Chapter 48: (A/N: Hey all! How goes life? My finals recently concluded, so I'm really hoping to pick up the pace of updating! Sorry for the delay, but I think I've finally responded to review replies for the last 3 or so chapters! I'd like to take a moment to thank all of you for your kind comments, they always make my whole day better!
Anonymous reviews:
Rio (chapter 45): Thank you very much for your patience. I'll try to be quicker about updating now that I'm on break. Hahahaha luckily I got better after just a few days, but thanks for the advice!
Rio (chapter 46): Thanks, I'm glad you liked them! Well, you got your answer about Thatch, and we'll be seeing Ace again very soon. ;)
Some Reader (chapter 23): I'm sorry for the tears and emotional pain. *gives tissues* I'm glad you'll stick with it though! Hope the next chapters don't emotionally hurt you as much!
Guest (no signature) (chapter 28): Yep yep yep. Hare's a rude bitch. Stealing identities of people he's killed isn't polite. Thank you, I'm glad you're enjoying it!
PeppermintPatty (chapter 46): I'm glad you found it emotionally impactful! I didn't do as good of a job at writing that scene as I could have, but I'm glad you liked it! Hope you're feeling better! And I'm glad you're liking the story! Sorry for the delay in update, I hope the chapter's worth it!
OfficerNarwhal (chapter 46): Haha that's okay, I won't blame you for patchy wifi! Hahahaha yes I can! It's my secret ability! But don't tell anyone, the government is still looking for me.
Rio (chapter 46): Sorry 47 was slow in coming out, I had AP test prep and the ACT and it just generally sucked. :/
Mysterious smile (chapter 46): I couldn't get the video to load correctly…every time I entered that after youtube it ended up just redirecting me to the youtube homepage. What video was it?
Animezpeps: Thank you! I'm glad it worked! :D Sorry for the delay in update and response. DX
Odd Reader: No problem! It took me so long to update I can't exactly fault you for taking a while to write something. =_= I'm glad you're liking it! :D Thank you so much! Action scenes are still not my forte, but I bet with practice I'll get better. c: Sorry for the delay in update. Finals. AP testing. The whole 9 yards.
Guest (no signature) (chapter 22): Yeah…I'm glad you found it emotional! Thank you very much! I hope my writing continues to live up to your expectations! And thank you for your support!
Guest (no signature) (chapter 47): Thank you? I have to say I never really thought of this as an inspiring story. XD But I'm glad you're liking it! Sorry for the delay in update. Life has consumed me. XP
Guest (CAB) (chapter 5): Thank you! Aaaaaaaaaaahh you're making me feel all mushy. ^/u/^ Hope you continue to enjoy the story!
Guest (CAB) (chapter 4): Thank you!
Guest (CAB) (chapter 3): aaaaaaaaahhhh stahp it you're making me all warm and fuzzy *jump tackle hugs you*
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ALL RIGHT GUYS I HOPE YOU'RE PSYCHED FOR THIS CHAPTER I REALLY HOPE I WRITE IT WELL BECAUSE HOLY SHIT IS IT BADASS IN MY HEAD.
This chapter has been rated M for EXPLICITLY DESCRIBED VIOLENCE, SWEARING, and HOPEFULLY MIND-BLOWING PLOT TWISTS
And now, ON WITH THE CHAPTER)
Marco took the stairs two at a time, almost slipping on the polished marble. Queen had done something to Oyaji. That much was obvious, based on the lack of audible struggle. Marco had never wished more to fly.
He finally made it to the bottom of the stairwell, the dungeon corridor stretching out bare and silent before him, the only mark of their presence there the broken door and some blood on the walls and floor.
There was no one there.
No Queen, no Oyaji.
Marco skidded to a stop, looking around in confusion. There was literally no other way Queen could have gone. The door had stayed open. He'd watched Queen descend the staircase while he was taking care of Thatch. There were no doors in this hall that led anywhere besides more cells.
"Marco?! Marco is that you?!" Marco practically jumped out of his skin, but almost instantly headed towards the source of the sound at a sprint.
"Yeah, it's me! Are you all right? What happened? Where's Queen?!" Marco asked, trying to triangulate the source of the sound in the echoing corridor.
"Marco there's no time! We have to do something! Queen's aboard the Moby Dick!" Marco stopped dead in his tracks, before the door.
"What?!" he practically screeched. "How in hell's name did he get there?!" Desperation, panic, and protective bloodlust began swelling in his veins. Queen would not hurt his family. As if any of you could actually take down Queen without help. He's unlived now. You're welcome. Marco froze again.
What?
Queen is unlived. I know you're intelligent enough to grasp that concept. He could almost see the grin in his mind's eye. Good work getting Thatch back up there, he was a big help. Marco felt his guts go cold.
What did you do? Did you-
Calm yourself, birdie blue-breast. Everyone has something they're afraid of enough to become savage for. You and Thatch are remarkably similar in this regard…I'm lucky he trusts Ace so much, even, inexplicably, after he's seen Wonderland. If his mental barriers weren't so weak I wouldn't have been able to use him. I'll be sure to thank him later.
…But I thought- The blood…? Shit. Shit shit shit. This was getting out of hand. There was no illusion of control anymore.
Don't be foolish. Blood only has power down here. If you haven't realized, despite the fact that you're down here you can't hear Ace's thoughts. Yet. Your minds are connected right now solely through Wonderland, but when you wake it'll be more than that. It's more than that with Thatch already. You should be glad.
Glad. Glad. You're telling me-
Shut up and get Oyaji out of that cell. We're agonizingly close to the end of this Caucus Race and I'm anxious to see its conclusion. Marco's hands were moving outside of his control, seizing the enormous metal bar that was sealing Whitebeard within the cell.
"I think it'll be okay, Oyaji. Thatch is up there now. He knows how to deal with Inhabitants. They'll manage." He heard himself give a groan of effort – he was aware it was falsified for realism's sake – as his arms hauled the bar back. "And besides, it's not like we can do much…we're stuck down here until the bitter end. We aren't leaving until Ace's safety is assured, right?" A moment of silence followed. His response defines his fate and you know it. I don't. Harbor. Traitors.
"…Right. Thatch can handle it. Now get me out of here." A grin split Marco's face, foreign and strange.
"That's the spirit. And Queen's the last one we had to meet, according to Caterpillar, before we get to Mr. Savage. So it's not like we're going to be down here forever anyway. We're almost home." I'm almost home, Marco. How does that make you feel hmmm~? Marco ignored the condescending mockery in the voice, too consumed with growing dread. They were so irrevocably fucked. And there was nothing they could do about it, it was already too late. I've been careful, Marco. You can't wriggle out of this. I've waited a very, very long time for this and I'll use whatever means you make necessary to give me the opportunity I need. So don't make the less fortunate means necessary, okay? The door was swinging open. There was a chuckle in his head, fading as he was given control again. Do you hate me, I wonder?
No. I understand you too well to hate you.
"Ah! For fuck's sake Selma!" Thatch yelped in pain, trying to shy away from the "gentle" touch of the doctor.
"Okay. That makes 3 broken ribs then. But you're not concussed, at least. And you don't seem to have any negative side effects from the coma. I don't think we need to put you on a special diet or anything. I'm sure you know the drill by now for broken ribs?"
"Try to take a deep breath every now and then even though it hurts so that the bottom of my lungs don't fill with fluid. I got it. I've been around this block before, Selma," Thatch half-droned, half-snapped. Selma gave him a flat look.
"Why did I miss you again?" she asked drily. Thatch grinned.
"Because I'm Prince Charming and you missed my beautiful face?" Selma snorted, putting a hand over his face – quickly followed by muffled exclamations of outrage – and pushing him down to lie on the cot again.
"Yeah something like that. Now how about we have some Q and A." Thatch instantly took on a more serious expression, as did Selma. The room's other occupants also directed their attention more fully on Thatch, excepting Jozu who was currently unconscious.
"So. Why are you the only one back?" Selma asked. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're here, but is there something wrong? Are Marco and Oyaji okay? Is Ace okay?"
"As far as I know, Ace, Marco, and Oyaji are fine. But that information is now a little aged, so things might have changed." Thatch's expression darkened. "As for why I'm here…" His eyes fell downward. "I…I wasn't strong enough. In a moment of psychological weakness, Queen actually…well, he killed me." Thatch, out of the corner of his eye, saw the expressions of shock around the room. "It's only because Marco's a damn quick thinker that I woke up instead of actually…dying dying. He convinced me the whole thing had been a dream and so my brain automatically jolted me awake the moment before shutdown."
"If you woke up, how can you be sure Oyaji, Marco, and Ace are still okay?" The question came from Haruta this time. Thatch shifted his gaze to her.
"To be entirely honest, I can't. I can only guess that since Queen materialized here, he didn't really have time to do anything too bad to either of them. Ace is in a different part of Wonderland all together, and currently facing a different threat."
"Is Ace in control of these monsters?" Izou asked calmly. But damn was this the one million dollar question. Thatch looked him straight in the eyes.
"No. Ace is not in control of the majority of the Inhabitants. The ones that have been attacking us have not been doing so under his command." Thatch looked around at every face in the room, keeping his expression dead serious. They had to understand that this was the absolute truth. That the things that happened weren't Ace's fault. He watched some tension leave the room, and Izou gave a soft sigh.
"Good." Silence fell for a few moments.
"…What happened to him, exactly?" Vista finally asked. "I mean…we're loosely aware…but what is Wonderland, really? And what pushed him into it? Serpent's been a little…tight-lipped. So much so we haven't even seen her for the last few days." Thatch bit his lip, looking down.
"…A lot of it isn't…within my rights to share without Ace's permission. And I can only assume based on Serpent's silence that Ace isn't intent on sharing. But I can tell you a little more about Wonderland, and Ace's current condition." Thatch took a deep breath.
"Wonderland is a fantasy world Ace has created for himself as an escape from reality. But when you're in it…it doesn't feel like a fantasy. It feels real. It's essentially…an alternate reality for Ace. He perceives it to be equally valid as this reality. There's a whole host of beings down there – the Inhabitants – and each represents a separate facet of Ace's personality. There's Hatter, who represents logic, Caterpillar, who represents creativity, Queen, who represents violence, deceit, et cetera and the capacity for it, and a lot of others…those three are some of the most powerful right now. But there's also Mr. Savage, an unidentified Inhabitant who represents Ace's fear. He's the most powerful." (It's almost laughable how much you still don't understand.) "It's a lot more complicated than that, but that's the basics. Ace is in a…well, I assume some kind of fortified location within Wonderland to keep him safe from Mr. Savage. It's why he's unconscious." Thatch could practically see the questions in his siblings' face, but all were silent, seemingly unsure of where to start.
"…When you say 'powerful', what do you mean?" Izou asked.
"Power, in Wonderland, is measured in the amount of sway each Inhabitant has over Ace's behavior and choices. So when I say Mr. Savage is the most powerful right now, I mean that almost every action Ace has taken – at least this 10-year-old Ace – has largely been based in various fears. Fear of consequences, fear of pain, fear of captivity…you name it, Mr. Savage probably screams at him about it."
"Is there anything we can do to help?"
"…Not really. How do you fight fear? All we can do is try to be supportive, welcoming, and show him that we're not a threat. That there is no threat."
"Why is he scared of us?" Haruta murmured, clearly mostly rhetorical. Her eyes were sad. "We're his family, all we want is for him to be happy…"
"He doesn't remember that." Thatch's voice was soft. "And after the hell he's been through trusting strangers isn't even really a possibility, much less easy."
Silence fell again for a long time.
"I have a question." Thatch's eyes snapped to Jozu. He'd thought he was unconscious from all the blood he'd lost. Jozu's eyes were still closed as he spoke. He swallowed, and his voice sounded somewhat wrung out. "I know you said you wouldn't get into the details of Ace's past but…" Jozu's breath seemed to catch. "…Can you tell me what I did wrong? What I did that upset him so much? It's…It's my fault he went back there in the first place. It's all my fault. Everything that's happened, everything that's gone wrong…it's all on me. So please, Thatch…tell me what I did wrong. Please. So I can try to fix it." Thatch was silent for a long moment, choosing his words carefully, running over Ace's memories of being chased aboard the Moby Dick. His jaw tightened. This was private. This was undoubtedly something Ace had to choose to share for himself. But…Jozu needed something. That much was obvious.
"…I can't…I can't say specifically. But…you unintentionally…reenacted one of the single worst moments in Ace's life." He bit his lip. This was the cruel part, but Jozu deserved to know. "…10-year-old Ace probably won't forgive you for it." He practically watched Jozu's heart shatter. "But when we find a way to get Ace back to his actual age, I think you guys can work it out," Thatch finished. That wasn't a fact, but from how well adjusted Ace had seemed since joining the crew (excluding this stint as a child) and how much his family meant to him, Thatch was fairly certain he'd be willing to forgive.
"Why did this have to happen? It…It's not fair! He's just a kid!" That was Selma. She had her back turned to the majority of the room, but her shoulders were trembling lightly. Thatch's expression darkened.
"Ask Edward Hare."
Getting out of the Red Palace turned out to be a hell of a lot harder than getting in.
It was only after extensive searching of the entire area Queen had left them access to that they discovered another door behind the drapery surrounding the throne. The handle was somewhat inset, and the door painted a similar color to the marble so it was almost indistinguishable from the surrounding wall in the dim lighting behind the curtains.
The door, disconcertingly, didn't lead to a corridor or even a staircase (they were on the second floor, after all, though with the height of the grand staircase in the entrance hall, they had to be at least three storeys off the ground, but rather right out onto a flat, grassy plain.
At this point, Marco didn't even bother to comment on the surreality.
They walked in silence, reaching the wordless consensus that progress was the most important thing now.
After a long while, Marco glanced sideways at Whitebeard. He looked preoccupied. Distracted.
"…Stop it," Marco said quietly. "You're worrying. You're distracted. You can't fight like this." An unnatural silence had descended over this perfect, seemingly endless field. The grass was seamlessly ideal, each blade vibrant, healthy green. Random buildings or pieces of buildings or furniture were strewn arbitrarily. They seemed to serve no purpose, and nothing stirred within or near them. The sky was white. Not with clouds, just rather…like canvas that hadn't been filled in. There was no discernable light source, and no shadows. Intelligent design was clearly fading. They were getting closer.
Whitebeard sighed. "I know that in theory. But…I'm worried about Queen. Being on the Moby." Marco's eyes had moved forward again.
"And rightly so. Queen's dangerous. And believe me – if there was any way to do it, I'd have gone up there to fight with the others against him. But there isn't. This is the only definite way out of Wonderland – getting Ace to send us out. Fighting Mr. Savage and getting Ace back is our way out, and if Ace wakes up it's possible-" definite "-that any Inhabitant currently materialized on the ship will be dragged back into Ace's mind. This is our only way to help them right now. So I need you to focus on this now, okay? The rest comes later." Whitebeard sighed again, but seemed to square his shoulders.
"You're right." He smiled faintly. "Like always. Sorry, it's just…hard. To not worry, you know?" The atmosphere of the place had descended into their very bones, the silence lending tension, clipping their sentences. Whitebeard's eyes flicked to Marco for a second. "Thanks." Marco smiled faintly.
"No problem, Oyaji."
They fell silent again. Grass, buildings, half-buildings, random pieces of architecture, objects, and furniture all passed by, mundane, patternless, but somehow…repeating. They seemed to see the same objects and pieces of buildings over and over, though not arranged in the same way. It was like there were only a limited number of different things and the placer didn't care that they were repeating, like the landscape was just filled for the sake of being filled, no actual design or careful placement about it, objects strewn to give the illusion of creation, habitation, normalcy.
The silence was complete.
Marco expected something to jump out at any moment. Wanted something to, at this point, just to end the tension.
They passed under a half-formed gothic arch, an unrelated chunk of cement with large protruding pieces of rebar lying a few feet away.
"…I was wondering when you'd get here."
The voice was smooth, unconcerned, yet sounded almost satisfied.
Whitebeard stopped in his tracks, eyes fixing on the source of the sound. He was sure his shock showed in his expression, despite his best efforts to conceal it. Of all possible outcomes, he hadn't expected this one. It just…didn't make sense. He glanced at Marco out of the corner of his eye. Marco wore his usual seemingly bored expression, but his mouth turned down slightly at one end.
"Surprised? You shouldn't be." He turned, his grin becoming visible for the first time. "Welcome to harsh reality, children. There are no surprises here." Whitebeard peripherally saw Marco take up a fighting stance. Mr. Savage laughed.
"Come now, no time for cordiality? You must have questions. I didn't give you a chance to ask them before, but we have time now. So, before this ends the way we all know it will, please let me give you the information that you're lacking." Mr. Savage's voice hadn't shifted from that amused, relaxed tone, and his grin remained as powerful as the day Whitebeard had first seen it.
"…Why?" Whitebeard finally managed to ask. "Why would you-"
"Appear friend only to turn enemy? Why would I advise Ace during his first trip? Why would I wait so long before trying to get what I want?" The grin seemed to almost widen, if possible. "Because I had to unmake Dormouse somehow." The voice was smug, the edge of a laugh in it. "With every Inhabitant I unmake, I get stronger. Every facet of Ace that's swallowed by fear makes me that much more powerful. I'll eat them all one day, and then, then I'll get what I want. Every new thing that Ace becomes afraid of is my victories in this war. Ace needed a traitor so that he'd no longer have friends. Everything wrong in this world is rooted in fear. Frustration. Failure. Betrayal. Anger. Tragedy. I am the harbinger."
"You won't win. You won't. Ace learns to deal with you. Ace learns to trust again, to hope again, to be happy again. You'll never-" Mr. Savage laughed, loud, long, and mocking.
"You're so stupid, Oyaji. Did you already forget? This is the Wonderland of now, not just 10 years ago! I don't just go away! You'd see me everywhere, if you'd care to look! Or are you too dumb? Maybe Marco isn't." He shifted his gaze off of Whitebeard. "Well little phoenix? Do you see me in your brother?"
Marco was silent, face as unchanging as stone. Mr. Savage shook his head, victory in his voice and eyes.
"I'm still in every decision he makes. I've been in some of the most meaningful decisions."
"You're lying." Mr. Savage raised his eyebrows.
"No, I'm not. Denial doesn't look good on you, Oyaji."
"Prove-"
"Ace never sleeps on his stomach." Mr. Savage looked smug. Whitebeard froze, considering it. "Selma was the last person he befriended on your ship." Whitebeard opened his mouth to speak but Mr. Savage continued, cutting him off. "He has a private, hidden room on your ship because he doesn't like to be asleep – as much as he can help – around other people."
"You-"
"He kept fighting you over and over and over because he thought you were trying to contain him, or going to contain him. He feared manipulation. He didn't sleep for his first 2 weeks on your ship because he was sure he'd wake up in shackles. He kept getting up and fighting you knowing he'd never win because he would rather have you kill him in combat than ever be imprisoned again. He was hoping you'd kill him. That was the closest I'd come to winning this game in years."
"I don't-"
"The placement of your mark on his body," Mr. Savage interrupted. His voice almost echoed with glee, like he could see the pain in Whitebeard's chest. "On his back. Large. Unmistakable. Not even the stylized version some of your sons have, the full, all-known symbol of the Whitebeard pirates. It's meant as a last line of defense. A last 'Keep Off the Grass' if Ace was ever unable to defend himself again."
Whitebeard stared at Mr. Savage, totally speechless. Stunned. He was dimly aware of his heart falling to pieces, but was too dazed to even think. Ace was really still this scared? There was still this much fear in his life? Whitebeard felt unremitting pity for him. Not condescending pity, or demeaning pity, just the well of deep, sympathetic sorrow, and a desire so strong it was almost a compulsion to make it better.
"Tell me, do you think Ace weak for fearing Edward Hare so much, even still?"
The answer was no, but Whitebeard couldn't muster a response.
"If you do, you're absurd. The fear of pain is in every single living thing. It's an inherent part of being alive. Even you fear pain because that's just how your brain is wired. Pain exists at all for living things to fear it, it is the greatest teacher. Show me someone who says they don't fear pain. I will break their legs and ask them to walk. They'll say no. Why? Because they fear pain, even if they don't consciously realize it. I would like you to show me a person who could endure what Ace has and not be afraid of the inflictor. There is no living being that is even capable of standing up to that challenge. The fear of pain is a primitive fear all right, but the cruelest of all, inescapable and omnipotent." His grin seemed to stretch even further. "So here's the kicker: the fear that composes me that frightens you so much you want to destroy me isn't evil." Mr. Savage's voice went smug once more. "It's normal. Everybody in this world is afraid of something. Even you. Fear makes no exceptions."
"I have a question." Marco's voice was cold. Mr. Savage's gaze shifted to him.
"Oh?" Marco looked up at him, eyes as hard as steel.
"Which name would you like on your grave, Mr. Savage or White Rabbit?" Mr. Savage grinned, one long, twisted ear twitching, a sore on his chin splitting open and leaking putrid brown disease down his neck.
"Don't worry about that, that won't be necessary for the outcome of this."
Mr. Savage's posture was still relaxed, his hands loose and uncurled at his sides, when Marco charged. Mr. Savage watched him cross the first section of the field that separated them disinterestedly.
"Shall I tell you something interesting?" Whitebeard had snapped out of it by now, launching forward as well, but slightly to the right, trying to get the Rabbit fighting on two fronts at once. Marco was going to get there first as he'd started running first and was faster, but Whitebeard would catch up quickly. Marco was closing in, maybe 20 feet away. The White Rabbit withdrew his gold pocket watch – tick tick tick – from his pocket, clicking it open and studying it unconcernedly.
"You're both afraid of me. It doesn't matter why, even if it's only in regards to Ace's mental health." Mr. Savage's grin was as wide as death, his gaze fixed on the watch. "I'm not afraid of you. But you're very afraid of me. Do you know what that means?" Marco was beside him now, one leg raised to kick him in the back, moving so fast he was nothing more than a blur.
Click.
Mr. Savage shut the pocket watch with one hand, the other stopping Marco's leg where it was, grip unyielding around his ankle. He grinned sidelong at Marco, who was staring at him, eyes wide. "It means I've already won."
He threw Marco all the way back across the field he'd just crossed, his back colliding debilitatingly hard with the stone archway they'd passed under. Whitebeard skidded to a stop.
"Marco!" He'd turned instinctively, concern for his son outweighing rational thought. Marco slid down the arch, slumping at its base. He was breathing unevenly, jaw clenched in pain. He tried to push himself up only to collapse back. Mr. Savage wiped his white, gloved hands together, as if brushing off dirt.
"There we go. That's much better. That suffocating feeling you have now? That's fear."
Marco finally managed to force himself to his feet, leaning against the stone for a moment before rising to stand unaided. Whitebeard was still watching him concernedly, Mr. Savage having made no move that demanded his immediate attention more than his possibly injured child.
You're going to lose this fight. Even if the two of you were in perfect condition – which you're not after fighting Queen, Oyaji probably can't hit something with even half his usual strength – there's no way you could defeat him unarmed and without your powers. It's a real pain in the ass you didn't tell Ace more about yourself, you know. If he perceived you as you actually are things might be different. You're going to lose.
"Just because I'm afraid doesn't mean I'm going to stop fighting," Marco said, addressed to both the voice in his head and the figure across the field. Mr. Savage grinned at him. Don't be an imbecile. You're going to lose.
"Oyaji." Whitebeard was still looking at him, eyes searching for any obvious injury. "We'll attack together." IDIOT-
Marco was already heading across the field again as fast as he could manage, ignoring the shooting pain throughout his entire torso. Whitebeard began the charge again as well, attention back on Mr. Savage. He grinned at them, remorseless and removed.
He still didn't move.
Whitebeard and Marco reached him simultaneously, both poised to attack. Time seemed to slow. Marco had leapt into the air, adding his bodyweight to a swinging kick aimed at Mr. Savage's lower spine. Whitebeard's fist was directed at Mr. Savage's chest, ready to catch him on the blow after Marco's kick landed. The force of it would have pulverized any normal human's ribcage irreparably.
At the last possible moment, Rabbit spun aside, Marco's attack brushing harmlessly through the tails of his jacket. He darted just behind Marco, grabbing a fistful of his hair, dragging him down until he nearly overbalanced. Whitebeard had pulled back his original attack, and now moved again, trying to land a blow while Mr. Savage was distracted by Marco.
The Rabbit ducked easily under the blow, close enough that the displaced air ruffled against his ears. He spun once more, gaining momentum, and the arm – disproportionately long even though Mr. Savage stood over 9 feet tall – not gripping Marco's hair slammed into Whitebeard hard enough to launch him across the field, the elegant slimness of the limb having no effect on the impossible force of the blow.
"Oyaji!" Marco's voice was slightly strained. Mr. Savage shifted his attention back to him, grin as wide, victorious, and hideous as ever.
"Please, don't think of yourselves as useless, despite your performance in this battle. You're actually serving a centrally important role. You're teaching Ace that nobody can save him. Congratulations, you've brought me one step closer to winning."
He threw Marco again, this time his aim slightly different. This time, Marco collided with the block of cement.
Whitebeard groaned, feeling the familiar stabbing ache of broken ribs. He sat up slowly, face a grimace of pain, one hand over the more painful side. Mr. Savage made no move to approach, just standing there, waiting, infuriatingly waiting. So confident in his victory he had no need to hurry it along. Whitebeard felt his jaw tighten in anger.
"Marco, you ready?" he asked, pushing himself to his feet, preparing to attack again. He tested the leg that'd been under him when he landed, pleased to find it would still support his weight. He waited another beat. "…Marco?" Whitebeard turned to look for where he'd landed. It would really suck if Marco had been knocked unconscio-
Whitebeard's eyes widened and he felt his heart stop in his chest.
Marco was bent awkwardly over the chunk, his back curved to accommodate its shape. His breath came in tiny gasps, face turned upwards, towards the sky.
The lengths of rebar embedded in the cement protruded gruesomely from his chest.
Blood seeped down the stone, rivulets of it running down Marco's chest and out from under his back. Already his shirt was striped with deep crimson. His breathing was tight, labored with pain and broken from the indubitable wounds to his lungs. A tiny thread of blood ran down from the corner of his mouth, each breath almost seeming to gurgle slightly.
Sheer dread made Whitebeard feel as if every drop of blood in his body had simultaneously evaporated.
Marco turned his head slightly so he was looking at Whitebeard. He seemed to be trying to speak, his mouth moving slightly, but he couldn't get enough air to actually manage sound. Whitebeard felt paralyzed, frozen. He couldn't look away, despite the horror. He felt as if the wounds were his own, his heart was in so much pain.
Marco was one of the few children he'd been sure he'd never have to watch die.
Marco seemed to give up on attempting to speak, his mouth stilling. Whitebeard saw him struggle to swallow. He felt his heart break more. Marco stared at him, eyes firm, clear. For now. Bright with pain, but still focused. There was still a little more time.
Whitebeard knelt by his side, looking Marco in the face.
"How did you do it?" he asked sharply, voice colored with fear and desperation. "How'd you wake Thatch up?" Marco minutely smiled – almost a grimace of pain – and shook his head slightly.
"He already knows the trick. It won't work on him. He's too logical, and he won't forget that it is, in fact, untrue. Sorry pops, try again," Rabbit said, voice tinged with glee like he was watching something deeply entertaining. "Tick tick tick better hurry he's dying real fast!" Rabbit said, voice almost childish, and ending in giggling. Whitebeard looked back to Marco, desperation rising. His mind raced, searching for a solution.
"…Metamorphosis! You can heal yourself using that, can't you?!" Mr. Savage's giggling restarted.
"Nope, not here. If this were Ace's physical brain, we'd be pretty well into brain stem territory. That's the part that does all the really important, subconscious stuff like keeping his heart beating. Foreign will strong enough to heal something like that would irrevocably fuck Ace up. Would it be possible for Marco to do it? Sure. But that leaves you with a choice." Mr. Savage's grin was manic, insane, wider than time. "Which son will you save?" Whitebeard felt his stomach twist.
"You have the choice now, Oyaji. Break Marco's neck to prevent him from using Metamorphosis to fuck up Ace, or let him heal and await Ace's inevitable shutdown?" Mr. Savage continued, the edge of a laugh in his voice.
Whitebeard was dimly aware he was trembling. He stared at the ground, too stunned, horrified, and alone to even begin to process Mr. Savage's question. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, could feel fear beginning to simplify his thought process. His heart ached fiercely.
He felt something brush against his arm delicately, almost unnoticeable, but instantly his head snapped up, eyes settling back on Marco.
Marco had forced all pain off his face, and his eyes were singularly focused, clear, and his expression was determined. His breathing was even fainter now. If Whitebeard focused solely on his face and ignored the blood around his mouth, he could almost imagine it wasn't happening. Could almost imagine the grievous injury wasn't real.
Could almost pretend Marco wasn't dying.
Marco stared straight into his eyes, keeping Whitebeard's gaze locked on his face alone, his eyes stuck in the familiar cyan. Deliberately, though with all the blood he'd lost by now even this movement would have been taxing, Marco moved his mouth again, forming a single word, though he didn't have the air to give it sound.
Win.
Whitebeard stared at Marco, eyes wide. Marco stared back, eyes firm, strong, unafraid. Whitebeard knew he hadn't feared death for a long time. He swallowed, hands curling into fists. "…There's a third option," he murmured. Mr. Savage blinked, cocking his head.
"What was that? I didn't quite catch it over Marco choking on his own blood." Whitebeard stared into Marco's eyes for another moment, aware and terrified of the fact that this could be the last time he'd ever see those eyes clear with life. It all hung on him now. Marco gave the tiniest of nods, and Whitebeard forced himself to stand, turning away and towards Mr. Savage. New conviction straightened his shoulders and hardened his face.
"I said," Whitebeard's voice was hard with focus and deadly intent, "there's a third option." He allowed a small smile to bend his mouth. "If I kill you, I can get to Ace, get him to wake us up. I can do that. And I can do it before Marco dies. And when he wakes up with Ace and I the injury will be nothing more than a nightmare. And that is the option I choose." Whitebeard took up a battle stance, ready to fight for what he wanted.
Mr. Savage chuckled faintly. "That's all very well. But you're still scared. I can see it in your eyes, in the way you hold yourself." His eyes seemed to widen even further, grotesque and strange. "But you're having a hard time believing yourself and I can tell!
"Marco's done something cruel, hasn't he? And he doesn't even realize it. By dying so tragically, he's left it all up to you. But is that truly a kindness? He's left you the fear of failure. But that isn't all, is it? There's the fear of death – both his and your own – too. The fear of loneliness, we can't forget that… Simple. Childish. Plain. But fear isn't boring, and these terrors are cruel nonetheless. Besides…they're effective enough against someone like you." His face was bleeding slowly, and in one jerk, he snapped his head horrifically sideways.
"You can let it all go now, that's enough. Let death carry you away and you'll be free from all fear and pain. Let go and everything you feel now will evaporate. There's nothing more you can do here. Your friends have fallen. Your plan failed. There's no point in continuing now. You couldn't win against me with help; you won't stand a chance alone. Everything you've done was for nothing. You have no companions to stand beside you. Your body is weak, bruised, beaten. There's nothing you can do not to defeat me. You have nothing left." Whitebeard felt his fists clench tighter. He wouldn't let himself contemplate the truth of Rabbit's words. This was his only option; he'd do whatever it took to see it to conclusion. He must win.
Whitebeard began to walk forward, further out into the field, approaching Mr. Savage.
"I won't despair. And my fear doesn't cripple me. It makes me stronger." His jaw clenched. "And you've left me no other options. They say the cornered cat will bite." An ironic glint entered Mr. Savage's eyes.
"'I say shoot the cat,'" his voice matched the ironic gleam in his expression. He widened his stance slightly, preparing for Whitebeard's attack. Whitebeard continued at his steady, grim march. It'd be different this ti-
Whitebeard stopped, an odd sensation first in his back, then his chest.
It was when he saw Mr. Savage's face assume one of utter shock that he knew something was really wrong.
He looked down, not really sure what he was expecting to see causing the strange sensation in his torso. For some reason, all sense of urgency, all thought in general had faded from his mind.
A hand, drenched pure red in his blood, protruded from the near center of his chest.
"That's not possible. That's not possible!" Mr. Savage hissed from his place across the field. He still looked stunned, but there was something else growing in his eyes. Whitebeard turned his head slowly, trying to see who had impaled him. His brain still hadn't caught up enough for him to feel the pain or fear he should have.
Marco stared back up at him, arm embedded into Whitebeard's back up to the shoulder.
His face was contorted horribly. One half was broken with shock, horror, terror, and utter helplessness. Tears streamed down from this widened, terrified cyan eye, and Whitebeard could see utter heartbreak and despair in this expression.
The other half was grinning.
The mouth was bent almost past human capacity, horrible, wide, unnatural. The eye was widened as well, almost perfectly round, a ring of white surrounding the ice-blue iris. It was the arm on this side that impaled Whitebeard. The eye was remorseless. Unafraid. Unrepentant. Hideously jovial, uncaring, entirely detached from the severity of the situation.
"Sorry, Oyaji," he said. The words were garbled, almost incomprehensible, only the grinning half of the face moving to pronounce them. "But it's time for you to wake up."
In one fluid motion, the arm was ripped out of his chest.
Whitebeard collapsed, feeling hot blood beginning to gush out of the ragged, grisly injury. He wouldn't live more than another minute or two and he knew it. Pain began to radiate through his whole body, his brain finally kicking back into gear. Why? he found himself asking over and over. Marco strode past him, and Whitebeard watched him from the ground.
Blood still drenched his shirt, but the impalement injury was gone.
"That's not possible! You COULDN'T HAVE DONE THAT!" Mr. Savage shrieked. Whitebeard couldn't see it, Marco's back was to him, but he could imagine the grin tearing his face.
"As I recall, you yourself said only foreign haki would break Ace's mind. So my Metamorphosis didn't hurt anything, And by the way, don't even try to touch Oyaji. I'm sending him back upstairs when he unlives. Just like I did with Thatch. Hands off."
"Who are you?!" Rabbit seemed to have caught on. "When did you bleed on him?!" Whitebeard, for all that his senses were already fading, dark beginning to nip at the edges of his vision, understood.
An Inhabitant was controlling Marco.
He laughed, the sound loud, strange, and definitely not belonging in Marco's usually stoic voice. "Why do you even bother asking questions? You know I won't answer. Tell me, did it piss you off when you realized even you have to grin like me?" Whitebeard was getting cold. He couldn't feel the texture of the grass against his skin any longer. Mr. Savage didn't respond. "And does it piss you off that you still don't understand why you aren't getting any stronger?" Whitebeard's eyes were beginning to fall closed, but he could see Marco was almost to Mr. Savage, who had begun taking hesitant, frightened steps backwards. He could hear the hideous grin in the voice, the speech clear now, and Whitebeard knew it was no part of Marco talking.
"Stay back!" Mr. Savage shouted, stumbling back. "Wh-What's the point in destroying me?! Fear won't disappear just because I'm gone!" Marco's voice was triumphant, full of savage glee.
"I'm counting on it. Despite your performance in this battle, please don't think yourself useless. You're actually serving quite an important purpose." Whitebeard was fading away entirely. He couldn't see anymore, but could picture Marco, practically on top of the fleeing Mr. Savage, voice viciously mirthful, patronizing, as he quoted the Rabbit's earlier words. The last thing he heard was in Marco's voice, spoken, disturbingly, equally coldly and gleefully.
"There will be only one King of Wonderland, one winner of the real Caucus Race. And we both know it won't be you."
Whitebeard slammed awake, gasping, one hand flying to his chest. He breathed heavily, unevenly, practically gasping. He felt disoriented, like he couldn't quite remember where he was or which way was down. The infirmary's occupants all snapped their attention to him, faces expressing surprise at his sudden revitalization.
Whitebeard's eyes shot to Marco's prone, still form.
"Oya-" Haruta started, taking a hopeful, surprised step towards him.
The door to the infirmary slammed open so hard it collided with the wall, the bang almost echoing even in the small room. A shape moved through it so fast it was a blur, almost knocking Selma over as it rushed past. It leapt up onto Marco's bed, crouching over his body.
Ace?! The figure wore all black, from the thin, long-sleeved shirt to the loose cargo pants. The same freckles speckled the same face, the same hair in the same disarray covering his head.
But Ace was still unconscious in a bed a few feet away.
The strangely Ace-but-not-Ace raised their hand above their head, straddling Marco's chest, glaring venomously into his face. They brought it down hard and fast, the open palm striking against Marco's face loudly, hard enough to turn his head. The Ace-not-Ace was practically snarling down at Marco, eyes almost glowing with fury, looking almost like emeralds-
"GIVE HIM BACK," another slap, this time from the other hand, "GIVE HIM BACK NOW" SMACK "STOP IT" SMACK "GIVE HIM BACK" SMACK "YOU CAN'T HAVE HIM" SMACK "WE NEED HIM-" Whitebeard felt his heart freeze in his chest. The others were beginning to react now, respond to the situation. Thatch moved towards Marco and the Ace-not-Ace.
"Hey, cut it ou-"
"Don't," Whitebeard commanded. Thatch automatically, instantly froze, but turned to look at Whitebeard, confused.
"Oyaji?!" Whitebeard looked only at Thatch, knowing he was the only one who'd understand the gravity of the situation. The slapping continued as percussion, background noise, an almost perfectly even tempo.
"There's an Inhabitant controlling Marco." Whitebeard's voice was grim, sure, but the words still tasted false, like they couldn't possibly be true. Thatch went pale, his eyes widening slightly.
"Shit," he murmured breathlessly. "Which one?! How?! For how long?! What'd he do?!" The questions came in a rush. He paused, however, seeming to go almost paler in realization. "…Wait…no…I think…" Memories replayed through his head. There was a rustle of movement, faint and unheeded by the room, drowned out by the slapping, which was still ongoing. "…I think…Marco knew. He knew there was an Inhabitant in him," the words were coming faster now, rising with the tide of understanding. The room was strangely silent now, save for the conversation. The tempo had stopped."He tried to tell me! Back in Caterpillar's domain, he said, he said we couldn't bring him out-" Thatch cut himself off, eyes snapping to Whitebeard. His expression was filled with surprise and a kind of…not quite fear, but not far off from it.
"He said we shouldn't bring Ace out eith-"
"Is there a problem?"
Ace stood, one hand clasped around the wrist of his practical clone, keeping the next blow from landing on Marco's face. He stared out evenly at Thatch and Whitebeard, eyes placid. Beneath him, Marco was blinking blearily and groaned faintly, as if looking into a particularly harsh light or as if he had a singularly bad headache. His clone was staring at him, green eyes fixated on him and him alone, watching him, expression unreadable. Ace's face was as smooth as a doll's, his eyes calm and almost unsettlingly focused.
He was smiling faintly.
(A/N: Guess what I hate the end of this chapter so much I actually want to punch myself. Whoopee. The endings of my chapters have gotten less and less fantastic as time progresses…..sorry. I try. I really do. It's hard to end chapters in memorable and good ways. :(
So. How'd you guys like the rest of the chapter? Finally got the reveal on Mr. Savage! Did it surprise anyone? Or did you guys subliminally pick up on the foreshadowing and so maybe subconsciously saw it coming (I don't say consciously because I don't remember anyone actually outright guessing it in a review)? Please leave your thoughts! Let me know if any of the plot twists in this story took you by surprise! I think Marco getting back up was the big one. Mr. Savage was foreshadowed too much for it to be much of a twist in my mind, but did anyone see what happened with Marco coming? I mean specifically in the way it did, with him actually attacking Whitebeard. Please drop in a review and lemme know!
BONUS QUESTION: this requires fairly careful reading of this chapter, and a little bit of synthesis of information on your guys' part, but who is Ace's clone in the last scene? I'll explain it more in depth next chapter, but if you look carefully I think you can figure it out. I have faith in you! c:
As always, thank you very much for reading! Sorry for the delay in update! Finals season, then Comic Con and the preparation for that (I didn't quite finish my fem!Marco cosplay (making wings is actually the biggest pain in the ass you can possibly imagine), but it'll definitely be done for NDK, my next con!) consumed my time, and I won't apologize for that because it's not my fault. If I ran the zoo finals wouldn't even be a thing. Comic Con would have taken place like a week later (that's all the damn time I would have needed to finish *grumble**grumble*). Summer break would be longer. But alas. I don't run the zoo. And as such my time has been consumed lately. Shut up Mountain, you're talking too much and no one cares.
All right, well I guess I'll see you all next time! Have a nice start to your summer (or winter for those of you in the southern hemisphere)! And please let me know what you thought of the chapter!
~Mountain97)