AN: OMG GUYS! I'm NOT DEAD. :D Sorry, it's just that school's kept me busy. I know all of you would relate to this somehow, yeah? :)) Well, anyway, it's 3 AM from where I am, but because I love you guys and I didn't want to keep you waiting any longer, here is my MEGA LONG CHAPTER to make up for a three month absence. Just remember that I always think of all of you while writing my chapters. :) Yay. :)

So, who's curious to find out what happened to Ace? :)) This is why I decided to give to make ANOTHER Ace chapter! :)

Enjoy!


Fourth Piquant ~ Portgas D. Ace

"You might want to come quietly, Portgas," the timid voice of the doctor behind me turned deep and harsh, "The Boss wouldn't want a scratch on your pretty little head."

I glared sullenly, my teeth gritting. "Where's Luffy?" He better not touch him.

He laughed mirthlessly, further prodding my head with the barrel. "You can start cooperating first, and then I'll tell you."

"Hurt him," I muttered under my breath, "—and you'll regret it." He continued to sneer from behind.

My glare deepened before I closed my eyes. Even if Marco were to rush in now, what could he do to fix the situation? They had Luffy. Slowly, I raised both my hands in open surrender.

This was it, huh?

I could hear soft, beeping sounds. I couldn't turn my head to look, but intuition, mixed with a bit of instinct, hinted to me that he was dialing a number. Apprehension caused me to be rooted on the spot, and I bit my lip with the feeling of pure dread as he began his phone call.

Sanji's email was the first thing that came to my mind.

It was some sort of laboratory, and there was someone contained in a glass tube, complete with the wires and all that creepy shit you'd hear from those mad scientist movies.

I dared to picture myself in that lab—connected to all these machines and wires for Krieg's twisted purposes. I'd be trapped inside a glass tube, maybe with an oxygen mask over my mouth. Needles would pierce my bare skin, penetrating my very nerves so that the incoming toxins could easily fume down my system. A weak pulse from a nearby heart monitor would suggest my pale, comatose state while scientists would study me like I was some lab rat.

I couldn't help but cringe.

He could be using heirs as test subjects, and this also means that the both of us are in deep shit.

Sanji's the Blackleg Family's heir. He was in danger, too.

From behind me, my captor spoke in a different language. "Lui è con me," I managed to pick up from his deep and heavy accent, "Vieni qui già." After those words, I could barely catch the rest.

Was it Spanish or Italian? I really couldn't tell the difference, but right now, that didn't matter. I thought of the possible context of his words and my current disposition—that unless I could find a way out of this mess, I was as good as dead.

After a while, he reverted back to English. "The Boss was nice enough to provide you some escorts. They're already on the way for you," I said nothing in return, and probably out of mild irritation, he just gave me another threatening jab on the back of my head, "I'm going to put the gun down while we're heading out, Portgas. You better not run or I swear—Luffy won't like it."

This was what I was afraid of.

I gritted my teeth. "What're you doing to him?" The thought of Luffy getting hurt on my account sickened me with both anger and anxiety—so much that I wanted nothing more than to find my brother and then personally rip off the head of any Krieg Family bastard who'd so much as pull a single strand of his hair. Gruesome visualizations of this plot brewed in the back of my mind.

"I don't know," he laughed, "Can't say what the others are doing to him. Tying him up, making him cry for his mommy, a bit of torture here and there. If he's a good lay, he'll probably be worth a couple of Euros at some male whorehouse—"

I will kill you.

"He'd be lucky if he's just left unconscious, Portgas, so remember—anything that happens to him depends on you and how much—" He abruptly stopped mid-sentence. I remained silent, not affording to provoke the situation in fear that any retort could compromise Luffy's safety. Beyond my capture—beyond the fact that I'd be some test subject for the enemy—that single possibility was the last thing I wanted to happen.

A thick splat could be heard, and for some reason, something moist and sticky with a sugary, sweet smell dripped onto my right shoulder. Blinking in surprise, I collected a bit of this and tasted the appealing frost. Cream cheese?

"Sorry. Tiramisu's not part of the menu," the familiar voice of a certain someone mumbled, causing my lips to form an amused yet relieved sort of grin. My interim anxiety vanished at this point, and I felt a certain flame—fueled by both my inner determination and rage—burn from within. Its message was clear, telling me one thing—

This was my chance.

I spun around, knocking the gun out of the imposter's hand before swiftly giving him a strong punch to the gut. He was completely caught off guard, flailing towards the corner with cream cheese and red cake bits coating his face. Ungracefully, he landed on the floor, his back against the wall and no longer the one in control.

I almost snorted at the highly comical display, walking over to pick up the discarded gun. "That was really good Red Velvet, you know." I glanced at Marco who tossed aside the now empty cake box.

"I'm more of a Chocolate Decadent fan. Here's your credit card, by the way." He handed it to me, and I stuffed it into my pocket. We could hear the sounds of approaching footsteps from the hallway, gradually growing louder by the second. "Expecting some company?" he asked, turning towards the door while withdrawing his own gun. It had a silencer.

"Krieg personally wanted to make sure that I was well-escorted," I eyed him with a playfully coy type of smile, "Guess he didn't know that you're already the best man for the job." Choosing silence over rhetoric sarcasm, I guess, Marco just rolled his eyes, his face as impassive as usual. Just as this was said, three of Krieg's men entered the room. Marco and I had our firearms raised.

Three shots. That was all it took.

Crimson fluids that smelled of copper gushed out from either their heads or chests as they slumped onto the floor with a sickening thud, dead. An ocean of blood crept beneath the soles of our shoes. Upon closer inspection, I noticed a look of shock from one of their pale faces. Was he surprised by the unexpected turn of events?

I realized that I was lucky—the gun that I held had a silencer, too. Given that this floor was mostly deserted, this meant that the rest of the hospital was most likely deaf to the sounds of murder. A possible witness to this scene was the least of my worries. Shrugging this idea aside, I turned to the fake doctor.

"You were saying?" I asked, redirecting my aim towards him. His face grew pallid, knowing that the tables have definitely turned.

"Don't be too full of yourself, Portgas," he began to taunt despite his slightly shaking movements, "You're still some pretty boy in a high school uniform waving a fancy toy."

My grip on the handle grew tight.

He bore a smug look. "You're just a scared and whiny kid," he continued to bluff in his distinguished accent, "Only acting tough whenever your butler or your papà is around." I loosened my hold before advancing towards the imposter.

"You're pretty big yourself," I said before kneeling down and grabbing him by his collar. He gave me a spit on the face, and for this, I smacked him on the head with the gun, leaving a small bruise and producing a small groan from him.

"For your information," I placed the barrel against his forehead this time, "I'm not just some high school kid. I'm worth a hell lot more than you."

"Poco bastardo," he mumbled. I didn't need a direct translation for that.

I hit him on the same spot, the bruise turning to an even darker patch of blue. "I'm the heir of the Newgate Family, you son of a bitch—the heir of the same family that your so-called 'Boss' hid from for the past thirteen years," I said darkly, grabbing him by a fistful of his hair, "And, guess what? He comes back with this suck-ass plan to capture me. You know what that means?" I asked, lightly tapping his head with the gun barrel.

I paused in my words, and luckily for him, he was smart enough to feebly answer, "N-No."

"Two things—" I said, my tone keeping constant, "Either I'm of value to him or I'm a threat, so you better know your place because you don't realize how useless you are to me. Since I probably have a few more escorts waiting for me downstairs, I can just kill you off here and ask them a few simple questions instead, right?

"Y-You wouldn't," he stammered, his former bravado seeming to have worn off, "N-Nessun modo—you wouldn't do that. H-How old are you? Se-Seventeen? Eighteen?"

"Bitch, age really doesn't matter to me," a cruel smile traced between my lips, "I've been killing people since age ten."

He whimpered before finally keeping quiet. Still smirking victoriously, I asked, "You have a name?"

"They call me Pearl," he replied.

"Alright, Pearl—I'll ask again," I said without lifting the gun, "Where's Luffy and what are you doing to him?"

"L-Look, kid," he stuttered nervously, "I-I—" he paused and gulped down his words before answering, "No—N-Non so! I don't know!"

"'I don't know'?" I half raised, "What do you mean 'I don't know'?"

He was beginning to sweat profusely. "I-I—I lied to you! I lied to you—s-so you wouldn't have a cho-choice!" he admitted out of hysteria, his eyes bulging from their sockets.

I stared, eyes widening before lowering the gun and slamming his head against the wall in frustration. "So, whereishe?" I grinded his head roughly against the surface, screaming, "Did you even see him?"

"N-NO!" Pearl screamed, "NO,PORCO DIO!" I halted my actions, throwing him a piercing look. He was trembling furiously, panting as fear was written all over his face. "Ju-Just the nurse—o-over there—" he pointed at the still corpse of the poor nurse that remained next to Luffy's bed, "I-I had to shut her up—she—she was looking for tha-that—Luffy—then she saw me—she knew I-I was an—an i-imposter."

So, Luffy wasn't kidnapped.

I continued to stare before silently standing up.

He's still safe.

Pearl never took his eyes off me, but a sense of relief was shown as I stepped back—only to be replaced by horror when Marco raised his gun. Without warning, he shot him.

"P-PORCO DIO," he shrieked in agony, clutching his now bleeding leg, "CHE CAZZO VUOI, MONELLO?"

"That's for lying, bitch," I muttered grimly in response, smirking even more before stomping on his wound with one leg.

The sudden shock caused Pearl to convulse violently, and he kicked and screamed, clawing my leg to pry it off. From the corner of my eyes, I noticed Marco quickly grabbing a washcloth from a side table to the right of the bed. Taking initiative, he crumpled this hurriedly before stuffing it into Pearl's mouth, muffling his screams and causing him to slightly choke.

"And next time you do that again," I applied even more pressure, hearing his stifled cries turn even more desperate, "We won't miss." I finally lifted my leg, noticing blood ooze out from my captor-turned-captive. Pearl pulled out the gag from his mouth, coughing and wheezing out a long string of Italian curses.

I crossed my arms, my eyes narrowing. "The truth and nothing but the truth?"

"Po-Poco bambino—" he managed to say in a hoarse and raspy breath, "—Y-You're psy-psychotic."

"Compliment taken," I said before giving him an additional kick to the offended leg and then asking, "We know you're capturing heirs of different families. It's for some experiment, right?"

"." He nodded, flinching slightly.

I raised an eyebrow. "What's it for?"

He flinched even harder. "I—I can't tell y-you that."

"Marco." I heard a gun click for the second time.

"B-Bastardo! You wouldn't—ARGH!"

A speck of blood sprung to my right cheek. Slowly, I raised my thumb and brushed it off my face. "That answer's unacceptable."

"Va-Vaffan—culo —mo-monello—" his eyes were shaking, gaping with horror at the fresh bullet hole on his right palm, "I-I can't—can't tell y-you—Rank's not high—enough—to-to know!" he gasped.

Well, this was quick. "So, Krieg sent me a random pawn? That's offending," my finger further curled around the trigger, deciding to just end this already, "Before you go to Hell, send Krieg a message, will you?"

"No-No—Attesa—W-Wait! Don't!"

"Give him a big 'Fuck you' from me. Thanks."

He immediately threw himself into a prostrate position. "D-Don't kill me!" he begged, "I-I'm—I'm just follow-following or-orders! Orders! ORDERS!"

My eyes narrowed, listening to him as he madly scrambled his words in Italian. I was literally just one pull away from ending this.

"The-the one who's h-heading—heading the op-operation—" he finally spluttered out in straight English, " B-Blue Jam—Blue Jam—he should know!"

"Blue Jam?" I trailed off, lowering my gun slightly as I recalled that somewhat familiar name.

Again, my memory traced back to the email.

Because of information gathered from another job, we got some leads, so Mihawk and I were sent to capture one of Krieg's men. He goes by the name of "Blue Jam," and apparently, he's part of Krieg's inner circle.

I felt a rough shove that pulled me away from my thoughts and caused me to nearly stumble. In the spur of a moment, a deafening slam reverberated across the entire room as I caught my footing. My shoulders couldn't help but involuntarily jump.

I swore I just heard someone's bone crack.

"Where is he?" My eyes widened, and slowly, I lifted my head up. All the color from my face must have drained at what I saw next.

If Wrath were to have a face, Marco was definitely wearing it. An unnatural fury burned in his now darkened eyes, making him look like he was possessed by a demon. "Where is he?" he repeated in a low snarl. He had his gun pressing hard against his throat.

"W-What—Blue—you mean—?"

"WHERE IS HE?" Marco screamed, "WHERE IS BLUE JAM?"

"I-I don't know—I—" Marco moved the barrel, placing it over Pearl's heart, "H-He's—He's on the way!"

For a moment, Marco stared at nothing in particular, his storm filled mind probably trying to register the given answer. I noticed his grip on Pearl's collar tightening, his hand—which held his gun—quivering violently. He looked ready to explode, but when he regained his speech, his voice was incongruous to his countenance, even and low in tone with a silent yet deadly rage. "Call him." His words cut like cold and icy daggers.

"I-I can't! He'll—He'll kill m-me! Y-You don't—You d-don't know h-him! H-He's a beast—m-mon-monstro! He'll—" He couldn't finish his sentence, being thrown halfway across the room like a ragged doll.

I grew up with Marco for many years. He was always silent. He was always calm and calculating. He always places careful judgment before acting rather than following a mere impulse. I grew up with him, and even if he hardly spoke about himself, I knew everything about him—at least, I thought I did.

There was a foreign bloodlust that glazed in Marco's eyes, sending cold and fearful chills down my spine. He slowly approached a writhing Pearl who sensed his advancement and tried desperately, in alarm, to scurry a safe distance away from him. Marco saw this and immediately grabbed him before ramming his head against the nearest wall. His gun clattered on the floor, forgotten.

"What makes you think I won'tkill you?" Marco growled, his fists clenching against Pearl's throat, "Think he's the onlymonster here?"

"Sto-Stop—" Blood spurted out of Pearl's mouth and rolled down the once whitewashed wall.

"Now, you're begging—but if I was Blue Jam, I wouldn't stop," Marco muttered—either to Pearl or to himself—as he made the Krieg Family member face him. He kneed him in the stomach before sending him one punch after another, "He never stopped." Brutally, he was pummeling him while muttering fast and unintelligible death threats and demands that only the other could hear. All the while, there was a distinct, crooked line shaping on his lips.

This was the first time that I've ever seen Marco smile—and it had to be for a demented reason.

I just stood there and watched in shock. What could I do? What should I do? I didn't know. All I knew was that I wanted to do something. I wanted him to stop, not for Pearl's sake—to hell with him—but it was for Marco's own. The Marco I knew wouldn't kill someone during an interrogation—slight torture, maybe, but it wouldn't be this extreme. He was never like this, and I didn't want him to be. I tried to move, to step forward, so I could hold his arms and restrain him—but then my conscience told me otherwise, and I ended up following it. I was too scared.

I was too scared of the fact that Marco Phoenix was horribly and sadistically double-faced.

Pearl was a bloody mess. After Marco was done with him, the Krieg member sank on the floor, his breathing haggard as blood slid from the corners of his lips. The pain must be crucifying, and if Marco wasn't planning to kill him right then and there, then he would have just died from massive blood loss.

"I'll say it again." My eyes shifted to Marco who snickered at his own doing without remorse. I watched him as he walked towards a medicine bottle that sat on a nearby table before smashing it against the wall. Then, he returned to Pearl and mercilessly drove it against his skin. "Call him!"

He couldn't handle it anymore, the strain surpassing his limit. With a final tormented cry that he released, Pearl lay still on the cold-tiled floor, pale and limp. A pin-drop silence trailed afterwards.

For a moment, Marco froze, the sadistic smile vanishing as his eyes were fixed on Pearl's blood-spattered figure. The short-lived madness was thankfully gone, but his gaze wasn't one of distress or astonishment. Far from it. There was simply nothing in them. They were just empty, and in all honesty, that was just as frightening.

So, what could be worse, then—insanity or emptiness?

Hesitantly, I took a step forward, closing in and examining Pearl. I lowered my hand towards his good wrist and then his throat, checking for any signs of a pulse. From both regions, they were weak beats against my thumb. Pearl was still alive—but barely.

Marco didn't seem to care about that, though. His eyes narrowed and he eyed Pearl's pockets in a scrutinizing manner. Then, picking out the one with the biggest lump, he guessed right and managed to withdraw Pearl's cellphone. His thumb pressed on the center button, but his brief triumph turned into chagrin. A small "tch" sound slipped between his teeth before he hurled the phone away, livid. "Useless."

Not only was the phone language set in Italian—but it required a passcode, too.

Biting my bottom lip, I felt trepidation swell inside me. What was this newfound fear? How could I be scared of him—he who tended to and watched me grow up ever since the day we first met? The one who I would consider as my older brother? How could it be that just one incident like this could drastically change my view of him? These, I asked myself.

Now, in my eyes, Marco was split into two different people—the familiar side of him that I'd dearly call "brother" and the bitter and rage driven side of him that would murder anyone in cold blood. It was like comparing between two distinct things—between white and black, day and night, light and dark, good and evil.

Reason, though, was trying to get the better of me. You shouldn't look at him any different, my rational side chastised lightly. I didn't need to be afraid. He knows who I am—he wouldn't tear me apart in a blind fit of vicious rage. He wouldn't massacre me. His madness was a fleeting one, and now, he's back to the good old Marco who'd practically welcome any idea that I—and mostly Juzo—would brew up with an exasperated sigh and a shake of his head before telling either of us—or even both—that it was "a bad idea." It was always his politically correct way for saying, "Retarded." So, I didn't have to be afraid. These, I kept telling myself as I was forming the words that I wanted and even needed to say.

Besides, the rational me concluded, your bloodthirsty "madness" is no different from his.

"Marco," I spoke with a newly built courage that strengthened me, "Who's Blue Jam?"

His head sharply switched towards me, and I flinched when our eyes met. Where has all my courage gone? Was it, along with my resolve, that easy to crumble down?

For what seemed like forever, we kept a steady eye contact. It felt unsettling for me to face my bodyguard-caretaker like this. He possibly wouldn't take it out on me, too, would he? The thought was gruesome, but I was summoning up all my willpower to not display any sign of being intimidated. It was a force of habit; something that Dad—something that Marco himself—taught me.

For a while, Marco didn't respond, his expression unreadable. An eerie silence filled the air between us, and it felt so intense, pressing against my very being so much that it was suffocating. Marco, though, didn't seem affected. His blank stare continued to pierce through me.

Was he lost in his own thoughts? Was that why he was deaf to my question? I tilted my head cautiously, silently suggesting that I was still waiting for an answer. Marco saw this, and to my relief, his features softened. The air around him was no longer spreading malice, so seeing that he wasn't going to jump on me without warning, I was about to ask again.

Marco, however, didn't have to make me repeat myself. "Blue Jam," he said softly before pausing, his voice probably parched from all that screaming, "He's someone—someone I need to settle things with." That was all he said, and that alone was all I needed to know—

Or rather, what I was allowed to know.

Silence resumed its place, but it didn't bother me any longer. It was a different type of silence—a soothing one that eased the nerves. This was sort of like the calm after the storm, the aftermath that was welcomed. It was a necessary one, and between the both of us, it was the sort of silence that Marco, at the moment, needed the most.

He strolled towards the spot where his gun rested. Listlessly, and without a word, he retrieved this and kept it in his jacket's inner pocket. After that, he straightened up and locked eyes with me again. At that point, a certain sentiment dominantly flared in his eyes—foreboding. "We have to move." A silent request from him implored me to not even bring up the forbidden subject of what just occurred.

Mutually, I complied. "Right." Now definitely wasn't the time, and whether or not he was willing to explain himself, he still had my trust—

Because, in the end, it was times like these when my life simply depended on him.

Marco nodded before asking, "Did you bring your disguise?"

"The one that Ivankov designed for me?" I blinked, "Yeah, Izou packed it in my bag for me this morning."

"Better hurry up and change," Marco instructed grimly, "We don't have much time left." I pocketed my own gun and nodded, strolling towards the table drawer by the door. Earlier when I arrived to see Luffy, I set down my school bag on its smooth surface.

Today, during school, I received comments and queries from my classmates regarding my bag when some of them actually took note of it. It wasn't entirely my bag per se—I've been using this bag for years. It's just the fact that it was overly stuffed. "Planning to drown yourself for the exams next week, Portgas?" one of them asked.

"Third year grades matter for college, you know." I shrugged, "Gotta get this or else I won't hear the end of it from my Pops." They couldn't help but drop me a few empathic glances in exchange.

I had to admit, though—I wasn't surprised as to why they were curious. My bag looked ready to explode, crammed with books, school supplies and—most especially—my extra clothes. If you'd look close enough, you'd even be able to spot a few blonde strands sticking out from beneath the overly stretched flap that struggled to remain attached to its button. I relieved it from this duty, unclipping the said flap and pushing it back before pulling out what I needed—a blonde wig, a pair of glasses and a traditional Japanese high school uniform different from my school's trademark one. It was the standardized black style, with a high collar blouse that had golden buttons fastening it from top to bottom and a pair of matching black pants.

"Clean yourself up," Marco added snippily, "You can't go out of the hospital looking like you just ate someone." I rolled my eyes at the last statement. You're one to talk.

The bathroom door was on the opposite end, across the bed and next to the window. I threw my disguise over my shoulder, mentally focusing on a new objective now. I had to make a quick change and split from here. If this grand escape would go all according to plan, then it would be a snitch. I turned around, taking this into mind as I was ready to cross through the now dried cracks of blood on the floor, but then I was rendered paralyzed. Marco, who stood in my direction, turned around as well.

Pearl was shaking on the knees, struggling to hoist himself up. "Fi-Figlio di—di pu-put-t-tana—" He was using his good hand to search through his pocket, and he pulled out what I saw was an injection. I could feel my muscles tense, and I was pallid once more upon realizing what that could possibly be.

With a last sneer, Pearl kicked himself forward, not charging towards me but towards Marco. "MUIOA, BASTARDO!" He stopped before him and raised the injection.

Instinctively, and right on time, Marco managed to catch him by the wrist. They were now locked against each other, but even if I pulled out my gun in that instant, I couldn't shoot—not with the possibility that I could shoot my own ally. This was solely Marco's fight.

Pearl continued with the aggression, desperately attempting to kill him. He drove him against the wall, trapping him in the process, but Marco wouldn't secede. He began to retaliate, pushing back against his attacker and pinning Pearl against the wall instead. Pearl howled right after Marco sent him a harsh kick to his wounded knee, causing him to stagger. A dangerous glint flashed on Marco's eyes, and the insane grin returned as he grabbed Pearl's hand.

I couldn't stop him from what he just did next.

Pearl stared in horror, his mouth left ajar. His bloodshot eyes remained stretched as he could feel the injection that was forcibly stabbed deeply on his throat. Marco kept pressing it further, ensuring that every last drop of the lethal injection oozed in—

But he didn't stop there.

The dangerous glint transformed into a furious wave of vengeance. With that madman's expression, he dragged Pearl's weakened and dying body towards the window. He took him by the head, and I cringed as he used it to shatter the glass. Then, without a second thought, he shoved his body out onto the open air, tossing him out of the building.

I was horribly shaking as all of this played, and this time, I didn't try to control myself. Fuck that, I just couldn't.

Marco stared out the window, his nose wrinkling in revulsion as apathetic eyes looked down. "If you have someone to blame for this—blame him." I stepped back, fear drawing me in. Was he still addressing Pearl or—? I forced a horrid lump down my throat.

He turned to me, a spiteful look still present, "Get a move on." It was more of a command than a request.

"Y-Yeah." I rushed towards the bathroom, but not without having to pass by that window. There was something inside me—and I couldn't name it, really—that actually made me brave enough to peek down the window. Silently, and without making it obvious to Marco, I spared the grotesque view a second's glance.

Good thing I was used to murdering people or else I would have just puked right on the spot.

I saw Pearl's corpse, wide eyes dull and hollow with his mouth left open to spout out blood. A crimson waterfall kept gushing down from the sleek metal of the pole that impaled him in the very middle of his body. Like a barbeque on a stick, I could see a solid mess of blood and raw entrails that protruded from his body and hung in public display—his organs? I picked up my pace and rushed inside the bathroom, slamming the door behind me before pressing my back against the solid wood. I made a last shudder.

If Juzo could practically screw with Marco every single day without a worry, then he must be the bravest—and dumbest—soul on Earth. I wasn't just scared of Marco now—I was terrified.

After a tiny moment that was devoted to calming myself down, I did what I was told to do, starting with washing my tainted hands before undoing my necktie. Changing didn't take too long, but the tricky part was fixing my wig because this was something I usually left Ivankov to handle. It took me a little while, but I thought I did a decent job after tucking each strand of my black hair underneath the mass of blonde. Lastly, I gave my zero grade glasses a small shift, letting the rim land on the bridge of my nose before eyeing the mirror for a close look, brows furrowed. My freckles could be a dead giveaway, sure, but to me, that wasn't the problem.

I turned around and stepped out of the bathroom door. Marco was just waiting there, seeming to have—hopefully—calmed down. He was wiping the blood on his hands with his handkerchief that he withdrew from his pocket. When I exited the bathroom, he threw me an attentive gaze.

I coughed a bit before asking, "Hey Marco, Ivankov designed this disguise for me, right?"

"Yes," he gave a slight nod, "What of it?"

"Don't you think it's—weird?"

"Weird?" He gave me a questioning look.

"Well, I'm an adopted Brit who'd wear a Japanese school uniform on a daily basis, right?" I pointed out.

"Right."

"And, so now I'm disguising as an actual Brit in some other Japanese school uniform? What's up with that?"

Marco remained quiet for a bit, probably stunned from the assumption, until he shook his head. "Well—that would make your disguise not very obvious, then. They'd expect you to look more—different," he paused, his words trailing off.

Silence.

In the end, he simply shrugged his shoulders. "No complaints, alright? Just so you know, I didn't help in making that." Sigh.

Deciding to make some last minute preparations, I walked towards the other deceased Krieg members and looted from their pockets. Even if I already had a gun, I thought, given the situation at hand, I'd still need all the arms that I could get. With some luck, I managed to obtain two extra cartridges and a pocketknife. Meanwhile, I was listening to Marco who was advising me to take the fire exit instead of passing through the main lobby ("You may be disguised, but the less attention, the better"). He also told me to stay a few meters behind him, so it wouldn't drop any hints. I agreed to these while returning to the bathroom where I roughly stuffed my clothes in my school bag before slinging it around my shoulder. A gentle tug from behind, however, slightly reeled me backwards, and I looked over my shoulder, meeting eyes with Marco.

"Best if I carry that for you," he suggested, "They probably know that that's your bag."

I nodded. "Good point." With that done, it was time to leave.

I took one step forward and continued my way towards the door, but something caught my eye from the left and made me pause, "Wait." Marco sent me a curious look as I turned heels and strode towards the nurse's body. I lifted her up, half-carrying her towards the bed and settling her there. Leaving her on the floor, in my opinion, wasn't very fitting. I owed her for tending to Luffy, and for now, this was all I could do to give her a proper send-off.

I thought it was a rather polite one, at least.

Her hands were placed over her chest in a certain prayer. After brushing a few strands of her auburn red hair, I gently sealed her eyelids closed, and her face transformed itself into a smoothened sense of tranquility. If her throat hadn't been smeared in blood, then I would have thought that she just was sleeping. Watching her like this, though, caused my heart to pound hard—out of pain, out of guilt. She was innocent. Most likely, she led a good life—with the people around her, with her memories, with her hopes and dreams. Just like that, they were shattered—all at once, and now, she became a memory. The pain worsened within me, and I clenched my fists. She didn't deserve to die. My eyes fell on her pin label which bore her name.

Bellemere.

"I never wanted anyone to die because of me."

I must have said it out loud because I heard a slight shift at the back of my ears. I looked at Marco whose gaze, this time, avoided mine. "Marco?"

"Nothing," he shook his head, "It's just that—you weren't the first one who said that."

I hesitated at first, fearing where this topic was going, until I mentioned his name, "You mean Thatch?"

Marco nodded quietly before gesturing me towards the door. "Let's go," he said in a near whisper. He went and left, and again, I followed without question. Along with Marco's past, I knew that Thatch Newgate was a highly sensitive topic to him.

Luffy's room was already near the end of the hallway where the fire exit was. After taking the door, we hurriedly raced down from one set of steps after the other while Marco pulled out his cellphone and dialed a few keys.

"Hello? Blamenco—we've got a situation in Grand Line Hospital. The Boss is heading here, so tell Vista to steer away—send Squado to protect the Boss, too, and—"

My eardrums were pounding loud. My heart was beating rapidly. Painfully. Everything else that Marco had to say was mostly blocked from my ears, and at most, I could only catch a few bits and pieces of the phone conversation. My mind couldn't register these, though, because I was preoccupied with my own concerns—all I could think about was Luffy.

At the back of my mind, I was cursing Don Krieg, but I also had my doubts that he was solely to blame. Something was off. Pearl wasn't lying when he said that they didn't have Luffy. I could tell. Could Luffy have left on his own accord, then? Mentally, I shook my head in vehement disagreement. He couldn't have—before I left the room, he wasn't in any condition to be released from the hospital anytime soon.

Unless, a tiny voice suggested in my ear, a third party's involved.

Shit. A wave of turmoil was causing my mind to sway back and forth in strong, erratic waves. That one single possibility wasn't to be taken for granted. There was a third party member—there just had to beand he or she could be working for Cipher Pol. Did someone from that side kidnap him even before Pearl killed Ms. Bellemere?

You do know that they're trying to use him as the bait to draw you in? From my subconscious stream, a small voice that strangely resembled Marco's pinpointed to me as-a-matter-of-factly. Krieg's not the only one after you. As a mafia heir, you're their target, so they'll use any means necessary to get to you. It's criminal—I know—but criminal tactics are sometimes employed to catch criminals, even if it means playing dirty, even if it means using your own flesh and blood. You know that, right?

I felt like screaming at this very moment. Luffy wasn't supposed to be involved! How could I let something like this happen behind my back? The moment my eyes fell on Luffy for the first time in years, the moment when Shanks handed me the adoption papers, I made my resolve, and I was determined to make sure—with all my power—that he'd always be safe! It was my duty to protect him! My teeth clenched. It was almost painful, but this was blatantly ignored. I was murderous, ready to kill the sick bastard who would even think of using him like that. I just found him—I just adopted him—and now I was going to lose him again?

Yet again, Ace? A slightly amused tone came from the "Marco Conscience."

I felt dreadfully taunted if not insulted. Not even if Hell freezes over, that's for sure.

"Ace? Ace—are you listening?"

"H-huh?" I nearly tripped, but I managed to grab onto the railing and catch myself before a nasty fall. After regaining balance, I asked, "What was that?"

"Instructions from Blamenco," Marco—the real Marco—replied, pocketing his phone, "Please, stay alert."

"S-Sorry, it's just that—" I bit my lip as I trailed behind him, "I was thinking of—Luffy, he's—"

"If the Krieg Family hasn't gotten him yet," Marco said without having to catch his breath, "then he's still safe."

My blood began to boil. "It's not just about that!" I shot heatedly and involuntarily, "It's not just about Krieg anymore!"

We reached another landing. Turning towards the direction of the next flight of steps, Marco ran down, silent yet calculating. When we descended from one more level, he finally asked, "Care to tell?"

I paused on my steps, panting a bit. I wasn't exhausted—not fully. It had to do with my fear—the heavy burden on my shoulders that weighed me down further with each passing moment that Luffy was nowhere to be found. Marco saw this, but he didn't urge me forward. Instead, he paused from where he stood ahead of me and waited. Finally, I straightened my knees and answered, "I hate it."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I just hate it," I shook my head, proceeding, "We're finally together, and now he's caught up in my ordeals. It'll only be a matter of time before he'll get killed because of me." It was left unspoken, but I figured that Marco could have guessed the one single implication behind these words—adopting Luffy, being with him, was a mistake. My mistake.

Marco, however, wouldn't take what I said for shit. He crossed his arms, frowning lightly. "It won't happen—not yet."

"Murphy's Law—" I returned his expression, bringing up something that he once taught me, "Expect the worst thing at the worst time."

"But," he interjected, "while it's still not yet at that point, you'll just have to keep believing and fighting for his safety. Before you do that, though, you have to make sure you can save yourself first."

"And, let the worst moment draw nearer? The longer that my brother's at risk, the higher the—!"

"That's exactly what your enemies want you to do—not just Krieg," Marco rebuked suddenly, his voice half raised yet enough to stun me, "They want you to lower your defenses, do the reckless thing. Only when that happens will you be a sitting duck, ready for capture."

I stared, rendered speechless from what he just said. I couldn't say or do anything as a counter. I just had nothing to respond with.

Marco stared at me for a few seconds before he sighed, scratching the back of his head. "Look for him right now—and I promise—" he ended with a note of warning, "—it'll be a suicide mission."

I hated to admit it to myself, but he had a much as I hated to leave Luffy alone for now, it couldn't be helped. What if I did get captured? Who'll be there to save Luffy from Krieg? Right now, all I could do was ease myself with the fact that Krieg hasn't captured Luffy and that he wasn't in any mortal danger as of yet. My little brother was still safe—somehow—and after arriving at that conclusion, I made a silent agreement to plan the search after this.

"Alright." I nodded with this burning new resolve in mind. Then, I asked, "So, what's the plan?"

"We'll leave the hospital and run across the park," Marco stated, "From this side, we'll be entering at the West entrance, but then there'll be someone who'll meet us at the East. From there, you'll be taken to refuge."

"Easy enough." Note the sarcasm here.

"I'm a little worried, though," he voiced out grimly, "It's broad daylight, so it's not like we can shoot the enemies. We'll have to be extra careful, especially if a third party decides to show up—" Cipher Pol, I bet, "—and there's one more thing."

"What's that?"

Marco peered down, seeing the ground level from where we were already. "We can't seem to contact the Blackleg Family at the moment." I felt a huge block of ice freeze my insides when that was mentioned, the fear of Sanji's capture flooding me with worry once more.

But, Sanji's tough—I reminded myself—and he's got his cousin who's pretty sharp. He wouldn't give in so easily, would he?

When we arrived at the outside parking lot, I made to turn towards the direction of our car, but Marco had a different plan in mind. I found this out when we were running straight towards the parking exit. "We'll continue on foot," he muttered on the side as an explanation, "There might be a trap."

Grand Line Hospital was situated at the central sector, probably one of the busiest parts of the city. Here, there were the bustling of people, the blinking of lights, the blaring of traffic horns and the hyped up energy of the metropolis that constituted urban living, and it was no surprise for us to catch this scene during rush hour. When Marco and I finally entered the sidewalk, we were already packed among the crowds of people who were jostling in every direction, each of them probably heading home from either work or school.

Got to be careful, I thought while studying my new environment behind fake lens. With just one blink of an eye, I knew that it would be easy to lose Marco.

Just as planned, Marco received a head start before I trailed a good measure from behind. As I tried to walk briskly, my eyes solely followed him, ignoring everyone else in the area—businessmen and students, salespersons and customers, local celebrities and freelance artists, families and friends, professionals and part timers, entertainers of various kinds. We were all cramped together like sardines, making me feel slightly claustrophobic and partially blind to my bodyguard-butler in the process.

For me, everyone seemed like a rushing blur of colors and noise that blended and swept past me in heavy currents as I forced my way through all of them. It was a tight, constricting sensation, and I felt sick—especially because I had this gut feeling present within me.

Something was telling me that despite the disguise I wore, I was being watched.

Ignoring this, I continued to move forward, but I became so focused on my current track of mind that I didn't care to see the person in front of me. I was too late, and I ended up roughly bumping into that said person. A tiny yelp—one that belonged to an elderly woman's—rang among the sea of voices as I staggered backwards, groaning.

"Oh, heavens—"

"S-Sorry—I-I didn't see—" Something didn't feel right. The bridge of my nose felt strangely lighter. Immediately after realizing what I just lost, I used my hand to cover my face. Where are my glasses?

"Oh no, dear, silly me! This old granny's going blind, and I didn't care to even bring my own glasses today. Terribly sorry for that—" She sounded like she's okay, at least. Not having to worry about her, then, I tried to reach down and search for my mock glasses until she added, "Dear, are these yours?" I made careful room to peek between two fingers, and lo-and-behold she had them.

"O-Oh, thanks—" I straightened up and smiled awkwardly, "I thought I lost them." I tried to reach out for the glasses, but the moment she saw this, she instantly pulled them away.

"No, no, young man!" she said in a sweet and motherly tone, "It's my fault, so let me help you put these on."

I had no time for this, but I couldn't just grab it from her. Desperately, I tried to politely retrieve part of my disguise before any unwanted mishap could possibly happen. "No—really—it's okay, I don't think it'll be a prob—"

"Uh-uh! Come now, young man."

"I-It's fine!" Okay, this was really starting to get annoying now.

The elderly woman, from my narrowed vision, shook her head with mild exasperation. The feeling must be mutual, I suppose. "Oh, silly boo! Just hold still and—" She tried to put the glasses on me, but—and I'm guessing it's because of her own partial blindness—she shoved her hand towards my hair instead.

Suddenly, the forefront of my head felt lighter, and to my horror, I thought I saw strands of black creep behind my palm. The rest of the weight slid off my hair, and I flinched hard—very hard—when I glanced down to see my blonde wig land softly beside my legs.

Time must have frozen at that very moment.

The elderly woman blinked at me thoughtfully before smiling. She then gently held the hand that covered my face and placed it down for our eyes to meet. "Young Ace? Why, is that you, silly dear?" She chuckled softly, "What are you doing dressed like that? There's no need to hide a handsome face like yours. My regards to Sir Newgate, of course."

If this wasn't enough to mortify the situation even worse, a voice from a few meters behind me had enough icing to top the cake of disaster.

"Target Portgas D. Ace sighted, initiating immediate capture." Shit.

Everything happened so fast. There were strangers pushing past people as they headed towards me. Someone grabbed me by the shoulders and tried to place a gag around my mouth. The elderly woman screamed in terror as I gave the man a swift punch to the face. Marco, in the nick of time, ran in and served a kick to another one of my kidnappers before grabbing me by the wrist and dragging me away from the eyes of curious people who stood there and watched the sudden commotion that just occurred.

"What happened?" Marco asked as we ran and turned behind a corner. We were now passing through an empty lane.

"Bumped into an old lady," I muttered, keeping up the pace.

"There he is!" I could hear someone shouting from the distance, and I ran even faster. "After him—hey, what are you—argh!" Huh? Did someone just help us? I blinked when I noticed Marco smirk and then decided to look back.

There were two people waving at us after knocking out two of my pursuers. They seemed to be dressed like them, panting slightly after what seemed to be a great deal of running. Were they traitors? I instantly turned to Marco and asked, "Who're they?"

"They're with us," he answered simply.

"How do you know?" I asked as I saw the West entrance of the park nearing our sights.

"You forget that your father technically runs this city. Undoubtedly, he has much more power and influence here than the city mayor himself," Marco pointed, "He has many outside accomplices who are always ready to offer their assistance in any waythey can. They're in debt to him, after all."

Finally, we made it to the park entrance, and without taking a break, we rushed through its gates. Our rendezvous point was at the opposite end of the park, and if we were lucky, we'd be there quickly and without any sort of casualties.

Sadly, the Krieg Family wasn't intent on giving up on the chase, yet.

Hearing the sounds of speeding footsteps, I peered over my shoulder, noticing a few men in suits who were still after us. They just keep coming. One of them was particularly fast, and I knew that he was inches away from catching me. I glowered darkly and looked forward. I needed to shake that one off, somehow.

Then, like shining daylight, the answer came in front of me.

We must have been in the picnic area because I could see a young couple grilling barbeque together. Sheets of white smoke covered the air as the man thoroughly cooked the meat while the woman remained on a spread out blanket, flipping through a book of recipes. Under the scorching iron grills, I could also see the charcoal embers traced with angry red lines.

Perfect.

Acting out of pure instinct while muttering a soft apology, I ran towards the barbeque grill and grabbed the handle, ignoring the screams and angry protests of the couple as I knocked it over and sent the smoking charcoals towards the face of my tracker, easily blinding him. He stumbled backwards, shrieking, but Marco and I didn't stop to care as we ran away from the others.

"Where did you get that?" Marco asked with some interest.

"Crime shows," I answered, half-panting, "You should really watch chase scenes—pick up a few things, you know."

"I'll keep that in mind."

It seemed like the nearer we were to the East entrance, the more we came across people who were running towards the opposite direction. Fears struck their faces in panic, all of them running for their lives. Marco and I exchanged furtive glances with each other as we continued to dash forward. It was only when we arrived at our assigned spot that, to our horror, we could see the reason why.

Someone was already stationed there in the middle of the sidewalk, ready to capture me. Meters away, there were several police officers lying on the ground, rendered unconscious because of the stun gun that he was armed with. "I got you now, Portgas!" he declared triumphantly when he saw us coming. No one else dared to approach him.

Marco frowned at this before pulling out his own gun and raising it forward. He was ready to risk getting spotted by Cipher Pol by shooting him, but then suddenly and out of nowhere, there was a large SUV that slammed itself on the enemy, running him over like he was road kill—in the middle of a sidewalk? Marco and I stared at this.

Then, the door of the SUV opened, and we got to meet and greet our savior.

"Alright, bitch," the said savior, Juzo, kicked himself out of the SUV with a machine gun raised, "Ass kickin' time—hey, where did he go?"

"Uh—Juzo," I coughed, "You just ran over him."

Awkward silence. All eyes of the people who still remained in the vicinity landed on us—at Juzo, in particular.

"Oh," Juzo blinked, "Really? Where?" He then dashed to the front of the vehicle and peeked at the fresh corpse that he just obliviously ran over. He even took it upon himself to poke it as if to double check whether he did it right or not.

I eyed Marco who merely face palmed out of chagrin. "This is the rendezvous point, right?"

"Afraid so," Marco mumbled feebly.

"Portgas!" A shrill cry was heard from afar. I turned towards the source of that voice and saw my pursuers approaching. One of them, I traced out, had a raw sear on the right side of his face as a souvenir from the burn that I just gave him awhile ago.

Juzo saw them coming closer and he would have raised his gun, but Marco wouldn't allow it. He dragged him to the passenger's seat and opened the door. "Get in the car!" He kicked Juzo in and slammed the door shut before running to the opposite side, so he could take the wheel. In the same speed, I jumped inside the back seat and fastened the door lock the moment Marco stomped on the gas pedal and the car sped off.

Exhausted from running the entire time, I slumped backwards on my seat, panting and somewhat relieved for the moment. Of course, just because I managed to escape the Krieg Family for now didn't exactly mean that the danger was over. No, my insides twisted into a fine knot of dread over something else. There was still a walking calamity of a storm that Marco and I had to face, and its name was—

"Juzo."

I saw Juzo's head face Marco who was busy trying to maneuver through the streets and find a less crowded highway. "Yeah, Mark?"

Oddly, and probably in a pathetic attempt to define a mood, I could hear Lady Gaga singing Poker Face from the radio while Marco himself had a—well—poker face. "Did you have to bring an SUV?" he half-raised, "It's not the most appropriate for chases like these."

"It looked awesome!" Juzo half-whined in an effort to justify himself.

"And, the weapons I can see piling at the back?"

"Yeah, the machine gun, bazookas and those gorgeous babies that I brought?"

"We're supposed to remain undercover," Marco was twitching from his seat,"What part of undercover do you not understand?"

"No, no, Marco—see this? This is undercover because being undercover is awesome." I rolled my eyes. Here we go, my most favorite part of a Marco versus Juzo debate—Juzo logic. It always amused me to hear the kind of explanations that he could cook up every single time.

"Excuse me?" It amused me even more to see and hear Marco's reactions.

"Because in my understanding," Juzo pointed out, "Being undercover is awesome. Machine guns are awesome. The three of us with machine guns is awesome, ergo and by definition, we are undercover because we awesome."

Awkward silence—strike two.

"I think—more importantly," Marco said slowly and in an emphasized tone as if he wanted a five-year-old Juzo to try and understand, "We shouldn't be seen."

"Oh, I got that handled." Juzo grinned. My eyes fell on the bushes that I could see were jammed with the heavy artilleries that Juzo deemed as "awesome."

"You mean these shrubs?" I asked.

"Yeah, those. They're our camouflage suits."

"Camouflage suits?" I raised, "They're just a bunch of plants from the garden!"

Marco stared at the horrendous and messy sight from the front mirror before saying, "Juzo—Vista knows that you took his shrubs, right?"

Juzo remained quiet for a bit before softly squeaking, "No," and then paused before quickly adding," But he'll forgive me. He knows that this is crucial for Ace."

"Not really," I mumbled. Juzo threw me a pleading look that I really abhorred.

Awkward silence—strike three.

Marco ignored a "Keep Out" sign, and we found ourselves trailing down an empty highway. "Give me one good reason on why I shouldn't kill you this time," he said.

"Uhh—cause we're like partners in crime, and you're my bestest best friend ever?" Juzo replied.

"Keep talking," Marco droned, although his monotone voice was practically screaming "bullshit" beneath the lines.

"And, you wouldn't kill me because you know I'm awesome? Remember—last name's EVER, first name's GREATEST." I snorted at this. I expected no less from the likes of the family sniper.

Not willing to take any more crap, Marco raised up a gun and pointed this in front of Juzo's ear. "This weatherman is predicting a ninety-nine percent chance of a shit storm and it's coming right at you."

Awkward silence, strike—okay, you know what? Forget it.

"Uh—" Juzo blinked, counting his fingers for a bit before asking, "Wait, what happened to the one percent?"

To answer this, Marco pointed the gun towards the windshield and shattered this as he shot a car that was speeding dangerously towards us. The car then screeched painfully before skidding off to the side where it crashed. "Cover me, will you?" Marco muttered, pocketing his gun, "They're starting to gather from behind." Holy shit.

"Marco," I said as Juzo and I took our aims behind the backseat, "You are seriously one scary son of a bitch."

"I know."

How the Krieg Family managed to track us down on the road was beyond me, but it already proved the idea that Krieg seriously had an entire team stationed around the city to keep eyes on each and every move that we make. Three black cars without any plate numbers were driving towards us, and from behind one of their windshields, I could see a tranquilizer gun being carried.

Oh, hell no.

Juzo and I took fire as Marco handled the steering. We aimed for their heads or their tires, and thankfully, we managed to take down one of them by shooting the driver and letting the car crash somewhere along the road. All the while, from the front, I could hear David Cook singing Time Of My Life from the radio.

Time of my life? I wanted to snort. Not really.

I pulled the trigger a few times, missing and causing a dent to one of the pursuing vehicles until I ran out of bullets. Realizing this, I stuffed my hand into my pocket to grab a reload, but then I frowned, remembering that I'd only have one pack of ammo left after this. Every shot counts, I thought while loading my weapon and pointing it towards a speeding car. I had to make it count.

We are Fighting Dreamers! Takami wo mezashite!
Fighting Dreamers! Narifuri kamawazu!
Fighting Dreamers! Shinjiru ga mama ni!
Oli Oli Oli Oh-! Just go my way!

Oh, shit.

Juzo threw me an incredulous look beside me as I pulled out my cellphone. "I know I make a lot of jokes, but even I think that ring tone was of bad taste."

"Shut," I hissed, "It's a good song!"

"I don't even know you anymore," Marco muttered from the front seat.

"You could have used 'We Are!' or maybe even 'Brand New World!' if you're really into anime ring tones, you know! I like Romance Dawn songs! Did it have to be a song from Naru—"

"It's my phone! No one's asking for your opinions—hello?" I instantly lowered my when I placed myself behind speaker.

"Dude! What's up?"

"OH—" No. He did not just call me right here, right now—oh, shit. He did. "S-Sabo! Erm—that you, dude?"

Silence with some Korean music playing from behind the background before he asked, "Who is this?"

I inhaled a great sigh. "Sabo."

"That I am," I rolled my eyes,"Dude, where are you?"

"Uh, well—"

"Cause, dude—remember that guy from Dance tryouts? Luffy? He's with me right now! Can you believe that? Got a huge story to tell you!"

Did I just hear right? I thought I did. Did he just say that Luffy was with him right now?

He's with me right now!

He's with me right now!

He's with me right now!

He's with—"WHAT?"

"Ow, damn it!" There was a loud clanking noise. Was the phone dropped? After some grumbling and shuffling, I heard Sabo return behind speaker. "Ace! I only have two ears, you know!"

"S-Sorry," I mumbled before repeating, "What? You have Lu—I mean, wait, what?"

"Well, yeah. That's what I just said," Sabo laughed, "I was just driving home from school until I caught him stuck in a middle of a fight with these guys in suits! Actually, it was my caretaker, Dadan, who recognized him. She was his caretaker once! Can you believe that? Small world!"

I was about to say something, but a tranquilizer dart was shot towards my direction. Juzo saw this, and without so much as a warning, he knocked me down in time for the dart to hit the back of an empty seat instead. My face ended up falling flat on a cushion, throbbing in pain from the massive impact delivered by Juzo's arm. "Fuck!" It was like being rammed against a slab of diamond, "Were you trying to break my nose?"

"Huh?"

"No, not you, Sabo," I groaned behind the phone, "Sorry."

"Uhh—yeah, well—wait, hold on." I could hear the phone being removed from Sabo's ear, followed by a small conversation in the background. After a moment's wait, he picked up the phone again and said, "Hey, Ace, Luffy's right beside me. He wants to talk to you."

I could feel my iPhone vibrating against my cheek. Were my hands shaking? Maybe. As the phone was passed, I thought that I must have forgotten how to breathe. Alright, Ace—It's a simple as one-two—"Ace?" I could hear Luffy call out for me, "Ace, is that you?"

That's it. I officially died.

"L-Luffy?" I stammered, trying to contain myself from creating a loud outburst. It was difficult but not impossible. "Oh, God, Luffy—you okay? Are you fine? Is there anything still hurting?"

I could hear soft sniffling sobs followed by loud bawling and Sabo swearing—probably in Korean. "Ace! I'm sorry!" he wailed, causing my ears to split, "I made you break your pro-promise 'coz y-you said you'd co-come back—but—but I left without telling you! The nurse tr-treated me and left for a while, but then my friend from East Blue—h-he called me and told me to leave the hospital, so I did, but th-then there were these guys who started cha-chasing after me because they thought I was you and then—and then—they were going to take me away, b-but then I kinda beat them up, but they j-just kept coming and Sabo came and Dadan and—"

"Luffy!" I breathed, "Calm down—you're speaking too fast."

"I'm not in trouble, am I?" he spoke so softly, so sadly—it almost broke my heart into a million pieces at the very sound of his voice.

"No, Luffy," I found myself smiling while comforting him with solemn words, "Why would you be? You're safe now, and that's all that matters to me." I made it a mental note to look into Luffy's friend from East Blue, but right now, that didn't seem as important. Only one fact kept repeating itself inside my head like a broken record—Luffy is safe. Luffy is safe. Luffy is safe.

"Really, Ace?" His voice perked up to my satisfaction.

"Mm-hmm! How're you feeling? Are you still in pain?" I asked in the same manner of concern.

"I'm fine!" Luffy chirped happily, "Sabo helped me and Dadan gave me some medicine, so my head would stop hurting."

"Oh, thank God," I sank further down my seat, relief washing down on me, "That's great."

There was a short moment of silence between us. It wasn't the awkward nor of the intense kind. It felt more like a meaningful sort to me—the type of silence exchanged between two brothers who were probably undergoing the same sentiment.

Well, at least I hoped that was the case.

It was Luffy who eventually broke down this silence. "Nee, Ace," he spoke, "Should I call you 'Big Brother' instead of 'Ace?'" I could just imagine that cute smile that would trace on his lips whenever he'd pose some innocent little question like this, "You're my older brother, so—"

If the Krieg Family accidentally killed me right now, I must be in Heaven."Luffy, don't worry," I cooed softly, my heart bursting in joy that it became yet another task for me to prevent myself from causing any exaggerations, "You can call me anything you want—Ace, Big Brother, Bro, Aniki, Nii-san, anything will make your big brother very, very happy."

He giggled behind speaker before proclaiming to my utmost ecstasy, "Yay! Luffy loves Big Brother so much! Big Brother loves Luffy, too, right?"

"Yes, Luffy," I smiled, swaying back and forth in Nirvana mode, "Big Brother loves you so much." So cute. So cute.

"Come over here, alright?" he giggled some more, "Luffy wants to be with Ace again! Oh, and you still haven't answered my question yet!"

Suddenly, my little "happy bubble" popped."Q-Question?"

"Yeah!" I could hear him pout, "Silly Ace! Big Brother forgot already! You haven't told Luffy why you left him years ago!"

"Umm—erm—" I squirmed on my seat. Here we go again. What was I supposed to say?

Luckily, though, Sabo was there to save me a confession. "Hey, hey, I have a phone bill to settle—DUDE!" I pulled my ear away from the receiver, "You're brothers and you didn't even tell me?" He thinks he's the only one with two ears.

"It's a long story," I mumbled, rubbing my temple.

"Well, come over here! We can talk about it over some pizza and soda," Sabo said, "Your little bro and I got hungry, so I ordered ten boxes of pizza and some soda for all of us."

Apparently, those last few words worked like magic as my stomach began to rumble in complaint. It felt like my time in the hospital café was eons ago. "Damn, dude! I'm starving as well!

"Yeah, but are you sure this is going to be enough for the three of us?" he asked as I poked my head from behind the seat to check on my current predicament, "I can still order an extra two boxes of pizza and five liters of soda!" One of my enemies saw me, and immediately, he loaded his tranquilizer gun.

I ducked my head in time to avoid an incoming shot. "Right!" I trembled behind my iPhone, "Two boxes of soda and five liters of pizza, got it!"

"Uhh—okay? Someone's thirsty," Sabo said, "Well, don't worry! Because you and Luffy are now part of the Dance Club, it's all on me, and—"

"No, no!" I shook my head, "It's okay, you can charge about half of it to—" I could hear the car screeching and suddenly, I was shoved to my right as the SUV made a rough swerve on the corner. I grabbed onto my seat, catching myself before I could be chucked out of the window. "MARCO!"

"We're charging it to Marco?"

"NO!"

"O—Okay, dude," Sabo laughed nervously, "Chill, it's just pizza."

"Ace," Marco interrupted while increasing the speed of the SUV, "I'd hate to break this to you, but this is no time to be celebrating!"

"R-Right—" I redirected myself to my senpai, "Look, Sabo, I'm kind of in the middle of something at the moment. I'll catch you later, alright? Tell Luffy to eat well, take some medicines if ever and rest. I'll come and pick him up later. Thanks so much!"

"Sure thing, dude."

"Oh, and can you tighten security in your house?" I asked, shooting a few Krieg members while doing so.

"Wait, why?"

"Dunno. My Old Man's paranoid about safety measures and shit, so whatever—just please do it."

"Uhh—Ace, you sure you're okay? You seem kind of—stressed."

"I'm not stressed!" I yelled while dodging another tranquilizer bullet before shooting again, "I'm just exercising!"

"And, that's why you nearly broke your nose?"

"Martial arts!" Shit. I'm down to my last reload.

Suddenly, I heard a tire getting shot. There was another loud and painful screech as the vehicle wobbled with sparks flying down the road before it crashed on the side—complete with a loud explosion, flying car parts and a burst of fire.

"WOOT!" Juzo raised both arms in triumph from his overkill.

"What was that?" Sabo asked.

I stared at the scene before me, opening my mouth and closing it a few times before slowly responding, "I'm just—watching an action movie. Check out the speakers I got—great acoustics, you know."

At first, Sabo didn't say anything, and I was scared that he actually didn't believe me this time. That was until he said, "Woah. I think I should get one of those."

"Yeah," I nodded quickly, "Worth the buy. Gotta go, dude!" and then I quickly added, "Bye Luffy!"

"Later!"

"Bye, Ace!"

"Take care! Remember—eat, medicine, rest!" I hung up on them before ducking on my seat again, narrowly avoiding another set of tranquilizer darts before cursing Don Krieg and how fucked up my life was.

No, really. This was fucked up. What could possibly make this any worse than it was now?

"Uhh—guys," Juzo spoke, "We have a problem." Apparently, an answer to that was coming up right now.

"Huh?" I compromised my position, taking a peek before my eyes expanded as wide as boulders, "Are you serious? Are you fucking serious?"

Right in front of us, from the sole car that was left standing, I could see that the Krieg Family was holding up a rocket launcher this time—a fucking rocket launcher. Screw keeping me alive—they were serious the moment they fired it.

So, this was how it felt when your life would flash before your eyes. It already happened to me once—but it was that type of sensation that would get to me every single time. I found myself ducking behind my seat, praying for dear life and recalling all my good memories and even bad ones as the SUV dangerously curved to the right in an attempt to dodge certain death.

Damn it, Marco, I wanted to shout, we better come out alive after this!

The SUV began spinning wildly across the street, and I was thankful for the highly practical invention called seatbelts. At the same time, I could hear a deafening explosion, and then suddenly and unexpectedly, the car jerked forward before landing backwards, coming to a complete stop. It became eerily quiet, and slowly, I opened my eyes, wondering if I was still alive.

After studying my surroundings and pinching myself a few times, it turned out that I was, and this wasn't just some form of limbo. Marco and Juzo survived, too. From where I was, I could see Marco breathing heavily on his seat. He didn't seem mortally wounded. He was probably acting out of the initial shock. It was a close call, after all.

Juzo, however, had an opposite reaction. "Woah! Who's up for Round Two?" I sent him a kick to the head for this.

"Who the fuck—" I gasped, trying to recover from my latest near death experience to date, "—would bring a rocket launcher—in the city?"

"We'll figure that out later," Marco said darkly, causing Juzo and I to look at him, "We've got to get out of here—now."

It was too late, though. The moment that we got out of the SUV, someone grabbed me and placed my arms on a lock. My gun landed beside my feet. Marco and Juzo were forced to drop their weapons, too, and they were held at gunpoint. From all directions, men in suits surrounded us, and as I looked from one point to another, I knew that only a miracle would get us out of this situation.

"Better surrender now, Portgas. We can do this the easy way or the hard way." The apparent leader said as he made his way towards me.

He was tall and balding, a bulky figure that reeked of the scent of blood. I could see that he was even missing a few teeth as he smirked at me from above. A certain crazed look glazed in his eyes, telling tales of murder and torture from over the years. Despite this drawn insight, I stared at him directly in the eye, not wanting to show any sign of weakness. I wasn't going down without any lasting shred of self-respect.

"Well, Portgas—what'll it be?" he sneered.

I said nothing. I didn't want to give him the pleasure of hearing what he wanted out of me. If I surrendered, then everything would be lost. He knew that as well as I did.

But, what about Marco and Juzo? A tiny voice reminded me, their lives are at stake, too. I cursed silently, my nails biting on my skin.

So, what should I do, then? Other than keep silent?

The leader didn't seem pleased by my quiet reserve. In a swift move, his gigantic hand grabbed me by the face, pulling me inches closer to him. Between two fingers, I could see his smile dripping acid as it broadened to what seemed like high amusement, "Oh, keeping quiet are you? As expected of the Newgate Family's heir—I like that."My nostrils were being denied the right amount of oxygen they deserved. I can't breathe. "How long are you planning to keep it up? Going to start begging for mercy now?"

Again, I said nothing. I didn't want to beg. I didn't want to give him that satisfaction. I wanted to remain honorable throughout all of this.

"There's no shame, Portgas," he said madly, half laughing, "They all scream eventually!"

Eat the pain. Eat the pain.

His grip tightened, and I wasn't sure whether it was out of enjoyment or frustration. "You know, I love dealing with people like you," he whispered for only my ears to hear, "If only the Don didn't want you alive, then I'd probably crush your tiny little head right now—just like this."

The pain was electrifying, causing my mind to race. I was trying to summon up all my willpower even if I was already mentally crying out with terrifying pleads for this man to stop. I tried to flex my arms, but it was futile to break against the clutch that was holding them together. I could only just resist the pressure that was pounding my cheekbones as they were slowly being snapped. All the while, I was wondering if Don Krieg needed me or not—if I was really going to die here.

"Come over here, alright?" I shut my eyes, still able to hear my little brother, "Luffy wants to be with Ace again!"

"Leave him alone! Why don't you deal with me first?"

My eyes snapped open, my pupils probably expanding to twice their sizes as the iron grip loosened on my head, and the leader directed his attention towards Marco. No, damn it.

"Hmm?" The leader raised an eyebrow.

Marco didn't relent, his face sporting a look that could kill over a thousand times, "You heard me, Blue Jam," he hissed out of spite, his murderous aura resurfacing, "Do you remember me?" My face grew pallid once more when I realized just who this person before me was.

"Don't forget me," Juzo growled from where he stood, "Blue Jam, you piece of fuck!" His mood suddenly made a one hundred eighty degree spin, and it made me shudder as I witnessed this. The person right before me—was this the real Juzo? This facet of him scared me just as much as the other Marco, and a thought crossed my mind, making me ponder—what would I rather not see? A sadistic Marco or a serious Juzo?

At first, Blue Jam had an incredulous look on his face, but when he studied Marco and Juzo even further, he threw his head back in laughter. "Oh, yes, I remember you two," he scoffed, "Don't tell me—come to take some petty little revenge or something after thirteen years?"

"We'll fucking kill you, you lousy son of a bitch!" Juzo spat, his feral eyes fueled with supreme hatred, "It's because of you that Thatch is—"

"Quiet, brat," he punched Juzo hard on the stomach, forcing him to scrounge in position and cough out saliva, "Wasn't that your job? You couldn't protect Thatch Newgate—it's not so much my fault that he's dead!" mercilessly, he began sending a flurry of punches on the exact same offended spot, "You're just trying to put the blame on someone else, aren't you? Can't bear with the guilt, huh? What makes you think that you can protect Portgas, too?"

Seeing this, I just couldn't help myself this time. I struggled against the man who held me, my will betraying me as I screamed, "Juzo!"

Blue Jam paused, his fist raised in midair. "Oh? Juzo?" he spoke in a taunting voice before revealing to me something that I never knew after all these years, "I thought your name's Jozu—or was it?" He struck him one last time on the stomach. I stared—horror mixed with confusion—at Juzo who fell, silent with a glare that would have burned a hole on the ground.

"Want someone to blame for poor Thatch's death, Juzo?" Blue Jam grinned with an evil glint, arriving in front of Marco and yanking him by the hair, "Blame Little Phoenix over here! If he wasn't so damn helpless, and if Thatch wasn't such a damn saint, he would have lived! Wouldn't you agree?" He directed his last line to Marco who threw him a death glare.

I eyed Juzo after this was said, and I saw how his eyes avoided Marco's. Everything that Blue Jam was saying—could they actually be true?

Pleased with the effect of his hurtful words, he decided that it was Marco's turn. "Little Phoenix—already a man now, huh? Got some bite to match that bark? You don't look like a sniveling little brat any longer."

"Far from it," Marco seethed, "Thirteen years—thirteen years and I haven't forgotten everything that you've done. My family, my best friend, the last of my childhood, my life—" Every single word rolled out under each breath Marco took, and his voice went down by several octaves as he solemnly swore, "I'll make you pay."

"So, what are you going to do?" Blue Jam snorted, "Gonna cry for your mommy again?"

I didn't know how Blue Jam did it, but his words caused someone as strong as Marco to freeze. Both pain and horror struck his face in a sort of trauma that made him look like he's been forced to walk through all the pits of Hell and back. A horrible memory in the form of Blue Jam must be haunting his mind at this very moment.

I caught Blue Jam lick his own lips, his fingers twitching from excitement. "You used to be so scared to even hold a gun and shoot, but you should thank me, Phoenix! I'm probably the first one to teach you on how to kill someone! Do you remember?" The insane thrill of the moment blazed in his eyes as he scrunched up his face, twisting it into mock horror as he began to squeal, "Mommy, Mommy! Don't die, Mommy!"

This performance drew laughter from the rest of his subordinates as he portrayed the role of a scared child—of the Marco from thirteen years ago. I could feel my fists clenching in anger towards Blue Jam, yet pain struck my heart when I noticed Marco's paling form.

To his delight in seeing Marco that way, Blue Jam kept on going. "Don't let the bad man hurt you like that! They killed Daddy! Stop it! Stop it! Stop hurting Mommy!"

Marco couldn't stand for this anymore. "Why, you—!" He was ready to lunge at Blue Jam, but several arms held him back.

The Krieg Family member couldn't help but bask in this moment, and so this shameful man decided to simply add the insult to the injury with his next few words, "You know, your mom wasn't really my type, but I'd be lying if I said she didn't taste good." That was all it took left for Marco to snap.

Somehow, he managed to break free from the people restraining him, and in all his rage and despair, he charged towards the one person who practically destroyed his life. Blue Jam saw this, and in a quick motion, he drew out a knife from his pocket, leaving no guilt as he stabbed him on the shoulder. Marco's eyes widened as he saw blood drip down from the fresh wound, and he was unable to hold back the painful scream that escaped him. This was music to Blue Jam's ears, and taking advantage of the situation, he threw Marco on the ground and towered over him, his hand still on the knife's handle.

"Your best friend, Thatch, isn't here to save your life this time, boy!" he muttered in a quick and raspy voice that was filled with bloodlust as he drove the knife deeper. Marco twisted and cringed, but he bit his lip and caused blood to dribble from the split. His own sense of pride must be making him refuse to cry out once more.

Juzo saw this and tried to stand, "Blue Jam, you fucker!" he struggled against the Krieg Members who threw themselves to hold him down, "If you kill him—!"

His words fell on deaf ears as Blue Jam laughed mirthlessly. "Like I was just telling Portgas," he said in his insanity, "It's alright to scream! " Marco, however, recoiled and struggled, trying to get the dagger off his shoulder. Seeing this, Blue Jam was angered, and so he forced the blade further down the wound. "Scream like your Mother and Father! Scream like how you did years ago!" Marco's eyes snapped open, his mouth slightly parting as the dagger sickeningly twisted and turned on its spot. He looked ready to give in.

I couldn't take it anymore. "Stop it!" my voice cracked as I began thrashing against my arm lock, "Stop it! Just stop it!" My mind must have completely blanked, and the next thing I knew, I clearly acted on a whim. I slammed my foot on my captor's.

He yelped at the sudden action, and I took my chance the moment he loosened his grip. I served him one punch, forcing him to land on his elbows, before grabbing my gun from the ground. In front of everyone, I didn't hesitate to point my own weapon against my head. "No deal if all of you don't leave Marco and Juzo alone, unharmed," I said under uneven breaths. It was a delicate situation, and I was throwing myself at the center of it.

No one spoke—not even Blue Jam who ceased his actions, staring at me as I kept the gun in its place. All the color from Juzo's face left him, and Marco turned to face me weakly from where he lay. None of the other Krieg Family members reacted—they didn't know how.

Finally, Blue Jam was the first to move. He swiftly pulled the dagger from Marco's shoulder, earning a sharp wince and a strangled sound from his victim. Then, he straightened up from his position and pulled out his own gun, pointing this towards my direction. I shut my eyes, pressing the gun further against my temple. His gun clicked, and a shot was made—

But, I wasn't his target.

Behind my ears, I could hear someone fall with a rough thump as he landed on the ground. When the noise faded, I opened my eyes, and slowly, I looked over my shoulder.

Blue Jam just shot his own subordinate. Blood flowed down the bridge of his nose as a bullet hole rested directly between his dull eyes. He was dead, his own ally, and it shook me to the very core.

Was this the true nature of the Krieg Family?

"Useless fool. He can't even hold down a teenager," I could hear Blue Jam mumble under his breath before he smirked at me again, "So, Portgas—you're playing that game?"

I frowned deeply. "You heard me," I firmly said, "You guys needme alive. Kill either of those two or both—and I'm going with them." I curled my finger around the trigger, proving to them that this wasn't an empty threat.

"Oh, a diplomat, I see—I like that, too." Blue Jam beamed before turning to one of his subordinates, "Mission's over. Start the car." His order was law as his subordinates immediately complied with it.

"No cheap trick, alright?" I muttered to him as two underlings approached me.

Blue Jam laughed. "Of course," he picked up Marco by the collar before roughly shoving him to Juzo, "You have my word." I nodded before starting my slow pace forward.

"Ace! Don't—!" Clutching onto Marco who needed support, Juzo grasped onto my shoulder to try and stop me, but I pointed my gun towards him.

"Stand down!" I spat at him, "That's an order!" He stood, paralyzed. It pained me to see how helpless he looked, but it had to be done.

At least, I tried to convince myself that.

With frail eyes that looked frantic at the same time, Marco eyed me, and judging by his expression, I could tell that he was quietly yet desperately begging for me to fall back from this decision. I reverted my gaze away from his, taking one step closer towards the vehicle—

Towards my doom.

Someone's cellphone went off when I reached the door. It was Blue Jam's, apparently, as he dug through his pocket, grumbling, "What is it?" Rather than entering the car immediately, I just stood there to listen.

If this was truly my last moment of freedom, then I might as well savor it in any way possible.

I observed the victorious look on Blue Jam's face instantly vanish as his features fell, and in a quick span of seconds, his bloodshot eyes were wildly bulging out. Something was wrong. "What do you mean?" he fumed angrily, "The Newgate Family is eliminating all of our men? How did they even find all of—Blackleg and Tom are in the retaliation team, too?"

I thought I just heard salvation from his words. The built up resolve in my heart started collapsing from the miraculous ray of hope that dawned upon me, and common sense clouded over my martyrdom. I was making a huge mistake. I cared for my freedom. I stillhave a promise to keep with Luffy. Flaring inside me, my rejuvenated fighting spirit burst strongly in indignant flames as I found myself struggling once again.

"Never mind!" Blue Jam shouted at his phone as I was being forced inside the car, "We've got Portgas! Tell them to evacuate—what? Cipher Pol is—"

There was another gunshot, neither sent by Krieg nor Newgate. I watched as one of the men forcing me in the car fell to his knees in a pool of his own blood, dead in one frighteningly accurate shot. An enemy sniper?

"C-Cipher Pol!" one of the Krieg members screamed before getting shot in the head twice.

His assassin, a man in a uniform with a uniquely long nose—which strangely reminded me of Usopp's—blew his gun as he emerged from a nearby alley. Behind him was a small squadron with their own set of firearms, ready to mobilize and begin an assault upon his command. "Don't make them get Portgas!" he instructed.

Who knew that Cipher Pol's in our side?

It was obvious that the Krieg Family wasn't prepared for this sort of dilemma. In a panicked frenzy, they were caught between shooting Cipher Pol agents and securing me inside the car. Rebellious from where I was, I could see Juzo handling his own battle.

He held onto a weakened Marco as he picked up his gun, knocking down the nearest Krieg member before shooting the ones who were in my way. "Ace!" he screamed at the top of his lungs after clearing a path for me, "Ace! RUN! NOW!" I stared, hesitating, but one look from Juzo told me that it was a lot better to do as he said.

"You two better stay alive!" I yelled as I pushed past the rest of my apprehenders, speeding towards the nearest alleyway in order to make my escape. Luckily, no one chased after me. Juzo and Cipher Pol were making sure that the Krieg Family was kept busy.

"Portgas!" Well, almost.

I looked back, seeing Blue Jam rushing towards me. His eyes were raging furiously as he was coming closer and closer. Get caught by that psycho, and I was as sure as dead. Immediately, I looked nowhere else but forward and ran—ran as fast as I could.

Honestly, I didn't know where I was going or what I was doing. All I knew was that I just hadto get this man away from me. I zipped through one corner after the other, sweeping past a few people as I went deeper into Grand Line's inner labyrinths. I knocked a few trashcans in his way and even tried to shoot him a few times with whatever bullets I had left. Blue Jam, however, remained undaunted. He was catching up.

My body was reaching its limit after I climbed the fire exit steps of an apartment building. Exhaustion began to wear me down as my feet simply dragged my weight forward. When I reached the rooftop, I gave myself a short pause to catch my breath and looked down. Blue Jam wasn't far behind, rapidly scaling the stairs. Shit. I quickly looked to my left, wheezing and slightly choking on my breath as I dashed towards that direction and started jumping from one building after another.

"Y-You don't—You d-don't know h-him! H-He's a beast—m-mon-monstro!" That's exactly what he was. Right now, I could see the truth behind Pearl's words.

I caught myself just in time, breaking my steps before potentially falling down to my death from the edge of this building. After a fast recovery, I stared, seeing how far the ground was. It was a dead end.

I glanced back, seeing Blue Jam mid-distance from me, and then I peered down again, dying to find a way out of this. That was when I noticed a rope that was hooked between this building and the next. There was also a smaller building that seemed like a platform standing in between. An idea sprang to my mind as I carefully assessed these.

The rope seemed sturdy enough to support me, and given the right tool, it would be easy to cut it. If this would play out well, I'd be able to swing across and land on the lower building. It was more than enough for me to keep away from Blue Jam under these circumstances. Still, this plan was a risky one that only a desperate person under a desperate situation would be willing to take. So, it was dumb luck or capture, the rope or Blue Jam, falling down from a building or being kept under a glass tube—what would it be?

Like I have choice?

I hurled myself forward.

I was never afraid of heights. I kept telling myself that. Too bad that this didn't stop my heart from pounding painfully as I clung on to dear life. I could hear Blue Jam roaring in disbelief over my reckless stunt as I was bouncing up and down against my weight. Fortunately, the rope didn't give in on me, and that—by itself—was a godsend. I only had one shot at this, and ultimately, this was something I had to take. Quickly, I withdrew my knife, thankful that I actually brought it along as I gave the rope one fluid cut.

I was flying—at least, it felt like it. Holding onto the rope with both hands, I felt the breeze sweep my hair across my face as I was gaining speed. The sensation was both extraordinary and frightening—extraordinary because of the heart pacing exhilaration and frightening because of my uncertain fate. Will I make it? Will I not? I squeezed my eyes, preventing myself from shrieking and perishing any morbid thought that would cross my mind as I was ready to embrace what will be.

That was that until I felt my feet dragging against solid concrete. I opened my eyes, my body trembling as I landed on my knees. The world felt still again.

I fucking survived.

"PORTGAS!"

I turned around, seeing Blue Jam swearing from a distance. The situation must be bitterly tantalizing for him. I got up and smirked, giving him a distinct middle finger before looking around and discovering a staircase that led downwards. After one last glare at my pursuer, I nodded before taking the steps, finally escaping from Blue Jam completely.

I found myself in another alleyway, but looking down the path, there was also a passage that would lead me to the main roads of Grand Line. Once my feet landed on ground level, I kept my knife and took out my iPhone. It astounded me to see how Apple actually made this thing durable enough to survive the hellhole that I've just been through today. How was it possible? It was a mystery to me, but right now, that wasn't my concern. I quickly ran through my contact list, finding Sanji's number before confirming my choice on the screen and placing it on my ear. I stood, praying that he was just as fine as I was.

"Sorry," the mechanical operator voice spoke, "The subscriber cannot be reached. Please try your call later."

Damn it, Sanji.

I shook my head, muttering profanities as the welfare of my best friend plagued my mind. I didn't give up, though, as I switched contacts with the intent of calling Dad. At least, let him be okay. After quickly browsing through my contacts, I found his name, and I ran my thumb against the touchscreen, ready to press the "Dial" option.

Out of nowhere, an immense blow landed on my head. I groaned, picking up the sound of my iPhone clattering on the ground beside me as I swayed on my knees. I felt a gag skillfully tied around my mouth, preventing me from further speech. Lastly, a painful ache arched across my arms as they were suddenly stretched into another submission hold. What the fuck?

"Quite a show you made out there, Portgas," I could hear the sound of someone's droning voice as he revealed himself from a shady corner, "I wasn't there to witness everything, but my sources were telling me how you displayed yourself excellently." It was Crocodile.

Damn it. Just damn it.

He strode towards me and reached out for my pockets, "And for all of those," he commented while robbing me of my gun and my knife, "I commend you." I steered my eyes away from him, bitterly lamenting on this cruel twist of fate. Whatever this asshole had in store for me, I was now defenseless against it.

Sorry, guys—Sanji, Zoro, Robin, Sabo.

Sorry, Juzo.

Sorry, Marco.

Sorry, Dad.

Sorry, Luffy.

Crocodile eyed me for a moment before smirking. "You must be wondering—am I with Don Krieg?" I sent him a venomous look which he took as an affirmation, "I admit that Krieg and I have common interests in mind—for one thing, it's to see the great Edward Newgate fall," I flailed against my hold once more, "Another? It's to have you properly dealt with." His pocket swallowed his hand as he searched for something that he carried.

Nothing I thought of right now would be able to save me for what came next.

"Daz," he spoke, his voice dripping with malicious glee, "Set an appointment with Krieg, will you? Tell him I have a special surprise for him." He pulled out a white cloth, and the strong, bitter smell of chloroform lingered in the air, slowly trailing up my nostrils. My head was starting to spin, yet I tried to wriggle free as the white cloth was slowly yet surely creeping its way towards my senses.

"Unhand him."

The smeared cloth never reached me. I saw Crocodile's head turn towards a certain angle, his eyebrow raised. "Oh?" I followed the direction of his gaze.

Dad stood opposite to Crocodile, his gun pointed towards him. Squado and Vista were there as well, pointing their own weapons at Daz who still had my arms folded. "Unhand him, Crocodile," Dad said sternly, his voice capable of tearing apart the earth, "Now."

For a moment, Crocodile stiffened, seemingly undergoing an inner debate regarding his next possible moves. The Newgate Family was retaliating with their allies for support, so Crocodile was as good as cornered, wasn't he? After a while, he scoffed and made slight gesture to Daz. In a split second, I was roughly shoved to the ground.

I gasped, pulling the gag away from my mouth before trying to breathe in some air. A bit of chloroform reached my nose, and it made my head slightly hazy. Not a good thing.

Meanwhile, Crocodile gave Dad a smug look. "You shouldn't be out here in the open, Edward," he commented ominously, "You're jeopardizing your safety. Never mind the boy. You know Krieg wants him breathing."

"I'm aware of that," Dad replied coolly, "But, for as long as I'm alive, I will not leave him to such danger."

This last line drew laughter from Crocodile. "Well, that won't last very long now, will it?" he sneered, "You're time's up, Edward. You know that. Then, the little prince will be left all alone to fend for himself. Why don't you just cherish whatever's left of your miserable existence?"

"Eat shit, Crocodile!" I cursed, ready to tackle him had it not been for Vista who grabbed me by my fist.

Crocodile snorted at my belligerence while Dad pretended that he didn't hear what I just said. A thin line drew his mouth as his brows creased. "Get out of my sight," he muttered darkly, "Unless you want me to rethink my decision. A smart individual such as yourself should know what's for the best."

"Hmph, you flatter me," Crocodile murmured before walking towards the alley exit, "This isn't over, Edward. I still have a bone to pick with youDaz!" Daz eyed Crocodile with undivided attention, "Let's go." He nodded silently, loyally following his boss. The both of them vanished behind the corner, leaving me alone with Dad and two of his most trusted servants.

I was speechless. Not knowing what to say, I stared between Dad and the spot where Crocodile once stood. My dumbstruck self found that to be the only thing that I was capable of doing at the moment. From the background, I could also hear Dad ordering Squado and Vista to scout the area. Those two did as they were told, and when they did, there was a fine line of silence that ran between Dad and I for what seemed like eternity.

Not being able to endure the silent treatment much longer, I weakly spoke, "Uh—Dad, I know promised that I wasn't supposed to be involved, but I did make an effort to run away and—" I paused mid-sentence when I noticed Dad's intense gaze landing on me. Suddenly, I found myself shrinking, and that wasn't comforting, considering Dad's gigantic height, "I'm—in trouble, right?" Okay, that sounded pathetic.

Dad said nothing, and for awhile, I thought I really was, but then he sighed and answered, "No, son," he shook his head, "No, you definitely aren't. The circumstances simply just worked against you." Thank God.

Then, he walked up to me and did something that I really wasn't expecting from someone like him—he pulled me into a warm and tight embrace. Edward Newgate—a domineering figure to be feared in both the business and mafia world wasdisplaying affection via hugging.

What was going on?

"I thought you were—but, no, you're safe," he fumbled between his words, "Ace—you had me scared for a moment."

How could I respond to this? Coming from Dad, this was definitely something new, and could I be blamed for not being able to answer immediately? In the end, and probably for the lack of means to communicate, I asked him the first thing that came into mind—"Why didn't you shoot him?"

Dad pulled back, looking incredulous. "Dear Lord, boy—" he gaped, "I was this close to losing you to Krieg, and all you can think about is bloody murder?"

"S-Sorry," I flushed, "It's just that—Crocodile and—you and—I-I don't really understand."

Dad sighed before shaking his head despondently. "Let's just say that killing him would be an option, but it wouldn't be a very favorable one, " he explained, "The man has it all—riches, power, influence, protection, not to mention a vast number of diplomatic ties. In all honesty, he's my match." He pulled back from his hold. I stepped forward and eyed him, willing to have returned this loving gesture with my own embrace had Vista not returned.

"Sir."

Dad eyed Vista before nodding in acknowledgment. "Vista, where is Squado?"

"He is fetching the car, Sir." His face was noticeably blanched with color, though. I was about to ask why, but then Vista mentioned, " A crowd is gathering in the area outside. Perhaps, this is something for you to look at."

Dad and I exchanged one glance before the both of us rushed outside the alley.

We could see people gathering in the area, largely concentrated on something that seemed to be above them. Their heads gazed up at something, and some had their fingers pointed up. None of them, though, seem to hold any positive reactions. They all seemed confused, but if you'd see the reactions of the older citizens, you'd spot fear. The three of us exited the alley, and when I looked at the gigantic screen of one building, I could see why.

He was like Dad—with a hardened face that has formed throughout the years, but while Dad presented age-old dignity, he carried ancient bitterness. He wasn't immune to the signs of age, though—his hair, short and cropped to the edge, had a darkish hue of gray, and a few wrinkles formed beside the twisted smile that matched his crazed expression. If there had to be one person that a nut job like Blue Jam had to look up to, this was probably the guy. This face, though, wasn't just exclusive to the giant screen right above us. I noticed that he was shown in different media electronics surrounding us and on HD television screens behind store windows.

Don Krieg has tapped into the city's broadcast.

"Greetings, citizens of Grand Line. Hello to you, Edward and Zeff—if the both of you are watching, that is. Ah, I don't mean to forget Tom, but it's quite painful—considering that I personally disposed of him."

I glanced at Dad, noticing the extreme change in his countenance. His face was ghostly white, and his usually proud form turned rigid as he stared in pure terror at the live broadcast playing right in front of him. It was like his worst nightmare has come true.

Whether or not Don Krieg's able to see Dad's face, he seemed pleased. "It's been thirteen years—thirteen long years—but I haven't forgotten. Oh no, I haven't finished what I've started. This city means so much to me, and it's quite dreadful that I've left it without finishing my affairs and dealings here. Yes, I'm talking about my revenge," the poison honey tone that he established suddenly turned into a snarl, "I've survived all these years for this one single purpose, and this time, no one will stop me—not you, Edward, not you, Zeff, not even the likes of Cipher Pol."

At the mere mention of Cipher Pol, this caused a stir of murmurs and whispers among the crowd. Was this the sort of reaction that Krieg wanted? I noticed him gloating, and I figured that everything was going according to his plan. "Oh, of course—not everyone seems to be aware. Well, citizens, your government which claims to be a democracy has been creating a secret police named Cipher Pol to do their dirty work behind the general knowledge. Oh, but don't worry—this isn't the only country where Cipher Pol has an established branch, but it makes you wonder what other secrets has the government been hiding all this time, hm? Well, I'll leave that all up to you to find out." Rage built up among the crowd, and angry protests started like wildfire for the information that Krieg was denying them.

Krieg, from wherever he was, ignored these, though, as he raised his hand, trying to regain the attention of his viewers. "Well then—to business. I propose a game of sorts. A hunt, as I'd like to call it. It's simple, really, and I will happily reward whoever would accomplish this in full cash."

Bullshit. I stood, as transfixed as everyone else from what I saw next.

Flashed in all screens, I could see the exact image of myself, face front and exposed for everyone to take careful detail of. It was like I was staring at my own wanted poster enforced by a criminal himself, by an enemy of the State—by my father's own enemy.

I was part of his revenge.

"Bring me Portgas D. Ace—alive," Krieg declared, half laughing and half screaming in his delusions, "—and I'll handsomely reward the winner! Don't worry, no discriminations! Anyone who's willing to take part in this challenge is welcomed!" Slowly, I could see a few people turning towards me.

We have to get out of here.

Right on time, I could see Squado driving by. Dad said nothing as he urged me towards our car, desperate to tear me away from the eyes of the public. Vista opened the door for us, and we entered with Dad making me go in first. Vista then rushed to the front, eager as the rest of us to leave, but while the door was slammed shut and as the car started to move, I couldn't help but overhear the last line Krieg said.

"So, let the hunt begin."

~*~ Omake ~*~

Oh boy, this is definitely a good one.

Krieg Family on the chase. Ace and I engage in FPS mode while Marco handles the steering. Shots exchanged. Position compromised as I activate a one hundred hit combo shot. FATALITY. 999,999,999 DAMAGE, BITCHES. Rocket launcher deployed by Krieg! My shield of AWESOME has nullified this and causes an explosion that KILLS the area. FUCK YEAH! Krieg Family apprehends Ace, but I summon an invisible bullet from the skies and SHOT KILL the Krieg Family. HOLY FUCK, I'M AWESOME.

Oh, and Marco nearly got raped by Blue Jam BUT THAT'S OKAY because he's still a virgin.

Vista: …

Squado: …

Marco: … -is bandaged and is sitting in bed as he places down the report-

Juzo: So…?

Marco: I will kill you.

Squado: I don't understand. You were already there! How can you actually come up with this shit when you were already there?

Juzo: It's not shit! It's true!

Vista: -sighs- Never mind. At least Young Master Ace is safe, and from here on, we can make a few deductions.

Squado: Yeah, especially since Blue Jam's involved.

Marco: … -flinch-

Juzo: Huh… you're right, it is shitty. This report seems shorter than usual… -thinking-

Vista: With Blue Jam involved, who knows what kind of danger the Young Master is in? He was almost got captured this time.

Squado: Yeah, and if this report is actually true, then Blue Jam's one hell of a psycho. Marco, did he really fuck you up?

Vista: You know—perhaps if we can collaborate with the Blackleg and Tom Families right now, we can still get a fresh trail regarding Blue Jam's new whereabouts.

Squado: You're still—a virgin, right? Uhh… Marco…?

Vista: Perhaps, we could also find out where the rest of Krieg's inner circle is hiding. There may be others besides Blue Jam who survived these past thirteen years.

Squado: Yeah, Marco, what do you sup—?

Marco: … -shaking on his seat-

Vista: Marco, mi amigo? What is the matter?

Marco: -grabs a knife next to his food tray before holding Squado by the collar against the wall, smirking- You'd be wise to tell me anything else you know about Blue Jam. –stabs the wall beside Squado's head- Go.

Squado: W-Wha—?

Visto: Dios mio!

Marco: -shaking Squado- Blue Jam—WHERE IS HE? –places the knife on Squado's throat- BLUE JAM, WHERE IS THAT BASTARD? ANSWER ME!

Squado: HOLY SHIT! MARCO—PUT THE KNIFE DOWN! I'M NOT—SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! ARE YOU FUCKING PSYCHO? ARGH!

Vista: -stare-

Juzo: Woah…

Juzo: … I can add this in the report right?

Monstro

~*~ Italian~*~

Lui è con me – I have him.

Vieni qui già – Come here already.

Poco bastardo – Little bastard

Nessun modo – No way

Non so – I don't know

Porco Dio – Italian equivalent for "Goddammit!"

Che cazzo vuoi, monello? – "What the hell, your brat?"

Poco bambino – Little kid

Vaffanculo, monello – "Fuck you, brat"

Attesa - Wait

Monstro - Monster

Figlio di puttana – Son of a Bitch

Muioa, bastardo! – Die bastard!


We are Fighting Dreamers! Takami wo mezashite!
Fighting Dreamers! Narifuri kamawazu!
Fighting Dreamers! Shinjiru ga mama ni!
Oli Oli Oli Oh-! Just go my way!

"OH—" No. He did not just call me right here, right now

BURN! Buppanese like a dangan liner! :)) Sorry, couldn't resist. :)) HAHA.

Congratulations, you have reached the end of an epicly long chapter? Thoughts? Comments? Reviews? :)) Angry protests against Don Krieg / Blue Jam / Crocodile? Would be glad to hear from you!

Until next time! :)