Title: Liston's Advice
Rating: M
Genre: Friendship, Hurt/Comfort,
Characters: Ace, Marco, Whitebeard Pirates
Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence, mentions of self-harm, kinda whumpy
Summary: When Marco suggest some rather extreme measures to get them out of a sticky situation, Ace is horrified and in the process discovers the darker side of the first commander's devil fruit powers. Marco doesn't understand what all the fuss is about.
A/N: I got the idea for this story after rewatching the Marineford Arc. God, if I was in the One Piece universe, I would love to have Marco's abilities! Or at least get to see them (or him) first hand… This is a darker take on the uses of the Phoenix no mi (or whatever the hell the fruit is called) and I warn you, I didn't hold back. Sorry Marco! I love you!
Please review! I would really appreciate feedback, good or bad.
Chapter 1
"Well, this sucks."
"Hm," Marco quietly agreed. This did suck. Nowadays it wasn't often that Whitebeard pirates found themselves in a cell at a heavily-guarded marine outpost, but there they were. The two were currently sitting in a dingy barred jail cell in the basement of the small building. The air felt dank and the concrete floor cold and uncomfortable. The entire chamber had an empty sort of aura around it, as if it hasn't been used in a long time. Either the marines here weren't very good at capturing pirates, or they never had a need to keep them alive. Suffice to say it wasn't the ideal way to end a simply scouting mission.
And it was all Ace's fault.
"Maybe if you didn't pass out in your food in a bar filled with marines, we wouldn't be in this situation."
"Hey! Ho w was I supposed to know the bartended was being paid off?" Ace objected. "But, you gotta admit, keeping seastone cuffs behind the bar was a smart idea. It's pretty easy to catch a drunk pirate off-guard like that!"
"Or a narcoleptic one," the first division commander scowled.
"I can't help that, asshole!" If his feet weren't fettered together, Fire Fist Ace would have kicked his superior upside the head. At least, he would have tried.
The older pirate looked unamused. There was no point in arguing. After all, he was stuck in the same cell with his careless nakama. He didn't get any extra points, either. He just couldn't believe that they would be stupid enough to put them in the same cell. Though, there was only one, taking up half of the small 12 by 12 foot room. 'Must be the budget cuts,' he noted. 'Their loss.'
Sensing a presence approaching, the pirates looked up and through the steel bars at the entrance to the basement. They heard the sound of several footsteps descending down the stairs as three figures entered the small chamber. The room was illuminated by two oil lamps hanging just outside the cell bars which cast shadows across the walls as the figures moved through the space.
"How do you like your accommodations?" An unfamiliar voice inquired. "Hmm, Marco the Phoenix and Fire First Ace?"
The two in question looked up at the man addressing them, Ace in annoyance and the blond in disdain. The newcomer was a rather tall and muscled man with slicked-back dark hair and a well-groomed moustache. His mouth was set in a scowl as he glared at his prisoners in disgust. He wore the signature coat with the justice insignia adorning the back. He was flanked by two armed officers. Although his stature and countenance would have intimidated lesser pirates (and likely his marine charges), the commanders were unimpressed, instantly coming to the same conclusion.
So, a generic pompous Marine captain looking to curry favor with the higher ups, come to gloat. Typical.
"It's not every day that I managed to snare two commanders of the legendary Whitebeard pirates. 'Must be my lucky day!"
Marco didn't think he's heard a more cliché sentence coming from a marine's mouth in his life, and that's saying something. He heard Ace chuckle to his right.
"You'll be eating those words soon enough, Captain... uh…"
"That's Captain Jirou to you."
"Whatever. Never heard of you."
Marco rested his head against the cool stone bricks at his back and stayed silent, choosing instead to be stoic and indifferent thus drawing less attention to himself. It seemed like his younger brother didn't learn that lesson yet— mouthing off to your captors is not worth the few minutes of fun nor the illusion of dignity it makes you feel. It just makes them angry. In the meantime, he studied the captain's mannerisms and his body language, looking for weaknesses for future reference.
"Anyways, I don't think you know what you've gotten yourself into, if you think this pathetic little outpost can hold us."
"We'll see about that," the large man scoffed. "I've caught more pirates in these parts than any other commander in the New World."
"Liar."
"Hey! How the hell would you know?! That's the truth! Right, Frank?" He turned to the officer to his left and the younger man nodded without enthusiasm.
So he was a terrible liar and spoke in clichés. Fun. How the hell did they get captured by this dumbass again?
"Anyways, I'm here to tell you damned pirates that I informed headquarters about your capture and they are sending an admiral out to pick you up."
"How considerate of you."
"They'll make quick work of you. I'm sure you will be transferred straight to Impel Down where you'll rot in hell for the rest of your lives!" He laughed. It was an irritating and strangely high pitched noise Ace never wanted to hear again. "Do get comfortable. You'll be spending a long time in cells like this."
With that, the captain turned around and left the pirates alone once again.
"Do you think it was a bluff?" Ace turned to his nakama after they heard the door slam at the top of the staircase.
"Not likely," Marco shook his head in the negative. "You saw what a terrible liar he is. Plus, we've been tracking the admirals' whereabouts and there have been reports of Admiral Kizaru patrolling this region of the New World. Its bad luck and bad timing, but he may very well decide to pay us a visit. It's just a matter of time."
Frowning, Ace tucked his legs to his chest and wrested his crossed arms on his knees. A simply scouting expedition, and they might have to go up against an admiral. The kid figured he could take him— especially with the first commander (as backup of course), but they might not get a fighting chance if they stay in the cell. The Whitebeard commanders were shackled with seastone handcuffs and both felt their draining qualities sapping the energy from their bodies and leaving them powerless. There were a few things Fire Fist Ace despised in this world, and one of them was seastone.
"Then we gotta get out of here."
"'Course we do. We're going to miss our check-in time with Pops."
"Got any ideas?" Ace smirked at the mention of their previous mission. Even after getting caught by the marines, Marco would still be focused on their last assignment.
"One," the phoenix calmly replied and fixed him with an unreadable expression, as if evaluating the younger pirate or deliberating something in his head. The black-haired teen felt a bit uneasy under his searching gaze. "The cuffs on your feet— are they also seastone?"
"No," Ace replied. He could feel the cursed material shackling his hands and draining his strength, but his feet were secured by simple steel chains.
"Good. Neither are mine. Luckily for us, this base is ill-equipped to deal with devil fruit users. The bars on the cell aren't seastone either."
"So?"
"So as long as one of us manages to get free of the handcuffs, we can bust out of here easily."
"What, do you have a key or something?" Ace asked sarcastically. Marco was still staring at him with that weird look on his face. He was definitely plotting something.
"I don't need one," the older pirate stated cryptically and pulled a small knife from the folds of fabric wrapped around his waist. "I have a favor to ask you."
"What?! You can't just ask for favors in such a mysterious way like that!" The teenager protested.
"Here, take it," The first commander ignored him and clutched the knife awkwardly in one hand. His wrists were cuffed behind his back (as opposed to Ace's which were in front due to his being caught off guard at the bar), severely limiting his movements and forcing him to contort his body rather creatively while trying to hand over the weapon.
"What am I gonna do with this?" Ace took the offered knife and examined it. It had a bone handle and was encased in a flimsy leather sheath that he casually discarded. The blade curved upwards at the tip, resembling a miniature scimitar. It was no more than four and a half inches long but both edges were sharp. "Pick the lock?"
"You could try, but I doubt you'd get very far." The phoenix was right. Even if Ace knew how to pick locks (which he didn't; that was Thatch's specialty), the knife was too broad to do much good. "You're going to do me a favor. My hands are tied behind my back so I can't do it, but you can."
"You're being all cryptic again. What's the plan?"
Marco the Phoenix fixed him with that dark look once again, not breaking eye-contact. His drooping eyes bore into him (Stop looking at me like that, damn it!) and this time Ace was certain: he was searching for something.
"You're going to cut off my hands."
A/N: I warned you it was going to get dark. Please don't forget to review! I gladly accept anonymous reviews!