One Piece Fan Fiction ❯ What The Moon Foretells ❯ Chapter 1

The thumping music and throbbing lights filled the dance club, much to the delight of a certain patron of the club. The noise and flashing lights allowed Boa Hancock to lose herself and forget that anyone else existed. Lounging on a seat in the back, she had her eyes closed and her thoughts drifted as the cacophony continued around her. Men, falling over themselves and each other, tried in vain to coerce this raven-haired beauty to dance. As it were, their pleas and invitations fell on deaf ears, and the bolder few who tried physical intimidation, only had the floor to kiss.

They're coming out of the woodwork, tonight. Hancock thought irritably, finally opening her eyes to find yet another man, slave to her beauty. These men make me sick. Giving the newest would-be suitor a curt denial, she waded her way through the thronging crowd on the dance floor and found the entrance.

Outside, she wrapped a red jacket around her and started to walk. She had always been harassed like that, no matter where she went. It was because of her `curse', as she liked to put it. She was one of the rare types who were born naturally beautiful, as was her mother before her. In her teens, she saw it as a weapon to use against the boys of her school. She would use it to get her way and free gifts from people all the time. More recently, however, she came to realize that it was an immature way to live. She ran her own club now and, although she had gotten the position from a straight woman, she found her beauty to be the deciding factor in most things.

Shaking off the feeling that she was being watched, she started to walk down a side street, a shortcut that she usually took to her apartment. Tilting her head skyward, she saw the moon, about three phases from being full. Hancock loved the full moon, seeing it as the only thing that could surpass her in beauty. Before she could level her gaze again, however, she was suddenly attacked from behind. The force, seemingly coming from a large man, slammed her against a hard brick wall, knocking the wind out of her. Quickly and quietly, her assailant pinned her arms to the wall, and Hancock suddenly realized there was more than one. She tried to turn her head, it being the only thing she could move since the men now held her legs in place, but the first man took care of that by gripping her head with one hand and forcing her to stare at the old, brown brick. She felt other hands groping her body, from neck to calves, and started to scream, hoping someone would hear her. Cursing and a heavy fist against her temple is what met her scream, silencing her through temporary stun. As the pain blossomed inside her head from the blow, she felt the hands start to pull on her black pants and tear her jacket off of her body.

Sh-shit… was all that ran through her mind before she finally fell to her knees. She blinked, confused that she was now free, but wasted no time. Forgetting her jacket, she ran as quickly as her legs could carry her. As she fled, Hancock heard the sounds of a fight, presumably between her assailants or, and this she couldn't help but discard immediately, between them and a second party. One who had arrived to keep her from getting raped by those men. Her head still swam with pain, but Hancock did not stop until she reached her apartment building. Swinging the door open (they had a problem with people in the building not locking it) she bolted up to her door, jammed the key into the lock and slammed it open, then closed.

Hancock was drained, both emotionally and physically. Her lithe body slumped to the ground and she could not will it to move beyond the shadow of her door. She didn't want to, the events of the past hour replaying over and over in her mind. What she couldn't understand was, even if they had been fighting amongst each other, why didn't they give chase? She knew she wasn't faster than they were, so there really must have been a second party who heard her 3-second scream.

I wonder who it was… Hancock thought as she dragged herself to her couch, it being the closest piece of furniture to her, and lay across it. Time dragged by and images of what she thought could be her savior flew through her mind before sleep finally over took her.

The sight was horrific. There was blood strewn across the street and body parts here and there. It looked like a scene from a slasher flick, save for the lone figure standing amidst the carnage. Wiry muscles ran along his arms and legs, and his chest rose and fell with his breathing. The sign of a decent work-out, to say the least; but nothing compared to what the young man was used to. One of the men on the ground seemed to survive, because he reached forward to grab at the shirtless winner. He propelled himself a few feet up and out of the man's reach, and fell onto his back, cat-like with both feet and hands. With an exclamation of pain, the injured man looked up into the eyes of his assailant.

“W-we were jus' tryin' to have a little fun, man.” He wheezed out, coughing afterwards. “P-p-please don't kill me!” The younger man's eyes went from jovial to disgust and, placing his foot atop the injured one's head, stomped down, effectively taking his life. He reached a finger down and dipped it into the blood around his body.

“Not bad.” He said aloud, his finger now partially in his mouth. “I might have to call my pack to have a feast here.” He grinned, sighing and looking up, his boyish face awash in the light of the moon. The only thing that seemed to mar his features was a single scar under his right eye.

“As for that delicious looking chick from before…” His grin turned feral as he licked his lips hungrily. “I'm the only one who gets to taste her.”

 

--To be continued.