This is written by Mizohu and I, we do not own one piece, just the plot, themes, and any OCS that pop up.
Vongola10: Working on it! I (NEAR) had finals and such so it took longer to collaborate this chapter.
River1225: Than you and we are glad you enjoyed it! I hope this chapter might illuminate some of your confusion.
FairyAlchemist400: Thank you! Some parts of this have been ideas for a very long time! I hope you enjoy the rest as much as you enjoyed the beginning!
Lyade Kanda: Merci pour la critique! I hope I said that right. I'm sure we will have a new chapter up as soon as possible!
Sbkop21: Thank you so much for the review and hopefully we will have a new chapter up soon! This is the first time either Mizohu have ever done a collaborative fic, were still working the kinks out.
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Portgas D. Ace opened his eyes to a wooden ceiling. He breathed deeply counting down from twenty to calm his mind, taking a moment to feel his fire running through his body. The scent of medicine, deft wood and ocean filled the air. The atmosphere was peaceful. Ace pressed his hands against his eyes, dragging them down his face as he sat up. His fingers drifted to his throat; grimacing, he recalled his fight with the fish man Jimbei, and then with Whitebeard. He knew he was in enemy territory and he hated it, but at least his crew got away. Ace looked over his body, cranking his neck to look over his bare back. He was happy to see that he healed enough to move there was still some marks here and there but at least he wasn't bedridden.
Judging by how disoriented he felt he knew he's been asleep for a while. Hands clenched and unclenched, he was trapped here on with the Whitebeard pirate though. Bitterness reared its ugly head, Ace snarled glaring at the iv in his arm. Gritting his teeth, he pulled the iv out along with removing the Cardiac monitoring. Ace forced his aching body to move. He didn't need to rest; he needed answers like what happened? What became of his crew, where they safe where they even alive? And most importantly what did they want from him, why was he here? How long has he been asleep!
The door to his room opened quietly. Ace instantly stood in attack stance, hands aflame and ready to protect himself. Standing in the doorway was a tall man with a brown pompadour hairstyle, which went to a point at the back of his head, and a black goatee around his chin. He had a stitched scar running down his face, around his left eye. He was dressed in a posh uniform, with calf-long pants and a black belt around his waist, and brown shoes.
"Oi, firefly! Good to see your finally among the living again. I'm Thatch, nice to make your acquaintance and welcome abroad the Moby Dick!"
"I don't give a damn what your name is, you can't keep me here." He said with his teeth barred and a low growl from his throat.
Thatch knew a hostile growl when he heard one. Pop's sure knew how to pick em'. This wasn't gonna be easy. He could already tell the brat had a chip on his shoulder. But who was he to go against his father's word?
"Yes, well I'm here to check on you and since your awake you must be hungry. What can I bring you?"
Thatch decided to just play it safe and stick to easy conversation. He doesn't need the firefly burning up the ship.
"Nothing!" Ace grunted.
"Nonsense you've out of commission for fourteen days you must be starved. I'm the head chef of the crew it's my job and pleasure to feed any and everyone aboard. Come on tell what you want I can cook anything."
Pissed that this idiot couldn't take no for an answer and horrified that he had been at the mercy of his enemies for so long, Ace automatically brought up a fireball. Ducking and dodging, Thatch let out a screeched.
"Oh, watch it, not everyone is fireproof like you."
All the screaming and explosion brought nurses running in. Ace brought out more fireballs at the doctors trying to get close to him.
"Back off!"
Thatch noticed, that as more people entered the room made Ace more uncomfortable, the kids face turning red as more flames erupted around his shoulders and trickled down his arms. He immediately ordered everyone out of the room and hoped that someone thought to grab first division commander, there was no way he stood a chance against Logia powers. All he could do was talk the firefly down till Marco came or till Ace tired himself out. He could already tell the would have to make some minor repairs to the sick bay, the bad-tempered firefly had scorched the sheets and walls might need a new coat of paint.
"Ace you need to calm down this is a sick bay and there are some flammable liquids in this room. So, unless you want send the ship up in flames with you on it… You need to put your flames out." Thatch tried to reason with Ace.
Okay so maybe it wasn't a good idea to come here alone. How was he to know that today of all days Ace would choice to wake up? His mind raced.
"Oi! FIRE BRAT, PUT THAT FIRE OUT!" the first division commander snapped, flinging the door open.
Ace stared at the new comer. He was lean, muscular, blonde-haired man with a rather sleepy look on his face and some stubble around his chin. He wears an open purple jacket and a light blue sash adorned with an elaborate golden-yellow belt around his waist. Ace's mind raced, this man was first division commander, Marco the Phoenix, and holder of Mythical Zoan phoenix ability. He was Whitebeard's closest confidante and his right-hand man. Hatred boiled in his veins. He lunching himself across the room and at Marco as his flames grew hotter. Seeing the twitch in Ace's muscles even before he moved, Marco pushed Thatch out the way and meet the boy head on. Their flames clashed together mixing and twirling until the flames turned purple and licked at the ceiling. Marco forced his flames to freezing temperatures stopping the room from catching fire.
"Look! I knew you just woke up but you can't and won't start fires here! Yoi."
Ace snorted. "Like I'm really going to listen to anything you have to say," he seethed, "You took me from my crew, your keeping me here against my will, and you except me to do what you say! Your crazy, I'm getting off this ship at the next island!"
"That's not point right now," Rolling his eyes the blond continued, "Pop might want you part of the crew however, you can't go around busting in flames, even if your angry, yoi. You almost hit the nurses yoi, their innocent! Not to mention your throwing flames around in the room with the most flammable liquids on the ship? Are you trying to blow everyone up, yoi!? That means you and your crew too." He practically snarled.
Ace winced, forcing himself to calm down. Maybe that wasn't the best course of action on his part. His mind race, it's been fourteen days since his fight-one sided it had been- against the strongest man alive…not mention before that he fought for five days straight no food, water, sleep, or break. Ace's mind began to swim as he began to really take in everything. His crew was nowhere in sight, he didn't even know if they were alive, or if they left him to his fate.
Marco did not take Ace silence well, if this Ace was anything like his once beloved prince… no matter what life they were living Ace and silence don't go well together. The last time he had waited too long to gain his attention, a fire was started, tears were shed, and he had been band from seeing the prince for months. Knowing he would be adding fuel to fire Marco strode forward poking Ace in his chest drawing his attention back to him. No matter how hot-headed Ace was he wasn't a senseless killer, he didn't kill unless he had to.
Grinning wickedly, Marco said as casually as he could. "Pull another stunt like that while on this ship I'll slap a pair of sea stone cuff on you so fast your head will spin yoi."
Ace weighed his options carefully, he rather have his fire than be defenseless on an enemy ship, not when he didn't know what they wanted from him.
Crossing his arms mockingly, "Fine no fire, anything else?" his voice came out harsh.
Jeering at the blond commander, he couldn't help but feel the hair on his neck stand up and his stomach churn. He didn't want to be here, he didn't ask them to take him onto their ship! Now, there threatening to take his fire from him? It was the only thing he had here. His bag with his pictures of his brothers and his treasures were back on the Spade's ship, he couldn't lose his fire. He'd play nice, but, he thought eyeing the smug smile that graced Marco's face, he really wanted to see how hard he could punch the Phoenix's face.
This is what Marco hated about Ace he could be such a smartass when he really wanted to be.
"No, yoi." Marco said stiffly.
Thatch watched from the sidelines. Marco was known for being cool, calm, and generally lazy level-headedness in the face of adversity or challenge; the only emotional moments he has shown so far were directly related to Whitebeard's health and the crew. It almost knocked Thatch off his feet to see him so emotional, to see the blue eyes dancing with emotion so vividly. The only explanation, he could think of to explain Marco's behavior, is he hated the kid!
"Good, now leave me alone!" Ace snarled.
Sighing Thatch couldn't help but point out, trying to be helpful. "Pop's wants you on his crew, BUT your manners really need some work, you'll never make friends here if you're so bratty."
Ace's voice rang sharp and straight to the point. "Let's get some things straight I'm NOT here because I want to be. I'm not here to make friends."
With sharp teeth and wicked smile, he announced "I am here for one reason, I'm here to kill your captain!"
Ace turned his back on them lying back down in his bed with his arms under his head.
Smirking he turned his head back to them "One more thing, trust me this pineapple bird brain, and shity posh cook I'll never join your crew!"
There was a long intense pause, that made the air think, like a fog had rolled through the room and blanket them. Marco studied Ace silently for a long moment.
"If you say so, yoi." Turning his head, Marco got his brother's attention, "Have the nurse look at him and bring him some food, I need to get back to work you, and so do you."
"Well firefly you heard the man what can get you?" The chief asked, a grin play at his lips but his back tense and straight.
Ace snorted, "Your captains head on a silver platter."
Thatch glared harshly before taking a deep breath with bared teeth, he tried again, "Like I said before, your manners need work." Pausing for a moment, he thought of all the people that lived on this ship and their stories, "Wait, do you know what manners are?" he asked.
Ace hissed.
Thatch ignored him pressing forward "Name it. Anything at all, I can cook it!"
Ace released a string of curse words not even Thatch had heard before in all his travels.
"For the last time! I Don't Want Any of Your Crappy Cooking! Now GO Away!" The room warmed and a pillow was thrown.
The pillow hit the wall and fell to the floor with a soft thump.
"My food isn't crappy, you having even tried it yet." Thatch pouted. "I'll bring you something anyway, the nurses should be in soon."
Ace heard him leave, shutting the door gently behind him after tossing the pillow back. Looking over his shoulder, making sure he was truly alone. Sitting up and crossing his arms, he thought out plans. He needed to play nice. Well, he supposed to, nice with the nurses until he was healed. He needs to take a look at the map room, figure out where they were heading and where to meet up with his crew. He could start planning on the best to beat Whitebeard, after that, and take his head.
From what he knew about the Whitebeard crew, they had some kind of honor code. They didn't kill if they didn't need too. So, there was still a chance his crew was alive. All he had to was make it out of this alive and track them down. He couldn't wait to be free and back to the sea! They wouldn't keep him in a cage long.
His stomach growled and bubbled angrily, making him think about the five-day battle and five days without food. Looking down at himself he flinched slightly, those five days had cost him, adding the days he was unconscious, his ribs could be seen and counted clearly. Shaking his head, he ignored the way his stomach disagreed with his plan. His stomach cramped in hungry pain. This was nothing, he told himself, he'll just wait till everyone was asleep to raid the kitchen. Till then he could handle discomfort. He wouldn't give this idiot the satisfaction of seeing him eat his cooking.
All he had to do was hold on till nightfall. He could last a few days on the Moby Dick, take Whitebeard's head, and then get off this damn ship. But first he had to find out how far till the next island. And, he thought, as his stomach rumbled louder, get some food.
