AN: Hey, everyone! It's gonna be the New Years, so Happy New Years! Also, a happy birthday to the main character of this story. : ) It's very timely that he deserves a chapter, don't you think? :))

Tropicall: Thanks for the foreign greetings! And yes, Killer is awesome. XD

I Michaela: Thanks for the review! What happened to Ace? Please read. XD

heavensentsky: Thanks! : )

nt'kit: Thanks for the review! XD Actually, I'd like to enter the burger joint that they're part-timing in. It'll have the best entertainment in town! : )

AlzeahXei: Thanks for the review! XD It's not that they're dense. Ace, from his side, has his suspicions, but Luffy just doesn't want him to know. XD Internet Privacy regarding to personal life and all. XD Ace just ends up respecting that.
Oh, and the computer mouse was at grabbing range since Luffy seems to be the type to plug it to his laptop's USB. Personally, I'd do the same. XD I don't like using the touch pad.
Our next destination: Wherever Ace is. XD

Voquo: HAHA, really? About my chapters and your hunger? Must be bad timing. XD Sorry. Thanks for the review! I hope to make your heart sing more. :))

WARNING: This chapter contains mentions of food. That means you, Voquo.

Second Venom ~ Portgas D. Ace

It's been three weeks ever since Dad took me out of the mob business—three agonizingly long weeks. It's also been one day ever since Dad granted me my "freedom." This liberation from my duties was supposed to be advantageous on my part, but, no—it wasn't. I found myself too attached to it, unable to let go of the matter, and let's be honest, it wasn't healthy for me. Each thought of the Krieg case was driving me crazy.

Dad didn't seem to be prioritizing his own safety. He was more concerned over mine. Sure, that's because I'd always end up being sent to the emergency room whenever Don Krieg's involved—and that must be the reason why he pulled me out of The Family in the first place—but was I really the target? Dad, who was no longer at his prime, was the one at risk, and it was Marco and the rest—myself included—with a sworn duty to protect our Boss and, in terms of the Newgate Family, our Father. After all, why aim for the prince when there was still the king?

If Don Krieg was just intending to use me as a bargaining tool—which I suspected that he would—he should know that I wasn't easy picking. Killing one of his assassins was proof of that—even if it did end with some near-fatal causality.

Despite all of my complaints, I had to be impartial and play Devil's Advocate. Dad lost Thatch, and when it all came down to it, he just wanted me to stay safe. This genuine act of love from a parent was my only justification for Dad's recent actions and decisions.

So, fine, out of overprotectiveness, he didn't want me involved, but did he have to be secretive, too? Sometimes, I wondered if he really trusted me.

Last night, R.P. King was taking a while. I sat behind my Mac, already done with my homework. He probably had his hands full at that moment, so with nothing else for me to do, I thought of watching some television to pass the time. If I was lucky, I could still catch a bit of 24 on Fox TV.

I surfed through the channels, but when I noticed the words "Breaking News" as the heading of channel twenty-three, Grand Line Central, I lowered my TV remote. There was a live take of policemen, ambulances, medics and firemen surrounding a building. Fallen debris littered the area, and smoke filled the environment. I knew that place.

It looked too familiar.

The female reporter—her name was Shakuyaku—was heard from the background. "This just in, we are looking at a rather disturbing scene at the Grand Line business street, Alabasta Avenue, where there has been a report of another bombing incident.

"On one floor of the Alubarna Convention Center, a bomb was planted inside one of the building's offices, and its explosion caused the entire level in question to be demolished. Twelve are confirmed dead. Many are wounded and are undergoing immediate treatment. Unharmed survivors are currently being evacuated from the building which is set to collapse at any moment. Grand Line Central reporters are retrieving more information on the story, obviously calling out sources and trying to find out more on what exactly happened—" I didn't stop to finish the broadcast. It became obvious, and two things scared me—one, Dad was supposed to be having his meeting there, and two, the explosion was outside Impel Down this time. It was as if the attacks were following us—it was following Dad.

I had no time to log off. R.P. King and the others could wait. Running out of my room, I slipped past all the household servants who shot curious glances at me. I ignored this, not wanting to stop for their questions. While grabbing my keys by the entrance of the basement and heading down the staircase, I called for one of the servants to open the gates. After that, I jumped into my car and kicked the engine on before stepping on the pedal. I began to drive, and while speeding past the gates of my mansion, I prayed in the back of my mind that Dad was alright.

When I arrived at the scene, to my relief, I met up with Dad who was with the rest of the evacuees standing behind the yellow police lines. Vista, who was temporarily filling in for Marco, was with him. Thankfully, both of them appeared unscathed.

"Dad, what happened?" I asked when I got out of my car.

"Ace, you're here?" he stared before shaking his head, "There was an explosion, my boy. Not to worry about me, of course. There are more severe casualties," Dad said, darkly eyeing the smoke that stemmed from one of the windows.

"An explosion? Is it—?" He stopped me mid sentence.

"It's just a blown-off fuse. I'll have to file a complaint about that first thing tomorrow morning," he answered as-a-matter-of-factly. He didn't answer the question I was about to raise—and he probably knew that. He was practically dodging the question. I was about to ask again, but one look from Vista told me not to try.

After that conversation, Dad suggested that we both head home. While I walked towards my car, Vista escorted Dad towards the car which he parked a fair distance away from the building. There was one thing that caught my attention, though, as we parted ways. One, Dad wasn't using his usual limousine this time. Also, from the corner of my eyes, I noticed Vista tucking away a handgun into his pocket. I didn't ask about that, either.

I followed their trail, but then as I continued to drive towards home, I ended up slowing down upon seeing someone looking out from his limousine window. He had a look of pure intimidation—cool and subtle yet it demanded both fear and respect. A large cigar was in between his purple lips—which was probably that color due to excessive smoking—and his black hair was sleek, swept all the way to the back. A grotesque looking scar was traced across his face, cut so deep that it had to be stitched. When I was passing by him, he looked at me directly. This sent a chill down my spine, and I turned away before picking up the speed of my car.

I knew this man, not personally but through Dad's business rivals who'd talk about him. Apparently, he was in charge of helping the smaller businesses that were established in Grand Line City. He was very much against Dad's business empire and his influential monopoly in the market. Also, he was one of Dad's infamous critiques.

I never found any liking to him, and my point was proven the morning after. He didn't need to do much in order for me to actually loathe him.

Breakfast started smoothly enough. All the food was already served in front of me, and all I had to do was just pick the dishes I liked. From his seat, Dad was preoccupied with the morning newspaper.

"Morning, Dad," I greeted, taking my seat.

"Good morning, Ace. Eat up now. You can't be late for school," Dad replied while turning a page. I nodded while picking on a few slices of bacon, a drop of egg and some toast. Chewing on this, I eyed the television screen which was on the news channel. They were giving a more detailed report of the events that took place last night.

Dad lied to me. There really was a bomb, a very small one. The explosion wasn't the only thing that occurred, though. According to one of the building's security officials, a group of men trespassed the building and took some civilians as hostages while raiding it. Phone lines were cut which was why they couldn't contact the force sooner. When the raid was finished, they made their escape, and shortly after, the bomb blew up the floor. It was unknown what they were trying to get, but witnesses mentioned that they escaped, empty handed. My eyes narrowed while listening to this. Apparently, the culprits were looking for something—or someone, I mentally added.

Also, just the other night, there was a major highway chase. Reports said that it happened on a bridge, going towards the airport. I had a gut feeling on what took place there and who was involved. I just hoped that Sanji was alright.

After this part of the news, I saw him again, surrounded by the press this time. I paused from my meal to watch this man close.

His name—as they called him—was "Crocodile."

"There is clearly a direct link between recent events and Newgate's company. For years, the name "Newgate" alone has attracted too much attention for our city, most of it unneeded. Newgate has directly denied any connection to the matter, but has not come clean on any of the accusations. We were supposedly told that we'd be safe since Newgate invested in firearms and defense, but for someone so shady, how can we trust a man like him to protect us? He's putting us all at risk again," he commented, not only to the reporters, but to the rest of Grand Line.

"But, Sir Crocodile, you have to agree that his actions have kept the city safe," one reporter cited.

Crocodile waved that argument aside. "I won't deny that, but I question how he does it. A snake that protects a rat from another snake isn't that great. Sometimes, I feel that he just wants everything for himself."

I stared at this, mixed feelings of anger, disgust, and some shame welling up. Fucking bastard.

I looked at Dad. He was just reading the newspaper as if he heard nothing. He then proceeded to break a muffin piece and butter it before eating, completely unaffected by the verbal assault. Unbelievable.

I slammed my hands on the table, rising from my seat. How could he pretend like that?

Dad blinked with that "know-nothing" face, folding the newspaper before setting it aside. "Yes, Ace?"

"Didn't you hear what that bastard said about you this time?" I yelled, not even minding my own language in front of him, "Aren't you the least bit angered?"

"It's merely propaganda and personal attacks, my boy," he explained lightly. The way he placed it, I felt like a six year old once again. "If I retaliate, I'll simply give him what he wants."

I opened my mouth and then closed it after, speechless. Dad should be the one taken aback, not me.

"Ace," he continued, "don't you trust me?" He's asking me that. How ironic. If I threw that question right back at him, would he be honest enough with me?

I clenched my fists, head bowed down before lowering to my seat. I ended up resigning myself to just nodding a silent "yes."

Dad seemed pleased. "Well, then! Eat your breakfast now. Hurry up or you'll be late for your first period."

"Yes, Dad," I mumbled while chewing. The rest of the morning followed the same routine, and as Dad and I parted ways, I couldn't help but feel even more frustrated.

I groaned, scratching my head. Wait, why did I even feel this way? I joined the mob to find Luffy, and now I found him—no thanks to my actual nightly occupations. Stuffy Buggy did the job for me, so I didn't need to think about this anymore, but why did I still feel the need to get answers? Why did I want to see the ending of all of this?

"Oi, what's wrong with you?" My head met something hard and sturdy.

"Ow!" I rubbed my head, snapping myself from my own thoughts.

Zoro sighed, placing his kendou stick against his shoulder. "You're too quiet today. It's pissing me off."

"Really?" I grinned sheepishly, "I think your just using me as a target since a certain someone's not her—ow!"

Zoro's temple was throbbing. "Urusai," he said, telling me to shut up. I kept my grin anyway, hands on the air.

Zoro and I were on our own today. Sanji was "sick"—at least, to Zoro's knowledge—and Robin had other things to work on. Because I felt like having a good walk today, I didn't take my car. I guessed that Zoro felt the same, considering he wasn't using his bike. How he got to school on time without it was anyone's guess.

"So, it's just the two of us," I shrugged, going through the sidewalk and passing by the usual city views, "What should we do today?"

"Dunno," Zoro tilted his head up, "The movies are crap this week." We were approaching the cross-over. Across us, the pedestrian lamp was flashing red. A lane of cars was sweeping by.

"Guess we can scratch that. Why don't we grab some food? I'm starving," I suggested.

Zoro crossed his arms, eyeing me crossly. "We're not pulling another eat-and-run stunt, are we?"

I laughed, pulling out some coupons. "Don't worry. I got these for some free ramen or sushi. Take your pick!"

"Ramen sounds good," Zoro said as the pedestrian light turned green, and we began to cross the road.

"Great! I'm up for some pork miso," I said.

"I'll probably get some shoyu—shit!"

A black limousine almost ran into us—into Zoro, actually. We both jumped back, and then it came to a stop before blowing its horn.

"Teme!" Zoro yelled, slamming his fist against the front. Again, the driver probably tried to make him road kill as the engine roared and the limousine advanced. He jumped back again, and this time, I had to stop Zoro from breaking the windows with his kendou stick. Nervously, I looked around us. People were starting to gather.

"Let go of me, dammit!" Zoro tried to swing me off, but I firmly kept my grip. Where was Sanji when I needed him? Oh yeah—Barcelona.

"Zoro, killing him won't help!" I pointed.

"I won't kill him! I'll just kick his ass!" He continued to struggle until the door swung open, and the driver emerged. We froze, able to see who it was.

He was tall, bulky, had broad shoulders and looked tougher than the bouncer of the hardest bar to get into. His tan and muscular frame was hidden under a black suit, and his eyes—either big or small, black or colored—was hidden behind a dark pair of shades. The only details I had for his head was his hard jaw, his balding grey hair, a large scar on the side of his head and a large pair of lips that were pursed in a line of vexation. If I could describe the expression he sent us, it was as if he saw a pair of mosquitoes.

"Oi, motherfucker!" Zoro spat at him, "Can't you see that we're supposed to cross the goddamn road?"

The driver didn't mind. He slid down his long sleeves while approaching us. I blinked. For some reason, he was staring at me. Next, he turned to check if the limousine sustained any type of damage. Seeing none, he got back inside and drove slowly forward until we were face to face with the passenger window.

The window slid down while a low voice said, "Get in." I stared at the passenger we were facing. It was Crocodile.

"Who, us?" Zoro asked, but Crocodile threw a menacing glare at him.

"I wasn't referring to you, vermin. Now, get out of my sight before I decide to sue you for an attempt on property damage," he hissed.

"What the fuck? I'd sue you for trying to run us over!" Zoro was about to open the door and grab him, but I held him back. I gazed at Crocodile, and one look from him told me that he wasn't going to take "no" for an answer. Added to that, we were starting to cause traffic.

"Zoro, sorry, but we'll have to cancel for today. I'll give you a call later, so we could plan for tomorrow, alright? Hopefully, Robin's free to join us, too," I pledged.

Zoro eyes narrowed, switching between me and Crocodile. "Watch out for this guy," he warned through a whisper. He probably felt the same negative vibes that I felt.

I nodded before getting inside the limousine, sitting myself next to Crocodile. "One more thing," I said to Zoro, "Can you do me a favor? If you spot Luffy, can you see what he's up to?"

"Sure." Zoro nodded, arms crossed again. I felt bad for him, really. He was completely on his own today.

We left Zoro after I entered the car and closed the door. I looked at Crocodile who seemed preoccupied with the view outside. I didn't feel comfortable next to him at all, even if I was sitting on velvet cushions.

"Do you drink?" Crocodile pointed towards a cooler in front of us. Ice cubes and bottles of wine filled it to the rim. Carefully contained next to that were clean pieces of glassware.

"No, thank you." I didn't forget my manners, of course. I wouldn't give Crocodile the satisfaction of pointing out my shortcomings that easily.

"Hm." Crocodile didn't take a glass, either. I had to suppress the suspicion that the wine was drugged.

"How's your father?" Crocodile asked almost idly.

"He's fine," I said while hiding the resent under my tone. Wouldn't he like to know how Dad was?

"How's school? I heard you're a smart kid." Was that supposed to be flattering? I wasn't falling for it.

"School's a challenge," I said in all modesty. Coming from Dad's example, I realized why it was best to hide your gloats—no one wanted to know exactly how powerful you were.

"Hm." If he was trying to bring up a conversation, he wasn't good at it. He brought himself to signing his papers. "Daz, cancel my next appointment with Baroque Works. I'm afraid something came up."

"Yes, sir," his driver, Daz, replied as he handled the steering. Crocodile then made a few answers to some phone calls, and I was left to sit quietly, anxious to arrive home. Examining the road outside, I could tell that—to my relief—that was where we were heading.

From time to time, I eyed Crocodile who seemed occupied with something business-related, but at the fifth chance, he caught me. "Do you want to know why I'm bringing you home?" he asked. It was like he read my mind somehow. I nodded, and he explained, "I was surprised to see you walk by. I thought Newgate would pamper his precious little heir with a personal butler and a private vehicle, but I suppose that wasn't the case. At a time like this, even. It'll be a waste if you die at the streets today because of irresponsible parenting."

He was referring to the recent events, wasn't he? "You don't seem to like him, so why are you doing him a favor?" I gritted my teeth.

Every word coming from his mouth was a stab of insult. "In front of me is the future of the infamous Whitebeard Corporations. It would be interesting for me to see an adopted street trash like you take over." I never liked Crocodile from a distance, but personally, I hated him. He made it come out as if I wasn't capable of filling in on Dad's shoes.

I wanted to avoid this topic, so I chose the first topic that came into my mind. "I saw you in the news this morning," I mentioned sourly.

"And, what about it?" he asked lackadaisically.

"Some of the things you mentioned were uncalled for. That was a slander on Dad's image," I argued, but Crocodile had an amused smirk on his face.

"Slander? Slander, you say, boy?" he let out a harsh laugh, "It isn't slander. It's the truth. All the recent events that have been happening—they're all connected. Don't think I don't know your father's little secret, Portgas D. Ace, heir of the Newgate Family." I felt another cold chill. He knew?

I said nothing. I didn't know what to say. When all he earned was silence, he continued, "I've met the other one—Thatch, I remember him very well."

"What about him?" I didn't like where this was going.

"You're both similar, somewhat. Young, energetic, selfless, aware and full of these ideals—talented even. Pity, though," Crocodile described while reaching out to pour himself a glass of wine, "You two may have equal capabilities, but unlike him, you could never be seen as a real son. Newgate—no—Portgas D. Ace, the truth is that you're nothing more than a mere replacement for poor and deceased Thatch."

"You're wrong!" I immediately blurted out, all my defenses suddenly rising.

This time, Crocodile was laughing, drinking his wine and appearing entertained. "Don't deny it, boy. Deep down in your heart, you know that's true."

"Shut it," I groaned, looking away. I didn't care about how I was in front of him anymore.

"And so, this makes you a dispensable little puppet for Newgate—one for Krieg to tear apart, piece by piece."

"Shut up!" I remembered that time at the hospital—that time when Dad did say I was dispensable. Somehow, I no longer heard Crocodile's voice. I heard Dad's.

"Do you know what this mean? I suppose you don't—or you just deny it. Well, then—what do you know about your 'father,' and his past?"

"Why would I tell you that?" I broke out, "You'll probably use whatever information I'll feed you with to sabotage his name in one of your next speeches!"

"Huh, silly brat. I don't need information. As you can tell, I already know. I just want to see if you honestly know. Then again, puppets aren't meant to know things."

I didn't say a thing because the truth was that he was right. I didn't know, and that was what he expected from me, the puppet—Nothing.

"You think you have all the answers," he sneered, "And you even think that you can find them, but really, you have no idea. Be prepared for what's to come ahead, boy. It's a scary world out there."

"Why're you telling me this?" I glared at him.

"You're a sorry sight to look at," he leaned back on his chair, "The look on your face tells me that you're a confused child. What? Daddy didn't tell you a few bedtime stories about himself?" If I wasn't angry, I felt both agitated and mortified. How could a complete stranger know the father a lot more than the son would?

It was silent for the remainder of the trip. I had no more arguments or comebacks. I just felt like punching him. It wasn't because I was insulted. It wasn't because Dad was insulted, either. Deep down—and I hated to admit it—some of the things he said had some truth. Crocodile had no right to go that far. Who was he to tell me who I was or how I really felt? Who was he to tell me all these? Who was he to make me feel this way?

"Sir, we're at Newgate Manor."

"Thank you, Daz," Crocodile turned to me, "Well, this is your home, right?"

I kept my sullen glare at him while silently getting out of the car. I slammed the car door shut, hoping the impact was enough for it to fall off its hinges. Then, I approached the mansion gate, but behind me, I heard the window roll down.

"Take this," he handed me his business card, "Keep in mind what we talked about, boy."

I took this card and watched the limousine leave, not caring if the crisped paper edges gave me cuts as I crushed it with my palm.

I entered home, the heavy feeling on my chest still remaining. The first person I came across at the hallway was Marco. He seemed to have recovered well. "You're home early," he commented. I guessed that it's because it's a Friday, and today, I'd usually come home late after hanging out with my friends.

"I'm sort of tired at the moment," I sighed while heading towards my room. Marco followed suit and watched me collapse on my bed. I threw aside the crumpled card which was now trash.

"Tea time is in five minutes, "he said while picking this up, "Would you like some truffles on the side? Your Uncle Jinbei sent them to you all the way from Europe," he offered in his "butler" accent.

"I'll just skip tea today, Marco. Sorry," I sighed, closing my eyes while setting my head on a pillow, "Wake me up if anything comes up, alright? Thanks."

"Of course." Marco nodded. I eyed him as he was about to leave, but I couldn't help but stop him.

I needed his take on it. "Marco, people who'd dictate who you are—are they always right?"

At first, he looked at me with a raised eyebrow, but like always, he knew what I meant. "The case depends. Some are right, some are wrong."

"Really?" I mumbled inaudibly.

Marco seemed to have caught that, though, which was why he said, "You're your own person. You're what you make of yourself. No one—not even the most powerful person in the world—can rob that freedom from you. As cliché as this sounds—it's just a matter of you believing in yourself."

Believing in myself, huh? "Thanks, Marco." I sighed before finally closing my eyes. I felt so exhausted—physically and mentally.

"You're smart, Ace," Marco said while opening my door, "You'll be able to figure things out." With those last words, he finally left me, but even if I felt a little comforted, I knew that his advice was easier said than easier done. You'd agree to that, wouldn't you?

I groaned again, rolling over to my side. I had my head buried underneath a few pillows. I was in a mess. I mean—I would believe in myself if I could, but which part of me could I embrace?

The heir of the Newgate Family or the dispensable substitute?

~*~ Omake ~*~

Juzo: Oh, there you are. I gotta tell you something, but is Ace okay?

Marco: I think so. He seems to be bothered, though. Can't figure out what it is.

Juzo: Does it involve typical teen angst?

Marco: … You could say that. He didn't even want afternoon tea.

Juzo: Don't be so hard on Ace, Marco. We all went through that phase.

Marco: He's been preoccupied with a lot of things if you ask me.

Juzo: I can tell… I wanna talk about that more, actually. I know Ace isn't having his tea, but you think we could have some of the truffles he's not eating?

Marco: I… I guess.

-one hour later, over tea and truffles-

Juzo: …And, that's pretty much how I see it with Ace, really.

Marco: Wow, Juzo. I admit that you're not the smartest guy in the office, but when you focus on something, you really have something to say.

Juzo: I thought it was, too. Thanks for your time, Marco, and the compliment about me keeping focused, too.

Marco: Not at all. I'll go check on Ace now.

Juzo: Okay, then… Oh, by the way, about that thing I wanted to tell you a while ago. Some person was at the door, looking for Ace. Said he was a tutor for the SAT, I think.

Marco: …WHAT? You mean his tutor's been waiting for an hour while we were shooting the shit? On a Friday, too?

Juzo: I think so. Well, he was actually here pretty early, so it was more like two hours. I guess Ace forgot that he had a reschedule. Well, I gotta go see the Boss. –leaves-

Marco: … I take back everything I just said about him being focused.

AN: -lowers down cup of tea- ... All I can say is this—Croc-awesome.

I'm terrible to Ace. XD His birthday's coming up, and all I did was stick Croc-o-Troll on him. XD Good thing Marco's there for support. I'm proud to say that I'm very pleased with my portrayal of him. Tea and truffles, anyone? XD Until the next chapter!