Chapter Text
Shanks woke up groggy, his head pounding, and the sharp, sterile scent of antiseptic burning his nose. That was the first clue that something was horribly wrong. The second was the heavy weight where his left arm—his missing left arm—was supposed to be.
"Captain's awake!" Yasopp's voice rang out, relief laced with suppressed laughter. That wasn't a good sign.
"Uh…" Shanks blinked, sitting up on the metal table he was lying on. His entire crew was gathered around, looking both relieved and far too amused. "What the hell happened?"
"You got yourself a new arm, Cap!" Lucky Roux announced, grinning like this was the best day of his life.
Shanks' blood ran cold. Slowly, he turned his head and—oh no.
Attached to his shoulder, where there should have been nothing, was something. It was sleek and metallic, black with gold lining, glowing slightly where it met his skin. Fingers twitched at the end of it—his fingers.
"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!"
"You were out for three days," Benn Beckman explained in his usual calm drawl. "We got ambushed by a bunch of self-proclaimed 'scientific visionaries' while docked at their island. They hit you with something, and next thing we knew, they had you strapped to a table, working on… that."
Shanks gaped. "And you let them?!"
"To be fair," Yasopp interjected, "we were kind of in the middle of shooting our way into the lab when they finished."
"You should've shot harder!" Shanks growled, shaking the robotic limb in horror. It moved exactly like his old one—smooth, natural. He could feel things through it. "This is unnatural!"
"You’re welcome," a voice said from the other side of the room.
A pair of figures stood there—two scientists in white coats, one tall and bald with a mechanical eye, the other short with wild hair sticking out in all directions. Both beamed at him like proud parents.
"Captain Shanks!" the bald one exclaimed. "The Red Right Hand, our greatest work! The first fully integrated, cybernetic limb designed for a Yonko!"
"We even included top-of-the-line hidden weapons!" the short one added excitedly. "Spiked knuckles! Built-in dagger! Arm cannon! Grappling hook!"
"You WHAT?!" Shanks flexed the fingers of his new arm in horror. Sure enough, a small click echoed, and a very sharp blade popped out of his palm.
"How do I get rid of it?"
"You don’t!" The short scientist cackled. "It’s permanently bonded to your nervous system! Isn’t it magnificent?"
Shanks stared at them, then turned to his crew.
"Kill them."
Before anyone could move, the bald scientist slapped a button on the wall. "Oh, I wouldn’t do that! You see, the Red Right Hand has an automatic self-defense system! If you try to remove or damage it, well…" He grinned. "Boom."
Silence.
"What." Shanks' voice was deadly quiet.
The short scientist nodded enthusiastically. "It's linked to a failsafe inside your body! Any attempt to forcibly detach the arm will result in, uh…" He made an explosion gesture with his hands. "A rather spectacular detonation of your chest cavity!"
Shanks took a deep breath. "…Benn?"
"Already on it." Beckman had a gun pressed to the scientist’s head before he could blink. "Undo it. Now."
The scientist gulped. "Well! That’s, uh, easier said than done! See, it's not possible to remove it without—"
"—turning me into a firework," Shanks finished grimly.
"Basically!"
Shanks slowly dragged a hand down his face. The metal fingers of his new, unwanted arm were ice cold against his skin.
"Alright," he muttered, forcing himself to stay calm. "New plan. You’re going to make it possible."
"Ahaha, well, that will take a lot of research and—"
Benn cocked the gun.
"—which we will start immediately!"
Shanks sighed and looked at his crew, who were all clearly trying very hard not to laugh.
"Not. A. Word," he warned them.
Yasopp opened his mouth.
"Not one, Yasopp."
The sniper shut his mouth, but his shoulders were shaking. Lucky Roux was stuffing food in his mouth to stop himself from bursting out laughing. Beckman looked vaguely sympathetic but didn't bother hiding his smirk.
Shanks groaned and flopped back onto the table, throwing his cursed, unwanted robotic arm over his eyes.
He was going to kill those mad scientists.
After they found a way to remove this stupid thing without making him explode.
Until then…
Shanks flexed his new metal fingers and sighed.
At least the grappling hook sounded kinda cool.
Later
THUNK.
"OW! SON OF A—!"
The mast of the Red Force now had a Shanks-sized dent in it.
The crew was howling with laughter.
"…Okay," Shanks growled, rubbing his aching head. "What the hell just happened?!"
"Looks like you activated the grappling hook!" Doctor Tinker said cheerfully, still tied up but grinning like an idiot. "That feature launches your hand forward at high speeds—perfect for swinging, grabbing objects, or punching enemies from a distance!"
Shanks scowled. "How do I turn it off?!"
"Ah! You just have to flex your palm in a reverse—"
FWOOOSH.
The grappling hook launched again.
CRASH.
Shanks' stupid new arm had now embedded itself in the ship’s railing, dragging him forward like a human slingshot.
The crew lost their minds.
"CAPTAIN, STOP FIGHTING IT!" Yasopp howled.
"THIS THING IS TRYING TO KILL ME!"
Beckman sighed, watching his captain struggle. "You’ll figure it out eventually."
"I HATE ALL OF YOU."
"At least try the flamethrower!" Tinker called helpfully.
"THE WHAT?!"
Shanks immediately stopped moving.
Doctor Tinker beamed. "Oh, did we forget to mention? Your arm has a built-in flamethrower! Just squeeze your index finger twice and—"
"Don’t squeeze anything!" Beckman barked.
Shanks froze.
The entire crew held their breath.
Then, very carefully, Shanks turned back to the two tied-up scientists.
"You two are gonna fix this," he said through gritted teeth.
"Of course!"
"It’ll just take, oh… a few years of research!"
Shanks twitched.
Benn sighed, exhaling a long plume of smoke.
"Guess we’re stuck with it, Captain."
Shanks groaned and flopped back against the deck, throwing his cursed, unwanted robotic arm over his eyes.
His life had officially become a nightmare.