I do not own One Piece
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Beta read by the wonderful rose7anne101, who has a much more in depth and thought-out version of this sort of story.
Also, a huge round of applause to silverwolf1249, who both proposed this idea, helped me with the brainstorming, and even wrote a good chunk of this. In addition, silverwolf1249 has written their own companion story to this. It is a prequel named "Watch the Flames Burning," which can be found on Archives Of Our Own under silver_wolf1249. It addresses how Ace came to join the Whitebeard Mafia.
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Ace Lives
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Humming to himself, Thatch finished up and took a step back to take another look at his latest masterpiece.
The meat was cooked to perfection, and he was positively giddy at how the various herbs and vegetables had been arrayed, and the sauce was the perfect colour and ladled out like artwork. This put Da Vinci to shame, and Gordon Ramsay's taste buds to the test. Moi in Town, Thatch crowed to himself.
He personally brought it to the door for the approaching waitress. Over the lovely lady's shoulders he could see it was another fine night at the Moby Dick restaurant, of which yours truly was the owner and head chef.
"Looks like Luffy's worked his magic again," he smirked.
"You've got to love him," the waitress smiled in genuine agreement. No need to flatter Thatch, since he was one of those bosses who could actually handle criticism to his face, and dealt with them all professionally. "Letting the biggest glutton in the world eat for free? Your best idea ever!"
The young man in question was shoving food into his mouth while dancing away with the paying customers; wealthy figures, influential politicians, famous movie stars, and others laughing and dancing away as they all had a great time. They ate, drank, sang, and would remember this night so fondly that they would be guaranteed to come again. Thatch was already planning to expand the building to try and keep up with the waitlist.
Taking the meal, the waitress hurried to get the food to its destination, and Thatch hummed as he took another look around his kitchen, smugly taking in the second reason that encouraging Ace's little brother to eat here for free was such a brilliant move.
Thatch was a master chef.
Sanji was a wizard. The best cook Thatch had ever seen.
Somehow Luffy had 'stolen' the man away from the Baratie, a restaurant in a poorer district that could nonetheless still produce the only food that could challenge the Moby Dick's own. When Thatch had gambled in letting Luffy eat here for free, he had been right that Sanji would not be able to resist the chance to take a break to work in a professional restaurant. All the equipment was first-rate after all, and the man had a compulsive love for cooking anyways.
His hands moved like lightning, crafting together multiple dishes at once, and every recipe was an original masterpiece, erupting from his imagination. Thatch had only been half-joking when he had said that Sanji should will his hands and brain to science.
The blonde had retorted that it would be more productive to donate Luffy's stomach to physicists studying black holes.
"Ahem."
Glancing to the side, Thatch nodded in acknowledgment to one of his special assistants, dutifully standing aside to not disturb the cooks (which was especially dangerous when Sanji was in the kitchen. Dude had a mean kick (especially if you tried to sneak in a 'taste test,' not that it stopped Luffy). "Your meeting, sir," the man reminded him.
"Aw right," Thatch groaned. "How could I forget?"
He set aside his personal cooking implements, hung up his apron, and got his coat, still wearing the rest of his chef's outfit.
Then he put on the shoulder holsters for his two pistols.
Edward Thatch, 4th Division Leader of the Whitebeard Mafia could never be too careful after all.
While all Divisions had people with a variety of skillsets, the majority of the 4th Division were involved with the restaurant business, a chain of five star restaurants (no bribes required, they had earned that distinction) open three meals a day, dreamed up and run by Thatch, netting his Pop more cash than their competitors realized. Thatch had an idea for dish that would earn him his second Michelin Star, he would bet his reputation on it. Just you wait Zeff, I'll leave you in my dust yet!
While all of the other head chefs answered to Thatch, none of them realized that he answered to legendary kingpin Edward Newgate. Most of the rest of the staff at those restaurants knew however, and as Thatch's Brothers and Sisters kept things running smoothly and ensuring that none of those cooks looked up from their art long enough to see something that might make them squeamish.
Granted, they made enough legitimate money through the infamous meals they served to show a decent profit, but as one of the Division Leaders it was expected that he provide more than that.
And Thatch did.
Money was laundered surprisingly well, especially when buying all those ingredients in cash (another thing that made Sanji a wizard, he never wasted a single crumb. Once he even taken all of the scraps set aside while making other meals, and had somehow blended it into a serving that left the Jackson Samuel himself literally crying with joy when he ate it).
(He had been shoveling it in so fast he did not even take the time to curse his catch phrase between bites!)
(Sanji had told his friends to stand in front of the cameras so no one posted a photo of it on social media, while lecturing them about letting a man enjoy his food in private. Jackson was a frequent customer now, and their list of celebrity clients skyrocketed overnight).
Wealthy and influential people streamed to the Moby Dick and its sibling restaurants, where the tables were bugged to listen in, and the occasional slow-acting poison was slipped in to kill them a few days later (never while Sanji was there, no need to poke that bear). And of course Thatch had his share of regular hitmen and forgers when necessary, although for more important jobs he would call the Divisions who specialized in whatever job needed doing.
For customers who paid a certain fee however, they were guaranteed total privacy, confidentiality for any secrets that slipped out, and even help mediate dispute without escalating the situation to something that 'technically' had Edward Newgate's attention. Moreover, the staff would defend them with their own lives against any threat. Thus other gangs and mafia members could come here to work out deals in peace and with delicious food.
Still, duty called, and it was time for their monthly meeting. Besides, he and the other Division Leaders had to have a little chat regarding their 2nd Division Leader, Portgas Ace.
Humming again, Thatch went up to Sanji. "I've got to go, you okay minding the store for me?"
"You know I am," grunted one of Luffy's top enforcers. Then he went all giddy, "And I can fire all the men while I'm at it. And give the ladies mini-skirts!"
"Sorry, they've got a union," Thatch smirked. As powerful as he might be, the man was a complete and utter sap when it came to women. Not that any of his Sisters, or other ladies in the know, would try and abuse it. Not after what the rest of the Straw Hats had done to the last one who had tried something.
Outside, the party was heating up even more, with Monkey Luffy right in the center of it. You would never guess he was the boss of one of the most elite, and small, gangs in the world. Specializing in high-stakes robberies that left Atmos and the rest of the 13th Division jealous, or taking out rival gangs that were far more unscrupulous.
The Family's relationship with them was vague, more of friendly rivals than allies or outright enemies. Both gangs had fun together, and there was never any violence between them. However, they did not cooperate on jobs, and did sometimes compete for the same prize. All in good fun.
Nearby were two more of his top enforcers, Zoro and Jinbe, who as always Thatch felt regrettable about. Jinbe for instance had been closely associated with the Whitebeards, forced to remain hair's breadth apart from fully becoming one of them because of crime politics. The burly, sumo-like man had been a wily and dangerous crime boss in his own right, before stepping down from his post to work for Luffy.
For Zoro, the irony was that whenever Thatch saw him, he knew there would be never a sequel to "Swords of Justice," his absolute favourite cop movie.
Roronoa Zoro had been the posterchild for the cliché police officer who did not work well with others, played fast and loose with the rules, but got such fantastic results that the chief could only grumble and yell at him. Then an incident with a corrupt superior had led Zoro to become Luffy's first gang member and top enforcer; a man who could go from a lazy alcoholic to a berserker leashed only by his boss' will.
About a year after quitting his former job, the movie had come out, clearly based upon Zoro's exploits as a cop. When the man had gone to court about how they had used his image and exploits like that, he had been denied even a single cent. Within a month, the lawyers, judge, movie director and produce, and actors had all been 'mysteriously' robbed of every penny, hence why even though the movie had been very successful and popular, there was no sequel yet.
Thatch even signed on several petitions for filming one, and had even almost donated money for it, until he discovered the 'charity organization' was headed by one Mikan Nami…
Which was a shame, because Thatch really wanted to know if 'Roronoa Zolo' would ever get together with Tashigi…
Franky and Chopper were playing it up too, with some of the guests clearly sharing gossip about the duo. The gifted mechanic and electronic genius was rumoured to be a self-made cyborg after all, and for all that Chopper was a brilliant doctor, there were persistent tales about what happened when his wrath was roused.
Thatch kept moving through the crowd, taking his time as he looked at the crowd, debating on whether he should stop and mingle a little first.
Brook was playing music, gloves and mask firmly on to hide what he was.
Brook was a skeleton.
An actual, moving, undead skeleton.
A veteran of the Vietnam War, Brook had at one point ingested the ultra-rare and finite drug called the 'Devil Fruit' that, like haki training, was illegal for anyone outside of the government to possess. Hence his need to disguise himself (besides how terrified regular people would be). But for all of his eccentricities, the Whitebeard Mafia knew he was as effective as the rest of the small group.
Thatch suspected that for all that his hairy features were dismissed as a 'condition,' Chopper was a Devil Fruit user too, giving the Straw Hats an unusual number.
Seeing a particularly beautiful lady standing to the side as she enjoyed the festivities, Thatch indulged his normal habit of ignoring that little warning voice at the back of his head and went to have some fun.
Smoothly he stepped up beside Nico Robin, resplendent in a sleek maroon gown that hugged her curves and left nothing to the imagination. How does she not get back pain, with breasts that big and no bra? He shot her a charming smile. "Looks like everyone's having a grand time."
She giggled and nodded. "Indeed. Our vacation was nice, but it's good to be back."
Right, vacation, Thatch thought sardonically.
The chef would never admit it, but Robin was one of the few people who made him wary.
According to underworld legend, she had been an assassin since she was eight, killing whoever she had been hired to, and always in a variety of ways so that there was never an M.O. to trace her. Only one person knew how many she had killed, and she never said a word about it. And frankly, Thatch –who had blood on his hands himself— figured ignorance would help him sleep better at night.
Pops had considered recruiting her himself, especially after confirming she killed potential clients who wanted her to murder children, but Luffy had gotten to her first. Initially they had been concerned she was using Luffy's brother's connections to reach Pops, but over the last two years it seemed she was genuinely and lethally loyal to her boss.
"Funny thing about your vacation," Thatch mused. "You guys go to Spain just about the same time we get word that Doflamingo," the crimelord of Spain, who had been the puppetmaster behind the last three heads of government, "was out to kill you all for some reason. Next thing we know, most of upper-class Madrid is on fire, Doflamingo's in jail and his accounts drained, that disgraced guy has been elected back into power, and there's pictures of the new president or prime minister or whatever's granddaughter being chummy with Luffy."
"Her name's Rebecca. A very sweet girl," Robin clarified with a smile. "And yes, it was pretty surprising. All that chaos and arson is what convinced us it was best to head back home."
"Uh huh." Thatch took another look around, thinking to entertain himself with asking Nami and Usopp their side of things. Their ability to craft lies and illusions was one of the principle reasons why the cops were unable to build a case against the Straw Hat gang. Thatch had seen Usopp earlier, and always enjoyed his yarns, but could not see him now. And Nami…was busy.
The master cat burglar was wearing a dress with a plunging cleavage and the face of a bimbo beside an important looking businessman, playing up her role as Luffy's Trophy Girl.
(If they ever got into a relationship, Thatch was confident Luffy would be Nami's Trophy Boy)
(There were lots of rumours about all of them in general, but he easily believed the rumours that said the real reason the Straw Hats never flashed around much cash except for food, materials they needed or Franky's car hobby, etc., was because Nami appropriated the majority of it, sanitized each and every bill from the touch of others, and then added it to an increasingly large pile mountain of money she swam in, to get the sparkling look she always had.)
"Nami's busy, and you don't have time to find Usopp," Robin broke in as if reading Thatch's thoughts.
"Oh?" he calmly asked. "And why's that."
"You don't want to be late for that meeting," she elaborated, looking more serious now. "Your father is in a bad mood already as it is. And not just about Ace."
"Oh?" Edward Thatch smirked, loving how people called that man his 'father.' The formal adoptions were almost always the happiest moments for each and every member of the mafia as they became a part of the gang. "What's Pops so upset about?" Robin always seemed to know.
"Kingdew found a particularly bad case," she delicately explained, and Thatch grimaced.
Kingdew, the dark-skinned, blonde-haired leader of the 11th Division, was ostensibly in charge of a company of private investigators. By sheer coincidence, they had a tendency to report crimes to the police that hurt the Whitebeard Mafia's competitors. The reason that the cops tolerated this was how all of the people Kingdew ratted out were those who had crossed the line. This included dealing in underage prostitution, child predators, giving drugs to kids (Rakuyo's people, who handled the Family's own drug distribution, were morbidly aware of the consequences if they did that), serial killers who did it for the rush (doing it for the paycheck was another story, they had guys like that on the payroll), etcetera. Many of the victims that were saved got the support they needed from the official system, but others became loyal new recruits. Many of the children rescued from this even grew up to become full Brothers and Sisters, taking the Edward name without caring just how their new Pops had gotten their ostensible parents to sign over guardianship.
"How bad?" Thatch sighed.
"Underage girls, kept in line by addiction to some particularly nasty drugs. They were found before the brain damage became permanent, but they're all in bad shape."
"Pops took care of them himself," Thatch stated, knowing where this was going.
"Yes."
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A few hours earlier
"Give me room," Edward Newgate smirked, as his Sons all obeyed, clearing a wide space between their Pop and the scum.
"It's very simple," the crimelord explained, as he slowly stripped off his jacked and shirt. "You kill me, you get to go free." With his chest free, the child slavers took in the sight of the impossibly muscular seventy-four year old man, and gulped.
"Take it or leave it," Marco drawled, helpfully throwing some long knives at their feet. "Otherwise we just gun you down."
The boldest one of them ducked down to grab a machete, but the old man was already in motion to kill them with his bare hands.
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Present
With another sigh as he rubbed his awesome hairdo, Thatch nodded, gave his thanks to Robin, and made his way out the door of his restaurant.
Waiting for him outside was his personal car: European, expensive, and armoured up like crazy. A bunch of Jozu's men were standing attentively beside clones of Thatch's vehicle. The 2nd Division handled all security matters, and it was their Leader who had proposed and enforced the practice of referring to all of their income sources by number. The theory being that instead of accidently blurting out about Vista's "casinos," you mentioned his "5th Division people."
As he drove, Thatch toyed with the idea on putting on some good, hard music, but decided to play it safe. No need to risk getting too distracted on a day like this. Especially since the cops would love to pull him over.
The entire Family would never let him hear the end of it.
With almost military precision, the convoy of cars made their way downtown, before coming up to a large building complex, surrounded by other tall, quiet, structures. At random, Thatch used his turn signal to indicate a particular garage, and drove down underground.
The headquarters of the Whitebeard gang was Blamenco's masterpiece. His 6th Division handled all things related to construction –with '6th Division' admittedly being a both simpler and cooler way to address them, as opposed to all the related jobs they did. Like Thatch's people they also made a lot of money doing perfectly legitimate and normal building jobs. A lot of their workers were not even a part of the mob.
(What? Their union was both supportive and secretly working for their employer at the same, and had a host of excellent benefits. Especially the maternity and parental leave.) :D
However, they also snuck in secret rooms and tunnels where necessary. Lots of times they boarded it up, let someone buy it to throw off suspicion, and then a few years later bought it under a dummy company when the cops were no longer paying attention. Commissions from wealthy and/or people with concerns about legal attention, or just enjoyed the thrill of their own secret tunnels, also brought in a healthy profit.
In this case however, all of the buildings around here (honestly, Thatch had never checked if it was over a block in radius or farther) were built, owned, and inhabited by the Family. Underground tunnels that connected them together, including the parking lot Thatch had just driven into.
It was probably in violation of some legal code, but the 4th Division Commander only bothered to keep track of food regulations.
Parking his ride before a group of heavily armed men, Thatch checked his reflection in his rearview mirror, ensuring his pompadour was flawless. His escort drove right on by, and Thatch stepped out of his car with a jaunty air.
"Hey Oars," Thatch cheerfully called, tossing his keys to one of the man's lackeys to take care the vehicle.
"Hey Thatch," the man happily replied. Oars Oarsson was clearly of Viking descent, thick, long hair and beard, and the most massive man Thatch had ever seen. The pump-action shotgun in his hand looked like a pistol.
Yet for all of that, Oars was as trustworthy as a non-Family could be. His own street gang was one of the various smaller crime groups that worked for Pops. In return for his protection, they did what he said; which was basically a list of crimes (murder without cause, human slavery, rape, etc.) they were forbidden to do. The cops seemed incapable of comprehending how appreciative the small(er)-time crimes bosses like Oars were of this relationship, since old Edward Newgate also gave careful advice and assistance to them that granted a genuine sense of independence to go along with their rising profits.
While they were not exactly his Sons or Daughters, Newgate still appreciated it when men and women like Oars called him 'Pops.'
Knowing the drill, Thatch held his arms to the sides while Oars' boys went through the practices routines of scanning him with their doo-dads, and some physical pat-downs too. His car was searched, while he and Oars traded a little gossip.
"Really!? When did this happen?" Thatch gasped.
"Just heard about it myself a few hours ago from the man himself," Oars grinned.
"Well it's about time Namur got himself a girl," Thatch smirked. "Who is it?"
"Esmirel. Works for Izo. Looks like she and Namur met on a joint op."
"Huh," Thatch grunted, obviously lost in thought.
Namur of the 8th Division handled all the human smuggling. Not human trafficking, his boys killed people like that, or let Kingdew handle it. That said, if you wanted to come to the US or Europe and have a new life, his people got you and your family there safe and healthy, with no 'extra charges' or 'incentives.' False identities, temporary accommodations, list of advice, and even references that potential employees could contact and be answered by a smooth talker with perfect English. It was surprisingly affordable…because grateful customers might be willing to do some 'favours' in return, or turn to you for work.
His teams also handled it if you needed to go into hiding and get across border, and again they made sure everything they would need was already set up before they arrived.
Unfortunately for Namur, as good as he was as his job, he was a big guy with a notable hunch. Even worse, some time in his past, someone had played a 'joke' by filing Namur's all of teeth until they were pointy like a shark's.
Said jokester was swimming with the fishes now.
Pops did not care if it had been years ago and before Namur had been adopted, you. Did. Not. Mess. With. His. Kids.
Still, Namur had never been too successful at the dating scene, and too proud to pay for a lady. Or guy. Curiel could have provided him with either. Or both.
Shaking off those thoughts, Thatch beamed. "Hope he's in for a night of ribbing!" He and Oars exchanged a laugh, and then he was declared by security to be clean, and made his way inside.
Three long hallways and two staircases later (Pops did not believe in elevators, and given how many people they had killed using them, the others were fine with that), he made it to one of the various change rooms.
"Hey Izo, how ya doin'?" he greeted.
"Oh, hi Thatch," Izo returned. The crossdresser had just put aside his expensive ladies kimono, and was being helped into his tight black suit, pants, and white shirt.
There were so many entry points to the complex, that there were also several places for the Division Commanders to get into their formal gear. Enough that it was actually rare for two or more to meet at the same time.
"You never answered me," Thatch cockily pointed out.
"Prat," responded the head of the 5th Division, responsible for weapons 'distribution.' "For your information, I'm doing fine, except for wearing this monkey suit." It really did clash with Izo's hair, given how it was up in an artistic style of buns. To say nothing of the lipstick.
A man and woman, both in their twenties, were helping Izo with his tie. Secure in his sexuality, Thatch could confidently label them each as 'hot,' as were the lovely ladies who were presently helping him get out of his own work clothes.
The four of them were all former hookers of Curiel's. Under the 10th Division, they would have had excellent medical, along with legendary threats of what happened to those who did not understand 'No means no.' Regrettably, the vast majority of those prostitutes Curiel oversaw were not full Brothers and Sisters—there were just too many. So the ones helping Thatch and Izo prepare themselves, were those going through the process to become full members of the Family, and probably work for another Division to boot.
Thatch filled in Izo about the newest gossip regarding Namur, who expressed his own surprise. The attendants gave their own two cents, even adding a few extra details, but already Thatch could see how the stories were growing. Come tomorrow, Namur would count himself lucky if the rumours only said he was dating two hot super-models who had a thing for hickies.
Finally, the two were resplendent in their black slacks and coats, with Thatch reflexively double-checking he had no food stains on his spotless white shirt, or shiny black shoes.
Pops was old school after all, and deserved the gesture of respect. Even Izo was willing to make an exception for him, without being asked.
That out of the way, the two of them set off for the gathering of the leaders of the world's most elite crime family.
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"—and then I'll break your ^&*)* # fingers!" roared Haruta. "See if I don't!"
Bemused, Izo and Thatch watched the leader of the 12th Division chew out someone on his cell phone. While Ace was the youngest Division Commander, Haruta looked the part. He seemed so young, that every time he went to a bar, he was asked for his ID, and the staff always looked at it as if trying to find any proof it was forged.
Still, he handled all electronic issues for the Family with flair, from hacking computers, fake identities for Namur and everyone else to use, to security devices.
"If you ever watch porn again while I'm paying you to do something else," Haruta went on, "I'll have someone from the 2nd Division pay you a visit! You think the rumours about their boss being a pyromaniac are made up!? Well I'll tell you, you #$%^&—"
At this point, Thatch and Izo just walked past their Brother to open up the door he had been standing in front of. Unspoken tradition held that the Division Commanders did not talk business with each other in the 'throne room.' They had more important things to do.
Atmos and Blenheim were having their regular arm wrestling match.
Kingdew was cooing at and scratching the belly of Rakuyo's pet pit-bull, Macey.
Fossa –whose 15th Division had turned Pops' old prohibition era booze operation into a legitimate and profitable enterprise, whose shipping concealed various illicit activities— was appropriately running the bar. Thatch and Izo went there first, slipping past Curiel and Vista who were arguing about the music selection that was blaring in the background.
On the way, they got a glimpse through the half-open doors to Pops' personal quarters, and saw Jiru was looking him over. Jiru's 14th Division surprisingly ran a series of small hospitals, ostensibly under different owners, which operated smoothly. The upper-class ones brought in some elite clients who wanted security, or made them unknowingly vulnerable when the Family 'wanted a word.' In the same vein, the lower-class hospitals were a convenient place for rival gang members to stop by in an emergency. This was all classified of course, with most of those supposedly 'in the know,' believing that Jiru was 'only' responsible for handling the Family's personal medical concerns, and various underworld clinics.
After his rumoured exertion in killing those scum earlier, Pops doubtlessly needed a quick check-up. Hence the delay, since everyone was already here
Blamenco was eagerly talking to Jozu about a movie he had just watched (something about guns, hot chicks, alternate dimensions, hot chicks, explosions, and, shocker, hot chicks), with the massively muscled man asking for clarification on some part.
Finally reaching the bar, Fossa promptly gave Thatch and Izo their usual choices, patted them both on their shoulders, lit his cigar, and left to challenge Atmos who had just beaten Blenheim.
Wordlessly, Izo and Thatch flanked Namur and his guest, Esmirel herself.
"Love the make-up, darling," Izo drawled.
"Hey boss," she cheerfully returned to the leader of the 5th Division.
"Nuh uh," Thatch lightly scolded. "You hear Haruta outside?" –it was hard not to, even with the music Curiel had chosen at last. "In here, no shop talk. Just fun."
"You mean like saying how silly some of you looking in those suits," Esmirel grinned. Then she gave Namur a simpering look, "Except you of course, baby." They all laughed with her at that, while Namur tried to give his date a look of horror before breaking down.
"So what're you two doing after the meeting?" Thatch asked.
"Depends on what happens, but we had dinner together already, and if there's time we'll catch a movie."
"Not the one Blamenco's spoiling, I hope," Izo smirked.
"Nah, it's my choice this time," Esmirel sadistically smiled.
"Whoops, watch out man," ribbed Thatch.
"Always," Namur grinned back.
"So," and now Esmirel looked a bit more serious, eyes becoming a little colder. "No warning from the big Brothers to treat Namur nice?"
They could all see the minefield there, which was emphasized by how amongst all of the leaders of the Family, who were all present now, none of them were women. There was a glass ceiling for advancement, and obviously someone would wonder if Esmirel was using Namur to try and further her ambitions.
Thatch decided to just cut to the chase. "Look I love Pops as much as you do," –and he knew she did, or she would not be here– "but yeah, he's a bit old fashioned regarding ladies." None of them were allowed to carry guns for crying out loud!
"Don't you worry though," Izo picked up, "we trust you, and we know Namur can take care of himself."
She blew out a long breath. "And if I was a problem, Marco would've taken care of me already." None of the three men in earshot disputed the obvious. "And when he takes over –hopefully in another fifty years!— maybe things'll change."
"Don't you worry," Namur gently said. "It will. Plus he's definitely going to be in charge!"
"Darn tootin'!" Thatch agreed, aiming to lower the tension further. "He knows that all of us will gang up on him and tie him down till he agrees!"
Then a shiver went down Thatch, Izo, and Namur's spine. Spinning around, the found the man in question leaning against the far corner. Wearing the same uniform as everyone else, what set him apart was the tuft of hair on his head like a pineapple, as well as a sharp pair of glasses he wore (no one knew if he actually needed them). The unimpressive man gave them all a lazy smile, and they nervously waved 'hello,' feeling like the baby siblings caught by their older brother with their hands in the cookie jar.
Marco, the leader of the 1st Division, was in charge of running the day-to-day affairs, and ensuring the smooth coordination between the Divisions. He was the one who made everything work, and as Pops got older and older, shouldered more of the burden of making sure everyone in the Mafia was hearty and hale. All of them.
Then Marco shot a meaningful glance at Pops room, and they knew from his angle he was looking at one of the wall mirrors to see that it was nearly time to start.
"Guess I'd better be going," Esmirel sighed again.
"Sorry, Dove," Namur apologized.
"Don't you dare apologize," she hissed, before pulling him in for a deep kiss. "You go do your job to support the Family." Then with an eye-catching roll of her hips, she sauntered out. A few seconds later, Haruta hurried in.
The fourteen men then made their way into Pops personal room, to find Jiru finishing up, and the last of their august assembly.
Sleeping.
Standing up.
(Yes, the whole deal, with his eyes closed and rhythmic snores).
All of them, from Edward Marco to Edward Fossa, carried the Family name. Anyone who joined up, was officially adopted. Ace however, was the sole exception, but only because Portgas was his mother's surname. Her fate was such a tearjerker, that no one could be upset that their resident pyromaniac of a brother did not have 'Edward' in his name.
They had first met the punk in an incident involving several of their Family accusing a bartender of beating them up without provocation. When Marco had personally dragged the hothead in, Ace had defiantly defended his actions, claiming they had gotten drunk and too full of themselves. In the end, they had believed him, and started wondering what the (secretly adopted) grandson of a legendary navy man was doing serving drinks and a bar.
(The answer was that Vice-Admiral Garp was a jerk when he learnt that Ace was not joining the military, he left all college debts for the young man to pay off).
One thing led to another, and Ace soared through their ranks.
The 2nd Division had originally been for enforcing the deliverance of protection money. Ace had re-geared it towards arson, usually to collect insurance, dispose of evidence, leave a hearty message, etc.
Once word got around that the guy now in charge of the collecting dues had a (deserved) reputation as having an unhealthy relationship with fire, there had been little trouble.
And that was without getting into how his Devil Fruit Power was that of a fire logia!
Right now however, he looked more like a joke.
Snoring in his wrinkled white shirt that has clearly been shoved on him, along with the coat. Tie askew. Some poor fool had likely been forced to get those stiff legs into those pants.
The helpful individual had also applied some face paint already, going for the traditional 'connect-the-dots' on the freckles. Even better, the crayon was sticking out of the back pocket of Ace's pants for someone else to use.
Then the doors to the room slammed shut, jerking Ace awake. Eyes wide in momentary confusion as he sputtered, he still quickly remembered where he was and what was happening. Face straightening into something more professional, he briskly stepped back to take his place between Marco and Jozu in the semi-circle, as they basked in the presence of the sitting figure before them.
The man who had forged their crime syndicate. Their Family.
Free of internal greed or jealousy. Self-sustaining. Able to be as close to moral and functional members of society as criminals of their caliber could be. An organization that almost seemed too perfect.
Whitebeard.
-0-0-0-
Edward Newgate gave a proud smile as he looked at his sons.
Each of them held wealth, power, and influence at their fingertips, and it meant nothing to them. Only the love of the men standing side by side with them, and the rest of their Brothers and Sisters.
It was enough to make an old man cry with joy.
Which of course is part of the problem, Whitebeard thought with regret, resplendent within his own black and white suit.
Of course, I've another issue to deal with first.
"Ace," he growled lightly, "do you remember what I asked you to take care of last night?"
To his credit, the little scamp seemed unconcerned at being pulled into the spotlight. He only shifted a little guiltily as he tried to remember what he had done wrong. "Uhm, you wanted me to burn down that restaurant Big Mom really likes. The one Streusen runs. Because you found out how she was trying to kill her daughters, Pudding, Praline, Lola, and Chiffon for leaving that wack job they call a mother." Indeed, all four young ladies had been found and relocated by the Straw Hat Gang.
"That's right," Whitebeard allowed, and now his other Sons were struggling to suppress their mirth. "And do you remember how I asked you to do it?"
"Uhm," and now Ace was starting to struggle. He just knew there was something he was forgetting, but could not remember the details.
"You were told to do it discretely," Marco answered. "Dis-cret-el-ly. As in, make it look like an accident."
Now it was starting to come back to Ace, just as Haruta pulled up the big-screen that made up most of one wall, and played a YouTube clip.
It displayed said restaurant burning, yes. Alas, someone had also very creatively arranged it so that near the top of the building, there was a picture artistically drawn –using actual fire and flammable liquids— of Charlotte Linlin in a…compromising position with several barn animals. Several such pictures in fact. Along with various curse words spelled out.
"Does that look like an accident, Ace?" Marco drawled.
Thatch whistled in appreciation. "Seven hundred thousand views and climbing."
"Oh yeah," Ace deadpanned as it all came back to him. "Me and the boys kinda got drunk before we headed out, and there may have been some strippers, and…yeah." He looked at the scene in appreciation for a few seconds. "It could've been an accident. A coincidence."
"Not even our pet lawyers could sell that," Marco flatly said.
Groaning, Ace slumped over. "Alright, you're right. I'm sorry Pops," and he genuinely sounded like it. They feared a disapproving look from their Father more than they feared a bullet or prison time.
(They would last a week in prison before they were broken out, even if an entire wall had to be torn down.)
"I'm afraid, that it's in Marco's hands," Whitebeard sorrowfully said, and they all paled at his words. Except Jiru, who looked like he was about to cry. "I'm getting too old, and it's time I started handing over even more to Marco to take care of."
The man in question appeared too horrified to answer.
"No, Pops, you can't mean it!" Ace gasped. The others started to join in, but Whitebeard raised an authoritative hand.
"I'm sorry," he rumbled. "That is life. I still have a few years left in me, but for the sake of the Family we have to start preparing ourselves."
The Division Commanders were exchanging wild glances at each other. Ace and Thatch exchanged a particular significant look, both men figuring that the only way to make this nightmare go away was some sort of distraction. Yet what could—
There was a blinding flash of light, and they all disappeared.
-0-0-0-
Captain Edward 'Whitebeard' Newgate of the Whitebeard Pirates, stood proud and tall upon his flagship the Moby Dick. The snot-nosed punk 'Straw Hat' Luffy was tearing an impressive swath through the marines as he fought his way out of the frozen bay, with his parentage just being revealed to boot.
Then a sudden flash of light shone over the battlefield, before condensing and lowering down upon the ice of the frozen bay, right where the fighting was the most concentrated. Both sides cleared a space, and then with another bright burst, seventeen figures appeared.
Whitebeard blinked in shock at the figures, all near-images of himself and his Division Commanders. In suits!
There were differences of course, for example they were all 'regular' sized, more akin for men of the Blue Seas; not a single one of them was over two meters tall. And again, they were all wearing frankly tacky suits! Totally unbecoming of pirates.
Oh, and Ace and Thatch were with them.
A living, breathing Thatch! With his pompadour as large as life.
And just when you think the Grand Line is done surprising you… the Emperor sighed.
-0-0-0-
If it wasn't for the fact that the movie Blamenco had just seen –and had been telling Jozu about so loudly that everyone else had caught bits of it—involved alternate universes, and thus alternate duplicates of the character, the gangsters would have been a bit more freaked out.
As it was, scanning with haki and their eyes took care of the basics.
And pinching themselves to make sure it was not a dream.
Although a nightmare would be more like it, given how they could see someone who looked distinctly like Ace, chained down to a scaffold with guards on either side of him. Guards with drawn weapons. Even from way over here, they looked pretty sharp.
Belatedly, Thatch nudged their own Ace, and gestured at his face. Grimacing, the 2nd Division Leader started to wipe off the face paint, eyes never leaving the version of himself who appeared to awaiting execution.
Still, Whitebeard had not lived to become an old mob boss by getting mixed up any old fight he saw going on.
More importantly, he and his Sons were unnerved by how they could feel the distinctive absence of Thatch's haki signature. While there were several possible explanations for this, the looks these…counterparts were giving their Thatch, were concerning. It was clear his Son was working to keep it in stride, despite being uncomfortable. For such a nosy man, he was being remarkable silent in finding his other self.
Putting on a cocky grin to show how unconcerned he was despite his surreal circumstances, he yelled up to the larger version of himself who was standing on the ginormous ship. For anyone else, it would appear arrogant, but as someone who was a near-duplicate of Edward Newgate, it was appropriate. "So am I to take it that you're some sort of big shot in this world? Causing trouble for this world's police."
PirateWhitebeard snorted dismissively. "Even better. I'm a Father. In fact, I'm rather busy right now from saving my Sons from these blasted marines. If you don't get in our way, we can always continue this conversation later."
The mobster gave an approving nod. "Good answer. And yes, we'll be making our way out of here. I don't see any reason why I or my Family should get involved." At least not yet. Now to just walk out of here like I know what I'm doing. Of course, the question is: which direction?
It was at that point that MafiaAce finished wiping off his face, and was recognized.
"Hey," a random marine suddenly cried out. "If that Portgas D. Ace is a duplicate of the pirate one, then he's got demon blood too! We have to kill him!"
"Marco," Godfather Newgate ordered without missing a beat.
Smoothly, Marco drew a pistol from his under his suit and fired.
"GAAAAAAAH! AW NO WHY AH NO AAAAGGH!"
Everyone flinched and winced at the sight of the marine rolling on the ground, clutching at his bloody groin, except for the criminal leaders and their eldest sons. Edward Marco was a cold one when protecting his family, while Marco the Phoenix appreciated the message.
MafiaAce was the only other one who made no reaction, staring at the marines with a foreboding glint.
"As I was saying," the smaller version of Whitebeard continued, ignoring the screams for mercy and help while he unlimbered his military-grade shotgun. "Would you mind letting me and boys engage in teaching these punks a few lessons on why you do not mess with our family?"
Grinning, Emperor Whitebeard nodded.
With his own maniacal look, the arsonist Ace began to advance upon the marines, who were backing away fearfully. "Got demon's blood you say?" he questioned, unsheathing the long knife he always carried at his side, "Last time I thought that about myself it ended in a suicide attempt and Marco punching me in the face. Hard. But I have no qualms showing you why I'm the Second Division Commander of the Whitebeard Mafia!"
He lit his other hand on fire and headed towards the marines menacingly. They had known this would be a dangerous battle before them, but now the nightmare of the Whitebeard Pirates had doubled. Even worse, now they had to face one who carried the foul blood of Gold Roger! Horrified, a marine captain whispered, "Monster!"
"Oh I'll show you a monster all right." Ace chuckled, eyeing the man dangerously, before shooting towards him, knife raised. "I'm going to show you all!"
The marine captain tried to protect himself by lifting his sword, but his attempt was futile as Ace circled behind him and grabbed the back of his head and slit his throat. "So, anyone else wish to tell me something?"
"And this is why I recommended therapy," Haruta deadpanned as he secured his I-Pad.
"Well, they are trying to killing him," Izo argued while pulling two immaculate pistols out from under his coat. "Besides, he's gotten better. Now it's only whenever anyone talks about his biological father. Kinda."
Whitebeard turned to his pirate counterpart. "I assume your Ace also causes quite the trouble then?"
"But of course!" his counterpart rumbled. "My Sons, help our...alternate dimension family members show the marines why you don't mess with us!"
With the roar they shook their weapons into the sky, ready for battle.
-0-0-0-
Taking a step back, Ace quickly started to disrobe.
Ace felt stares on him as he removed his dress shirt and folded it before laying it on the ground alongside his suit jacket. He looked around, "What are you looking at? I'm not a stripper!"
"Anymore." he heard Thatch cough out.
"That was a long time ago, so shut up. Also, this is my favorite suit! I don't want it to get ruined!"
"Ace, that's like your only suit, since you never buy them." Izou pointed out exasperatedly.
"Exactly! I'd have to actually go shopping for another one of these death traps if I ruin this one!" the fire user complained.
Then Kingdew ruined it for Ace by whistling. "Whooo! Take it all off!"
"Shut it!"
"Y'know Ace," Thatch cheerfully said as he got involved. "Even if they might like the strip show, I doubt these guys'll pay you like your former customers!"
"I will burn that ridiculous hairstyle of yours!"
"Philistine! You just don't want to admit how awesome it is!"
"What I want to know," PirateVista said as he twirled his mustache, "is about him working as a stripper. Ours does have a tendency to walk around shirtless after all."
-0-0-0-
Casually, Marco the Phoenix walked up to his twin who was still wearing his black suit and tie, with a white shirt. "What's with the glasses?" he curiously asked. He did need them sometimes himself, except his vision was still good enough to get by in battle for now. Besides, they were supposed to be the same person, right? Slouching in a way that contrasted how sharply dressed he was, the other man lightly fingered them. "I'm guessing it's part of how our world's different from yours. I can get by with haki without them, but I seriously need them." He gestured towards the resumed battle, with most of the rest of the Division Commanders already getting into it. Both Whitebeards were on the Moby Dick, conferring with each other. "Shall we?"
"After you," the pirate smiled.
With perfect synchronization, they made their way through the marines as if they were but wheat before the blade. "So what's this about striking a Brother?" PirateMarco calmly asked.
MafiaMarco just gave an annoyed grunt. "Ace was drunk and suicidal, so I punched him. Then lectured him about how much he really means to us. Only I'm allowed to do something like that to family. Got any problem with that?"
"No. You made the right call."
They continued in comfortable silence (while pounding on the Navy) for another minute, before PirateMarco's curiosity got the better of him again. "By the way, how old are you?"
"Oh, I'm in my forties. We thought at first that my Devil Fruit my slow down my age, but now we figure it's more that I just naturally look this young."
"So Devil Fruits really work different for you guys then?" clarified PirateMarco.
"Well, it is a really rare drug. The scientist who made it is dead, and they haven't been able to reverse-engineer it. Guess it's different here?"
"You could say that. For the record, I'm much older that forty. Older than Pops, really."
"Wow, that's weird."
"Less than you'd think."
Then Thatch stuck his head in. "Are you two going to start making out?" Laughing he took off before they could react.
Seeing the pale face of his pirate self, Marco the mobster put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "He's just goofing around, because he doesn't want to think about why he's not here. Or why you guys keep looking at him strangely."
-0-0-0-
"So," the pirate Izo, immaculate in his kimono said, "about that suit?"
The gangster counterpart held up a warding hand. "I only wear this for official meetings. Pops doesn't care what I wear the rest of the time, and even then probably wouldn't care if I showed up for the bigwig stuff wearing something as dashing as what you've got on. It's just that he's a little old fashioned, and I do it to show how much I appreciate him."
"Ah, fair enough. But after this we've got to compare beauty tips!"
"But of course!"
-0-0-0-
Both Namur's looked at each other.
The Fishman looked at what he would look like if he were human, while the human looked the image of himself if he were inhuman, as too many called him behind his back.
"Let's not talk about this," they said as one. Without another word, they turned to beating down marines. Much less complicated.
-0-0-0-
His expression carefully impassive so as to not panic his men, Fleet Admiral Sengoku assessed the situation.
Two Whitebeards meant that flipping the loyalties of one of Whitebeard's allies would never work.
The Pacifista were not yet in position. Worse there were now enough Division Commander-class pirates down there so that when the human weapons did show up, they could divert enough of their powerhouses to turn the Pacifistas into mulch, while still retaining their pre-Arrival momentum.
Aokiji and Kizaru were diligently maintain their cool, reassuring their subordinates. Only a few (and perfectly understandable) explanations of surprise and confusion slipping past their lips. Akainu however was snarling like a rabid dog as he beheld how Sin was multiplying, and imperiling Justice.
"Cut the video feed. Raise the Containment Wall," he sternly ordered. Silently, he offered his apologies to the thousands of courageous young marines who would be left trapped within the bay and the abattoir it was to become. This was war.
-0-0-0-
"Cowards," snarled Ace the arsonist, as looked down into the chaos below.
The Navy –he was still unsure whose navy they belonged too, except that was unimportant— had been in full retreat at first, with Ace and his Family and these duplicates carrying the day. Guys like Jozu or Marco were slightly yet noticeably not as monstrous as their pirate selves, but their weaponry was far more advanced, evening it out.
Then those uniformed scum raised this massive walls and started pouring in cannon-fire and lava to kill them all.
Even their own comrades.
Desperate to try and do something, Ace had taken to the sky like a firework to land atop the wall, to assess the situation.
Fortunately, it appeared the trap had never been designed to contain two Whitebeards.
Pops and not-quite-as-cool-as-Pops were hammering away at the buckling metal, but clearly needed more time. Or should it be Big Pop and Small Pop? No, focus. Alright then, he grinned manically, I guess I should whip up a distraction?
Leaning over the wall to the side with the enemy, he called out to them. "Hey losers!" Successfully, he grabbed the attention of all the men in white. Wow, they really are all men. Worse than with the gang even. At least Pops keeps it from becoming a total sausage-fest. That gave him another idea. "When we're done here," he called out, "I'm going to every island I can find, walk into every bar, and ask all the lovely ladies which of them wants to be the mother of the Pirate King's grandson! I'll swamp you with babies!"
The horror on their faces was delicious.
-0-0-0-
"And that right there is the downside of him getting over the worst of his daddy issues," MafiaVista drawled. "It's like he's unleashing all that repressed sexual frustration like he's going to die tomorrow."
-0-0-0-
"But first," Ace went on, drunk on the attention and messing with them, "I'm gonna wreck you all while listening to some sweet tunes!"
Then he dug out his music player, a gift from Franky. It was about the size of an I-Pod, but had twice the memory of anything else on the market, and was proven to be fireproof. Even better for right now, it could blare out music loud enough for the entire island to hear (proven after an unfortunate incident involving Luffy, and the original Pokémon theme song blaring across all of New York for twenty hours). Ignoring the sailor cops, he started to scroll through the list to find the perfect lyrics for this.
"Hey Ace," Edward Haruta yelled catching on to what his brother was planning. "Play 'Sons of Plunder'!"
"No," Vista smirked, "'Indestructible'!"
"Halestorm's 'Fire'!"
"'You're Going Down'!"
"'Headstrong'!"
"Sexy and I Know It!"
"Disney's 'A Pirate's Life'!"
The mobsters turned as one to stare at Namur, unbashful beside his shark-like counterpart. "C'mon, it'll mess with them like crazy."
Throwing his head back to laugh, Ace was sorely tempted to do so.
Then a single –and poorly aimed— bullet, shattered his music player.
Face perfectly composed, Ace looked down at a man holding a shaking rifle. "You shouldna done that."
Lips drawn back from his teeth in a snarl, Ace screamed as he leapt down, surrounded by hungry flames.
-0-0-0-
Ace's little stunt paid off, especially when both Marcos and a single Crocodile joined in. The Three Admirals and other marines were so busy trying to kill them all, that it gave those trapped in the bay the necessary breather they needed to regroup. Once the rest of Ace's Family, along with the Pirates, came through the gap made by both the guy who was supposed to be Oars –He'll get a kick out of that when he hears! Our Oars that is— and both Whitebeards, Ace finally caught up to him.
Luffy.
Monkey D. Luffy, the Straw Hat Pirate.
His little brother from another world.
Just as insane as his little brother at that, given how he had gone over the Wall before Ace had managed too. Utterly single-minded in accomplishing his mission of rescuing the other Ace.
"Hey!" Ace cheerfully said as he finally caught up, burning a dozen marines in one go.
"Hey," Luffy, calmly said, focused on the fight.
Blinking, Ace tried again. "So, you're a pirate, huh?"
"Yep," was the pirate's flat remark, rubbery limbs flailing away.
Now Ace was really confused. What? No 'Ace, when did you clone yourself?' Or 'Why didn't anyone ever tell me I had two brothers?', or something like that?
"Oy!" he snapped. "Is that all you've got to say to this!?"
Whipping his stretching leg around to knock over marines and spin in a circle, Luffy stopped to glare at MafiaAce.
It was rather intimidating for the latter, being on the other side of that for once.
"Look Not-Ace, I'm busy trying to save stupid Ace! I don't have time to talk, so focus on helping me or go away!"
Jaw dropping for a second, he regained his wits. "What do you mean 'Not-Ace'? I am Ace!"
"Oh?" Luffy ducked under a sword-stroke and decked a commodore in the jaw. "Were you there when we went hunting for wolves and bears for food? Did you pull me out of the crocodiles whenever they ate me? Are you the one I exchanged a drink of brotherhood with?"
All the eavesdroppers were a little stunned at this.
"Waaaait, what was that about crocodiles?" MafiaAce asked.
If they weren't criminals, Sengoku thought, I'd pity them for being raised by Garp.
He had known better than to leave Rocinante with Garp without another adult supervising!
"No?" Luffy went on, as if the copy of his precious older brother had not said anything. "In that case you aren't my brother, and you're Not-Ace! So keep fighting or get out of the way!"
With a single punch, Not-Ac—*cough* MafiaAce sent an inferno streaking forward that cleared a path to the Execution Scaffold. "Wow," he sheepishly said. "He sure told me off!"
He was starting to appreciate more why so many people back home were so willing to follow his own idiot little brother. It was not just because of all that burning charisma, but the simple yet piercing wisdom he possessed.
-0-0-0-
It had been a vicious battle, but the outcome was determined from the start.
Working alongside their duplicates, Marco and Jozu had flattened Aokiji and Kizaru. Both Whitebeards relished sending Akainu into a crevice that now cut off a part of the island.
The Warlords were either defecting (Hancock), beaten (Moriah and Kuma), or just walked away to get drunk (Hawkeye).
Together, Luffy and MafiaAce had tag-teamed Doflamingo, burning his strings and pounding him flat.
The best part was Luffy's finishing move combining Gears 2 and 3, dramatically roaring for all to hear that he would not be stopped here. He would be the Pirate King, and there was nothing anyone could do about it!
In the chaos however, they discovered that Sengoku had ordered Garp to arrange a massive strategic withdrawal. Realizing the day was lost, most of the marines had quietly retreated and taken sail.
"You will not pursue my men," Sengoku bargained, holding a knife to Ace's throat. "If you give your word, Fire Fist goes free." He pointedly said nothing about his own fate.
"Done," both Whitebeards agreed. Then, out of respect, they only punched him across the island.
"Ace!"
"Luffy!"
Every one of the hardened criminals stop to smile as the two brothers reunited, wrapped in a warm hug.
After a few minutes of this, 'Fire Fist' Ace walked over to his copy, who was trying to get his suit back on. "Thanks."
"No problem."
"Uhm," and now PirateAce looked awkward. "About that stuff you said…"
It took MafiaAce an instant to figure it out. "You mean accepting my heritage? Yeah, it wasn't easy, but," now he shot his fellow gangsters a warm look, "I've got a great Family. Not to mention a wonderful little brother." Putting a hand on PirateAce's shoulder, he finished, "And it looks like you've got that too."
They stared in silence, looking into each other's eyes, with MafiaKingdew and MafiaHaruta just about to yell something about the duo making out—
"DRAGON'S SON!"
Roaring, a bleeding Akainu erupted out of the ground in a torrent of lava, aiming straight for the one his fanaticism saw as both the greatest, and most vulnerable, threat.
Luffy's could only stare as Akainu's fist of magma came at him, and both Ace's knew they were too far away to make it in time.
"Black Vortex!"
Sakazuki's eyes widened like dinner plates as his normal human fist was stuck within the iron grasp of Edward Thatch, hand simmering with the colour of darkest night.
"Back off. He's going to be the Pirate King," Thatch growled, raised his pistol, and plugged a bullet each into the large target's that were the admiral's eyes.
Even his haki powerless against the power the Devil Fruit drug had granted Thatch, Akainu collapsed to the ground. Dead.
"…I'm naming my firstborn 'Thatch'," PirateAce said aloud.
The tension burned off as they all broke out laughing.
-0-0-0-
The wounded were being tended too (yes, even Oars), ships were free to make sail, and sentries were about for any final surprises.
The War of the Best was won, and the Best were the pirates and gangsters.
Ivankov and the Izo's were sharing beauty tips.
Hancock was creeping the men out with her flowery descriptions of Luffy.
Both Whitebeards were gently lecturing Squard on how blood did not matter.
The Namurs were taking a selfie together, with MafiaNamur telling about his girlfriend.
The Haruta's were comparing and contrasting Den Den Mushi versus I-Phones.
Everyone was a hair's breadth away from pulling out the booze to party
(Red Hair Shanks was offshore aboard the Red Force, trying to figure out why Hawkeye was stealing his liquor. Before the Emperor was going to let the swordsman get drunk, he was going to make him be more specific about Luffy being 'Okay,' darnit!)
Then the peace and tranquility were shattered.
"Hey, Not-Ace?" Luffy chirped out.
Sighing, the gangster just accepted it. "Yes?"
"Your nakama said something that confused me."
MafiaAce shrugged. "If my 'nakama' you mean my Family?"
"Obviously," Luffy said, clearly thinking 'Not-Ace' was being dense.
"Well what is it?"
"They said you were a 'str-i-pper.' What's that mean? Is it someone who prepares meat?"
Everyone stared at that innocent face, and had no idea where to even start. Or any desire to.
"Right!" MafiaAce declared with a strained voice. "Time to head back home!"
Obligingly, a sphere of white light appeared invitingly a few meters away.
Emperor Whitebeard looked at his smaller counterpart. "If that's what brought you here, you really should get through. The Grand Line is a strange place, and there's no telling how long that'll stay, or when it'll come back again."
Disappointed, the gangsters quickly assembled to enter the apparent gateway.
"Aw, but we could've had an awesome party," Luffy moaned. "And you never answered my question."
With a forced laugh, MafiaAce wave a hasty goodbye. "Sorry, but we've really got to get going. Who knows what's happening back home!" Then he gave a more genuine chuckle. "Besides, after all this I want to get back home to make sure my Luffy isn't up to something as crazy as you. I'm afraid if he's out of my sight for too long, he'll do something like burn the world down."
-0-0-0-
Mafia Universe
"But we were only gone for a few hours," shrieked Marco, his normal calm demeanor forgotten. His Father and Brothers gaping in disbelief beside him.
"Try six months," groused Squard, leader of the Whirl Spider Gang. "After Pops disappeared," giving a respectful nod towards the stunned older man, "there was a power vacuum, and we had to fill it fast before it got out of hand. Luffy seemed perfect for it." He stopped for a moment as he tried to rearrange his thoughts.
"And for a while it went perfectly, minus a couple of bumps, but then the government came after Nico Robin, wanting to arrest or kill her for something or other, and Luffy declared war on them." Squard distractedly scratched his head. "They thought he was bluffing of course, but it turns out that Franky made up a nuclear bomb a while back because Luffy asked if he could."
"Waaaaaaait," Jozu whimpered. "You mean that storage shed Franky rented from us? That big crate he put in it…?" The usually stoic man obviously wanted to be reassured that he was wrong.
"Yeah, that'd be the one," Squard sighed. "Anywho, one thing lead to another, and well…" he gestured at the scene of New York City.
It was something out of a post-apocalyptic movie or video game, the buildings mostly blackened and burnt out.
"The Straw Hats can be a taaaad possessive of each other," one of Squard's gangsters spoke up. They could hear in his tone that it was a topic the man did not like to think about too deeply.
"At any rate," Squard threw Ace a rueful grin as the man's chin continued to slowly drop, "as the older brother of Godfather Luffy, I wouldn't be too worried about America's new supreme overlord." He stopped in thought. "Huh, what would that make you? Goduncle?"
There were posters scattered about, coloured red, blue, black and white in the style of Barack Obama's presidential campaign posters. Depicted was a stern Luffy, glaring and pointing at the reader, the caption below reading: 'I Want Your Meat.'
The multiple interpretations –even if they knew his actual intentions— made it more than a little unnerving.
"But wait," Marco cried, grasping for straws that this was just some sort of epic prank. "Someone else would've stopped him once they saw what was happening here. What about Russia?"
"Yeeeeah," Squard rubbed the back of his head awkwardly again as he tried to figure out how to phrase this. "Do you perchance remember Luffy's friend, Traffy... I mean ...Trafalgar Law…?"
-0-0-0-
Author Notes:
Alright, it is safe to say that this story really got away from me :-P
Inspiration from "Burning Rubber" by Kitsune Foxfire.
Again, a round of applause to both rose7anne101 and silverwolf1249 for making this possible!
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Please review, and I will get back to you.