[Chemistry in Motion]
Simiao breathed in and out slowly, rotating his arms by each of his elbows carefully, creating a strange windmill-like effect to his sides. It built up a small sweat, but this quickly returned beneath his skin, moving back through the pores and rehydrating him. It was a simple change in chemistry, changing an aspect of the water that otherwise caused it to be repelled by the skin surface into something akin to mercury before changing it back from its poisonous form. It was a simple thing to do – so long as the sweat was still on his skin or in his body, he had complete control over its composition.
But that was just a side effect. Utilizing his full strength in this way would otherwise drain him excessively. The use of Haki would be enough by itself to wear him down, and much as he could control his sweating with some ease, using it in combat would require him to be in good shape, especially if he had to face down CP9.
If he had his way, he would have avoided combat altogether, but as it stood, his orders were the same as the rest of the crew: make as much noise as they could. Long John was assaulting the main gate, and good on him – let him tango with the more troublesome ones. Making a hole in one of the side walls might distract some of their attentions, but Simiao was pretty certain that a fire-breathing dragon would attract most of them more than what he was about to do.
He slowed the windmill until his arms were barely rotating at all and then, retaining that slow but persistent rotation, he moved both fists forward, applying only a small amount of Haki to the all too slow punch. They touched the wall.
Brick and mortar exploded outward in incredible waves, shooting in all directions at once away from him. Several dozen of the marines on the other side were engulfed in the blast, forcing them far back away from the site. A massive hole now appeared through the wall, providing easy passage as he continued to rotate his arms, this time in the opposite direction and with increasing speed.
Such an attack was certainly powerful, but absolutely incapable of doing what was necessary in combat to matter. Without actually touching something, their damage couldn't be doled out in the slightest. He was actually quite weak in combat when it came right down to it – the strength of his arms was much decreased as his movement rate increased. It was an annoying downside to his training.
“Damnit! Get up and fire you miscreants!”
One of the officers on the other side was coughing, but up and active. He was trying to rouse the others, who were slow to reach their feet, several leveling their firearms while the majority were searching through the rubble for theirs. It was so troublesome. He began to sweat with increasing volume, his body no longer absorbing the moisture.
“Yūgai Misuto.”
As the droplets fell to the ground below him, they sent up a deep green gaseous mist that quickly obscured him from view. Several of the soldiers quickly fired, but their shots hit nothing but air. A spray of sweat exited the plume, and small plumes appeared beneath most of the soldiers. A few moved away, but most were still searching for their weapons or trying to fire again. These were quickly caught in it, grasping their throats with their eyes watering as they hit the floor. The officer seemed more resistant, though his coughing seemed to worsen as he inhaled it.
“I've spent time as a gaoler at Impel Down. This is nothing to me.”
“Oh? So you met Magellan then, I take it? Well, I'm not a Poison Man like him. All I'm capable of is manipulating my sweat.”
“Then you've come to the wrong place...”
The officer charged forward, his movements a blur and a mace suddenly appearing in his hands. He charge directly into the largest plume. His body whirled, and suddenly stopped, his mace caught on something. The plume whirled away with him, Simiao having leapt into the air above the swing.
“Oh, a strong one.”
He made to swing the mace upward. Simiao extended a hand glistening with sweat outward and quickly flicked his fingers out. His opponent moved to swipe it away but as his hand came into contact with them, the droplets of water exploded in colorful bursts of flame. It startled him, making him blink spots form his eyes. His elbows started jutting out at odd angles, throwing small shockwaves from each extrusion. The officer grimaced, quickly pulling into a retreat as the ground around him was slammed with their widespread force. Simiao landed carefully, though he made himself appear to stumble to carefully shake loose a few hidden vials.
“Dangerous, dangerous! Come now, we're both civilized men. Can't we solve this without violence?”
It appeared not. The man quickly made his move, using Soru to appear on Simiao's right side. A blow with the mace met his right arm at an odd angle, though even the glancing blow knocked the Pharmhand hard to his right. He frowned, tossing a vial with his right. The officer quickly dodged it, and even as he closed the gap between them, Simiao looked with dismay as the vial shattered, leaving a burning, black spot on the ground. Such a waste. He was on top of him before Simiao could process the thought, but all he had to do was raise an arm and meet the blow head on. This time, he didn't move. The larger officer trembled.
“I really should be at a disadvantage to you when it comes to pure strength. Strange, then, that you should find yourself in this predicament.”
The officer's muscles seemed to grow lax, and the world pitched before him. Was that really his full strength? It had felt so slow, as though the force of his swing wasn't under his control.
“As I said, I'm not a Poison Man. Poisoning is very restricted. You see, the idea of a poison is to degrade or do damage. Mine aren't meant to accomplish such basic feats. If anything, they're meant to increase the signals going through your neurons. For someone like them *gestures to everyone around them* that caused instant sensory overload. For you, someone who is used to the degenerative effects of a poison, it must have felt so minimal at first. It probably would have remained as so much noise if only you had restricted your movements to basic necessities. But you chose an all out, rapid assault. Couldn't have made it any easier.”
The larger man sunk to his knees, strength going out of his body as his eyes turned downward. Simiao raised a hand in a fist to the other man's face, manipulating his elbows in slow circles before slowly bringing them to a stop. Then he flicked the other man in the forehead. The force propelled him backward with such savage strength that he crashed deep within a building, nearly breaking through the wall on the other side. The broken mess of a man didn't stir from his rest.
“Ah, but that is so dull. I haven't really found a way to improve such a simple solution. How about we try a new one?”
He pulled a vial out of his sleeve with a distinctive teal color to it, waving it around. Those few who were still standing were slowly backing away, their weapons forgotten.
“Anyone? You see, my friend Long John up there is likely to reduce this place to rubble with enough time as it is, and we should really be able to manage-”
“Rankyaku.”
Simiao alighted, quickly flipping backward and using his arms to get extra distance as a series of air blades carved their way into the stone beneath his feet. He looked up at the figure standing on a building nearby.
“Hey now, I'm not one of the strong ones. Why don't you go and face Long John over there? I'll stay quiet.”
“Liar. If you're going to attack such a bastion of the World Government as this, then at least have the decency to believe in what you are doing.”
“Oh? Is this World Government territory? And here I thought I was just wandering in on a group of willing subjects. Would you be mine next?”
The man frowned. “What's your name, pirate?”
Simiao carefully pushed his glasses up his nose with one finger before responding. “They call me the Pharmhand, Simiao!”
He said it with a flourish. The man across from him didn't seem impressed. Simiao chuckled lightly.
“You see what I did there? I used 'pharm' instead of 'farm,' because I'm a chemist you see.”
“...Delightful. My name is Waver, and they call me the Axe of War. You will soon learn why.”
“I really don't like that. Come back later.”
“I'm afraid...” He appeared next to Simiao in an instant. “...you don't have a choice.”
He jabbed towards Simiao's eye with a finger. It hit the eye and barreled through, the skin shattering before his attack. He frowned.
“Whew! That was a close one! You could put someone's eye out with that thing.”
Waver spotted him out of the corner of his eye, tossing two vials in the air in a single hand and catching them in a small display of juggling prowess. Sweat came in torrents from his skin as he drank from a large canteen.
“Waver, was it? I hope you won't mind if I take a bit of a drink. Dehydration often gets the best of me.”
By decreasing the ratio of water removed from his skin, Simiao could produce more sweat, though only in short bursts like this. It would still drain him of essential minerals, and as such, he had special concoctions he drank that replenished a good deal of them. The sweat pouring off of him quickly disappeared between cracks in the ground. Waver raised an eyebrow.
“Is this your idea of a joke?”
Simiao put a finger to his chin. “You could say that. But then...”
He gripped the rock next to him hard, his voice deepening. Meanwhile, Waver and everyone around them, dead or alive, rose into the air, hovering several meters above the ground.
“...the joke's on you.”
Simiao breathed in and out slowly, rotating his arms by each of his elbows carefully, creating a strange windmill-like effect to his sides. It built up a small sweat, but this quickly returned beneath his skin, moving back through the pores and rehydrating him. It was a simple change in chemistry, changing an aspect of the water that otherwise caused it to be repelled by the skin surface into something akin to mercury before changing it back from its poisonous form. It was a simple thing to do – so long as the sweat was still on his skin or in his body, he had complete control over its composition.
But that was just a side effect. Utilizing his full strength in this way would otherwise drain him excessively. The use of Haki would be enough by itself to wear him down, and much as he could control his sweating with some ease, using it in combat would require him to be in good shape, especially if he had to face down CP9.
If he had his way, he would have avoided combat altogether, but as it stood, his orders were the same as the rest of the crew: make as much noise as they could. Long John was assaulting the main gate, and good on him – let him tango with the more troublesome ones. Making a hole in one of the side walls might distract some of their attentions, but Simiao was pretty certain that a fire-breathing dragon would attract most of them more than what he was about to do.
He slowed the windmill until his arms were barely rotating at all and then, retaining that slow but persistent rotation, he moved both fists forward, applying only a small amount of Haki to the all too slow punch. They touched the wall.
Brick and mortar exploded outward in incredible waves, shooting in all directions at once away from him. Several dozen of the marines on the other side were engulfed in the blast, forcing them far back away from the site. A massive hole now appeared through the wall, providing easy passage as he continued to rotate his arms, this time in the opposite direction and with increasing speed.
Such an attack was certainly powerful, but absolutely incapable of doing what was necessary in combat to matter. Without actually touching something, their damage couldn't be doled out in the slightest. He was actually quite weak in combat when it came right down to it – the strength of his arms was much decreased as his movement rate increased. It was an annoying downside to his training.
“Damnit! Get up and fire you miscreants!”
One of the officers on the other side was coughing, but up and active. He was trying to rouse the others, who were slow to reach their feet, several leveling their firearms while the majority were searching through the rubble for theirs. It was so troublesome. He began to sweat with increasing volume, his body no longer absorbing the moisture.
“Yūgai Misuto.”
As the droplets fell to the ground below him, they sent up a deep green gaseous mist that quickly obscured him from view. Several of the soldiers quickly fired, but their shots hit nothing but air. A spray of sweat exited the plume, and small plumes appeared beneath most of the soldiers. A few moved away, but most were still searching for their weapons or trying to fire again. These were quickly caught in it, grasping their throats with their eyes watering as they hit the floor. The officer seemed more resistant, though his coughing seemed to worsen as he inhaled it.
“I've spent time as a gaoler at Impel Down. This is nothing to me.”
“Oh? So you met Magellan then, I take it? Well, I'm not a Poison Man like him. All I'm capable of is manipulating my sweat.”
“Then you've come to the wrong place...”
The officer charged forward, his movements a blur and a mace suddenly appearing in his hands. He charge directly into the largest plume. His body whirled, and suddenly stopped, his mace caught on something. The plume whirled away with him, Simiao having leapt into the air above the swing.
“Oh, a strong one.”
He made to swing the mace upward. Simiao extended a hand glistening with sweat outward and quickly flicked his fingers out. His opponent moved to swipe it away but as his hand came into contact with them, the droplets of water exploded in colorful bursts of flame. It startled him, making him blink spots form his eyes. His elbows started jutting out at odd angles, throwing small shockwaves from each extrusion. The officer grimaced, quickly pulling into a retreat as the ground around him was slammed with their widespread force. Simiao landed carefully, though he made himself appear to stumble to carefully shake loose a few hidden vials.
“Dangerous, dangerous! Come now, we're both civilized men. Can't we solve this without violence?”
It appeared not. The man quickly made his move, using Soru to appear on Simiao's right side. A blow with the mace met his right arm at an odd angle, though even the glancing blow knocked the Pharmhand hard to his right. He frowned, tossing a vial with his right. The officer quickly dodged it, and even as he closed the gap between them, Simiao looked with dismay as the vial shattered, leaving a burning, black spot on the ground. Such a waste. He was on top of him before Simiao could process the thought, but all he had to do was raise an arm and meet the blow head on. This time, he didn't move. The larger officer trembled.
“I really should be at a disadvantage to you when it comes to pure strength. Strange, then, that you should find yourself in this predicament.”
The officer's muscles seemed to grow lax, and the world pitched before him. Was that really his full strength? It had felt so slow, as though the force of his swing wasn't under his control.
“As I said, I'm not a Poison Man. Poisoning is very restricted. You see, the idea of a poison is to degrade or do damage. Mine aren't meant to accomplish such basic feats. If anything, they're meant to increase the signals going through your neurons. For someone like them *gestures to everyone around them* that caused instant sensory overload. For you, someone who is used to the degenerative effects of a poison, it must have felt so minimal at first. It probably would have remained as so much noise if only you had restricted your movements to basic necessities. But you chose an all out, rapid assault. Couldn't have made it any easier.”
The larger man sunk to his knees, strength going out of his body as his eyes turned downward. Simiao raised a hand in a fist to the other man's face, manipulating his elbows in slow circles before slowly bringing them to a stop. Then he flicked the other man in the forehead. The force propelled him backward with such savage strength that he crashed deep within a building, nearly breaking through the wall on the other side. The broken mess of a man didn't stir from his rest.
“Ah, but that is so dull. I haven't really found a way to improve such a simple solution. How about we try a new one?”
He pulled a vial out of his sleeve with a distinctive teal color to it, waving it around. Those few who were still standing were slowly backing away, their weapons forgotten.
“Anyone? You see, my friend Long John up there is likely to reduce this place to rubble with enough time as it is, and we should really be able to manage-”
“Rankyaku.”
Simiao alighted, quickly flipping backward and using his arms to get extra distance as a series of air blades carved their way into the stone beneath his feet. He looked up at the figure standing on a building nearby.
“Hey now, I'm not one of the strong ones. Why don't you go and face Long John over there? I'll stay quiet.”
“Liar. If you're going to attack such a bastion of the World Government as this, then at least have the decency to believe in what you are doing.”
“Oh? Is this World Government territory? And here I thought I was just wandering in on a group of willing subjects. Would you be mine next?”
The man frowned. “What's your name, pirate?”
Simiao carefully pushed his glasses up his nose with one finger before responding. “They call me the Pharmhand, Simiao!”
He said it with a flourish. The man across from him didn't seem impressed. Simiao chuckled lightly.
“You see what I did there? I used 'pharm' instead of 'farm,' because I'm a chemist you see.”
“...Delightful. My name is Waver, and they call me the Axe of War. You will soon learn why.”
“I really don't like that. Come back later.”
“I'm afraid...” He appeared next to Simiao in an instant. “...you don't have a choice.”
He jabbed towards Simiao's eye with a finger. It hit the eye and barreled through, the skin shattering before his attack. He frowned.
“Whew! That was a close one! You could put someone's eye out with that thing.”
Waver spotted him out of the corner of his eye, tossing two vials in the air in a single hand and catching them in a small display of juggling prowess. Sweat came in torrents from his skin as he drank from a large canteen.
“Waver, was it? I hope you won't mind if I take a bit of a drink. Dehydration often gets the best of me.”
By decreasing the ratio of water removed from his skin, Simiao could produce more sweat, though only in short bursts like this. It would still drain him of essential minerals, and as such, he had special concoctions he drank that replenished a good deal of them. The sweat pouring off of him quickly disappeared between cracks in the ground. Waver raised an eyebrow.
“Is this your idea of a joke?”
Simiao put a finger to his chin. “You could say that. But then...”
He gripped the rock next to him hard, his voice deepening. Meanwhile, Waver and everyone around them, dead or alive, rose into the air, hovering several meters above the ground.
“...the joke's on you.”