Fandom: One Piece
Disclaimer: Same as in the first chapter.
Notes: Sorry and thanks for the long wait. Btw, my stories are now on AO3 as well.
Additional disclaimer: Lyrics used in this chapter are modification of few lines from Frank Loesser's 'Pet Me Poppa' song written for the movie adaptation of Broadway musical 'Guys and Dolls'. No copyright infringment intended. Just a nod to the song and performance that makes me smile.


Subject: AU Outtake of nothing new in this world's 'Diary of a Potato Bag'
Timeline: AU set at an undetermined point in the future
Place: Moby Dick
Title: Hell hath no fury like a woman enraged
Beta: nothing new in this world *huge hug*


"Mail call!"

Answering shouts abounded and pirates that were not on duty started converging on Moby's port. Packages had already been delivered by the seagulls and designated crewmen were matching the newly arrived items with call lists. Mail was, of course, not directly sent to any of the ships in Whitebeard's fleet, but redirected from controlled and regularly changed collection points.

A loose circle started slowly forming, consisting of pirates expecting to receive something and those merely curious or bored. Chattering ensued, mood relaxed and jovial. Pirates or not, a number of these men and women had families they kept in touch with in various degrees; also friends, lovers and acquaintances. Some of them, more conscientious then others or maybe just more optimistic in the possibility of their future retirement, handled their share of the loot with what passed as frugal for seamen. That is, they were not spending it in bars on drinks and women. Rather, their loot passed through the hands of trusted businessmen and traders. In the majority of cases that meant retired pirates of their own crew or retirees of Whitebeard allies.

Like a slow wave, the volume of conversations decreased and everyone started to lower themselves to sit on the deck. This respectful silence was caused partially by seeing that mail was sorted, but mostly by the trio of commanders that languidly strode from the quarterdeck where they had retired after breakfast. Clearly visible to all, but still accorded some privacy while they hashed out their business. Now they situated themselves in the crowd, standing at the edge of the semicircle.

Finer points of piratical politics varied in each and every crew. Each one had their own rules, practices and little rituals. Those remained mostly inside the crew and were known only to those under the same captain. Disregard of those finer points could result in punishment, expulsion or death. Again, it varied.

Politics that involved either allied or hostile pirate crews, as well as relationships with protectorates, were the domain of the captains, commanders and seconds. The vast majority of crewmembers just wanted to know what's their to protect and against whom to point weapons. After all, in the end it was captain's decision and his or her word was law, so… why the hassle?

Everyone knew the subject of aforementioned council between 1st, 3rd and 4th commander was what appeared to be coordinated encroaching on their own territory by four different flags. Whitebeard pirates had faith in the strength of their leaders and their own so they were not worried. Nor did most of them bother with trying to predict what the chosen avenue of retribution would be. They knew they would protect their own, both territory and family.

That being said, a number of eyes lingered on their commanders.

"Diamond" Jozu cut a forbidding figure. Their enemies knew him as an unrelenting powerhouse; to his subordinates he was a dependable rock. Always ready to give either a hand or advice. His division unconsciously adopted some of his demeanour so they tended to be somewhat of 'observe-and-act' types. However, everyone agreed they threw the best parties.

Commander Thatch however was the one who quickly became the centre of any revelry, no matter who hosted it. Most congenial and open of all commanders, there were few who would, if they had to choose, fight him instead of Jozu. No matter his personality, when it came to battle he was one of the most ruthless fighters on the Grand Line's seas. He also somewhat influenced his own division; they tended to be rather colourful and 'stylish'.

Last commander and the one most admired, even though all commanders were co-equal, was Marco the Phoenix. Commandeer of the First Division and unofficial but recognized first mate to Whitebeard, he was a source of regard and pride for all of them and a cause of fear and terror to their enemies. He was also a centrepiece of many nightly fantasies. Let's face it, weeks or months long journeys left few outlets for pent-up energies and needs except for ship duties, occasional fight and party.

Close quarters or no, what went on in one's bunk or who was sharing it for the night was neither a public topic of discussion nor the subject of scorn. And while most of the men preferred women, out in the sea most were also not overly picky. The Phoenix commander's looks and powerful aura meant that thought of sharing his bed regularly crossed the minds of many. Some actually yearned for the opportunity. Sadly, he did not bed his subordinates and whether the same rule went for his fellow commanders and captain was a source of much speculation. However, no one that knew anything ever spoke.

"Asperagus! From Donna Merke!"

The sender was always mentioned as an additional security feature. Anonymous senders were not allowed as a rule and if the recipient did not know the sender - the item in question was put aside and checked additionally. Packages had to be opened on the port.

"Kimchee! From Alabasta's Second Bank!"

So it went - some received letters, some care packages that they immediately had to defend from their mates and some remained empty-handed this time.

"Thatch! From Kim Grey!"

Sudden silence echoed. Gazes once again centred on the trio of commanders. Jozu looked... the same. Thatch had a rather bewildered expression and the Phoenix's face appeared neutral if also carved in stone.

That was a surprise. Everyone knew Girlie of course. Her interactions and fights with the First commander were the source of never-ending gossip. Who would have ever expected that a great pirate like Marco, sought by practically ever female he laid his gaze upon, would focus his attentions on an average looking, flat-chested and not particularly strong marine Ensign.

It baffled everyone, but those who met her said that she had spirit. In the end, it was not theirs to judge Phoenix's choice of lovers. They just gossiped.

Were they lovers though? That was another bone of contention. From the interactions they witnessed, one would assume they were not. Girlie showed no indications that she considered Marco anything but an annoyance she was not powerful enough to avoid. At most an acquaintance. However, as far as anyone knew, Marco had not taken another to his bed, be on sea or land, for a year. As he was not one for celibacy. One might think it meant they were exclusive, but why would he agree on that? Then there was the last Summit…

"Commander?", the small package was pushed towards the elegantly dressed commander.

"Ah, yes." Thatch quickly went through the passage that opened in front of him, picked the parcel and returned to Marco and Jozu's side. It was obvious he was somewhat confused and uneasy.

Marco's Girlie never sent anything to Marco, never even sought him out. Now she sent something to his best friend?

"Kiiroen! From Akinu!" Mail call continued, but most ears and eyes were on the trio. Letting out a heavy sigh, the First Commander cricked his neck a bit and turned towards Thatch.

"Well?" he said with an easy smile, "Let's see what you got."

Thatch smiled back a little less disquieted and started opening the package.

"Oh!" there was a note sitting on wool that protected the object inside. He took it and offered it to Marco.

"It's for you." There was probably a picture of blond commander forming in some dictionary under the term 'inscrutable'.

"Mhnkm hmm." Thatch cleared his throat as he unfolded the note. With a side glance at his brother, the pompadour hairstyle commander read the note out loud.

Greetings Commander Thatch,

I hope you don't mind me making use of our acquaintance, but I'd like to leave something in your keeping for a time.

Two items of my own invention, prototypes that I developed while waiting for a certain apology. Still waiting, therefore I'm currently involved in negotiations for their mass production. I hope to see them spread throughout the Ocean in due time.

I trust you'll keep them safe for me. I have faith in your strength. I'd consider that a favour duly returned.

Respectfully, Grey Kim.

The eyes of those present danced between commanders and the not yet fully opened package. Jozu looked a bit contemplative, Thatch now predominantly bewildered and one of Marco's facial muscles twitched a bit.

It was a mystery what Grey's intentions were here. By all accounts, she was not the type to seed strife and mistrust between brothers and even less a woman who would try to play multiple men. Although, she certainly seemed to attract them. Some said that not only the idiot Pennington had lost his mind for her, or at least scrambled it beyond recognition, but also Sakazuki.

What she felt towards their Commander was an enigma to them all, including to Marco himself some said.

Known fact was that Marco pursued her, first as an enemy to fight and then as a potential lover. Lots of their encounters were private, but men in relationships with side benefits like occasional sex do tend to have a certain air around them. Self-satisfaction at least. After encounters with her, Marco never returned with an air of someone who just had a good fuck.

So the Summit was a surprise…

Why in Roger's name would she send something to Thatch for safe-keeping? And before mass production? What did that mean?

Marco raised an eyebrow towards his pompadour styled friend who tucked the note in his jacket's pocket and reached into the package pulling out a… book?

Small, colourful book. Only Thatch could see the front cover. Choking a bit he read out loud from it, "First Adventure of a Phoenix called Poop - How Poop earned her name."

While stunned silence reigned, the brown-haired pirate uncertainly looked at his implausibly calm comrade and pushed his free hand back into the package pulling out one additional item. This one causing open-mouthed astonishment and massive snorting and gurgling among the captivated audience. It was a toy. A plush toy.

It was the shape of a bird. Phoenix to be more precise. In fact it would have been the spitting image of their own Phoenix commander, down to the tails, if it weren't for two glaring differences. Plushy was primarily blue but with pink, bright pink highlights. There was also an abundant use of glitter.

Bright blue-pink phoenix plushy named Poop. It was certainly eye-catching; definitely no one on the port could tear their eyes away. Especially since, no matter the more feminine take, it still unarguably and recognizably looked like Marco's phoenix form. Actually, it was a remarkable work, astoundingly realistic.

With an arrested gaze, Jozu reached out for the plushy in Thatch's hand and pushed the discrete, barely visible lever on the head.

The beak opened and a coy female voice rang out sweetly.

Pet me poppa, poppa pet me nice. (Chirp!)
Pet me poppa, poppa break the dice. (Chirp!)

Poppa, pet me good. (Chirp!)
Proper like you should. (Chirp!) (Chirp!)

All this was accompanied by silly wiggling that might, might be called a jig.

Horrified stillness was aptly depicted on Commander Marco's face. The way he looked at that adorable monstrosity was beyond understanding. More familiar were the blue flames that started forming around his fists.

Before present and bespelled crew, Phoenix Commander lunged at his undesired double. However, in a surprising move, his fellow commander evaded, jumped away and fell into a defensive crouch at a relatively safe distance. Book tucked beside the note and phoenix plushy firmly in his left hand.

"No!" he said with utter seriousness.

"What?" growled the enraged blonde.

"I do owe Girlie a favour and she wants, as a return, this in my keeping. On this ship. Well," he smirked ruthlessly, filthily and with a ton of amusement at his dear friend. "So I will."

"You know," he straightened abruptly and said seriously, "I should go and show this to Pops. He would love to know that a member of our crew inspired the creation of something as precious as a new children toy. Accompanied with lovely and daring adventures."

As he turned, Marco lunged once again and a game of catch-and-evade ensued, playing out around the ship. It was not an all-out fight, of course, those required win-or-die attitude, but it was as serious as it could get on a wooden ship. Although Moby Dick was far from fragile, it was home.

As he watched the spectacle of the Phoenix hunting down a phoenix, Fillie turned to his fellow crewmate. "I'm guessing she is not happy with Commander claiming her as his woman at the New World's Pirate Summit."

"Guess not." Smiley returned and then snorted, "Women!"