End of Battle #45

"Hahaha! That's what you get for boasting so shamelessly," Malachi laughed, watching with satisfaction as Blake's head snapped back from the gunshot. 

"Youngsters these days sure are—" His words faltered as Blake's head straightened, the bullet that had struck his forehead now a deformed piece of metal clattering to the ground.

"That kinda tickled," Blake said, a grin spreading across his face. Malachi's expression morphed from smug amusement to sheer horror. The goons flanking him mirrored his shock, their eyes wide in disbelief. Even Double Six gaped at Blake as if he were some kind of freak of nature.

"Is that also a Devil Fruit ability?" Double Six asked, his voice tinged with astonishment.

Blake shook his head. "Nothing so cheap," he replied, his tone dripping with pride. "This, my friend, is the result of hard work and training." He flexed his biceps, showcasing his muscular physique.

For a moment, Malachi stood in stunned silence, but he quickly regained his composure. "I'd like to see how many more bullets you can take!" he snarled. "Shoot him, all of you!" he commanded.

The air filled with the deafening roar of gunfire as Malachi's subordinates opened fire. Bullets zipped through the room, ricocheting off walls and shattering the remnants of the shabby throne room. 

Blake, however, remained unfazed. His body seemed to absorb the impacts, each bullet flattening against his skin and falling harmlessly to the floor.

Malachi's face twisted in frustration and desperation. "Keep shooting! Don't let up!" he screamed, his voice breaking with hysteria.

Blake smirked, taking a step forward despite the hail of bullets. "You really are stupid, aren't you? I already told you bullets don't work on me..." he said, his tone almost casual. 

He moved with fluid grace, closing the distance between him and the nearest thug. With a swift, powerful punch, he sent the man flying across the room.

The remaining goons hesitated, their confidence wavering as they witnessed Blake's overwhelming strength. Sensing their fear, Malachi barked, "Don't just stand there! Take him down!"

Blake continued his advance, picking off the thugs one by one with precise, devastating blows. Each strike left his opponents sprawled on the ground in agony.

As the last of Malachi's men fell, Blake turned his attention back to their leader. Malachi, now visibly trembling, raised his pistol with shaking hands. "Stay back! I—I swear I'll shoot!" he stammered.

Blake raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You still don't get it, do you?" he said, closing the gap between them in an instant. He disarmed Malachi with a flick of his wrist, the gun clattering to the ground.

With a final, resolute punch, Blake knocked Malachi out cold. The room fell silent, the once-chaotic scene now eerily calm. Blake turned to Double Six, who was still lying amidst the scattered debris.

Blake turned to Double Six, raising an eyebrow at the sight of him shielding his head with the same piss bucket that had nearly caused his demise. 

"Still kicking, huh? You really are one lucky son of a bitch," Blake remarked, kneeling next to the gang boss and marveling at his luck to survive such an ordeal. 

"Is... is it over?" Double Six asked, cautiously removing the old piss bucket and glancing around. His eyes settled on Blake, who nodded.

"Looks like I got off lightly..." Double Six sighed, his gaze shifting to the gaping wound in his thigh, which was bleeding heavily.

"Getting off lightly is putting it mildly... I honestly didn't expect to find you still breathing after all that," Blake said with a shrug. He then turned to the collapsed portion of the throne room's wall and called out, "Hey, you guys! Quit hiding and get out here!"

As if on cue, Penguin and Shachi emerged from behind a collapsed portion of the wall, rubbing the backs of their heads sheepishly.

"Sorry, Captain. We thought we'd stick around in case you needed help," Penguin explained.

Shachi nodded. "But it looks like you had everything under control," he added.

Blake shrugged. "No harm done. More importantly, you two know some first aid, right?" he asked. "Come here and patch this guy up," he added, gesturing toward Double Six.

Double Six frowned, his expression a mix of frustration and acceptance. "I get it. You don't want to dirty your hands with my blood, but this is going a bit overboard," he remarked, his voice tinged with resignation. 

"All of this chaos happened under my watch because I'm an incompetent leader... I should be left to deal with the consequences of my own failures," he added, shaking his head in self-criticism.

Blake couldn't help but chuckle at Double Six's solemnity. "You're giving yourself too much credit, pal. Take a look around," he said, his tone light but pointed. "Nobody here saw you as a leader. You were just an idiot they used to get what they wanted. You don't need to take responsibility for anything that happened," he stated bluntly, patting Double Six's shoulder compassionately.

Double Six blinked, caught off guard by Blake's straightforwardness. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the brutal bluntness he was regarded with. "Well... thanks for the reality check... I guess?" he said, the uncertainty evident in his voice.

Blake grinned and clapped him on the back. "No problem. Now let's not dwell on the past and get you patched up," he said, motioning for Shachi and Penguin to assist.

Penguin and Shachi quickly moved to Double Six's side, their earlier sheepishness replaced by focus. Penguin pulled out a first aid kit from his bag, and Shachi followed along. 

They worked efficiently, applying pressure to the wound and wrapping it tightly to stop the bleeding.

With his wounds tended to, Double Six rose to his feet, albeit unsteadily. "Thanks again," he muttered, testing his injured leg and wincing at the pain that shot through him. "So, uh... what do you plan to do now?" he asked, turning to Blake with a curious look on his face.

Blake shrugged casually. "We'll haul that guy over there back to the ship," he replied, nodding towards the unconscious Malachi. "Get him to spill the beans about the money, then move on to cleaning out the coffers of the other gangs on this island," he explained, tapping his chin in thought. 

"Oce we conclude our business here we'll move on to another island... but not before I give that stupid brat, Asher, a good knock on the head," he added with a chuckle.

Double Six sighed heavily. "I wish I had an answer as clear as yours," he admitted, casting a glance around his ruined throne room, his former underlings scattered across the floor.

Blake regarded him with a bemused expression. "Overthinking doesn't suit you. You've made it this far like an idiot going with the flow, so why change now?" he remarked dismissively. "Just go with your gut or whatever feels right," he suggested, shrugging nonchalantly.

Deep in thought, Double Six looked down before voicing his question. "So, essentially, you're telling me to trust my instincts?" he inquired, his gaze eventually finding Blake's after a moment's contemplation.

Blake shrugged nonchalantly. "Sure, you could put it that way if you want to get all corny and mushy about it," he replied with a playful grin. "Either way, I'll catch you later. Let's go, boys, time to haul our money cow back to the ship," he directed, turning his attention to Shachi and Penguin.

"Right away, Captain," Penguin affirmed as he hoisted Malachi's unconscious body over his shoulder. 

With that settled, Blake began strolling in the direction of the docks, a carefree demeanor evident as he slung his hands behind his head and broke into song. 

"It always starts with a 'hey,' turns into 'how was your day?' Turns into 'meet at my place?' Turns into you and me drinking rosé," he crooned, a wide grin lighting up his face. "Turns into 'how did you sleep?' Turns into 'it's been a week,' turns into 'gave you a key'... turns into a conversation about 'what are we?'" he continued, his jovial melody echoing through the air.

Shachi and Penguin exchanged bemused glances before shrugging and joining in the humming as they followed along, their spirits lifted by Blake's infectious mood. 

Meanwhile, Double Six observed their departure with a pensive expression, deep in thought as he pondered his next move. 

"Follow my heart, eh...? So be it."