427 wiped the sweat off his palms before getting up. He wasn't the most social person in his past life - or so he remembered - but mindless, surface-level conversations? Ones where they acted like they already knew each other, and didn't need an introduction? How hard could it be?
He took a few steps across the aisle and spoke to the tall, gangly clone he had first seen. The number on his shirt read 341.
"Hey. I'm going to go look outside. Do you wanna come?" 341 looked at him. Silently. The moment stretched just until it started to become awkward. 427 opened his mouth and then-
"Yes."
"Oh, great. Let's—"
"But first, I will inspect the chest at the base of my bed. Why? Because I need to see what equipment we have available, and what to requisition from the quartermaster"
Shino?
Of course the first guy I talk to is somehow more socially stunted than me.
"Not a bad idea! I'll do the same thing then." 427 spun on his heel, 180 degrees, and walked back to his bed. He paused for a moment as he took in the straps.
Kind of nefarious looking. Why would those be there- Wait! If we cross the red line vertically- Are you kidding me? They strap us into our bed as we slide upwards? The very thought of it made him queasy.
He walked over to his chest, emblazoned with a red 66—They really love their branding— and opened it. Then paused. Then closed it. Then opened it again. The lid weighed at least 150 pounds and yet he had opened it with one hand. Not easily, per se, but at least casually.
It made sense for the clones to be augmented, but the earthling in him was entranced by the casual display of strength. Snapping out of his fugue, he opened it all the way. On the inside of the lid was a mirror.
This was his first time seeing his appearance in this world. Not horrible, he thought. Compared to the other clones, he looked younger, maybe around 16-17? Thinking back to when he was in the tube, the scientist did imply that he was the last to be incubated. Maybe they rushed the process?
Refocusing on the mirror, he saw a clone with a sharp jaw, normally spaced facial features—thank God, considering what existed in this world—and basic brown eyes. He'd never be a pretty boy, but maybe he could pull off ruggedly handsome if he grew a beard. Hopefully.
Looking down at the inside of the chest, he found his uniform—mask and headphones included—a few sets of the same casual clothes, and extra pairs of goggles. The uniform felt paradoxically thick and thin, like you could rip it with enough force, yet it felt protective. It was slick and waterproof too. Same with the yellow scarf.
Maybe a really basic version of the raid suit? At a mass production level?
The mask had a softshell helmet on the inside. In the corner an earpiece den den mushi feasted on lettuce. It looked up at him, one eye rotating towards him and then the next. He looked at it. It sat there chewing its lettuce. It looked down and continued eating. He snapped out of whatever bizarre state he had been in and looked closely at the headphones. One of the ears had a slot that was clearly snail shaped.
"Hello." A flat voice came from behind. 427 snapped up, heart pounding. He didn't dare show any expression on his face. Fear was supposed to be programmed out of them, and he didn't want to know what would happen if he showed any.
He turned around to see 341 behind him, standing like a mannequin.
"H-hey." His voice cracked.
Just a little stutter. Barely noticeable really.
"Ready?" 341 asked.
"Yeah, let's go." They turned and walked side by side out of the barracks. A consequence of their cloning meant they automatically walked in lockstep with military precision.
The real benefit to the data downloads wasn't just the basic fighting styles and weaponry handling. It was the little things, like how the clones would instinctively case any room they stepped into. How they noticed more than the average person. Habits that would require dedicated training to develop were innate.
As they stepped out of the barracks onto the grassy field, 427 slowed his march and eventually came to a full stop. The Germa castle, with its fang shaped towers and dark purple tiling lay silhouetted by the rising sun. The ocean far off sparkled red and dark green, like a field of roses.
Beautiful. He stood there for a few seconds, admiring the view. The lack of noise on his right drew his attention, and as he turned his head first and reluctantly dragged his eyes off the view, they snapped to 341. He stood there, staring at him with not an expression on his face, proportions like slenderman.
427 swallowed hard and offered weakly:
"Uhh… glory to Germa?"
341 tilted his head slightly, expression not changing.
Is he thinking? Is he staring? What the hell is going on?
"Glory to Germa." 341 said in a incomprehensible tone. Was it a question? A statement? Regardless, it woke him up. How stupid was he to stand here admiring the sunset like a tourist on a tropical vacation?
This wasn't Luffy's nepotistic and joyful adventure through the world. This was a kingdom where he was created specifically for the purpose of dying. A kingdom ruled by a man insane and sadistic enough to modify his own children. A man who killed his wife in the process.
341 wasn't his friend. 427 didn't even know if he was really capable of thinking. He just… was. The clones went through the motions, laughed, smirked, but it was all programmed. The only thing they could be counted on for was their undying loyalty to the kingdom and their willingness to kill. Regardless of if it was an enemy— or him.
It was time to get serious. There wouldn't be any second chances. He needed to get the hell out of this country, he needed to get strong, and most importantly, no matter what, he needed to survive.
The two of them wandered through the seemingly idyllic kingdom. Although modular, the kingdom apparently used the same layout whenever the snails docked together— at least, that's what the map would imply.
The castle obviously occupied the middle of the "island". It stood tall and wide, making it difficult to believe it was capable of splitting into individual pieces. The barracks, training ground, and armory stood behind the castle.
In the front stood the residential area, for the non-clone civilians of the country. The soldiers didn't go over there. It wasn't because of any strict rules, but because they were programmed to be so fixated on training and fighting, they had no reason to.
To the left and right sides of the castle were fields, bartering grounds, bars, and buildings.
Like good little programmed soldiers, they immediately headed to the training ground. On the way, while passively taking in his surroundings, he thought about the path he wanted to take in life. He knew that clone soldiers usually used guns.
It made sense. At the level they were fighting at, around the upper limit of earth humans, guns would be the most effective form of combat. Looking at the bigger picture, however, who actually uses guns at the highest level of combat?
Lucky Roux, Van Augur, Maude? Err, scratch that last one. Regardless, guns aren't really a path I see myself going down, at least later. That's far off for now. Right now they're the best path at survival.
When it came to fighting, his body was the "balanced" type. That means he could go down any route he wanted. Strength, speed, swordsmanship, fistfighting, all were biologically possible for him. He thanked his lucky stars he wasn't created a speedster midget.
As for devil fruits? Daydreaming in his situation isn't exactly healthy. Shaking him from his musings, 341 randomly started talking.
"I will be attempting sniping." he stated flatly. 427 blinked.
Is this his attempt at a conversation? Is this what he wants to do, or what he's been programmed to do? For that matter, why is he the only one like a… child? The others are all capable of at least mimicking human conversation. Something to keep an eye on I suppose
"Hmm." 427 pondered. Honestly, even with his new 'knowledge,' he wasn't inclined to fight. Oh, he knew he would have to eventually. But until he beat the instincts into his bones, his first choice would be to run… away.
Run away! That's it! Just go the Captain Kuro route and get so fast I can run away every time I encounter someone strong!
Resolving himself, he looked at 341, and said
"I'm going to be fast." Now 341 blinked.
"Sounded better in my head." 427 admitted.
"Hn." 341 grunted.
From Shino to Sasuke?
They continued towards the training grounds in an oddly amiable silence.
The training grounds were surprisingly large for an organization that treated them like fuel for the fire.
It can't be cheap to make us, regardless of speed. Five years isn't exactly short either.
The first thing 427 saw upon entry was an expansive town. It was one of those simulated urban environments. It must have stretched across two snails, which was massive if you consider how big those things are.
Outside the town there were a variety of specialized areas. A large portion was devoted to firing ranges, which made sense with how prevalent guns were among the clones.
Another sizable portion were weight training areas. The clones were lifting weights that would be massive compared to regular humans. 427 watched as a clone pressed 500 pounds without a spotter.
There were obstacle courses, with quite advanced technology. Unsurprising, at least when it came to Germa 66. What really excited 427 were the speed training grounds, given his planned combat style. Treadmills, a long, curved track, body weights, and more.
The crown jewel of it all was the fighting rings. Clones pummeled each other without care for injuries. 427 shuddered.
They really aren't given empathy or self preservation at all. He watched as a clone dislocated another's arm and they both laughed.
I'm probably going to have to act like that upon injury as well. His back chilled at the thought.
Looking up, he paused as he saw what looked like flight control towers, with large mirrored windows.
The scientists observing us, most likely. Welp, let's give everything the ol' college try.
The training was easily the most intense thing he had put his body through, this life or the past. Running in rooms with searing heat, lifting until his muscles tore, shooting through the gunsmoke until his eyes watered, he pushed himself to the brink of breaking.
They could afford that due to the immense calorific and nutritional value of the food in this world. Add that to their modified bodies, and they healed incredibly quickly—relative to earthling standards.
To be honest, if not for the fear of the scientists watching over them noticing something strange, he would have never pushed himself this far. Yes he needed strength to survive, but the human body has natural limits it doesn't want to push beyond. It's instinctive. Even the clones would barely pass the limit of self damage. There's a reason none of them grow into powerhouses, or developed haki.
A horn blasted, making the clones drop everything they were doing and head out. 427 looked around and merged into the flow. His whole body hurt. His muscles were sore, and stamina was drained. It felt like even existing was a pain. 341 fell into step beside him.
"You trained beyond optimal limits." 341 said. It was a statement, not a question.
"Everything for Germa." 427 said wearily. 341 looked at him before turning back to the front as they walked along with the crowd.
"From now on, I will also do so." 341 stated flatly.
"You do that." 427 retorted. He was not in the mood to question his intentions or talk. Or walk. Or do anything at all really. Snippets of conversation floated past, but his brain was too fried to care.
This damn food better be as revitalizing as it looked in the anime, or someone's gonna die. Probably me.
He wasn't sure about revitalizing, but it was easily one of the most disgusting things he had ever seen.
The dining hall was stark and utilitarian, like a prison cafeteria. It was all greys and white, with the ever present "66" painted onto the wall. Clones would line up in front of automated dispensers with bowls and cups.
The only "food," if it could be called that, was a thick beige paste, and a cup of "juice." A bright red, sickly sweet drink that had a consistency closer to watered down syrup than he would have liked.
The paste tasted so incredibly different from the concept of food that it defied description.
Hey, maybe this counts as preparation to eat a devil fruit? Always gotta look on the bright side of life.
He shoveled down the food, forcing himself to keep a straight face. At the very least it did seem to be working. His muscles hurt a bit less, and his breathing did seem to be coming easier.
Welp, time to bite the bullet. He thought as he got up for seconds. His new body seemed to digest food pretty rapidly. Of course, compared to someone like Luffy he was basically starving himself.
Now that I think about it, the clone bodies actually have a lot of potential. Touching the beginning of life return, built in habits that take years to develop, and augmented muscles?
If Judge wasn't so obsessed with turning them into unthinking and unfeeling tools he would have conquered the world by now. But expecting a man like that to keep thinking soldiers loyal? I'm not even going to bother thinking about that hypothetical.
Listening to the clones for any important information was tedious but necessary. Amidst the Judge glazing and Germa praising, he caught a tidbit that somehow made the food even more unappetizing:
"-heard we'll be deployed to Lvneel in a week-"
The slop suddenly tasted ashen. A week till deployment. A week till he would have to fight for his life. He hadn't even thrown a goddamn punch yet.
"Are you going to finish that?" A voice came from beside him flatly. 341 again.
"Unfortunately." 427 muttered.
"Why is it unfortunate?" He responded, tilting his head. His face stayed blank and it was hard to tell what he was thinking— If anything.
The spoon paused halfway to 427's mouth.
"Because eating more means I'm wasting the resources of our glorious kingdom."
Pretty good excuse for something off the dome.
"But now that you've taken it out, wouldn't it be thrown away regardless of if you consumed it or not?"
427 set down his spoon and sat there silently for a moment.
Did I just lose an argument to a guy who was born yesterday?