Disclaimer: I don't own One Piece.

Cassie: No matter how it seems this chapter, this is not an OC fic. I apologize beforehand for any grammar mistakes, OOC-ness, and spelling errors. Warning, this is an alternate universe.

August 2001

A young man burst into a large office, panting heavily.

"Sir, some complications came up during the operation!" The tall and muscled man declared, looking rather nervous. It was peculiar, seeing a man as strong as he appeared, cower in fear of someone else.

"What is it?" the other man, sitting comfortably behind a wooden desk, demanded. This man was significantly older. He gave out a dark aura, and had an odd gleam in his eyes. He also looked quite amused, his thin lips twitching up into a smirk.

"The soldiers you ordered to kidnap Monkey D. Dragon accidentally killed him," the younger man reported, beginning to sweat bullets. No one wanted to give the boss bad news, after all. Who knew whether they would live from the ordeal?

"Nothing I haven't already heard," the older man said, intertwining his fingers on top of his desk. "Stop looking so anxious, you fool. Grow a back bone," he stated condescendingly, staring pointedly at the jumpy man. The boss hated weaklings. Sure, they were entertaining every once in a while, but he would not tolerate having cowards under his command.

"Y-Yes Sir!" The man paled and saluted, straightening up immediately.

"I've received news that the body was never found. What makes you so sure that he's dead?" The boss questioned, raising a single eyebrow.

"We secured the scene and brought in the forensic specialists. They tell me that the amount of blood found there was enough to confirm that he died of blood loss," the man elaborated, still squirming under the boss's glaze.

"Is that so?" The boss questioned, his stare hardening. "I expect a full written report on the mission by tomorrow. But until then, you are dismissed, soldier." The man bowed stiffly and exited the room. It wasn't until he was metres away from the office that he breathed a sigh of relief, happy to have survived the encounter with the boss. Today's challenge was done.

Back in the spacious office, the man's cold eyes narrowed.

"Monkey D. Dragon, are you really dead?"

February 2003

Damien was scared.

Shivering in trepidation, he pulled the thin red blanket he had been given closer, trying to ignore the loud footsteps outside. Mother was acting weird again. Hysterical sobbing could be heard from the living room, followed by uncontrollable laughter.

Shaking, the seven year old boy covered his ears in a futile attempt to drown out the noise. He clamped his eyes shut, and tried to force himself back into an uneasy slumber. It didn't work. The black haired child jumped as the door creaked open loudly, his pupils widening in fear.

A tall and skinny woman in her late twenties stood at the door. Her flaxen hair was disheveled and her hazel eyes were red and swollen from crying. Her arms consisted of scratches inflicted by probably her own sharp nails, and her skin retained a sickly pallor, making her dark eye circles stand out. To Damien, she resembled the zombies he had recalled seeing once on television when she was out.

"Damien. Damien! Where are you?" The woman shrieked, her glassy brown eyes darting around the tiny room, searching but not seeing.

When Mother advanced to his lumpy bed, and he swiftly ducked under the covers, as if the fragile piece of cloth could shield him from the insane woman.

"There you are!" She exclaimed while she grabbed the red blanket away from him in one single motion, disposing it on the cold floor. Mother pulled him into a strong embrace, stroking and patting his back, cooing at him as though he was an infant. Tears leaked from the corner of her already puffy eyes and her grip on him tightened, causing slight pain. Damien whimpered. When Mother finally released him from her grasp a few minutes later, she froze, and Damien recoiled instantly, anticipating what would occur next.

A resounding slap echoed throughout the room.

"You're not Damien! You little monster! Where is he?" The blonde woman screeched, her hands wrapping around his fragile throat, wringing and strangling. The scrawny boy choked, warm tears flowing from his onyx eyes in streams. He struggled weakly, unable to find his voice.

"Die, you demon! How dare you impersonate my son?" Mother accused him lividly, suffocating him, depriving him of precious oxygen. Damien, having no other choice, reluctantly stretched his arm very far back in an alarming fashion, and punched the woman hard in her stomach, the force knocking her into the plain wall behind. The large impact created a small crater, and Mother fell to the floor with a loud thud. He inhaled vigorously, trying to regulate his racing heartbeat.

"U-Ungrateful… brat," Mother mumbled, "I-I gave you f-food… and w-water," she coughed out blood into her hand, crimson staining her long fingers. "T-this is h-how you repay me…" She fought to stand up, but only collapsed once more. This time, her head made contact with the ceramic tiles, producing a sickening crack. "I-Inhuman," she spat out as she lost consciousness.

Damien huddled into a small ball, still staring at the fallen figure. He hated using his bizarre abilities. According to Mother, they were evil, and by using those stretching skills, it made him evil too. Tears prickled in his obsidian eyes again. He didn't want to be evil! Why can't he be normal like everyone else? As sadness and loneliness dampened his mood, he shut down, and let his body run on auto pilot.

Wiping away the wetness on his cheeks, he stood up unsteadily, and crept towards Mother. Checking to make sure that she was unconscious, he proceeded cautiously, lifting the middle aged adult with his astonishing strength and carried her back into her well furnished room. He gently tucked her into bed, before cleaning off any traces of blood on her body gingerly. Damien moved robotically, as if he had done so hundreds of times.

He only hoped Mother would forget this by tomorrow.

He was thankful for winter. Clad in an over-sized coat, Damien massaged his throat through his old, knitted scarf, wincing in pain every now and then. Only when it snowed, could he pull off something like this. Concealer can only get you so far and the bruises on his neck were huge and noticeable. A scarf was the perfect solution to his dilemma.

It wasn't that bad, Damien reassured himself. Mother had been lenient this time, when she awoke in the morning. She had only given him a mere beating. His ribs didn't hurt as much anymore, and none of his bones were broken. She didn't use the cane either. The wounds on his arms and legs would heal, like they always did.

Walking to the park, he watched as other parents played with their kids blissfully, making snow mans and snow angels while laughing. If only he could be like that with Mother. If only he wasn't evil, and didn't need to be punished. If only he was normal... He strolled away feeling rather depressed, entering the noisy park occupied by happy families and children having joyful snow ball fights.

Damien snapped out of it when something very cold hit him straight in his face, fast and hard.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to hit you!" A boy who was older than him dressed in a bright blue coat called out while approaching him. He looked around ten, with short blond hair and a missing tooth.

"I-it's okay…" Damien stuttered, unused to people talking to him. He wiped the melting snow off his left cheek quickly, as if embarrassed. Now that he had a closer look, he decided that the older boy was weird. He wore a black top hat, which would have been okay if it wasn't winter, or if it didn't have a pair of blue goggles on it. The boy in question stared at him oddly.

"I haven't seen you around here, and I sneak out to come here almost every day! Are you new in town?" The boy asked curiously.

"No… I don't go out often. Mother doesn't like it. She's out today, so I decided to come see the snow," the younger boy said softly. He really was being quite shy.

"Oh, I understand. I have strict parents too. My name's Sabo, what's yours?" The taller blond inquired, grinning. Damien deliberated for a while, wondering if he should answer. Mother always told him not to talk to strangers. Looking at the older boy's smiling face, he decided.

"Damien, nice to meet you," he said without the slightest hint of hesitation, beaming. Sabo chuckled at his sudden enthusiasm.

"You know, you don't look like a Damien," Sabo declared teasingly, scrutinizing him. Damien stiffened at the seemingly harmless joke. True, Damien wasn't his real name. Damien was the name Mother had given him after she found him lying in an alley two years ago. He couldn't remember anything before that fateful night, not his name or his previous life.

But, but sometimes, he would have dreams… "Damien isn't my real name…"

"Go! Take him and go, Roger!" A man with tribal tattoos on the left side of his face shouted. The sound of bullets being fired filled the air as he was lifted by a tall man with a moustache. His surroundings blurred as the man carried him further and further from the brutal scene. Red. Blood. Fire. "Take care of Luffy for me!"

"Hey, are you alright?" A hand was waving in front of his face, the vision he had disappearing. He panted loudly, clutching his head. It hurt. And what was that? Luffy… T-that sounded familiar…

"Yeah…" He responded after a while, needing a moment to regain his composure. The name triggered a series of short and ambiguous visions, as if they were trying to tell him something. When it hit him, he almost lost his balance. He remembered it.

Staring into Sabo's eyes confidently, he stated, "It's Luffy."

"Huh?" Sabo appeared confused.

"My name is Monkey D. Luffy."

Cassie: Thank you for your time.