And for the first time, he grins not with malice, but with recognition.
While the grunts pull up old cannonballs, a quiet moment happens. One of the younger members, a timid shipwright boy, accidentally drops a precious memento—a small, hand-carved wooden figurehead—into the deep. It sinks into the black, industrial abyss beneath the city.
“Those idiots,” he mutters. “They didn’t just have gold. They had a dream in their pocket.”
The scene opens on the Franky House , a chaotic den of scrap metal, cola cans, and bad attitudes. Franky, the 7-foot-tall pervert in a tiny speedo and metal fists, is holding a bizarre tournament: the "Franky Family Obstacle Course."
Franky can’t fight underwater—his punches slow, his air limited. So he does the only thing a true madman would do: he opens his back panel, jettisons his emergency reserve of cola, and creates a massive, fizzy explosion that shoots him upward like a rocket.