't provided. Both Monday and Tuesday were split into firearms training in the mornings and hand to hand in the afternoon. 427 quietly resigned himself to muscle training in the evenings.
Nothing worth doing is easy and all that shit.
Wednesday and after was where it got interesting. It was urban warfare training, in the fake town at the center of the training grounds. Thursday was weaponry acquisition and training. Friday circled back to hand and firearm training, and Saturday was the briefing for Lvneel's deployment under the battalion commander.
Commander? Do clones have ranks?
"What's this about a commander?" He asked 341. As expected by this point, 341 casually dropped a bombshell.
"We serve in the first battalion, under Lord Ichiji." 427 gently put the paper on the table, smoothing out the wrinkles. He moved his tray off to the side, wiped down the stray droplets on the table and then turned to 341.
"Good to know."
WHAT THE HELL.
Realistically, Ichiji was the worst to serve under. Unlike his brothers, who were wantonly cruel, he preferred to wait and observe. While they bullied Sanji, he took no action- until Sanji fought back. After that, he brutally beat him senseless.
He was observant. That was a problem for an "irregular" like 427. While there was a chance that Ichiji wouldn't even care to observe the clone soldiers, it was still a sword of Damocles hanging over his head.
He would have preferred someone like Niji. At least he would move fast enough to not need clones to block bullets for him.
Seriously, an enhanced body, super powerful raid suit, and jet boots, yet Ichiji still used some random shmuck clone to block a bullet for him? He was just doing it for the love of the game at that point.
As for Reiju, he honestly didn't want to work under her. At Big Mom's tea party she admits that she considered her brothers barely even human, due to the empathy reduction procedures they went through. If she considered her brothers barely even human, then what were the clones who went through the same process? Lumps of nonsentient flesh? Not only that, her main form of attack was poison gas.
Something like that has collateral damage written all over it.
He doubted clones would get the sleeping beauty treatment, with a kiss on the lips to suck the poison out.
Shaking his head, the two of them got up and prepared to head back to their barracks.
"Snail code G24, right?"
"Correct."
The sunset on the opposite side of the castle was still incredible to look at. Unlike earlier, though, he didn't stop to watch.
No matter what, I will survive.
They headed into the bathrooms for a shower - Seriously all this advanced technology and the water's still cold? - And lay down to sleep. There were no sleeping clothes provided, just taking off their boots.
Honestly, they weren't even necessary. The moment 427 hit the pillow, he passed out like a light.