The house stood dark against the night sky. A marine approached, his face lined but smiling. He knocked, then opened the door.
Sarah's eyes lit up. "John," she breathed.
"I'm home," he said simply.
She embraced him, inhaling his scent of salt and gunpowder. John had been away for months, hunting pirates in the East Blue. His work brought peace, but at a cost.
"Dad!" A young boy's voice rang out.
John knelt, enveloping his son in a bear hug. "Tommy, you've grown."
They sat for dinner, the table set with Sarah's best china.
"How was it out there?" Sarah asked, passing the potatoes.
John's eyes grew distant. "Rough seas. Rougher men."
Tommy piped up, "Did you catch any bad guys, Dad?"
"A few," John nodded. "But that's enough about that. How's school?"
As night fell, Tommy retreated to his room. John and Sarah sat on their bed, hands intertwined.
A dog barked in the distance. They tensed, years of vigilance kicking in.
A gunshot cracked the silence.
Sarah's grip tightened. "John..."
A heavy knock on their bedroom door. John rose slowly, reaching for the pistol in his nightstand.
"Stay back," he whispered to Sarah.
John approached the door, each step measured and silent.
Right then, The glass shattered. A shadow moved through the window. John lunged, catching the intruder mid-stride. They grappled in darkness, a tangle of limbs and grunts. John's fist connected with flesh. He drove forward, propelling the intruder back through the broken window.
A thud outside. Sarah's breath came quick and sharp.
The bedroom door splintered. Another dark figure rushed in.
"Sarah, run!" John shouted.
He met the attacker head-on. Fists flew. John took a hard hit to the ribs. He stumbled, regained his footing. The intruder pressed forward.
John feinted left, then drove his right fist into the man's solar plexus. The attacker wheezed, doubling over. John grabbed him by the collar, slammed his head against the wall.
"Who sent you?" John growled.
The man said nothing, just struggled for breath.
A floorboard creaked behind them. John spun, narrowly avoiding a knife thrust. The first intruder had climbed back in, blade glinting in the moonlight.
"Damn pirates," John muttered.
He ducked another slash, then tackled the knife-wielder. They crashed into the dresser. Wood splintered. The knife clattered to the floor.
John pinned the man down, raining blows. The intruder's struggles weakened, then ceased.
Panting, John stood. He scanned the room, fists still clenched.
"Sarah?" he called out.
"Here," she answered from the hallway. "I've called the authorities."
John moved through the dark house, every muscle tense. He passed the kitchen, then froze. A voice, small and frightened: "Papa."
He turned. In the dim light, he saw Tommy at the table. Beside him, a shadowy figure ate calmly.
Sarah appeared at his side. John reached for the light switch.
The kitchen blazed to life. A blue-skinned fishman sat at their table, chewing on a piece of meat. On his right arm, the red tattoo of the Arlong Pirates stood out like a fresh wound. Chew, Arlong's left hand.
Tommy's eyes were wide with terror.
"Ah, the man of the house," Chew said, gesturing with his fork. "Join us, won't you?"
John moved slowly, placing himself between the fishman and his family. He sat across from Chew, Sarah standing rigid beside him.
"What do you want?" John's voice was steel.
Chew swallowed his mouthful of meat. "Straight to business. I like that." He pointed his fork at John. "You've been causing trouble, Marine. Arlong doesn't appreciate it."
"I'm doing my job."
"Your job?" Chew laughed. "Your job is interfering with our business. That stops now."
Sarah's hand gripped John's shoulder.
"And if it doesn't?" John asked.
Chew's eyes flicked to Tommy. "Let's not find out, shall we? Leave us alone, and we'll return the favor."
John leaned forward. "You threaten my family, you bastard?"
"Threaten?" Chew smiled, all sharp teeth.
Tommy whimpered. John's fists clenched under the table.
Chew snapped his fingers. A crew member emerged from the shadows, a pistol in hand. He placed it on the table, sliding it towards John.
"A choice," Chew said, his voice cold. "Your life, or theirs."
John's hand hovered over the gun. "What?"
"Simple," Chew continued. "You die, they live. Or..." His eyes swept over Sarah and Tommy. "You all die together. Your call, Marine."
John's fingers closed around the pistol. He raised it, aiming at Chew.
The fishman didn't flinch. "Think carefully, John. Is your pride worth their lives?"
John's gaze shifted to Tommy, tears streaming down the boy's face. To Sarah, her eyes wide with horror.
His hand trembled. Slowly, agonizingly, he turned the gun towards himself.
"No!" Sarah lunged forward, but the crew member held her back.
"Dad, please!" Tommy's voice broke.
John looked at his family one last time. "I love you," he said softly.
The gunshot echoed through the kitchen.
Sarah's scream pierced the night. She collapsed, cradling John's body.
Tommy stood frozen, shock etched across his young face.
Chew rose, nodding to his crew. "A wise choice," he said, stepping over John's lifeless form. "Remember this, boy," he addressed Tommy. "This is the price of defiance."
In the distance, sirens wailed. But for the broken family in the blood-stained kitchen, they came too late.
Chew's eyes narrowed. "Kill them," he ordered coldly.
Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder.
The crew members moved swiftly, hands reaching for Sarah and Tommy's throats. Sarah struggled, trying to shield her son.
Suddenly, glass shattered. A bullet whistled through the window, striking one of the crew in the chest. He fell with a gurgle.
Chew's head snapped towards the sound. "sh*t! Retreat!"
The remaining crew hesitated, caught between their orders and the new threat.
"Now!" Chew barked.
They released Sarah and Tommy, scrambling towards the exit. Chew cast one last venomous glance at the family before following his men.
The sound of splashing water mixed with the approaching sirens.
Sarah clutched Tommy close, both gasping for air. They huddled next to John's body, shock and grief warring with relief at their narrow escape.
Outside, shouts and more gunfire erupted. The marines had arrived, engaging the retreating fishmen.
***
The sun beat down on the plaza, turning the cobblestones hot beneath Maria's sandals. She sat on a bench, watching the pigeons squabble over a discarded crust. The air smelled of frying churros and exhaust fumes, a familiar blend that always reminded her of home.
Across the plaza, her husband, Miguel, haggled with a vendor over the price of tomatoes. Their son, Carlos, chased a stray dog, his laughter echoing through the square. It was a normal day in Madrid, a day like any other.
Then the sky tore open.
Not with thunder, not with lightning, but with a sound like a thousand boulders crashing together. Maria looked up, shielding her eyes from the dust and debris that rained down.
There, silhouetted against the blinding sun, were shapes. Immense, hulking shapes. Gorillas.
But not gorillas like any she had ever seen. These were titans, their bodies the size of buildings, their arms thick as tree trunks. Each one carried a club, a monstrous log of wood that looked capable of leveling a house with a single blow.
A scream ripped through the plaza. People scattered, their cries swallowed by the thunderous roar of the gorillas as they descended.
One landed with a bone-jarring thud, its massive foot crushing a car like a tin can. Another smashed through the facade of a bakery, sending bricks and pastries flying.
Miguel, his face pale, grabbed Maria's hand. "Run!" he shouted, pulling her towards the narrow alleyways that snaked through the city.
Carlos, his laughter gone, clung to his mother's skirt, his eyes wide with terror.
The gorillas rampaged through the streets, their clubs smashing buildings, their roars shaking the very foundations of the city. Cars were tossed aside like toys, buildings crumbled into dust, and the air filled with the screams of the fleeing citizens.
Maria stumbled, her ankle twisting beneath her. Miguel helped her up, his grip tight.
"We have to get to higher ground," he said, his voice strained.
They pushed through the panicked crowd, dodging debris and the flailing limbs of the terrified. The air was thick with the stench of dust, smoke, and fear.
Above them, the gorillas continued their rampage, their monstrous forms silhouetted against the burning sky. Madrid, the city Maria had known her whole life, was being torn apart.
And there was nothing they could do but run.
They reached the steps of the cathedral, its ancient stone worn smooth by centuries of footsteps. Miguel helped Maria up the stairs, Carlos clinging to her like a limpet. From their vantage point, they could see the full extent of the devastation.
The plaza was a scene of utter chaos. Fires raged, buildings crumbled, and the streets were choked with debris and the bodies of the unlucky. The gorillas moved through the wreckage like gods of destruction, their roars echoing through the shattered city.
One of the beasts, its fur matted with blood and dust, spotted them on the steps. It lumbered towards them, its eyes burning with a cold, primal fury.
Miguel pushed Maria and Carlos behind him, his face set in a mask of grim determination. He grabbed a broken piece of masonry, its jagged edge glinting in the firelight.
"Run!" he shouted, his voice hoarse. "Get to the roof!"
Maria hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn't leave Miguel.
But the gorilla was upon them, its club raised high.
Miguel threw himself at the beast, the shard of stone slashing at its face. The gorilla roared in pain, its blood splattering on the steps.
It swatted Miguel aside like a fly, sending him crashing into the wall. Maria screamed, her voice lost in the din of destruction.
Carlos, his eyes wide with terror, scrambled up the steps, his small hands scrabbling for purchase.
Maria followed, her legs trembling. She reached the roof, gasping for breath.
Below, the gorilla was finishing off Miguel. Its club crashed down, crushing his skull. Maria watched, her heart breaking, as the life drained from her husband's eyes.
Then, with a roar of triumph, the gorilla turned its attention to the cathedral, its club raised high.
Maria knew they were trapped. There was nowhere left to run.
She pulled Carlos close, shielding him with her body.
"It's alright, mi amor," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Mama's here."
The gorilla's club crashed down, shattering the roof above them.
The world went black.
The plaza reeked of dust, fire, and fear. A marine, Sergeant Alvarez, spat blood and grit onto the cobblestones. His right arm hung useless, a shattered mess after a blow from one of the damn gorilla's clubs. He gripped his rifle, a modified flintlock shooting explosive rounds, a poor excuse for a weapon against these monsters.
Across the plaza, Corporal Rodriguez, young, barely a man, fired his bazooka. The projectile, tipped with seastone, slammed into the chest of a gorilla, the monster roaring in pain as the mineral sapped its strength. It stumbled, its massive form crashing into a crumbling building.
"Good shot, Rodriguez!" Alvarez yelled, the sound swallowed by the cacophony of battle.
Three more marines, their faces grim, fired their rifles. The explosive rounds detonated against the thick hides of the gorillas, tearing chunks of flesh and bone, but the beasts just kept coming. They were relentless, their fury fueled by primal rage.
Another marine, his name lost to the chaos, fell screaming as a gorilla's club shattered his legs. The air filled with the sharp crack of bone and the wet gurgle of blood. Alvarez felt a cold dread settle in his gut. They were losing, badly.
He saw Private Ramirez, a wiry kid from the East Blue, charge a gorilla with a makeshift spear tipped with seastone. The gorilla swatted him away like an insect. Ramirez flew through the air, a broken doll, landing in a heap of rubble.
"Ramirez!" Alvarez roared, but the kid didn't move.
The gorillas closed in, their clubs rising and falling, a brutal ballet of death. Alvarez fired his rifle again and again, the explosions momentarily staggering the beasts, but it wasn't enough. They were too many, too big, too strong.
He felt a searing pain in his side, looked down to see a gorilla's club embedded in his flesh. He coughed, a spray of blood painting the dusty ground crimson. He looked up, saw the monstrous face of the gorilla looming over him, its eyes cold, merciless.
Alvarez raised his rifle one last time, a defiant grin spreading across his blood-streaked face. He pulled the trigger. The explosion ripped through the air, taking a chunk of the gorilla's face with it. The beast roared in pain, its club falling from its grasp.
Alvarez slumped back against the rubble, the pain receding into a numb haze. He watched as the gorillas continued their rampage, their roars echoing through the shattered city. He knew it was over. They had lost.
He closed his eyes, the image of his wife and children flashing through his mind. He took a final, ragged breath, the air tasting of dust and blood and defeat. Then, everything went black.
The gorillas continued their rampage, their roars echoing through the ruined city. The marines were gone.
Madrid, once vibrant, is now a graveyard. Skeletal buildings, overturned cars, and a choking dust cloud mark the gorillas' conquest. The beasts, victorious and insatiable, now disperse.
Some head north, others east, and the rest south.
[A/N: Kinda Slow Start, I know. The Main Story begins for Chapter 2.
Hang on Tight. I will deliver you a story worthy of your time.]
