Marine Headquarters, Marineford. The ruins were crudely supported by scaffolding; until the new headquarters was completed, this remained the Marines' base of operations.
A massive, black-and-red warship slowly sailed into the Marineford harbor. Its dark, scale-like plating reflected the sunlight with a cold, heavy metallic gleam.
At the docks designated for warships, a line of soldiers already stood waiting. Gazing at the enormous black-and-red vessel, some couldn't help but swallow nervously. Compared to the standard Marine warships, the vessel carrying that man was clearly larger and visually far more intimidating.
"So, he's finally arrived…" Standing before the soldiers was a tall man clad in a 'Justice' coat, a longsword at his hip. His left hand tightened on the hilt for a moment, then relaxed. With his signature handlebar mustache, lean face, and sharp eyes, it was none other than the renowned Marine Vice Admiral, Momonga.
The black-and-red warship slowly docked alongside the pier. A boarding ramp was lowered onto the shore.
Tap, tap, tap… Rhythmic footsteps echoed as a pair of black leather shoes stepped onto the solid stone embankment, followed immediately by a pair of high heels secured with delicate ribbons.
Two figures appeared before the assembled Marines. The man in the lead held a cigar clamped between his teeth, a bold, arrogant smile playing on his lips. He was tall, his large coat billowing behind him in the breeze. The moment he set foot on shore, an air of unbridled confidence radiated outwards. Beneath his slicked-back hair, the scar near his temple looked particularly menacing. Wilder's eyes casually swept over the crowd, finally settling on Vice Admiral Momonga.
He strode forward, stopped, and his smile widened.
"Long time no see, Mr. Momonga."
"Not that long," Momonga replied curtly, immediately turning to lead the way. Wilder chuckled, unbothered, and gestured slightly. Claire stepped up, and the two followed Momonga, one behind the other. The soldiers behind them split into two columns, forming an escort.
What Wilder didn't know was that he wasn't the only member of the Seven Warlords visiting Marine Headquarters today. Donquixote Doflamingo was also present.
In a spacious conference room, high-ranking Marine officers were gathered. At the head were the new Fleet Admiral, Akainu Sakazuki; Admiral Kizaru Borsalino; and the Head Staff Officer, Tsuru.
Around the conference table, besides the numerous Marine officers, only one other figure was present—clad in flamboyant pink feathers, lounging insolently in a chair near the middle of the table, his legs casually propped up on the polished surface.
Knock, knock, knock… The door sounded, then slowly swung open. Momonga entered, gave a slight nod to the room, and walked directly to an empty chair, seating himself.
All eyes turned towards the entrance. Wilder stepped in, his pace unhurried, with Claire following closely behind him.
"...Sending everyone here a 'gift' right upon arrival. You really are quite dedicated, aren't you?" The pink feather coat draped casually. Doflamingo remained in his aggressively relaxed posture, but his gaze fixed on Wilder, a supremely arrogant smirk spreading across his face.
Everyone present knew exactly what Doflamingo was referring to: Wilder's annihilation of the Red Lotus Pirates en route to Marine Headquarters. The incident had quickly made headlines, causing a minor stir – reports framed it as the newly appointed Warlord actively cooperating with the Marines in a swift, decisive strike.
Wilder, naturally aware of this and understanding the implication in Doflamingo's tone, paused briefly. He glanced at the Warlord, then continued walking and took a seat at the table. Claire initially stood behind him.
"Claire," Wilder's low voice resonated in the large room, "make yourself at home here. Don't forget, we're good friends of the Marines now." He looked around the table, offering a warm smile. "I'm sure no one here minds."
Claire blinked in surprise, then her eyes curved into happy crescents. She took the seat beside Wilder.
Wilder appeared perfectly composed, but the subtle shift in the room's atmosphere was palpable.
He lifted his gaze slightly, meeting a pair of intensely burning, razor-sharp eyes. Wilder felt as if he were staring into roiling magma. He offered a faint smile in return and casually pulled out a cigar, lighting it.
"Well then," Kizaru drawled, smacking his lips slightly, his eyes shifting curiously towards the lounging figure. "Shall we begin the meeting? Doflamingo, you plan on listening in too? Ooh, that's rather against regulations, isn't it? Your meeting already concluded earlier, didn't it?"
"...I don't mind," Doflamingo chuckled shamelessly.
"My, my," Kizaru continued in his slow, languid tone, his expression typically unreadable, "this does make things rather difficult… What if Wilder-kun dislikes having you here?"
"I don't mind," Wilder interjected with a smile. "Just like Mr. Doflamingo doesn't mind being shameless."
"...Such unpleasant words," Doflamingo murmured, though his grin didn't waver.
"Well," Kizaru drawled, "since Wilder-kun doesn't mind either, let's proceed. But before that, let's get the contract signed, shall we, Wilder-kun?"
Two copies of a document were pushed in front of Wilder. They detailed the duties and responsibilities expected of both the Warlord and the World Government under the system, as well as… the Warlord's privileges.
Wilder scanned the documents briefly, then picked up a pen and signed without hesitation. A paper contract was merely a formality; who among those present truly placed any real stock in it?
The meeting primarily concerned the specifics of Wilder's appointment as a Warlord. Additionally, and perhaps more importantly, it addressed the recent special restrictions and summons protocols for the Warlords. In short, during this "special period" of heightened instability, the Marines would be frequently calling upon the Warlords to cooperate on missions, and the Warlords were expected to comply unconditionally.
Whether Wilder would cooperate, and under what circumstances, likely remained known only to Wilder himself.
After the meeting concluded, the attendees began to depart. Down at the docks, as Doflamingo was about to board his distinctively themed ship, Wilder suddenly spoke up.
"Mr. Doflamingo, perhaps we could be friends."
Doflamingo paused, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, a wide, characteristic grin stretched across his face. He turned back to look at Wilder on the pier.
Their eyes met and locked. Time seemed to stretch as their gazes clashed—one radiating untouchable arrogance, the other reserved yet piercingly sharp, utterly unpredictable.
After a long moment…
"...Wilder-kun," Doflamingo finally said, "your ambition certainly isn't small! Still… being friends with you… that doesn't seem like such a bad prospect." He gave Wilder one last deep, assessing look, then his expression smoothed into neutrality as he turned and boarded his ship via the ramp.
Wilder retracted his gaze as well, a grin spreading across his face. He looked up towards the distant sky, his thoughts unreadable.
The two pirate ships departed from the Marineford docks, eventually diverging onto separate courses across the sea.
Three days later, back in the courtyard with its rockeries and flowing water at the Black Serpent Merchant Guild headquarters, Wilder experienced a breakthrough in his Armament Haki.