CARRIAGE OF FURY... NEW RULE: DON’T HELP CONIVING COWARDS

A hard, tottering ground, head-splitting headache, and the too bright sunrise made up a drowsy Echo's welcome committee. He blinked and took in the quiet spectacle of pinks and oranges mingling across the cloudless sky, only to frown at the cylindrical bars obscuring his sight.

A cage?

Echo groaned. Did he get drunk again? Because this whole scenario was staggeringly reminiscent of his one and only flirt with alcohol. But no, he wasn't dumb enough to get intoxicated in public. Not again.

He squeezed his throbbing head as memories kicked his shriveling brain. Sweaty-man, the village, the incense—so fucking stupid—, Cleo mauling the coward's shoulder...

Cleo!

A rush of adrenaline chased his dizziness and replaced it with tense awareness. He forced himself into a sitting position and found her sniveling in the collar of a large black coat, the somewhat familiar garment engulfing Cleo's pale frame like a makeshift fur.

Echo trailed his eyes down her form, heat blazing in his orbs at the sight of skin-biting sea-stone clasped around her wrists. His blood boiled at the sight, nails drawing crescents into his palms in answer to the sheer misery radiating off her. This was the slaver's ship all over again, except back then, she'd sported a rusty collar clasped so tight she couldn't re-claim her human form.

As if sensing his turmoil, Cleo looked up. A smear of dry blood painted her thin lips and chin.

My precious little girl, reckless and head-strong, yet so very brave. He wished she'd run, but even as guilt gnawed at his marrow, his chest filled with warmth and he engulfed her in a bone-crushing hug.

"Are you hurt?"

She shook her head no.

"I'm so sorry," he said, nose pressed to her creamy blond hair. "I'm such an idiot."

Again, she shook her head against his chest.

"I am." And no amount of head-shakes would dissuade him of this. "But I'll get us out of here. I promise."

With a light sniffle, Cleo pressed her palms against his chest and pulled away. She nodded once, eyes shining with undeserved trust, before she pointed at the man seated in the opposite corner of their cramped cage. "Him too," the gesture said, and as if to justify her request, she tightened her hold on her makeshift blanket.

"All of us," he confirmed before he turned his focus on their cellmate.

A decidedly familiar and still out-of-place top-hat shadowed the man's dirty face, yet it was the old burn scar running across his left eye that captured Echo's attention. It was a remarkable feature (one his seat at the opposing corner of the saloon had kept hidden), but now, coupled with the man's wavy blond hair, it was impossible not to recognize him. Echo'd seen his bounty at the entry of grand line with the name 'Sabo' printed under the grainy picture of a smirking young man. A simple name with no dumb (or cool, if somewhat on the nose) epithet. Lucky him.

Sabo's back was pressed to their prison's bars, his long legs crossed at the ankles while his bare forearms pillowed his head. His eyes were closed, dark lashes fluttering under the day's first light. He exuded an aura of ease, one that felt out-of-place with the gruesome device adorning his neck.

Echo's hands flew up to find a similar item pressed against his quickening pulse. He prodded the slave collar's thick metal and released a small sigh of relief when his fingers traced a dated lock system. It was a shitty model, tho still a deadly one, but Celestial Dragons and high-class slavers had abandoned it for a reason, one that minutely eased the frenetic rhythm of his heartbeat.

Still, his nerves were frayed. The unsafe nature of their situation (added to the absence of his goggle's appeasing weight) left him on the edge of a nervous melt-down. Thankfully, his cellmate looked the perfect picture of a tourist lounging on a beach, so Echo opened himself to the other's emotions. Calmth seeped into his flesh and unknotted his tense muscles. Then, with his spiraling anxiety appeased, he took a deep breath and focused on his surroundings.

Sharif—the conniving coward—had spoken some truth. There were indeed six bandits mounted on hot-blooded horses surrounding the claustrophobic prison carriage. But what else was true? Did choke-man and hippo-lady exist? Did the merry band of bounty hunting bandits count any more devil fruit users?

On the less favorable side of things, he and top hat were stuck with slave collars while Cleo was in sea-stone. Then again, it could be worse. He too could suffer the paralyzing drowsiness of these blasted manacles. Fortunately, Ilsa had spent years hammering the triple-s rule in his flesh: sneakiness, surprise-attacks, and secrecy. Something Echo practiced with utmost diligence. The only people who knew he was a devil fruit user were his father (who'd left him a long note about the Kesu Kesu no Mi as a parting gift) and Cleo. Caution was his mantra, and after resisting the itch to learn about his power in Mary Geoise, he'd gone to great lengths to keep its nature hidden. It wouldn't last forever, nothing good did, but despite his first bounty having been printed some two years prior, people had yet to discover the desert wolf was a paramecia.

On the plus side, even though his gloves and goggles were gone, his disk bracelet was still dangling, undamaged, down his wrist. The situation was far from ideal, but with the help of his wanted cellmate, they might just make it out of this bloody cage.

Echo swept sweaty palms over his pants. Could he do this? Could he trust his back with a complete stranger? He furrowed his brows. Of course not! But with a bit of luck, top hat could pull his weight. This... He could do this. They'd be fine. He just... He just needed to keep his back facing the desert.

Echo scooted closer to the much-too-calm man and startled when a pair of deep black eyes snapped open.

"Good, you're awake," Top hat said with a lazy smile. "Your little friend was really worried."

Echo's chest tightened. Fuck, he didn't deserve her.

"Thank you for the coat."

"Of course! The name's Sabo, by the way."

"I'm the desert wolf."

Sabo's raucous laughter had more than one snoozing bandit startle on their mount. "I'm not calling you that."

Echo shrugged. "How's your armament haki? Can you take the door down?"

"Not with this." Top hat pointing at his collar. "I like my head where it is."

"Leave that to me," Echo said in a rushed whisper as more and more bandits turned their attention to them. "So, can you? The door. With armament. Can you, you know, break it?" Waw. Way to sound like an inarticulate moron. He resisted the urge to face-palm.

"Sure, but that's not the biggest problem..."

"What is?"

"Him," Sabo said with a grim nod at an approaching bandit. He was tall and lean with jet black hair and tanned skin a shade lighter than Echo's own.

"Well, well, looks like our third money bag's awake."

"Best catch of our career, these three are," a feminine voice called from the back of the escort.

Echo glanced over to find the spindly woman from the saloon. Ugh. His observation haki hadn't been too useful on that one, had it?

"That they are," the leader sneered as his bay horse matched its pace to the carriage. "Might even be enough to retire." The bandits hooted while the man tugged some wrinkled papers out of his satchel. "Sabo, Sabo... Aha! Sabo, 450.000.000 berries!"

The bandits whistled and cheered.

"That's a ripoff," Sabo grumbled.

He... Did he just?... Echo's thoughts came to a screeching halt at the realization that his cellmate was a complete lunatic... Or an absolute moron. How come he was more offended by the numbers on his bounty than his presence in this cage?!

"That's not the issue," Echo hissed.

With a throaty laugh, the leader rummaged through his bounties. "Don't be jealous darling, I've got yours right here. There, see? The desert wolf, with an original bounty of 80.000.000 berries upped to a whooping 300.000.000 after that bloodbath in the South. You have my thanks," the man said with a mocking tilt of his cowboy hat.

Echo fought a chill. A bloodbath indeed... "Eat shit."

"My, my, did your mother teach you no manners?"

The sadistic glee in the man's thunderous gaze was the only warning Echo got. On his next inhale, he choked on empty air. Wide-eyed, his hands flew to his throat. He was like a fish out of water, his dry lips and empty lungs prisoners of a deadly void. The terrible feeling awoke an old trauma, and Echo wavered, buckling knees hitting the splintered floorboards as Leny's stitched grin replaced the bandit's leering face.

'Why? This is the sweet revenge we low-life humans all dream of.'

Fire consumed his lungs, yet he could do nothing but gasp and hold his burning throat.

Cleo crouched in front of him, an animalistic hiss tearing past her curled lips.

No! Oxygen-deprived muscles reached for the growling child, and with a strength born of desperation, he pulled and hid her smaller form behind his own. It was his role to keep her safe. His. Now he could only hope choke-man's power suffered the same limitation as his own.

Dark spots peppered his vision. Fuck, it wouldn't be long before he passed out. And then what? Losing consciousness was not an option, not when there was no guarantee Cleo would remain with him. What if he woke up chained, sea-stone rendering him as weak as a kitten, and separated from his daughter?

Still, it would be risky to activate his power. He was surrounded, deprived of his gloves, had no plan, and didn't even know if his companion of misfortune could fight. Then again, he wasn't exactly drowning in options...

Echo's blurry sight found choke-man's smug face, but right as he was about to forcefully end this torture, the man eased his hold. Echo broke in a fit of coughs.

"Not that I care, but manners might be useful where you're going," Choke-man said with a smirk. "And last but not least we have a fennec zoan. A bit of a wild one she is, but I heard her kind's been fetching good numbers on Sabaody."

Despite the tremors in his legs, Echo forced himself upright. "If you—" Pant. "t—touch her—" Pant. "I'll rip your hands off."

"Nah, too tender for my taste. But I'm sure she'll quench one of those twisted Celestial Dragon's appetite."

White noise buzzed in Echo's ears… Blood trickled down his palms… He ignored it. He ignored everything. His mind was obsessed with the sole need to protect the girl bundled behind him. She was all he had, a cheerful beacon of light in an otherwise bleak and violent world. The only person to have ever treated him like he was neither more nor less than human.

Cleo's whimper broke through the ringing.

Echo would get his daughter out of here even if it was the last thing he did; He'd keep her safe even if he had to break his most sacred rule to do it. His bangs shadowed his steel-hard eyes, but they were too short to hide the stretch of a blood-thirsty smile. Choke-man had summoned the devil, and it yearned for his screams.