In the deepest, most secure level of Impel Down, where even the screams of the damned were swallowed by oppressive silence, Douglas Bullet sat chained in his cell. The former crew member of the Pirate King, the man whose capture had cost the Marines countless lives and resources, now found himself paying the price for someone else's infamy.
The "Demon Heir" had become collateral damage in Buggy the Clown's rise to notoriety. Where once Bullet had been left to rot in relative peace—if the hell of Level 6 could be called peaceful—now he was the center of unwanted attention. The Sky Screen's revelations had painted a target on his back that burned brighter than any bounty poster.
The iron door to his cell clanged open with a sound like a death knell. Three figures entered: two CP0 agents, their white masks reflecting the dim torchlight like death's own visage, and Shiryu of the Rain, his blade already drawn and gleaming with anticipation.
"Still maintaining that stubborn silence, I see," one of the CP0 agents observed, his voice distorted by the mask into something inhuman. "How admirable. And how pointless."
Bullet didn't raise his head. Massive seastone shackles bound his wrists and ankles, their presence sapping his strength and making even the simple act of breathing laborious. The Gasha Gasha no Mi (Clank-Clank Fruit) that had once made him a walking fortress now lay dormant, useless against his restraints.
"We know Buggy the Clown will come to see you," the second CP0 agent continued, circling Bullet like a vulture. "We know there will be a contact. What we don't know is why—and that ignorance is becoming... problematic."
Shiryu stepped forward, his sword "Raiu" singing softly as he drew it completely from its sheath. The Head Jailer's eyes gleamed with sadistic pleasure. "I could make this much simpler. A few precise cuts, and we'll have our answers. The dead tell no lies, but the dying rarely keep secrets."
The blade flicked out faster than lightning. Bullet's hamstrings parted like silk, blood pooling on the cell floor as fresh agony joined the symphony of pain that had become his existence. Yet the giant man didn't make a sound—didn't even flinch. His only response was a simple, defiant phrase:
"I don't know."
The words echoed in the stone chamber like a challenge. Shiryu's smile widened, showing teeth like broken glass. This was what he lived for—breaking the unbreakable, finding the limits of human endurance.
"Your silence is admirable," the first CP0 agent said, consulting a file in his hands. "But let's discuss what we do know. While other prisoners on Level 6 have resigned themselves to death, you've maintained a daily exercise routine. Even with seastone restrictions, you've kept your body in fighting condition. Almost as if..."
"As if you knew you'd need it again someday," the second agent finished.
Bullet's head finally lifted, his scarred face showing nothing but contempt. "Exercise keeps me sane. Would you prefer I go mad and become useless to everyone?"
It was a reasonable explanation, but in the paranoid world of World Government intelligence, reasonable explanations were often the most suspicious. The Sky Screen had shown them glimpses of a future where Bullet walked free again, where his monstrous strength was unleashed upon the world. That future had to be prevented—or at least understood.
The torture continued for hours. Shiryu took special pleasure in his work. The Head Jailer had always preferred the dangerous prisoners of Level 6 to the small-time criminals above. Here, among the monsters and legends, his blade could find worthy targets.
"Why not just execute him?" Shiryu asked during a brief respite, cleaning Bullet's blood from his sword. "A dead man can't reveal any secrets, but he also can't escape to cause more trouble."
The CP0 agents exchanged glances behind their masks. "The Five Elders have... other plans. Bullet's knowledge is too valuable to waste. If Buggy the Clown went to such lengths to contact him, whatever secret he holds could be crucial to maintaining order."
Throughout Impel Down, the atmosphere had changed dramatically since the Sky Screen's first broadcast. What had once been a tomb for the living had become a theater of desperate hope. The prisoners, cut off from all outside information for years, now had a window into the world beyond their cells.
The Sky Screen's ethereal light penetrated even the deepest levels of the underwater prison, bringing both torment and salvation to the damned. For the first time in decades, the prisoners could see that the world continued to turn, that new legends were being born on the seas they'd once sailed.
"Look at them," Magellan the Chief Warden observed from his office, watching the monitors that showed prisoners throughout the prison pressing their faces to the bars, desperate to catch every frame of the Sky Screen. The Chief Warden's perpetual digestive issues, a side effect of his Doku Doku no Mi (Venom-Venom Fruit), kept him confined to his quarters for ten hours a day. But even he couldn't ignore the electric tension that now filled his domain.
The prisoners had initially been able to interact with the Sky Screen, leaving comments and jeers that echoed across the globe. But that feature had been disabled. Now they could only watch, their comments replaced by frustrated silence.
"New image incoming!" a guard shouted from the monitoring station.
Throughout the prison, a collective hush fell as the Sky Screen shifted from its static blue to display a new scene. Snow-covered peaks and perpetual winter filled the frame, the image crystal clear despite the impossible distance.
In Bullet's cell, even the torture stopped as everyone's attention turned to the ethereal display. The former Pirate King's crew member squinted at the image, his geographical knowledge limited by decades of imprisonment.
But the CP0 agents recognized it immediately. "Drum Island," the first one said, his voice carrying a note of confusion. "But why would the Sky Screen show us such an insignificant kingdom?"
Drum Island had once been renowned throughout the Grand Line as a medical paradise, a destination for the sick and wounded from across the world. But King Wapol's paranoid purge of the island's doctors had transformed it from a beacon of healing into a frozen wasteland of missed opportunities.
"That fool Wapol," the second agent muttered. "First he destroys his own kingdom's greatest resource, then he abandons his throne to play pirate with his 'Bliking Pirates.' If he wasn't still paying his Heavenly Gold tribute, the World Government would have expelled Drum Island from membership years ago."
But none of that explained why the Sky Screen would focus on such a place. The system—whatever cosmic force powered it—had shown them glimpses of world-shaking events. What could possibly happen on a remote winter island that would warrant such attention?
As the image on the Sky Screen began to shift and focus, showing what appeared to be a small ship approaching Drum Island's shores, the implications began to sink in. Another review was beginning, another window into the future that would reshape their understanding of what was to come.
The prisoners throughout Impel Down pressed closer to their bars, their eyes reflecting the ethereal light of the Screen. Even the damned deserved to dream, and in the images above, they saw the possibility that the world they'd known—the world that had judged and condemned them—might yet be changed.
In his cell, Bullet finally allowed himself a small, blood-stained smile. Whatever secrets the Sky Screen revealed next, whatever future it showed them, one thing was certain: the age of stagnation was ending. Change was coming to the world, whether the World Government wanted it or not.
And in that change, perhaps even the impossible might become possible again.