—Broadcast—
Rome - Scientific Research Facility
The internal scenes depicting Still Water Prison had concluded their segment, the Sky Screen's focus shifting away from those three imprisoned legends of different identities. After all, despite their historical significance, Garp, Dragon, and Shanks didn't represent protagonists in this particular broadcast's major narrative arc. The fact that they'd received any follow-up explanation at all exceeded treatment afforded to countless other figures whose fates remained completely mysterious.
The Sky Screen's perspective ascended from the crushing depths beneath Rome, traveling upward through ten thousand meters of ocean and reinforced foundations until breaching the surface. The broadcast now displayed the New Marine headquarters' above-ground installations—specifically, the sprawling scientific research complex that represented the most coveted destination for researchers worldwide.
The Scientific District occupied Rome's southernmost corner, deliberately positioned away from the main urban districts and residential zones. This geographical separation served crucial purpose: containing potential disasters within designated sacrifice zone, preventing experimental accidents from affecting innocent civilian populations. The strategic placement demonstrated cold pragmatism—science's advancement required risk, and those risks shouldn't be borne by non-participants.
The facility itself resembled a small city dedicated entirely to research and development. Dozens of interconnected laboratory buildings stretched across carefully organized campus, each structure designed for specific experimental categories. The complex brimmed with cutting-edge scientific equipment procured through the New Marine's tremendous financial resources—instruments that would make any researcher weep with envy.
Conducting scientific research here represented an extremely enjoyable process for qualified personnel. Nearly unlimited funding, state-of-the-art technology, access to materials most scientists could only dream about, and freedom to pursue ambitious projects without petty bureaucratic interference. For those willing to overlook certain ethical complications, this facility offered paradise.
However, since a particular chief scientist had assumed leadership approximately one year ago, experimental accidents had begun occurring several times weekly. Explosions, containment breaches, chemical spills, radiation leaks—the variety of disasters generated by overly ambitious experimentation tested even the New Marine's substantial financial reserves. If not for the institution's genuinely powerful economic backing, they absolutely couldn't afford continuously wasting such tremendous research budgets on failed trials and catastrophic mistakes.
But the leadership tolerated this waste because the research methodology delivered results. Without obsessing over immediate cost-effectiveness or demanding guaranteed success rates, the scientists working here enjoyed abundant opportunities for trial and error. Genius fantasies—concepts dismissed as impossible by conventional institutions—were being realized one by one through these researchers' unrestricted hands.
Today, the facility's chief scientist engaged in heated argument with a visiting god-tier researcher whose reputation transcended all seas. The debate covered numerous highly technical aspects, discussing theories and methodologies so advanced that even the Admiral present for security purposes admitted complete incomprehension.
"Vegapunk, this represents my territory under my administrative authority!" Caesar Clown's voice carried defensive irritation as he gestured emphatically at the surrounding laboratory. "I don't require you issuing commands or questioning my experimental protocols! The Marine Fleet Admiral hasn't expressed objections to my methodologies—why do you presume authority to criticize?"
The chief scientist's appearance matched his volatile personality. Caesar Clown stood tall and lean, his purple hair swept back dramatically, white lab coat billowing as he moved with theatrical flair. Gas-based horns protruded from his skull—manifestation of his Gasu Gasu no Mi abilities allowing complete gaseous transformation and manipulation.
"I merely want reminding you to exercise appropriate caution regarding human experimentation," Dr. Vegapunk responded with the patient tone of someone explaining basic ethics to a willfully obtuse child. His distinctive appearance—barely one meter tall, tongue perpetually extended, half-apple structure atop elongated skull—would have seemed comical if not for the profound intelligence radiating from his eyes. "We are scientists pursuing knowledge and progress, Caesar. Not demons conducting torture for personal amusement."
The ethical distinction seemed lost on Caesar Clown, whose expression suggested he considered the categories functionally equivalent when pursuing meaningful results.
Flashback: One Year Prior
The Sky Screen provided context for those unfamiliar with recent Rome developments. After being retrieved by Admiral Gin during classified operations approximately one year ago, Caesar Clown had voluntarily joined the New Marine's research division. The scientist aggressively promoted his Giant God Soldier Project—bioweapon research combining gigantification technology with combat applications—hoping to secure substantial financial backing while contributing experimental findings to the Marine's arsenal.
During the subsequent year, Caesar had gradually displaced the facility's original chief scientist through combination of political maneuvering and genuinely impressive results. He divided his considerable energy between two primary focuses: advancing the Giant God Soldier Project's development, and serving various classified clients whose identities remained need-to-know. Regardless of personal opinion regarding his ethics, Caesar Clown had made numerous visible contributions to the New Marine's technological capabilities—achievements impossible to dismiss or ignore.
Present: Vegapunk's Asylum
Because of the catastrophic Egghead Island incident—when Illuminati's mechanical army had besieged his research facility, attempting to capture or kill him—Dr. Vegapunk had been forced abandoning his independent laboratory. He'd fled to Marine Headquarters seeking temporary asylum, hiding within Rome's formidable defenses while the mechanical threat persisted externally.
The Anti-Life Equation—that reality-defying research defying natural laws and human decency—remained Vegapunk's most closely guarded secret. The elderly scientist deliberately concealed experimental results from both the New Marine administration and World Government oversight. Nobody beyond Vegapunk himself and possibly his satellites understood the technique's complete specifications or terrifying capabilities.
Vegapunk's memories regarding Ultron's origins remained frustratingly vague, fragmented by years and countless parallel research projects. However, he could roughly deduce that the malevolent artificial intelligence had likely been created unintentionally—either by himself during some forgotten experiment or by one of his six satellite clones pursuing independent research. Ultron's assault on Egghead Island might represent revenge against the master who'd inadvertently birthed him into existence without purpose or restraint.
The explanation made Marine leadership half-believing and half-doubting—plausible enough to accept provisionally while maintaining healthy skepticism about the complete truth.
Regarding Caesar Clown's experimental protocols, the New Marine maintained relatively humane standards by utilizing exclusively prisoners for human experimentation. Convicted criminals serving life sentences, individuals already condemned, subjects who'd volunteered in exchange for sentence reductions—these provided test populations without requiring innocent civilian casualties.
However, even this "ethical" compromise disgusted Dr. Vegapunk profoundly. The big-tongued old man remained deeply conflicted about whether activating the Anti-Life Equation represented justified response to institutional moral decay. If the Marine conducts experiments on prisoners today, what prevents them from expanding to civilians tomorrow? Where does the ethical line stabilize once crossed initially?
"If I'd known in advance you two would quarrel during every encounter, I shouldn't have facilitated this meeting," a third voice interjected wearily, cutting through the scientists' escalating debate. "Your constant arguing generates headaches that even Observation Haki can't predict or avoid."
Admiral Sakazuki had personally escorted Vegapunk back to Rome after the Egghead Island evacuation, ensuring the world's greatest scientific mind reached safety despite Illuminati's persistent pursuit. However, delivering Vegapunk to the experimental base had fallen to different personnel.
Admiral Kennen—the Thunder Rat—stood near the laboratory's entrance, his diminutive frame barely reaching most humans' knees despite his apocalyptic combat capabilities. The dwarf-sized Mink member wore his specially tailored Marine justice cloak, purple combat suit crackling with perpetual electrical discharge. His lush fur covering exposed skin generated static that made nearby hair stand on end.
Kennen had originally come to the experimental base for scheduled medical examination, having arranged appointment with the chief scientist weeks in advance. He'd requested Caesar Clown spare approximately one hour for routine neurological assessment—procedures that couldn't be delayed or rescheduled without risking catastrophic complications.
"I don't want wasting additional time arguing with you," Caesar Clown stated dismissively, waving Vegapunk toward the laboratory's peripheral observation area. "Go stand aside where you won't interfere. I have actual medical business requiring attention."
The chief scientist gestured for Admiral Kennen to settle into the examination chair—sophisticated scientific instrument bristling with sensors, electrodes, and monitoring equipment. Caesar carefully positioned a complex signal-sensing device atop Kennen's head, the apparatus designed to map neurological activity with unprecedented precision.
"This won't hurt," Caesar assured in tone suggesting he'd delivered that particular lie countless times. "Just remain still while the scanners calibrate. The process takes approximately ten minutes."
After Kennen was secured within the machine's restraints—ostensibly for safety but functionally imprisoning him—the Admiral's body language shifted dramatically. His posture stiffened, muscles locking with visible tension. The fur covering his small frame stood completely erect, generating corona of static electricity that made the air itself shimmer.
Then the voices began.
"What are you doing to me?!" The first voice emerged high-pitched and panicked, carrying childlike terror completely inconsistent with an Admiral's expected dignity. "Take your dirty hands off me! I don't want this! I don't consent to—"
"Balance exists among all things," a second voice interrupted, its tone carrying inhuman serenity that bordered on religious ecstasy. "The equilibrium between flesh and lightning, consciousness and energy, mortality and transcendence. We exist between states, Admiral. Accept the convergence."
"Pika... Pikachu..." a third voice added, barely coherent but unmistakably present. The sound resembled an animal's cry more than human speech—distressed, confused, seeking comfort it couldn't articulate.
Dr. Vegapunk's eyes widened with genuine horror as he witnessed Admiral Kennen speaking in three distinctly different voices simultaneously. Each emerged from the same throat but possessed unique vocal characteristics, different speech patterns, separate identities fighting for control over shared vocal cords.
This transcended any psychiatric condition Vegapunk had encountered throughout his extensive career. Split personality disorder couldn't explain multiple voices speaking simultaneously rather than sequentially. The phenomenon suggested something far more disturbing—something that shouldn't be medically possible.
"How long has Admiral Kennen suffered from this condition?" Vegapunk demanded, his scientific curiosity warring with profound ethical concern. "This appears significantly worse than simple personality fragmentation. Is he losing cognitive coherence? Descending into permanent psychosis?"
The implications terrified even the normally unflappable genius. If a Marine Admiral lost mental stability within experimental facility filled with volatile materials and dangerous equipment, the resulting catastrophe would prove unimaginable. The scientists working here possessed essentially zero chance surviving if Kennen's Goro Goro no Mi abilities detonated without conscious restraint—a wave of uncontrolled electrotherapy would reduce everyone present to smoking corpses within seconds.
"This represents an old problem for Kennen," Caesar Clown explained with clinical detachment, his hands moving efficiently across control panels as he analyzed incoming neurological data. "Caused by that fat bastard Queen when Kennen served as his experimental subject. But don't worry—if catastrophic failure occurs, I'll ensure dragging you along when we die. Misery loves company, after all."
The cavalier response did nothing to comfort Vegapunk.
Caesar's explanation emerged matter-of-factly, as though describing mundane medical history rather than horrifying violation of natural law and basic ethics.
Admiral Kennen had once served as experimental subject for Queen the Plague—one of the Beasts Pirates' Three Calamities and fellow MADS alumnus whose genius was matched only by his complete disregard for ethical boundaries. Kennen had originally existed as a special type of Mink creature, possessing unique electrical discharge capabilities that distinguished him from standard Minks.
During Queen's experimentation, however, the sadistic scientist had forcibly integrated two additional creatures into Kennen's body through surgical and alchemical means that defied conventional biology. The procedure—dubbed the "Ascension Ceremony" in Queen's research notes—represented one of MADS's most controversial abandoned projects.
The first additional creature: A yellow-skinned mouse species capable of natural electrical discharge, its biology adapted specifically for generating and manipulating bioelectricity. The specimen possessed childlike intelligence and distinctive vocalization pattern—"Pika-Pika-Pikachu"—that became its identifying designation.
The second additional creature: The previous user of the Goro Goro no Mi (Rumble-Rumble Fruit)—a Logia-type Devil Fruit granting complete lightning transformation and manipulation. This individual's identity remained classified, but his consciousness and Devil Fruit abilities had somehow been extracted and preserved during the fusion process.
Three creatures originally capable of electrical discharge—each using fundamentally different biological or supernatural mechanisms—had been miraculously fused together through Queen's forced intervention. Their flesh, blood, skeletal structures, and most horrifyingly their souls were intimately intertwined at the quantum level, rendering them completely inseparable through any known medical procedure.
The three different electrical properties had somehow synthesized during fusion, creating unprecedented hybrid capabilities that exceeded any individual component's potential. Kennen had escaped from Queen's laboratory using these evolved abilities—combined electrical manipulation that could switch between biological discharge, artificial generation, and Logia transformation depending on which consciousness maintained temporary dominance.
Later, after years wandering as fugitive experiment, Kennen encountered the Marine Fleet Admiral during classified circumstances. Artoria Pendragon recognized both his combat potential and tragic circumstances, recruiting him despite his fragmented condition. Thus emerged the current Admiral Kennen—the Thunder Rat whose abilities defied conventional categorization.
"One of Kennen's primary motivations joining the Marine was accessing scientific resources capable of separating the other two consciousnesses from physical integration," Caesar continued, his tone suggesting he was explaining disappointing prognosis to terminal patient. "If this separation doesn't occur eventually, the three intelligent beings will undergo complete merger. Nobody can accurately predict what resulting entity might become—potentially stronger, potentially insane, potentially something entirely unprecedented."
The mechanics of their forced coexistence proved equally disturbing.
Under normal circumstances, Kennen—the original Mink individual—maintained primary control over their shared body. Enel and Pikachu (the designations Caesar used for the other consciousnesses, lacking their original names) would periodically attempt seizing control through mental warfare, but typically Kennen could suppress these rebellions through sustained psychological effort.
However, this suppression carried catastrophic side effects. Each act of forcing the other personalities into submission accelerated the fusion process—grinding their distinct identities together like stones in a tumbler until boundaries eroded completely. Kennen desperately wanted coexisting peacefully with the other two beings imprisoned in his skull, but neither Enel nor Pikachu possessed sufficient rationality or empathy for negotiated coexistence.
Enel maintained his arrogant god complex despite lacking independent body, constantly demanding control and dismissing Kennen's primacy as temporary inconvenience. Pikachu operated on more instinctual level—confused, frightened, lashing out in panic whenever his consciousness surfaced. Neither could be reasoned with, leaving Kennen perpetually fighting a two-front war within his own mind.
After first meeting Admiral Kennen, Caesar Clown had delivered devastating truth with characteristic bluntness: Current scientific capabilities cannot separate the three beings without killing all of them. Their fusion had been executed with such precision, their biological and spiritual essences so thoroughly intermingled, that attempting extraction would trigger complete systemic collapse. All three would die simultaneously as their shared body disintegrated.
The chief scientist could only provide palliative care—injecting specialized medications that delayed the personality fragmentation symptoms, allowing Kennen to maintain consciousness and coherent thought without being constantly distracted by the other two voices screaming in his mental background.
Caesar examined the brain wave analysis displayed across multiple monitors, his expression professionally neutral as he calculated adjusted medication dosage. The neurological scans showed increasing interference patterns—evidence that the fusion was progressing despite treatments. Within years rather than decades, Kennen would lose his individual identity entirely, subsumed into whatever hybrid consciousness emerged from complete merger.
Better him than me, Caesar thought without particular sympathy. Queen always did prefer his experiments alive and suffering. Quick deaths were too merciful for that fat bastard's tastes.
The chief scientist carefully injected the adjusted medication directly into Kennen's jugular vein, ensuring rapid distribution throughout the circulatory system. Within moments, the pharmaceutical cocktail took effect—neurological suppressants binding to specific receptors, dampening the other consciousnesses' ability to hijack motor control or vocalization.
The three-way argument emerging from Kennen's throat ceased abruptly. His small body relaxed against the examination chair's restraints, tension draining away as the medication imposed artificial peace upon the warring personalities. Within minutes, Admiral Kennen had descended into medically-induced sleep—the only reliable method granting him rest without internal voices screaming for attention.
Dr. Vegapunk's face displayed multitude of questions and profound ethical horror. He'd witnessed countless experiments throughout his long career, created technologies that reshaped civilization, pushed boundaries of what science could achieve. But this—forcibly fusing three intelligent beings into single tormented existence—represented violation so fundamental it challenged his understanding of where research ended and atrocity began.
Caesar Clown observed his jealousy-inducing rival's disturbed expression with dark satisfaction. The man who'd always been considered MADS's greatest genius looked like he'd never encountered the world's true darkness—the depths to which scientific ambition could descend when unrestrained by conscience or consequence.
"You want understanding what Queen accomplished?" Caesar asked with theatrical timing, recognizing opportunity to unsettle Vegapunk further. "I don't mind repeating all the procedures that fat bastard executed. Would you like me explaining the complete methodology behind the Ascension Ceremony?"
Vegapunk's silence conveyed both his horror and reluctant fascination. The scientist in him needed understanding, even as the human in him recoiled from the knowledge.
"It all originates from an ancient experiment," Caesar began, his voice dropping into lecturer's cadence. "Something called the Ascension Ceremony—a technique supposedly dating back centuries, possibly even to the Void Century itself. Queen discovered fragmentary records during our MADS tenure, became obsessed with reconstructing the lost procedures."
The chief scientist's eyes gleamed with genuine enthusiasm as he warmed to his subject. "The fundamental theory suggests that consciousness represents energy pattern rather than solely biological phenomenon. If you understand the correct frequencies, the proper alchemical catalysts, the exact surgical techniques... you can theoretically merge multiple consciousness patterns into single vessel."
"The results prove variable—sometimes the dominant personality absorbs the others completely. Sometimes they coexist in permanent war like Kennen's condition. And sometimes..." Caesar's grin turned predatory, "something entirely new emerges. Something greater than the sum of component parts. Queen called it 'artificial apotheosis'—forcing evolutionary leaps that nature would never permit."
Vegapunk finally found his voice, though it emerged hoarse with suppressed emotion. "That's not ascension. That's abomination. You're describing scientific method for destroying souls, Caesar. Creating monsters from the ruins of people who deserved better."
"Perhaps," Caesar acknowledged with complete unconcern. "But the monsters prove extraordinarily powerful. Admiral Kennen commands lightning manipulation that exceeds what the original Goro Goro no Mi user could achieve alone. The fusion generated synergistic effects—capabilities emerging from interaction between three electrical sources. Queen succeeded in creating superior being, even if that being suffers perpetual psychological agony."
"And you consider that acceptable outcome?" Vegapunk demanded, his small frame trembling with rage. "Creating power through torture? Advancing science through violation of everything that makes us human rather than beasts?"
"I consider it fascinating outcome," Caesar corrected coldly. "Acceptable or not represents philosophical question I leave to others. I'm merely scientist pursuing knowledge wherever it leads—even into darkness that makes comfortable researchers flinch away."
The two scientists stared at each other across the laboratory's sterile space—representatives of fundamentally opposed philosophies about science's purpose and limitations. One believed research should serve humanity's betterment. The other believed research existed as end unto itself, with morality as inconvenient obstacle to genuine progress.
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