Perona and Ezio stood atop a towering skyscraper, the wind tugging at their clothes as they looked out over the sprawling metropolis below. The city shimmered under the twilight sky, alive with motion, lights, and opportunity.
Ezio's eyes sparkled with manic excitement. "This place is unlike any island I've ever seen," he said, his grin wide. "Over a hundred thousand souls packed together like sardines!"
Perona tilted her head with a wicked smile. "And?"
Ezio chuckled darkly, his laughter echoing in the wind. "It means we're about to get luckier than we've ever been."
Perona clapped her hands with glee, practically bouncing in place. "How are we going to do that?"
"Simple," he said with a gleam in his eye. "By making everyone else's lives a living nightmare."
They both broke into cackling laughter, hugging each other — Ezio, drunk on the promise of overwhelming plot armor; Perona, thrilled at the chance to unleash chaos just for the fun of it.
And then it began.
An eerie mist rolled across the rooftop, and from it emerged a spectral army — ghosts of every imaginable form, shape, and size. Without a sound, they scattered in all directions, each one targeting a living soul below.
"As long as we stay connected," Ezio murmured, his grin widening, "I can siphon their luck effortlessly — without lifting a finger."
Perona leaned into him, strangely at ease in his embrace. "We're… surprisingly compatible. Power-wise, I mean."
That was the exact moment fate struck.
A banana peel materialized out of thin air on the rooftop — a bizarre, slapstick omen. Naturally, Ezio's foot found it. With Perona still in his arms, he slipped and tumbled, rolling several meters away in an unceremonious heap.
Seconds later, a massive explosion rocked the rooftop where they had just stood.
As the smoke cleared, a silhouette emerged from the flames: a woman in a sharply pressed maid outfit, her presence as commanding as it was odd.
Ezio blinked. "Baby 5," he muttered, eyes narrowing. Then he glanced at the peel next to him and nodded solemnly. "Thanks again, banana peel. You've saved my life more times than I can count."
The woman stepped forward, her gaze sharp. "So you're the ones flooding the island with ghosts like it's Halloween every day." Her fingers twitched toward the weapon forming from her arm. "You've finally made enough noise for me to find you."
Suddenly, chaos swallowed the island whole.
People screamed. Others burst into tears. Some collapsed to the ground, laughing uncontrollably — not from joy, but from the kind of madness only a ghost-induced existential crisis could bring. Lightning cracked across the sky despite there being not a single storm cloud in sight — and definitely no Sky Island girl named Conis around to blame.
Fires erupted in kitchens, then mysteriously spread to wardrobes. People's clothes began to randomly combust. In one of the outer villages, cattle organized themselves into ranks, chanting strange slogans about justice, fairness, and taking back the land from "those two-legged tyrants."
It was the apocalypse. Or at least a very One Piece-style version of one.
In the eye of the chaos stood Ezio, glowing — quite literally — with the luck he was siphoning through Perona's ghostly mischief. And yet, his expression was serious… oddly somber.
"I've seen misfortune before," he muttered, gazing at the scorched and smoky figure before him. "But you, Baby 5… you're a whole new kind of cursed."
He wasn't exaggerating. Ezio could feel a person's luck — taste it like air in his lungs. And Baby 5? She had the fortune level of a sea king in a desert. She was born to step on traps that weren't even set yet.
She was tragedy wrapped in a maid uniform and emotional issues.
Ezio sighed, like a man forced to follow a personal code he no longer agreed with. "Rule of my crew: only lucky people allowed. I'm strict about that. Keeps the ship from exploding."
He paused. "But… maybe there's another route."
Before he could finish, Baby 5's arms transformed into a pair of sleek cannons. She aimed. She fired—
—and both weapons exploded in her face.
Ezio winced. "Yeah, that tracks."
Perona leaned toward him. "Did you curse her, or…?"
"Nope. That's just her natural state."
As the smoke cleared, Baby 5 stood swaying on her feet, face smudged with soot, still trying to process what just happened. Her luck was so bad, even her revenge failed catastrophically.
Ezio rubbed his chin. "If she can't join my crew…"
He pointed to the sky, which thundered dramatically despite the clear air.
"…then she'll lead The Misfortune Society!"
Baby 5 blinked. "The what now?"
"A group I founded for walking disasters," he said, striking a dramatic pose. "A place for those who burn toast with their Haki, who trip over Den Den Mushi cables, who were born under the shadow of an unlucky sea prism comet. My misfortune division."
He stepped toward her, voice deepening. "Baby 5… will you become its commander?"
There was a long, stunned silence.
Then, automatically, she blurted: "YES!"
WHY DID I JUST AGREE TO JOIN THE ENEMY?! her mind screamed.
But the words were out, and there was no taking them back. It was done.
Ezio smirked. It was rare that an enemy agreed to anything, let alone leadership in a rival faction. But Baby 5 wasn't just any enemy. He'd given her a role. Authority. Attention. It was practically a proposal, in her emotionally-vulnerable eyes.
And besides — she had no luck, and he had the luck of ten thousand.
In the end, destiny didn't just betray her — it handed her over with a bow.
And so, another officer of the Doflamingo Family was claimed by chaos.
Of the original five who remained in Dressrosa — Trebol, Sugar, Giolla, Violet, and Baby 5 — only three were left.
Ezio turned to Perona with a sly grin. "Two down."
She tilted her head. "Thinking of collecting the set?"
"I mean… Violet's dramatic, Trebol's wet, Giolla's horrifying. But Sugar?"
He smirked wider.
"Sugar's lonely. And I've got cookies."
…
Sugar sat high above the marketplace in Dressrosa, legs dangling from a balcony railing, a sour look on her eternally youthful face. She popped a grape into her mouth, chewing slowly. Another. And another. She never stopped eating grapes. They were her comfort, her weapon, her personality. But lately… even the grapes tasted stale.
Everything was so boring.
No good targets. No new toys. Just people running around screaming about ghosts and cow uprisings.
She rolled her eyes. "Idiots," she mumbled, tossing a grape stem over the edge. "People are scared of ghosts now? What are we, children?"
Below her, a man burst out of a bakery in flaming pants, chased by a floating pumpkin-faced spirit.
Sugar blinked. "Okay… maybe not completely ridiculous."
Just then, a breeze blew past her. With it came a voice — smug, confident, and unmistakably theatrical.
"Greetings, small terror!"
Sugar whipped around, only to find Ezio dramatically perched on the edge of the building, one leg up, cape fluttering behind him — even though there was no wind on that side of the roof.
Beside him hovered Perona, looking thoroughly amused, and slightly worried for the roof tiles under Ezio's boots.
"And you are?" Sugar asked flatly, tossing another grape into her mouth.
Ezio gave a gallant bow. "Ezio. Lord of Fortunate Misery. Collector of misfits. Charmer of ghosts. And…"
He pointed directly at her.
"Prospective recruiter of you!"
Sugar stared.
"Join me," Ezio continued, "and you'll have more than grapes. You'll have respect, power, and maybe — just maybe — your own grape vineyard."
Perona floated closer. "You're lonely, aren't you? We've seen it. We know."
"I'm not lonely!" Sugar snapped. "I'm fine! I've got grapes and toys and… and Trebol who..."
She paused. Trebol had recently locked himself in the bathhouse after one of Perona's ghosts made all his snot temporarily solidify into a statue of Doflamingo.
"…Trebol's... busy."
Ezio crouched beside her now, smiling gently. "You've been turned into a weapon your whole life. Treated like a tool. Used for your Devil Fruit… and what for? So people would fear you?"
He reached into his coat and pulled out a tiny basket filled with — somehow — grape-flavored mochi.
"But we don't fear you," he said. "We admire you. You're not a tool. You're a titan in the body of a child. We want you on our side."
Sugar stared at the basket.
Then at Ezio.
Then back at the basket.
Her voice wavered. "Is this a trick?"
Ezio shrugged. "Only if you think free snacks and emotional validation are a trap."
Perona gave her an encouraging thumbs-up. "We already have Baby 5. She leads The Misfortune Society. You'd have friends. You wouldn't have to fake smiles anymore. You could actually be… happy."
Sugar's fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the basket. The moment she touched it, a ghost popped out and booped her on the forehead.
She didn't scream. She didn't panic.
Instead, she blinked, looked at Ezio and Perona, and then—unexpectedly—stood up straight, folded her arms, and said with a scowl:
"Why the hell should I join you weirdos?!"
Ezio and Perona stared at each other for a beat. Then, simultaneously, they exploded:
"SHE DID NOT JOIN?!"
Their voices echoed across the rooftops of Dressrosa, filled with bafflement, disbelief, and just a hint of personal insult.
Ezio rubbed his temples. "I offered her snacks and emotional support…"
In the end, Ezio had to face reality: Sugar wasn't going to join him willingly.
His power had its limits — frustrating, annoying limits.
It only worked on people who had a positive impression of him (which, frankly, narrowed the field dramatically), and only if they weren't already hopelessly loyal to someone else. Even neutral folks were a gamble. The safest bet? People who thought he was charming, funny, or at least not an egomaniacal ghost-wielding luck thief in a dramatic cape.
Most annoyingly of all? His power scaled with the amount of luck he was stockpiling at the time.
And right now, Ezio was brimming with enough luck to win ten lotteries, survive twenty marine ambushes, and dodge every incoming frying pan thrown in a jealous lover's rage.
But Sugar?
She refused him faster than a Sea King rejecting salad.
"She didn't even hesitate," Ezio muttered, hands on hips. "What is she, a walking anti-luck barrier?"
"She just has taste," Perona said sweetly.
Ezio scowled. "No, I've recruited people who literally exploded during our handshake. This one's just being difficult."
He exhaled deeply, then looked to Perona, voice heavy with resignation.
"Okay. Plan B."
Perona's grin was immediate. "Old-school tactics?"
Ezio nodded. "Kidnapping it is."
Perona pumped a fist in the air. "Finally! You never let me have any fun anymore!
Behind them, Sugar — still very much within earshot — narrowed her eyes. "You guys do realize I'm right here, don't you?"
Ezio turned. "Really? You're still standing there? I thought dramatic exits were your thing."
"You're on my roof. Where do you want me to go?!"
"Fair point," Ezio admitted. "Perona?"
"Ghost swarm and sack?" she asked, floating a pre-haunted burlap bag out of thin air.
Ezio gave a thumbs-up. "Classic."