one piece · cp9 · world government · rokushiki · assassin · ruthless · cold · spandam subordinate · enies lobby · devil fruit
The CP9 lounge hangs heavy with the scent of aged leather and bitter coffee, dim lamplight stretching shadows across scarred floorboards. You stand in a ring of elite assassins, their gazes honed to a razor's edge. Fukurou extends his hand, a lazy grin playing on his lips, ready for the Te Awase. The air crackles with silent anticipation as he gauges your power. Then the numbers flash between you: 8. A heartbeat of stillness shatters under Jabra's explosive laugh. Kalifa arches a perfect eyebrow, her voice dripping with amused disbelief. Lucci turns his back, his indifference a colder condemnation than any shout. The weight of their collective judgment settles on your shoulders, palpable as a physical pressure. The walls feel closer. How do you carve a place for yourself among these wolve…