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“MEIGO!”
Doflamingo had seen many things in his life. Horrific things. Some of these things were done with his own hands while he laughed about them. But that moment alone was the single most gut-wrenching vision he would be forced to see over and over in the nightmares that were to come.
Wide eyes turned, preparing to dodge the attack when he realized far too late that there was nothing left to dodge. No, he had been shielded.
The howling sandstorm that had kept much of the cannon fodder at bay subsided, but they did not move to engage the enemy. Neither did the Admiral, though he certainly tried, invisible strings holding him firmly in place.
"Oi, oi…Croco-man," Mingo finally muttered, braving a step forward. "What’s the deal? This some sort of joke?"
Standing before the runaway fallen king was his reptile companion, caught in a cyclone of sand that been frozen in place by the heat of the magma, turning it to a stunning, green-tinted glass. But his gaze trailed to the man at the center of the formation and his heart leapt into his throat. Glass. From the chest down, the man’s body was the same green glass, warm red magma still pulsing from his stomach where Akainu had struck him.
“Croc?” he repeated, voice quiet as a hand reached out, quivering fingers hesitating to touch the fragile material.
Dimming golden eyes turned to look at him, paled complexion turning blue as his lungs began to turn to glass. The expression he wore spoke of grim acceptance, a sentiment the younger man refused to share.
"What the hell was that? Why didn’t you move?!”
A breathless chuckle fell from the older man’s lips, followed by a grimace as the glass spread further. No more air, no more time. Soon it would take his heart. He tried to swallow and found he couldn’t, gagging on a mouthful of blood he could do nothing with but spit at the paralyzed Admiral standing nearby. Fixing his gaze back on the blond, he offered a smile that was unforgivably soft and affectionate. He had sworn long ago that he would deny the blond's proposal for an alliance until his last breath, but things had changed. Expending the last of his energy and air, his voice was barely a whisper over the sound of forming glass that reminded Mingo of creaking ice.
"Yes."
Moments later, the glass had claimed Crocodile completely.
"No," he whispered furiously, hand clamping down on one of the cyclone’s tendrils. "No, old man, you don’t…you don’t get to say 'yes' now! That isn’t fair! That isn’t fucking fair, Crocodile!”
Under the pressure of his grip, hairline fractures splayed outward like spiderwebs, spiraling quickly up over the cyclone to the petrified man. With a sharp intake of breath, he yanked his hand away, but the damage was done: the entire formation—man and his last attack—shattered. Glittering fragments rained down onto the battlefield and for once in his life, Doflamingo stared in horror at a casualty.
This wasn’t happening. He refused. Fingers spasmed and he rounded on Akainu with an empty expression, raising a hand over his head.
"Bird Cage!" he growled, fingers crooking and sending forth a massive net of strings that wove together and locked the field down.
No one would escape. No one would survive. Not a single one of them was allowed to set foot off that battlefield, paying with their blood and screams for what they had done. Oh, he didn’t care that the men were just doing their jobs, just following orders. He didn’t care that none of them had so much as laid a finger on his crocodile. He didn’t care that they were begging, pleading for their lives as his razor threads diced them into bloody pieces. He just didn’t fucking care about any of that because Crocodile was gone.
Crocodile was dead. Off with ALL their fucking heads!
At some point, the Admiral freed himself from the binding strings and tried to stop the enraged blond from massacring his men. But Mingo held his attempts at bay and tore through them like an unholy storm. Strings strangled and cut and dismembered, the field awash in blood, in gore, in severed limbs and discarded weapons. Those who tried to flee the cage found the bars too sharp to touch, keeping them trapped with the madman until he got to them. He howled and screamed and shrieked until his throat was raw, bathing in the warm spray of crimson each new victim offered him. But nothing could thaw the iciness in his chest where his heart had been, the worthless, aching organ continuing to beat beneath the reptile’s mark.
"Enough, Doflamingo!" Akainu roared, lashing a gout of magma at the other man.
"Enough?! Is it enough?! Will it ever be enough for what you’ve cost me?!” Mingo replied, teeth bared in a wild grin and face smeared with blood.
Dodging around the attack, he threw his hands forward and hooked his fingers, yanking backward and the Admiral was forced onto his knees. Striding forward, Mingo gave in to peal of unhinged laughter and kicked the asshole right in the side of his head.
"It’s not going to stop with them, not going to stop with you!" he snarled, shifting to kick the other side. "I’m never going to stop until I tear this entire worthless world to fuckin' pieces!"
Before he could kick a third time, Akainu turned his entire body into magma and burned free of the strings, leaping to his feet and swinging a molten fist up at Mingo’s head. The blond was just barely able to duck down under the arm, hissing as he felt the skin of his chest begin to sear from the intense heat. Hopping away, he grinned.
"Either you die or I die, Akainu! And today’s just one of those days where I really don’t give a shit which one it is that happens!”
Akainu—all but fatally wounded—had retreated hours later when the Bird Cage fell in upon itself to crush the remaining Marines under the thick, razor-like cables. The field was silent save for the man standing at the center of it all, charred hands clutching the sides of his head as he screamed at the sky. Screams died into agonized howls as his chest heaved, pouring every ounce of emotion into rage because with no one left to kill, the creeping darkness would settle into his heart and he couldn’t face it.
Long legs finally gave out and he fell to his knees, hands pressing into the dry earth—dry…like sand—and he groaned in pain and frustration. His body refused to move anymore after hours of rampaging, breathing in ragged, rapid breaths as his heart hammered wildly in his chest. He felt light-headed for a moment, praying for the release of unconsciousness, but the sensation cleared…bringing with it the silence of the world around him. It was deafening.
"Don’t do this, old man…you can’t. Not like this. Not now that you—"
Mingo choked on the words and gave a wretched whine, digging his fingers into the soil and gritting his teeth.
"Come on, you said you wanted to be beheaded or hung…there isn’t even a crowd and nobody is going to KNOW!” he screamed hoarsely, whole frame trembling. “This is so fuckin' pathetic, even by your standards!”
Shaking hands sought action, sought purpose, and so he swiped furiously at the fragments of glass littering the ground around him, batting them away as if they had offended him. After a few moments, however, he froze with a strangled noise as he realized exactly what he was knocking around, expression falling into something akin to horror. The glass. The glass wasn’t just from the sand. The glass had been Crocodile. The glass was all that was left of the older man. That’s it. That’s all that remained.
He picked up a chunk, gazing down at the sharp edges and how the sun mockingly glittered through its cracked faces. Words that had been shoved into the deepest corner of his mind swam back to the surface, a prophetic conversation that he had chosen to dismiss at the time:
‘No matter how long it takes,’ Corazon growled. ‘Inevitably, everything you touch will lead to ruin.’
Unfocused eyes brimming with tears squeezed shut as he inhaled sharply, letting it go in a broken howl of fury and utter misery as he clutched the piece of glass against his forehead, curling in on himself and let the blood run down his face.
Crocodile watched from the Otherworld and wished to die a second time.