I was talking to The Red Harlequin On The Luna and this happened.

Disclaimer: You're so lucky One Piece doesn't belong to me…

Remedial

Donquixote Doflamingo frowned down at the stack of papers piled before him on the desk in what would be his office for the next nine months. He had agreed to this more out of boredom than anything else: Dressrosa was calm and under control, the black market ran smoothly and once the first few months of upheaval after Whitebeard's death had passed things in the New World had returned to what passed there as the normal state of affairs.

Doflamingo didn't like to be bored.

He had thought this would be fun, and he still believed it would once the action started, but it was frankly depressing to look at all these forms and realize how pathetic the people who had filled them were.

The mere thought that anybody could compare them to him in any way was sickening. He was so much better.

The stack before him contained the forms he had deemed passable enough to take into consideration, he had already thrown or destroyed —if they were too offending— the ones that he wouldn't even consider. He wasn't even going to think about the idiot who thought himself the strongest man in East Blue but had been stupid enough to interrupt Mihawk's nap and had lost almost the entirety of his fleet less than a week before entering the Grand Line.

Crocodile frowned and looked around the room. He really didn't want to be here, the only reason he did was because he felt a certain morbid curiosity to witness what promised to be either an atrocity or a massacre —it certainly had nothing to do with a desire to know exactly why his perfectly constructed plan had failed because of a crazy rubber pirate that was so much weaker than him.

There was a dark haired guy with glasses, primly dressed in a suit, sitting at the right corner in the back of the room, a sour expression on his face and his arms crossed. 'Captain Kuro', read the nametag on the desk before the man.

Sitting at the other back corner, dressed in an Impel Down prisoner garb and chained to the table —Crocodile had to wonder how the guy was even here in the first time— was a shark fishman glaring around at all the humans in the room; the former Shichibukai knew who this one was, Arlong, a former member of the same crew Jinbe had been a part of.

On the front row, surrounded by the remnants of desks and chairs that had been literally devoured, sat a self-important ball of a man that had once been king of a kingdom and later been gifted with a new one by the tenryuubito, currently munching lazily on the door of a cupboard.

The man in the middle of the room had been given a wide berth, as no one —Crocodile included— wanted to be struck down by thunder like the janitor that had looked funny at his ridiculously long earlobes, and he was lazily picking at his ears while giving the room at large a disdainful look.

There was no one else present, the list that had come out with the final group announcements had only contained five names each, some of them as strange as Voldeshorts, Orochimaru or someone with the unfortunate name of Dick —seriously, the jokes— Roman, of whom the former Shichibukai had never heard anything.

The door burst open with a loud bang, and in marched one Donquixote Doflamingo, clad in all his mind-scarring fluffy pink glory and horrible color combination skills.

The king of Dressrosa —and how had that worked out when Crocodile's master plan had failed?— came to a halt in the front of the room and turned to look at them.

Crocodile really wanted to punch his grin off his face.

"You are all here because you failed horribly at taking over your respective countries and islands. Or, even worse, failed to keep them."

… I want to formally apologize to everybody who mistakenly thought I am a serious writer.