(A/N: Hello! Yes the update was slow, I'm well aware. I warned you at the beginning of the story that it would be that way, though. And they're probably going to stay slow as now we're winding down to finals, and, worse, the AP test. Yeah I'm probably going to get, like, a 3. Whatevs. I try. Anyway, I failed to mention this in my last chapter, so I'm saying it now: The song Ace sang part of is Such Great Heights. I like the version by Iron & Wine, but the original song is by The Postal Service. Good song, you should check it out if you have time. :) Well, enough pointless blatherings. You're not here to listen to me.
No anonymous reviews this time, so we'll just jump right in. :)
WARNING: This chapter contains VIOLENCE and SWEARING.
~That I've lost my way around~
"Fuck." Ace whispered, barely audible. He turned to almost glare at Thatch. "You could have mentioned the fucking dogs." Thatch half-glared back at him.
"I would have if they'd been there yesterday." His voice was equally soft, but was hissed with the same frustration that had laced Ace's. Ace sighed and turned to survey the base again.
The wall around the perimeter was pretty damn high and looked thick enough to withstand at least a few cannonballs. Twelve guards, all in pairs, guarded this outer wall, four stationed near the massive gates and the other eight patrolling all around the perimeter. There were six dogs in total, one to each pair of guards. They looked for the most part like german shepherds, but a certain ferocity in their muzzle suggested something more feral.
They looked positively vicious.
The marines holding them looked almost nervous to be around them, and the dogs were picking up on it. They tugged at their leads, testing the give, pulling their masters forward instead of docilely trotting at their heels. If they passed another patrol with a dog, they would snap and lunge at one another, barely kept apart by the marines struggling to control them. Ace chewed on this information, knowing there was a way to exploit it and trying to figure out what it was.
"This isn't looking good, Ace. Maybe we should pull back and come up with a different plan. We can always try again tomorrow." Thatch said. Ace barely heard him, though. He was too busy thinking.
"The wind is blowing south by southeast…those dogs, in this wind, can probably smell something upwind…what, 400 feet away? 500?" He mumbled quietly to himself. "We need a way of distracting them without giving ourselves away in the process. The distraction will be easy enough, but how do we mask our scent?" Ace blinked and looked around. After a moment of deep silence he turned to Thatch, face dead serious. "I need you to murder a pine tree."
"Um, excuse me?" Thatch replied, incredulous.
"You. Pine tree. Murder. Now." Ace's face was still serious as he slung his backpack off his shoulders, opening it and rummaging around inside.
"May I ask why?"
"Because we're going to make the Witches' prophecy come true. Birnam Wood will march this day!" Ace looked at Thatch expectantly, but Thatch just stared at him like he was crazy. After the moment began to stretch into awkward, Ace spoke again. "Come on! It's from Macbeth? Act 4? Scene 1?" He flapped his hand impatiently. "Never mind. I forgot you're allergic to classic literature."
"I am not allergic to-" Thatch replied, outraged.
"Name one poem by John Keats." Ace's voice was deadpan and he was giving Thatch that, you're-so-about-to-lose-this-argument look.
"That's not fair and you know it. Just because I don't like poe-"
"What was the common ideal found in much of romantic poetry and literature?"
"…Um-"
"What book titled after its heroine was and still stands today as a powerful statement on women's rights? I'll give you a hint: it was written by Charlotte Bronte."
"…"
"See? Allergic to classics." Ace turned back to the bag, rifling through it for something specific. "Now are you going to go murder a pine tree or not?"
"Will you at least tell me why?"
Ace, seeming to find what he was looking for, extracted an object from the backpack. "Ah. Found it. Anyway, I need you to kill the tree because pine sap is one of the most damn pungent things in the world. With luck the dogs'll just think we're a tree who's bark got munched by some deer." Thatch looked at him incredulously.
"I'm pretty sure they'll be able to tell we're not when we try to climb the wall." He said.
"Ah, but here's the thing: What's the one scent that's stronger than pine sap to any carnivore with a functioning nose? Blood. Once we get ourselves covered in sap they won't be able to distinguish our scent any more so we're free to go upwind. Once there, it's just a matter of killing a squirrel or something and, based on how little control the marines have over the dogs and how thin they all look, those puppies will come charging into the woods looking for whatever's bleeding, probably dragging at least a few of the marines behind them. While they're out trying to regain control of the dogs, the guard around the wall will be gone or at least reduced. We can get over and inside during that time." Ace said victoriously. He sure has a flair for the dramatic. Thatch thought dryly.
"That's great, Ace, and it'll probably get us inside, but what about getting out again? I seriously doubt we can get the fruit and kill the rear-admiral in the time it'll take them to get the dogs back. Then we'll be back to square one but penned in instead of out. That's not a situation I fancy being in." That gave Ace pause.
"…I hadn't thought about that." He chuckled. "I knew there was a reason Oyaji sent us both."
"Yeah. So I can keep you from doing stupid shit." Thatch deadpanned. He turned to look back at the base. "…I like your idea for getting in, I really do. We just need a way of getting out." Thatch bit his lip. Hmm…how do we go about this without raising an alarm? If they know we're here and that we stole their fruit, they'll probably fence us in somehow. Naval patrols around the island, harbor lockdown, patrols of the island, the whole nine yards. Avoiding raising the alarm is everything. Thatch blinked, an idea growing. Avoiding the alarm, but not necessarily an alarm. He turned to Ace.
"Did you bring any kind of explosives? Incendiaries, maybe?" Ace looked at him like he was stupid.
"I'm a walking incendiary." Thatch scowled.
"I mean something with a timer. Something we can set and leave behind." His face and voice were serious. This would work, if they could set it up right. Ace raised an eyebrow.
"Why? What're you thinking?"
"We're going to need a different distraction to get out of the base, something big, right? Something that'll dismantle the patrols around the exterior?"
"Yeah…" Ace said, still not really picking up on what Thatch was getting at.
"So we make them think there's a fire. It'll be convenient, too. What if it just so happens that a certain rear-admiral dies via "asphyxiation"? No evidence, all just a big accident. No questions, no investigation." Ace considered it.
"…Clever." He admonished after a moment.
"How were you planning on killing him?" Thatch asked. If it was some way that wouldn't leave any kind of mark, (Thatch doubted Ace would use any method that would be blatantly obvious murder. They didn't want to leave evidence, after all) it would be readily acceptable as accidental.
"Neurotoxin. Found some poisonous mushrooms and was able to cook something up that'll kill him before he even wakes up." Thatch looked into Ace's face.
"Eve said she wanted justice for what happened to her." He said quietly. Ace stared straight ahead.
"No she said she wanted him dead. I know he's been cruel and I know he deserves to die, but making him suffer won't change what he's done in the past." He looked to Thatch. "So what difference does it make whether he dies quickly or not?"
"…Eve might not like this."
"Yeah, well last time I checked we weren't her mercenaries, Thatch. He'll end up dead. That's what matters. As for incendiaries, I don't have any, but I know how we can make a lot of smoke fast."
"Oh?" This time it was Thatch's turn to be surprised.
"We're going to have to move pretty fast, though. Did you see that cave a ways back? I'm going to need you to go there and if there's bats living in the cave, see if you can't get some guano."
"Bat crap. You're sending me to collect bat crap." Ace raised his hands placatingly.
"It's a natural source of potassium nitrate, otherwise known as saltpeter. You may actually be able to find crystallized bits of it in older pieces of guano. While you're doing that, I'm going to be murdering our pine tree, and seeing if I can't find any plum trees." Ace elaborated before Thatch could cut him off. "Plums are fairly high in sucrose, especially if they're overripe. Once I have the plums I'm going to juice them and you're going to add the saltpeter-"
"In the form of bat shit." Thatch deadpanned, looking less than happy. Ace continued as if he hadn't been interrupted.
"And we just have to boil it for a few minutes until its homogeneous, let it cool and solidify and voila. Smoke central. Assuming we can get enough sucrose from the plums, it could burn upwards of thirty minutes, and saltpeter smokes like crazy. All we have to do is leave that in the rear-admiral's room once he's dead and shut the door. If you want someone to wake up and smell the smoke, we just drop a smaller one in the barracks or a nearby officer's room. But we're going to want to get out of there fast, the smoke isn't exactly healthful in tight quarters."
"…And you're sure this'll work?" Thatch asked, after a slight pause.
"Yes, Thatch. I'm sure." Ace made a shooing motion, and turned to head deeper into the woods surrounding the marine base. "Go get the bat crap. Nighttime won't last forever."
Thatch turned to walk away, but paused. Something was bugging him. "Hey Ace?" Ace turned back to look at him.
"Yeah?"
"How the hell do you know how to make a smoke bomb out of bat crap and rotting fruit?"
Ace only laughed.
"Sorry about this." Ace muttered under his breath. He took careful aim and threw the knife, watching it sail through the air and into the back of the head of the deer below. The animal jerked, stiffened, and collapsed. Ace jumped down from the tree he'd been perched in and approached the deer. It was dead, the knife, sharpened to nearly a razor yesterday morning, had flown with enough force to embed through the deer's skull and into its brain. It had died instantly, painlessly. Ace still felt a little bad, but it had been necessary.
"We're going to have to haul ass when the dogs start coming." Thatch said. Ace only nodded, not even glancing over his shoulder. He knelt by the dead deer and withdrew the knife from its skull, wiping it on the fur and tucking it back into its sheath. He withdrew his dagger from his waist and held the blade just above the skin near the base of the deer's neck. He took a deep breath.
"So it begins."
He made a clean, deep cut down the deer's stomach, releasing a flood of blood and cutting into the abdominal cavity. The organs were left exposed, the stench of blood and new death filling the air.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a low, fierce baying began. Ace stood, seeming pensive.
""A hound it was, an enormous, coal-black hound, but not such a hound as mortal eyes have ever seen."" Ace was staring off in the direction of the baying as he murmured the words. Thatch grabbed his wrist and pulled him away, heading south.
"Stuff it. We've got work to do." Ace laughed and followed Thatch's lead, beginning to run himself.
"Still as allergic as ever, I see."
They ran for a while longer, coming around to a point near the south wall. As expected, the dogs had run after the scent of fresh blood, and none too few of the marines went after them. They must have been valuable assets, to warrant a reaction like that. Ten of the twelve guards had gone charging after the hounds, only two remaining at the gate.
Getting over the wall was a simple matter, after that. A grappling hook later and they were crouched on top of the wall, surveying the interior. As Thatch had said, there were less guards inside, but it was still a fairly considerable force.
Two guards were posted at the large main door, which was well lit and very visible. The large parade grounds were patrolled by six men, still in pairs. Another two men patrolled near the main gate of the wall. A final pair patrolled the back of the building, and Ace could see places on the multi-tiered building where lookouts could be posted. They'd have to tread carefully, but they were past the dogs and the majority of the inner wall was bathed in darkness and watery moonlight.
Ace motioned to Thatch that they should stay on the top of the wall for as long as possible. Dark it may be down there, but it was still fairly open, and nobody seemed to ever look up as they patrolled.
They flitted along the wall like wraiths, careful to maintain silence. When the reached the western wall, the one running parallel to the back of the base, they stopped, crouching in the shadows atop the wall.
As expected, two men patrolled the back side of the base. The small door Thatch had mentioned was here, as well as the plethora of windows. They'd be using the windows to get inside. Ace had picked one out that opened into a storage room on the third floor, near a stairwell. That's where they'd be forced to split up, Thatch heading into the basement for the devil fruit, Ace turning down three hallways to get to the rear-admiral.
Ace tapped Thatch, getting his attention. They had a silent exchange, using a kind of modified military sign language to communicate.
"It's the second window from the left." Ace motioned with his right hand, using the other to pull a set of climbing hooks from where they'd been strapped on his back. "Wait until the guard turns to patrol the right side of the building. There's a 40 second window. You go first, I'll meet you inside." Thatch nodded, and having extracted his own climbing hooks, waited for the patrol to round the corner.
As soon as they'd turned the bend, Thatch backed up, surveying the gap. He took a deep breath, loosening his shoulders. It was a pretty wide gap, and they were fairly high up. It'd be hit or miss on this. If he fell it'd be unlikely he'd be standing again until the bones in his ankles and/or legs were sufficiently unshattered, and the gap was wide enough to give him a moment of pause.
Pushing that aside, though, Thatch stepped forward, leading with his left foot. The wall wasn't very wide, only three paces across, so Thatch had to make this moment of propulsion count. In the two steps before he reached the edge he got moving as fast as he could, having so little space for acceleration. His third step landed on the edge of the wall and he launched off it, putting all the force he could into his jump.
The moment of flight passed in hyper-clarity, almost in slow motion. Thatch saw the wall coming at him, saw that he was going to collide about four feet below the window Ace had pointed out, and saw the cracks in between the bricks where the mortar was old, where his climbing hooks would be able to spare him a hefty drop. Thatch raised his arms in preparation for the impact, bracing both to shock-absorb and get the hooks positioned to catch in the wall.
They did their job, latching into the mortar like it was soft. Once he was fastened to the surface, Thatch was able to climb up to the window with the agility of a cat. Perched on the ledge, Thatch took a moment to survey the interior of the room before jumping in. It was dark and empty, and Thatch saw no movement within. Satisfied, he pulled a thin knife from his belt, slipping the blade under the window and using it to open the simple latch inside. Once the latch gave Thatch opened the window and slid inside.
If it had been dark outside, it was pitch black in here. Thatch glanced around, able only to make out the bulky shapes of crates and shelves, but no details. Nothing moved and there was no noise. The room was empty. Of people, anyway.
Thatch, satisfied, turned back to the window, motioning for Ace to follow, simultaneously stating that it was all clear and he was okay. He watched as Ace nodded and turned to look after the patrol. There was still maybe…20 seconds until they came back around. It was Ace's choice whether to wait or go now, but Thatch was confident he could get up the wall before the guards came back. Ace seemed to think so too and backed up, making the same mental and physical preparations Thatch had. Not a moment later he darted forward, launching himself off the wall and at the window ledge.
Ace too fell short, colliding with the wall maybe four and a half feet below the window. Thatch had had a leg up on him in height and arm length, so it was through no fault of Ace's own that he landed a few inches lower. At least…that's what Ace told the competitive side of his brain. Ace pulled out the left climbing hook in order to mount the distance to the window.
Crumble.
Ace's eyes widened and he froze where he was, not daring to move, not daring to breathe. His eyes shifted slowly to the place where his right climbing hook was embedded in the mortar.
It was falling apart, practically disintegrating.
Ace stared at the failing plaster, trying to shift his weight off it without causing more damage. Slowly. Slowly. Don't panic. Bits of mortar were falling off the wall, sliding their support out from under Ace like water. Ace, still moving as slowly and non-provocatively as possible, repositioned his left climbing hook, trying to set it without shifting in such a way as would send him down the same road as humpty dumpty. His heart was pounding in his ears and he could feel the chill of adrenaline sweeping through him. Almost got it…Almost. He'd almost reached a place where he could set the hook. Crumblecrackcrumble. Ace felt his breathing speeding up as he felt the diminishing security of his current handhold. He just had to reach that next crack…
With a desperate, internal scream Ace threw himself upwards, feeling the mortar collapsing under him. For an instant he hung in limbo, unsure of whether he was about to fall or if someone out there was actually watching out for his sorry ass today.
Snick.
The hook caught in the plaster, Ace's weight dangling on his left arm. If not for the need for silence, Ace would have given a very audible sigh of relief. As it was, his heart was still pounding, but elation and relief were quickly replacing the suspense of the last moment. Ace looked up at Thatch, who'd been watching the whole scene in horror, and grinned. Thatch smiled back, shaking his head.
"You just got so lucky." He motioned. "I thought I was going to have to go down there and save your ass." Ace only grinned back, unable to reply via nonverbal communication. Whew. That could have ended a lot worse.
Crack.
Oh fuck.
Ace had to fight every instinct in him not to shriek when he felt the weightlessness of falling. A shower of plaster rained down on him as his climbing hook dragged through the insecure material. The hook was still in the wall to be sure, the head of it probably 4 inches in, but the mortar here couldn't support his bodyweight and merely continued crumbling beneath him.
He stopped maybe 10 feet lower, still maybe another 18 from the ground.
His breathing and heartbeat were both racing at twice their normal rate and all his senses were on high alert. He heard the patter of the falling bits of plaster as they hit the ground below and had to blink repeatedly to clear the dust from his eyes. He could feel himself shaking lightly with the excess adrenaline and forced himself to try to calm down. He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to get his breathing under control. It's okay. You're okay. Stop panicking. Everything's oka-
"Hey, did you hear that?" Ace, for the third time in the last minute, felt his heart freeze in his chest. He saw the dim glow of the marines' lantern beginning to softly paint the stones around and below him with light.
They were coming back.
Fuck fuck fuck FUCK. Ace looked around desperately, trying to find some shelter he could take, some way he could avoid detection. Window. There was a window just to Ace's right, within reach. He skittered across the wall and over to it, flashing a rushed, "I'm alright" message to Thatch.
The marines were getting closer.
Ace pulled out a knife similar to what Thatch had used to open the window above and jammed it beneath the frame.
Step, step, step.
Fuck they're almost here. Ace wriggled the knife desperately, trying to push the latch. The hinge it was on was rusty, though, and shut tightly.
Step, step, step.
Come on come on come on! Ace pushed at the latch, silently begging it to open. It budged a little, only to catch again. Ace stabbed at it with the knife, trying to force it past where it was jammed.
It remained stuck. And the marines were here.
They stood about 20 feet down, just a little ways off to Ace's right. Ace pressed against the window, trying to stay in the shadows cast by the niche the window was in. He held his breath, avoiding all movement in order to avoid attracting attention, even closing his eyes so there'd be no chance of them reflecting any light back down at the marines. A knot of tension tighter than a spring curled in his stomach.
"I swear I heard something right over here." They searched the area directly below Ace. Ace heard them shuffling around.
"There's some plaster here."
"Psh. The building's old. You got me all excited for nothing!"
"Plaster doesn't just fall off the walls!" Ace could picture the marine looking up. "Where did it come from?" Ace felt, at that very moment, like he even willed his heart into stillness in his attempt to remain undetected. He felt the man's eyes sweep over him. Pleasedon'tfindmepleasedon'tfindmepleasedon'tfindm e…
A heartbeat passed.
Another.
Silence.
"…Whatever. I guess it was nothing." Ace's heart started beating again. Good thing they screwed over their night vision with all that light. Ace glanced at the sky. You really like to jerk me around, don't You? The marines had moved off again, and Ace leaned a ways out of the window, just enough to see Thatch doing the same of the window above his. He waved at Thatch, again signaling that he was alright, and set about climbing up.
He was much more careful about inspecting the plaster before setting the hooks this time. It took him longer this way, but there were no more incidents. Ace safely reached the window where Thatch was and slipped inside. Ace, as Thatch had been, was temporarily blinded by the sudden darkness. His eyes adjusted quickly, though, and it wasn't long before he could see. He turned to Thatch, who was regarding him and shaking his head.
"…What?" Ace asked, voice the barest of whispers.
"I don't know whether to call you lucky or unlucky." Thatch replied, equally quiet. "But now that we've had more than enough mishap, I think it's time to get on with things. You still have the smoke bombs, right?" Ace nodded.
"Yeah. I was planning on setting it on his desk and knocking over a candle or something, making it look like some ignition source fell over and lit some papers on fire." Ace said. Thatch seemed to accept this and nodded firmly. He produced a timepiece from his bag and studied it.
"It's 1:48 right now. Can you be back by 2:20?" Thatch asked.
"Sure thing. What about you? Will you really be able to get down, into the safe, and back up here in 32 minutes?" Ace replied.
"Come on. You're talking to the god of breaking-and-entering here." Thatch said, defensive. "I could have that safe opened in three minutes. I just gave us both a generous buffer for any locked doors or patrols that come in our way. I expect you back by 2:05, but I won't come looking for you until 2:23." That seemed a fair estimation to Ace.
"Well then, we better get starte-" Thatch held up a hand and Ace instantly fell silent, listening intently.
Footsteps. Footsteps outside the door.
Footsteps stopping outside the door.
Ace and Thatch moved simultaneously, Thatch taking up a place in a dark corner surrounded by boxes and several weirdly shaped, cloth-wrapped items. If someone glanced his way it'd be easy to overlook him, even in mild light, for just another bundle. He was facing out, towards the room, and had a blade drawn, ready to act if he was spotted. Ace, on the other hand, scaled a shelf in a moment before leaping onto the rafters. He padded along one silently, coming to a stop in a dark corner near the door, ready to jump anyone who tried to sound an alarm.
The door opened slowly, golden light from the hallway spilling into the previously dark storage room like blood. For a moment it dazzled Ace and he blinked repeatedly, encouraging his eyes to adjust faster. The figure who had entered, still a silhouette to Ace's adjusting eyes, perused the room briefly, seemingly looking for something. The moment passed intense silence until the figure spoke, voice a quiet whisper.
"Ace? Thatch?" Ace's eyes widened in shock. What. The. Fuck. He glanced at Thatch and saw Thatch was looking at him, equal expression of surprise in his eyes. He looked back at the figure and by now his eyes were well enough adjusted he could make out details. Identifying details. He hadn't been wrong. He did recognize the voice.
Ace swung out of the rafters coming to a soft and silent landing on the floor. He was still behind the figure, and as of yet unnoticed. Ace approached silently, sweeping up behind the not-so-unknown person. Ace clamped a hand over their mouth, simultaneously grabbing one of their arms in such a way that they couldn't throw any kind of blow at him. The figure jumped in surprise.
"Don't scream." Ace's voice was cold. The figure nodded and Ace released him instantly, turning to close the door. Darkness swept to fill the previously lighted area and Ace heard Thatch come out of his hiding place. Ace took a deep breath, trying to cool his already passionate frustration. He turned from the door and back to their visitor.
"What the fuck are you doing here, Teach?" Ace's whisper might have come out a touch harsher than necessary, but he felt it was deserved. Thatch came to stand beside him.
"I-" Teach started. Ace raised a hand and cut him off.
"If you tell me you came to help so help me God I will burn this whole place to the ground." Teach remained silent. Ace swept a hand through his hair in sheer frustration, trying to keep from exploding.
"Fine. How the hell did you get in here?" He said, trying to maintain a reasonable tone.
"…The door?"
"No Teach, I mean into the ba-" Ace's eyes widened. "…You didn't." Teach looked between Thatch and Ace's equal expressions of horror.
"What? Isn't the door how one normally enters a building?" Ace visibly saw Thatch resist the urge to throttle Teach.
"Yes it is, normally, however, when one is aiming to avoid detection one generally uses subtler methods, i.e. windows, et cetera." Thatch said coldly, then paused. "…What did you do about the guards?"
"Oh don't worry, they won't be causing any problems." Teach said. "I took care of it." Thatch seemed to give up on being affable about this and turned away, throwing his arms wide, only to come back a moment, later, shaking his head.
"Great! Just fucking great! You come marching in the front door like you own the place encountering the majority of the guards on duty but it's okay. Because you 'took care of it'. Please, please give me some more of this fantastic news! Tell me you left the bodies there. Please. Tell me. I'd so desperately like to hear that you left the bodies there just waiting to be found, just waiting for someone to sound the alarm and put the fruit out of our reach for the next fucking six months. Please tell me we're now inside a building that is literally a time-bomb just waiting for somebody to find bodies. Please. I'm so very excited to hear you say it." Thatch's voice was still in a whisper, mindful of the possibility of patrols, but it still contained the biting sarcasm. Thatch looked like he was on the verge of actually hitting Teach, but Ace stepped between them.
"Enough. This doesn't help anything. We'll deal with this properly when we're all at a safer location, alright?" He turned to face Thatch. "This is still doable, we're just going to have to reorganize a little." He turned, facing Teach. "You," He pointed at Thatch. "will be going with him." He turned to face Thatch. "You will get Teach out of the base. Once that's done come back and try to do something about the bodies, okay? I'm going to stay here and finish the mission. Thatch: don't kill Teach. Teach: just…don't fuck anything up. Listen to Thatch, he knows what he's talking about." Ace pulled out a timepiece. "It's 1:55 right now. If I'm not out by 2:30, I want Teach to go and get the boat ready for a hasty departure and I want Thatch to come back inside and make sure I haven't been captured. Am I understood?" Both nodded. Ace rarely employed it, but they could recognize the no-nonsense voice he used when giving orders. He was technically of higher rank than Thatch, so even if Thatch didn't 100% agree with what Ace had instructed, he was obliged in this case to comply. "Good. Get moving." They nodded again and set off, Thatch leading the way to a different door than the one Teach had come in by.
Ace watched them leave and waited a few moments for pure silence to resume before approaching the door that'd be his first step towards both the fruit and the rear-admiral. Before exiting, though, he pulled into his mind the carefully memorized layout of this floor and the four below it.
As of right now I'm closer to the rear-admiral, but I can't set off the smoke bomb until after I have the fruit. Ace traced a line on the map, one that led down the service stair this storage room was right near into the basement. The fruit is kept here - he circled the correct location on his mental map - in a safe. Whether it's a combination or key safe doesn't matter. After that – he traced a line up a different stairwell at the opposite end of the base – up the stairs, two lefts, straight, right, left straight, room 507. The line ran down the according hallways to the selected room, which he again circled. Set the smoke bombs and light the fuse. He traced a line back out of the room and down the remainder of the hallway to a window. Get away free and clear. Ace nodded to himself, rechecking the route. That'll work.
Ace waited another instant by the door, listening to assure there was nobody in the hallway beyond. All was dead silent, just as Ace hoped. He opened the door a tiny sliver, just enough to peek out into the corridor beyond.
As expected it was straight, lined with doors, and generally like every other corridor in the world. Unfortunately this meant it was clear of debris and there weren't many available hiding places. Ace glanced up, seeing if by some chance the ceiling might have rafters he could travel along. This was, unfortunately, not the case and Ace was left with one option: walk right down the middle of an open, well lit space lined with doors that may open on enemies at any given moment. Joy.
"I always get the shittiest jobs." Ace mumbled to himself. His eyes were mostly adjusted to the light of the hallway and he pushed the door slowly open. "Honestly, all this tension is going to give me a heart attack one day."
Ace slid out from behind the door and began half-running down the hallway. It was the fasted he could manage without making an indiscreet amount of noise, and the soft leather boots he was currently wearing deadened what little sound there was.
The hallways passed in a blur and it wasn't long before Ace had wound down their lengths, down the stairs, and across the basement to the room that the devil fruit was in. Here he had to pause to pick a lock which was simple work, a matter of maybe ten seconds, and he was in the room.
The safe had proven more difficult. It did turn out to be a combination safe, but after nearly five minutes of his ear pressed against it listening to the dull ticking as he worked with the mechanism he was in. He'd grabbed the fruit and slipped it in his bag. There was something else, though. Something he was sure he was forgetting. When he realized his mistake Ace nearly smacked his head against the table out of sheer frustration.
He'd forgotten to get the fake Devil Fruit from Thatch.
Ace pulled out his timepiece and glanced at it. 2:09. He had 21 minutes left. That wasn't enough time to find Thatch and get down here with the fruit, get back up, kill the rear-admiral, place the smoke bomb and make a neat escape. Damn. Ace glanced at the safe. Well… He studied the inside of the door before selecting a knife. He was able to use the blade as a screwdriver and then a pry bar and removed the back of the door. This done, he set about ruining the lock mechanism, removing the place where the tumblers came into contact with the dial mechanism. Satisfied, he slid the plate back on, reaffixed the screws, and closed the door, listening to the lock that would never open again click home. They could probably get through it another way, but it'd take them a while to realize the safe was broken, even longer to get the tools to open it. By then Ace hoped to be well out at sea with this little mess behind him.
Content with the havoc to ensue, Ace left the little room, careful to lock the door behind him again. Then it was up the second set of stairs, down a near labyrinth of hallways, and he was finally nearing the door to the rear-admiral.
Ace approached this corner as he did every other. He pressed his back to the wall and peered down it in the direction he intended to go, taking a moment to listen intently for footsteps or voices. Moving through all these open corridors left Ace's nerves on constant alert and he'd nearly died of heart failure twice when mice had darted across his path. All the same, he had yet to meet any people. Thatch had been right, most if not all of the patrolling was outside.
Assured that nobody was present or coming, Ace turned the corner, passing maybe halfway down this corridor with the previous haste he'd passed through all the others. He didn't like lingering in these open spaces. Not when in a building where ever person in it wants to kill you.
Ace found the right door, and, as expected it was locked. Ace set to picking this lock as well, working hard to keep the inevitable sounds as faint as possible. When it finally clicked home, Ace waited another moment to see if anyone stirred within. Nobody did, and Ace slowly opened the door just a tiny sliver, just enough to look inside.
It was much darker in the chamber than in the hallway, and Ace's eyes were forced to adjust to the darkness. Once they did, Ace saw everything he expected to see. Plain furniture. Bed. Desk in one corner. The marines could really be as frugal as nuns. Ace pushed the door open slowly, mindful of the slightly aged hinges.
He moved the door at such a pace that the light would enter gradually, not sudden enough to wake a person. The hinges were cooperating as well, only giving the faintest of squeaks when Ace first pushed the door. Ace padded silently inside, quiet as the angel of death himself. He drew up next to the bed, withdrawing the poisoned needle from his bag.
Oh. Fuck.
Tonight was just really, really, really not Ace's night.
The marine wasn't there. The bed was empty, the sheets cold, obviously having been unoccupied for at least 7 minutes. A stream of profanity ran non-stop through Ace's mind. What the hell was he supposed to do now? He had no idea where the officer would be. He was supposed to be sleeping, right here, just waiting for Ace to come get him. Why wasn't he here?!
Oh right. Because someone upstairs liked to jerk him around.
"Fuck. Fuck." Ace backed away from the bed, safely stowing the poison back in his bag. He hesitated a moment, unsure if he should set and light the smoke bombs. He had no way of finding the rear-admiral now. He'd have to come back another night. Ace didn't like this situation and Eve could damn well wait another 24 hours. I should set them, but not here. Ace nodded to himself and withdrew from the room, shutting and locking the door behind him. He began jogging down the hallway, trying to locate a good position for the incendiaries. He passed a window and did a double-take, stopping in his tracks.
Well fuck. Everything is just so going my way tonight. I should really buy a lottery ticket.
He could see Thatch and Teach down in the yard. They were currently moving along one of the walls, heading towards the southeast corner.
They seemed blissfully unaware of the group of marines closing in on them from behind.
"Nonononononononononononononono…Come on, Thatch, turn around! They're right behind you! Are you freaking DEAF?" Ace's voice, for all that it conveyed the tension and suspense of the moment, was still in the confines of a whisper. The pair seemed to finally notice their pursuit, speeding up considerably. All the same, they were still in a big, rectangular pen, nowhere to really run as Ace could see the front gate, the only gate, had been put on lockdown.
And then Ace saw the patrol approaching them from the left.
As of yet, the second patrol was still hidden from their view, obscured by the base itself, but Ace could see it coming, could see his friends running headlong into a trap. They were going to be cornered in minutes.
"God damn it!" Ace resisted the urge to pound his fists against the glass in sheer frustration, there wasn't time for that. He needed to make a distraction. They'd already spotted Thatch and Teach, so it'd have to be something big. Ace ran a hand through his hair, trying to come up with something, anything. No way would smoke bombs be enough now. Ace could try actually setting the place on fire, but the building was made of a lot of stone and not much else, not the most flammable stuff to work with. Ace was sure he could get it going given time, but that was exactly what he didn't have. He needed something the marines were afraid of, something that would get them off the offense and onto the defense. Ace snapped his fingers in realization, eyes flying back open.
Got it.
Ace practically flew down the hallways and stairs. He didn't know exactly where he was going, only that it was somewhere on the main floor, near one of the walls. Ace stopped by door after door, listening intently for the sound he needed to hear on the other side. He finally came to a stop near the door he was looking for, double doors, actually, and stopped, panting. He hurriedly picked the lock, moving inside without waiting to check for inhabitants.
Pungent didn't even begin to describe how the kennels smelled. Ace stepped inside, nearly overpowered by the stink of dog and urine. The kennel was fairly dark, but it was still bright enough for Ace to clearly make out the veritable pack of dogs contained in the cage that occupied maybe two thirds of the large room. The dogs were agitated by his presence, pacing back and forth, snarling at him. When he approached, a few actually leapt and snapped at him. Ace looked around, searching for the other feature of the room that he prayed would be there.
Ace's eyes caught on the second door in the room and he walked over to it, opening it just enough to glimpse what lay beyond. He heaved a breath of relief. Something was actually going his way.
Cool night air flowed in through the partially open door, and Ace threw it wide, letting in moonlight and wind. The dogs seemed to perk up, intrigued and excited by the outside air and temperature. When Ace approached the cage again, though, they resumed their former snarling and pacing.
"Damn. They really breed you fierce, don't they?" Ace surveyed the locking mechanism on the door. It was simple enough, only designed to keep the dogs in, not people out. Ace still had the problem of how to get to it without getting his hand bitten off, though. His mouth twitched. He still didn't really like dogs.
After considering it for another moment, Ace took the easiest solution.
The fire that was inherently part of him responded to him instantly, wrapping around his hand. Ace willed the temperature higher, higher, higher, until the flames glowed almost white. The dogs, upon seeing and smelling fire, instinctively shrunk back, staying well away. Ace slowly lowered his glowing hand, tracing his pointer finger along the locking mechanism. It melted like butter beneath his touch and not a moment later he was through. He released his hold on the fire, letting it seep back into his skin. The dogs didn't hesitate a moment, throwing themselves at the door, knocking Ace back with the force of their assault on it. Ace, taken by surprise as he was, was thrown back against the wall by the door which slammed open. The dogs paid him no mind, opting instead to charge out into the night. There was one that was obviously the leader, an old, grizzled male with more scars than fur, half-starved and with roving, wild eyes. He passed the door first. He reached the moonlight first.
It was him that first raised his voice in an eerie, unnatural howl.
Ace felt his heart stop in his chest as he watched, but the dog didn't even turn back to look at him. A moment later he was off pounding into the night, leading his pack. Ace stared after him in shock for a moment.
…And now you know where gytrash come from.
The pursuit hadn't lasted long. Thatch had intended for them to get to the wall, throw a hook, and climb out before the marines got there, but a second group had been ready to head them off. They'd been forced to a halt at the intersection of the south and east walls, and now stood staring at said wall, the light of the marines' lights shining full on them. Thatch was biding his time, trying to avoid turning around. If they saw his face they'd know who he was and then the whole mission would be practically botched.
"Thatch, what do we do?" Teach's voice was quiet, barely audible even to Thatch, who stood right beside him.
"Relax. Don't let them see your face for as long as you can. Stay calm." Thatch replied, equally quiet. Teach snorted.
"Yeah that's great advice. I'm sure that'll get me out of an execution."
"It will if you wait for Ace to figure something out."
Among all the assembled marines behind them, Thatch heard one moving. He must be the officer. The one in control. The marines had formed a solid semi-ring around them, pinning them against the wall with a line of solid rifles pointed at them. They really did need help, there was just no way to get out of this on their own. Everything was at a standstill now except for that officer, who seemed to be getting closer.
"Turn around, scum." He said, voice harsh and cold.
"Or what?" Thatch replied. "You gonna kill me?" Teach was looking at him like he was crazy but still followed his lead, keeping his back to the marines. The officer snorted.
"No. I was thinking of shooting you in the knee, though. You're an awfully fast runner, it'd be a real hassle to have to catch you again. Now, do I have to ask in a less than polite way or will you turn around and let me see your faces?" Damn it. Thatch could not afford to get shot in the leg. He began turning, going as slow as he could, attempting to hide his identity for as long as possible. "Faster. I don't have all ni-"
Howling.
Fierce, wild howling.
…Ace, this is not what I had in mind when I wanted you to save our asses. Thatch could hear unrest among the marines, but the officer fought for control, insisting they maintain their formations.
That all went to hell in a bloody gurgle when a dog bit his face off.
The marines panicked, running, firing randomly, doing everything and anything to avoid being on the receiving end of the snapping, bone-breaking jaws. The dogs, though, seemed almost ethereal. It was one in every fifteen shots that actually seemed to land, and when they did they rarely did more than injure. Thatch spun around, sheer reflex making him duck before a dog bit his throat, and drew a pair of short-swords. He wasn't half as good at them as with his long-swords, but there was just no way to bring long-swords on a mission like this. And he was still very skilled with short-swords; he was just a virtuoso with his real blades.
The marine officer the dogs had attacked first lay on the ground in an expanding pool of blood. He wasn't breathing anymore.
"Hey! Check and see if you can't find that guy's name on any of his stuff!" Thatch shouted over the din, swiping at another dog that leapt for him. While Teach was searching the marine, Thatch kept him covered, taking out the near-feral dogs whenever they had the audacity to attack. Eventually they seemed to at least grow wary of Thatch's swords, but as of yet he'd only succeeded in killing two. He'd grazed others, leaving light injuries, but they always managed to twist away before he could do real damage.
They seemed to be getting smarter and with less marines to go after they began working in pairs, then trios, and on. Thatch was slowly but surely getting pushed back, far more often on the defensive than offensive. "Come on, Teach, I can't keep this up forever!" He swung at another dog, only to miss as it dodged away, it's partner's jaws snapping shut less than an inch away from Thatch's hastily withdrawn arm.
"Got it! His name's James Conan White. Says he's a rear-admiral." Well at least that's one objective done. The dogs shrieked and jumped back when a line of fire cut through their midst. They extinguished a few moments later, leaving an open path between the dogs.
Ace was waving at them from maybe 40 feet away.
"Come one, guys! Let's go!" Thatch instantly took off down the temporary path, knowing it wouldn't be long before the dogs were back snapping at his heels. They soon caught up with Ace, who turned and led the way to the main gate. The dogs, as predicted, were soon back on their tail, but a few well-timed bursts of flame had them at bay.
The marines formerly guarding the gate had been called into the group that had cornered Thatch and Teach, and as such all were dead or deeply injured and left well behind after the dogs attacked. Thatch and Ace slammed into it nearly simultaneously, their bodyweight and momentum propelling the doors open. Ace tossed one last fireball over their shoulder before racing out the door.
The gate didn't swing shut behind them, and Ace knew they wouldn't have time to push it closed before the dogs got there, so he turned to his two companions.
"Split up. Head into the woods. Lose your tail, the dogs'll give up if you sit up in a tree for a while. Meet back at the house by dawn. Please don't get eaten." Thatch and Teach nodded and Ace broke off, heading what he guessed to be north. He heard the panting and baying of the dogs on his tail, yet he felt a wild exhilaration as he ran through the trees, moonlit green blurring past him. He couldn't help the laugh that erupted out of his chest, filling the night air along with the dogs' throaty barking.
Ace didn't know how long he ran, didn't know how far he went, but he felt good. The night air bit his lungs with cold and he recognized his growing fatigue, but his heart was pounding in his ears and he didn't want to stop.
His legs and lungs burned, though, and when he found an old oak he didn't hesitate to scramble up it like a squirrel. He sat on a bough nearly gasping for breath, looking down at the dogs surrounding the tree. They jumped and snapped at their prey, but Ace was well out of their reach. Eventually they seemed to give up, to grow bored. They trotted off into the woods, searching for easier game.
All except one.
The leader, the gytrash, remained behind. He sat at the base of Ace's tree, staring up while Ace stared down. Silence passed. His eyes seemed to burn into Ace's very soul, seemed to see, to know everything about him. Ace, on the contrary, could see nothing in the eyes of the scarred dog below. Eventually, having either seen all there was to see or found something he liked or disliked, the gytrash stood, turned, and padded off. The mist seemed to close around him, embrace him like he really was the mythical spirit.
He didn't look back.
Ace waited in the tree for another half an hour or so, just to be sure the dogs were really gone. Satisfied that they'd abandoned him, Ace slid down from the tree and back to the forest floor, taking a deep breath of the crispy fall air. He looked around, smiling. He felt good. Really good. Alive. There was just one slight problem, only a minor annoyance, really.
…Where was he again?
(A/N: And that's a (temporary) wrap. Please tell me it was enjoyable? I really did try…
Fun fact: A gytrash is a spirit found in northern British folklore. It takes the form of a spectral, starved dog or horse and misleads and/or kills travelers. Just so you all know, the dog wasn't actually a gytrash, Ace was just referring to it that way because it seemed surreal to him. Comprende? If you like you can look up a gytrash on google images. There are some pretty cool interpretations out there!
BONUS QUESTION: Okay, so at the beginning of the chapter Ace asks Thatch three questions about classic literature. What are their answers? Leave your reply in a review~!
BONUS QUESTION 2: When Ace first hears the dogs baying he says, "A hound it was, an enormous, coal-black hound, but not such a hound as mortal eyes have ever seen." What is this a quote from? Again, leave your answer in a review!
I'd love to hear your feedback, opinions, and/or suggestions, so please, PLEASE review. I know this chapter was way overdue and that's all my fault (and school's), but please, you'd make me really, really happy if you dropped me a note. :) See you next chapter.
~Stuff'nStuff)