It'll Catch You Unawares.

Some of the worst days of your life will start out just like any other day. You'll wake up and things will be deceptively normal. Nothing out of place, your schedule laid out before you, and everything the same as always. You won't see it coming. It's impossible to see it coming. One moment it'll be life as usual and the next moment? The rug's been pulled out from underneath you and everything goes spiraling out of control, catching you unawares. This was one of those days.

Marco woke up in the morning, reaching out to silence the alarm on his phone with a sigh. He paused for a moment before regretfully climbing out of bed to start getting ready for work. He left his bedroom, wrapping his tie around his neck and letting it stay draped over his shoulders as he moved to the kitchen. He picked up the remote off the counter, turned on the TV for some background noise, and set about making breakfast. Omelets. A familiar voice echoed in the back of his mind while he cooked, If you eat eggs, isn't that kinda like cannibalism? Marco smiled fondly, he remembered that question every time he ate eggs without fail. Thatch had nearly lost it when Rage has posed the question one feast day in-game. Marco had ignored it at the time, refusing to glorify such a stupid and annoying question with a response, but, despite that, it had never left him.

Omelet done, Marco slid it onto a plate and glanced over at the TV from across the small apartment. The channel was set to the local news and he watched the screen with mild interest as he sat down at the small table and began to eat, sparing the clock on the bottom right of the screen for the time.

The buzz of the TV faded into the background while he ate, his thoughts drifting to his itinerary for the day and chewing an afterthought while his mind wandered. He had an analytics report to present to the company board after lunch that he'd need to review when he got to work that morning. He remembered the points he needed to make, but it wouldn't hurt to be more prepared.

A few words from the TV filtered into his consciousness from time to time, drawing him out of his thoughts to glance absently at the screen to see if it was anything worth his attention. He paused mid-bite this time as he slowly became fully engaged with the local news story currently on the air. Quickly catching up to speed, Marco learned that there had been a house fire just twenty-five minutes down the road from where he lived. A firefighter had been killed saving two people who were trapped inside. Marco forked another piece of his omelet and lifted his utensil.

The next bite never made it to his mouth.

"At 2:00 AM on Sunday morning, authorities received a phone call from Mr. La'Roux about a fire taking place at his neighbor's household where three brothers, Ace, Sabo, and Luffy Mongas lived alone. At the time of the phone call, the fire had already consumed much of the house and it's unclear at this time why or how the fire had gone unnoticed for so long."

Marco watched as footage of the still smoldering ruins of a house appeared on the screen. His mind started putting the pieces together but he refused to believe it. Maybe it wasn't them. Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe—the image of three boys Marco recognized with dread appeared on the screen to accompany the commentary. Marco's eyes dropped to the title of the news segment and watched as the scrolling text confirmed his worst fears "Local Firefighting Hero Dies Saving Brothers From House Fire."

Marco dropped his fork and the queasiness hit him like a brick.

No.

He had to call Pops.

After he abruptly stood and scanned the apartment for his phone, Marco nearly tripped over his chair in his rush to the bedroom. He found his phone sitting on the nightstand where he'd left it and snatched it up quickly, swallowing to suppress the rising queasiness in his gut. Still trying to process what he'd just heard, Marco unlocked the phone and started zipping through his contacts, lowering himself to sit on the edge of the bed as he hit the call button on Pops' number and pressed it to his ear. He could still hear the news report droning in the next room so he closed his eyes tightly, trying to block it out, but hearing it anyway.

"The oldest of the brothers, Ace, was on duty at the fire department when the call arrived. We do not at this time, know very much about what transpired on this property, but there is currently an ongoing investigation into the causes taking place."

The call went to voicemail. Marco called again, put the phone on speaker, and set it back down on the nightstand. He leaned forward, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes and trying to keep himself together. A woman was talking now, the wife probably. She was talking about the brothers like they were her own sons. Marco's gut twisted further with every single word.

It finally connected, Pops' voice crackling out of the speakers of his phone, "What's wrong, son? I'm assuming it's urgent if you're calling me while I'm teaching."

"Um. Pops? I was just, uh," Marco paused, surprised at the quiver in his voice as he spoke. "The news… I think…" Marco straightened and tried to get air into his lungs enough to get it out, but the words were all jumbled "It might not even—but. It. It has to be… I…" Marco sighed in frustration, running his hands through his hair.

"You're not making any sense right now, son. Just breath. Take a deep breath in." The familiar, patient, voice of the man he'd accepted as his own father reassured him. Marco obeyed, taking a deep, shaky breath in. "And another one." Pops instructed and Marco obeyed, heaving another breath in.

Feeling a little more composed, Marco managed to choke out "In the news… there's this story on the news right now. It's. It's about this firefighter in the town over who… got caught in a fire. I think…" Marco hesitated, "It… Rage was a firefighter, y'know, right?"

"I know, but there's a lot of firefighters in the world, son it might not have been him." Pops tried to dismiss. It only frustrated Marco.

"You haven't seen it!" He accused. "How many firefighters in the world have black hair, freckles, silver eyes, and two brothers named Sabo and Luffy?" Marco's voice cracked towards the end, voice hitching as the reality of it all began to sink in. It was Rage. It couldn't have been anyone else. He hoped that the fact that he was starting to crumble wasn't so obvious over the phone. That the tight strain in his voice was imagined and Pops wouldn't realize he was barely keeping it together.

It had been a moment since Pops had last spoke and Marco wondered if maybe he'd hung up or the call had dropped. He tapped the screen to check the call status. It was still connected. Marco swallowed around the knot in his throat and prompted "Hello?" his voice cracked again. "Pops?"

A heavy exhale carried through the line to break the silence on Pops' end. Marco pursed his lips and waited.

"Take the day off if you can." Pops' voice finally spoke "I'll see what I can do here. Meet me at the house and we'll discuss what to do from there," Pops instructed. "I'll contact the rest of the family."

"Okay." Marco gulped, hands gripping his knees in a vice grip to keep his hands from shaking. The line went dead and Marco shifted forward, sliding off the edge of the bed and to the floor, knees pressed tightly to his chest. He struggled to take deep and measured breaths in order to calm his racing heart, but his blood only kept pumping faster.

Rage—Ace—was dead.

Marco pressed his forehead into his knees, hugging them tightly to his chest. He tried to make sense of everything that was happening. It didn't seem real. It had to be a sick nightmare. It just felt so wrong. That a man so full of life and energy that he'd talk to just a few days ago had been ripped from life in an instant. Marco had only known Ace for a couple years but it felt like a lifetime. Ace was part of the family, he was a son of Whitebeard, he was one of the brothers, he—one of Marco's hands slid to his chest, tightly grasping the fabric of his dress shirt with his fingers. He was keenly aware of the tattoo staining his skin underneath, recalling when Ace had cheerfully declared that he was going to get the jolly roger tattooed on his back and prompting everyone else to get tattoos as well to match the ones they had in-game.

Marco took a shuttering deep breath in and pushed his legs out in front of him to give him some more room to breath. "C'mon Marco, you've still got one more phone call to make," he muttered to himself, piecing himself together enough to make the call.

Hoisting himself up off the floor, Marco took the phone in his hand a second time to find the number for work and hitting call. His hand shook slightly as he raised the device to his ear.

A stale greeting reached him on the second ring that Marco automatically reciprocated before saying "There's been a family emergency and I'm not going to be able to come in today," Marco informed the person on the other side of the call. He hoped he was successful at keeping the quiver out of his voice. "Or tomorrow, probably. We'll see how things look Wednesday. But. There's uh, it's… not good," Marco pursed his lips and dug the heel of his free hand into his eye and managed to squeeze out "There's been a… death… in the family," the words sounding strange in his own mouth. Ace was so young, had so much potential, had such a life ahead of him… but now he was gone. "Sorry. I just… yeah, I'm not coming in today. We're going to have to reschedule that meeting."

Words of condolence came through the line as Marco pulled it away from his ear, not bothering to hear what was being said and just mumbling "Thank you. I'll see you when I next come in. Bye," and hanging up the phone, dropping it onto his bed covers with a heavy sigh.

There was a buzz and Marco reluctantly glanced at his phone to see a text message Meeting at the Homestead – 10:00AM from Pops to the "Emergencies Only" group chat. Another message popped up from someone else asking What's Up? Marco turned off his phone.

Glancing at the clock, Marco calculated that he had two hours before he needed to leave, but it wouldn't hurt to be early.

Marco let his keys dangle from his finger once he'd locked the car doors and began his approach towards the front door of the Newgate homestead. He had changed into something more comfortable before he left, now in a t-shirt and jeans instead of his dress shirt and slacks. A glance around the exterior of the house revealed that there was only one other car in the drive, which was Pops' with no doubt. It would probably be another half hour before the others began to trickle in, giving him some time to prepare.

Upon arriving at the large oak doors to the homestead, Marco hesitated, his hand resting on the door handle. He took a steadying breath of air before thumbing the lever, tugging the door open, and revealing the tall foyer lit solely by the light streaming in through the large windows in the back which faced the morning sun. Closing the door behind him, Marco breathed heavily out his nose and made his way to the parlor. The room was large and full of antique chairs, coffee tables, a fireplace, and a large TV. It was large enough to accommodate the whole family and was used any time that they wanted to get together. It'd seen many a party throughout its history. Marco figured that he might as well wait there for the rest of the family to arrive and collapsed into one of the old, padded, wooden chairs. His posture melted as soon as he sat down, legs stretching out before him, hips nearly sitting on the edge of the seat and his neck cramped against the back of the chair. It was uncomfortable and was guaranteed to make him feel sore if he maintained it, but Marco couldn't bring himself to care in that moment.

Several minutes passed, Marco wasn't sure how many, before footsteps caught his attention. He couldn't bring himself to move so he didn't bother to see who it was standing in the doorway. There was pretty much only one option anyway. "Hey." Marco greeted, the sound falling dead at his feet in the large, empty room, devoid of any life but his own.

"Hey, son," Pops returned, approaching Marco and lowering himself into the chair across from him, a coffee table between them. Marco pushed himself up, shuffling his hips until his shoulders rested against the back of the chair, feet still stretched before him. "I saw your car in the drive. How are you holding up?" Pops asked, eyeing him with a sad twinge in his gaze.

"Barely," Marco admitted, letting his head tip back and his eyes slide towards the vaulted ceiling.

"I'm glad that you came early… I… wanted to talk to you before the rest of the family arrived," Pops shifted in his chair, clothing rustling with the movement, a sound normally unnoticed but strangely loud in the silence. A glance down revealed that Pops had leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his gaze steadily meeting Marco's. Marco looked away again. "I know… that you and Ace were particularly close."

"It's not what you think," Marco quickly interjected, the emotional soup in his gut stirring at the reminder.

"Regardless—"

"I wasn't the only one who was close to him. Thatch and Izo adored him. Everyone did. His men looked up to him. The other commanders… our allies… everyone. This affects more than just me," Marco deflected. He could feel Pops' disapproval of his avoidance of the subject without having to see it himself. Marco continued anyway "His neighbors, his brothers, Sabo and Luffy, everyone else he knew outside the game. The people that he worked with. They all will feel this so don't go singling me out like that."

"Marco," That one word, stern, fond, disapproving all at once, was all it took to make Marco still and fall silent.

Marco noticed then that the pain in his palms was because his fingernails were digging deep into the fleshy part of his hand. He slowly relaxed is grip and smoothed his palms on his thighs before sitting upright, purposefully avoiding his father's gaze, the words "Just—please…don't?" falling almost silently from his lips and to the floor.

Pops let out a long, heavy sigh but said nothing and Marco was grateful.

"I'll go… brew some coffee or something," Marco decided quietly, standing abruptly and striding tensely out of the parlor and towards the kitchen, leaving Pops on his own.

Once in the kitchen, Marco methodically went about the motions of making coffee almost by instinct. He probably wouldn't drink any, already jittery enough as it was, but it wasn't particularly for him in the first place. The rest of the family would be showing up soon and it was early enough that some of the family members would probably need it. Unfortunately, making coffee was a task that occupied very little of his time. It was painfully easy to make and he was forced to come up with something else to do to occupy him while it brewed. He settled for wiping down the already spotless counters and hoped that Pops took the hint and wouldn't come to find him there. He needed to mentally prepare himself for the conversation that he was about to have with the rest of the family. They were always looking to him for support. He was the spine of the family and Pops was the foundation. Their family was built on Pops but it was Marco who had always kept everyone standing. It wouldn't do for him to crumble in front of all of them. They needed him and he had to be ready for it. He had to be composed. He had to deliver this news and be strong for them right now… he could deal with himself later.

Marco stood at the back of the room with Pops, looking out over all of the gathered people sitting apprehensively in their chairs. It was oddly silent for a gathering of the family. They all knew something was up. Maybe some of them had even heard the news already and pieced it together themselves. The TV above the fireplace was set up with a video call for all of the family that weren't in town and would not be able to attend in person, which meant nearly everyone was present. Everyone but Ace, his mind unhelpfully supplied. But even if he were still here, he wouldn't be here, present at a Newgate family meeting. If only they'd known. If only they'd known just how close he was they could have… Marco swallowed. There was no use dwelling on what ifs or if onlys. Things could have been different, yes, but this was the hand they were dealt. Oh, what Marco would do if he could change things, though. Go back in time. Learn that Ace was living right there within their reach…

Pops' voice interrupted Marco's spiraling thoughts, "I'm not sure how many of you have heard the news yet, but I'm glad that you were all able to make it here to this meeting on such short notice and without knowing what was going on. I wanted you all to hear it from us directly."

Uneasy glances in the crowd traded amongst each other, searching for clues before drifting back towards Marco and Pops. Marco sucked in a breath and continued the announcement in Pops' stead, "There was news this morning…" Marco struggled to keep his voice steady and his posture relaxed as he delivered the information, fighting to keep his shoulders from curling in on themselves, "some of you may have seen it and figured it out already, but we… uh… we learned this morning that… we lost one of our own last night… around midnight." Marco let his eyes wander across the faces of the nearly two dozen people sitting in the room before forcing out a name, "Rage," Marco's voice cracked over the nickname as it caught in his throat. He swallowed around the quickly forming knot there and took in the looks of disbelief and surprise. Murmurs began to bubble up amongst them and Marco raised a hand hoping to settle them down so that he could continue before he lost his composure entirely. Almost every single person in that room was a One piece player and every single one that was was a Whitebeard Pirate. But every single one of them, whether they played or not, know Rage well.

"He… what do you mean? Rage he… he's gone?" Thatch spoke, standing up with a dazed look in his eyes. "But… what happened? It wasn't that—" Thatch pulled up short, realization dawning on his face. He dropped back into his chair. "He was a firefighter… the news…"

Marco was grateful in a way… that he didn't have to be the one to say it. He didn't know if he had it in him to say it and not break down where he stood.

"You're saying that that was…" Caz—Vista—cut in, painful realization falling upon his face and many other faces as well.

"Yes," Pops confirmed. "It was in the news this morning; BrazilianRage… died last night while on call to put out a fire in his own home."

"…That was him? How did I…" Thatch leaned forward, his hands covering his mouth and nose as he stared at the ground in shock.

"Are you sure it was him?" a voice asked from the speakers, Izo on video chat half a world away in Japan. His eyes looked desperate. He hadn't seen the news, he hadn't seen what they'd seen.

Marco nodded, the movement small and jerky. "There's no doubt… it couldn't have been anyone else but him." he cast his eyes around again to take in the range of shocked, horrified, and mournful expressions that met the confirmation of the worst and finished for those unaware "The report… said that he'd run in to save his two brothers, Sabo and Luffy…"

"That sure sounds like him," Fossa admitted mournfully, melting into his chair.

"How are the two boys? Do we know if they're okay?" Izo asked. Murmurs of concerned agreement circled around the room. Everyone wanted to know if Ace's sacrifice had been in vain or not. Izo, Thatch, and himself were the only people in the room who'd had any significant amount of contact with either of the brothers, but everyone had heard the endless stories about them that had spilled from Ace's mouth. He loved his brothers; there was no doubt about it. Unfortunately, Marco had no idea what kind of condition they were in.

"All we know if that they've been taken to the hospital and that's it… no news on their conditions. It'll probably be some time before we get anything solid about it. We'll just have to keep an eye out," Marco informed them.

"As soon as we can get some more information, we're going to see what we can do to help," Pops announced. "I'm going to see about getting ahold of that red-hair to find out where the boys are being taken care of. Spread the word in the game and let everyone know what's happened. We'll… we'll figure out something we can do for him there, too."