Hey everyone! Chapter 2 is here, as promised! I actually wasn't expecting to get this up today, because some of it was a bitch to write, but somehow it happened!
Anyways, thanks so much to everyone that reviewed and favorited! I was so not expecting the positive reception this fic has gotten. But you guys probably don't really care about that, so let's not drag things out, hmm?
Disclaimer: One Piece belongs to Oda! I'm just butchering the storyline!
Usopp groaned as he collected papers off his superior's desk, cringing at the half-filled out forms and atrocious handwriting, the undotted i's, the awkward shifts in the size of each word's font, and the misspelling of various military terms. Tonight was going to be another long shift of erasing and rewriting everything Luffy had put down in his messy scrawl, completing forms, and forging the base commander's signature.
Not exactly what he enlisted for, considering he was a Navy captain with his own division to be leading. Especially since he enlisted to hunt pirates, and hopefully put the irresponsible villain he once called his father into the darkest cell Impel Down could provide.
Honestly, sometimes he swore Luffy would never have been promoted beyond lieutenant if not for his hard work and dutiful handling of the entire base's paperwork. Actually, Luffy would probably have been dishonorably discharged years ago, considering the odor that was wafting out from behind the desk.
The secretary set aside the papers he'd collected and apprehensively approached the drawers of the desk. What was it this time? A rotting leg of turkey, writhing with terrible, wriggly, disgustingly white maggots? A moldy sandwich, bread turned blue and black and fuzzy, with wilted spinach and bad horseradish?
Yuck, past experiences were so terrifying that Usopp was almost about to just run away and leave someone brave to clean up the boss's mess. Preferably someone armed and dangerous without workman's compensation, like Zoro, 'cause who knew what might pop out of there?
He tentatively gripped the drawer's handle and slowly pulled it open, one hand blocking his nose and his eyes carefully squished shut.
But the odor did not worsen, so he released his nostrils and opened his eyes, peering in. No bad food to be found in the first drawer, just a torn-out page of a magazine. He picked it up, noticing it was an article about the second division commander of the Whitebeard pirates.
"Whatcha doing, Usopp?" Luffy poked his head in, returning from the galley where he had been trying to convince Sanji to throw together a snack for him. No such luck there, his irate head chef had thrown him out and yelled at him, obviously still wound up about the whole 'imminent pirate attack' thing.
Usopp tutted and showed the article to his boss. "Cleaning out your desk, dimwit. What's this for? We going after the rest of Whitebeard's commanders now too?" After the words left his mouth, Usopp suddenly shut his jaw with a click. Oh god, he hadn't meant to give his commander any ideas, but knowing Lu-
"Nah, it must have fallen out of that magazine X Drake brought me." Luffy was staring out the window, monitoring the ships that drifted through the bay, and Usopp couldn't quite see his eyes, but sighed in relief. Whew.
He put the article back in the drawer, because Luffy was an awful liar and always had his reasons, "Where'd the magazine go?"
Luffy turned at him and blinked, suddenly remembering something. "Ah! I accidently took it to the infirmary with me! Opps...should I go get it?" He chuckled carelessly, but Usopp shook his head as he moved on to the next drawer of the desk. There was no real use for the magazine right now, and it was probable that one of the nurses or janitors had already discarded it, considering where the base commander tended to leave things.
Oh, gross. What the hell even is that?
"Oh hey, my lunch from last week!"
God, what did Usopp ever do to deserve this?
Puru puru.
Oh, thank the sociopathic lightning god above for transponder snails. Abandoning the atrocity of existence, Usopp escaped the horrible stench of Luffy's office and answered the ringing snail on his own desk just on the other side of the door.
Luffy casually swept up the mess, slid open the window, and cast it out to rain down on any unsuspecting sailors below. He chuckled when a high pitched shriek came echoing back up along with yelps of dismay and horror.
Usopp glared at him through the open door, half-laughing despite himself, and cleared his throat before calling to his superior. "Luffy, they need you at the Command Center."
"Eh? Why?"
"Maybe because you're the base commander? And it's your job to command?"
"Bleh. Fiiiinnne."
He was a good soldier. He wore his coat with pride; he comforted orphans as he pulled them out the rubble that was now their parents' graves, he trained with a rifle for three years, a rapier for six. He carried the picture of his sweetheart back in the village in his pocket, carefully laminated, along with a promise to her that someday she would live at Marineford.
He had made a few mistakes, steroids a while back, some hallucinogens a long time ago, that time he ran from a man with blood red hair and scars across his face like a coward, shame-faced a she left brothers behind.
He was a good soldier; he went back and buried the bodies after prying them free from the crucifixes.
A lick of flame flowed along the pale arm, a fist lifting him from the ground by the front of his shirt. He could count the freckles, but there was an unpleasant heat toasting his nose and cheekbones.
"Come on, don't be like that," The pirate smiled charmingly, with dimples and his freckles and everything; he had no right to be able to grin like that. "Just tell me where Thatch is and I won't burn off your legs!"
The marine captain considered tearing off his shirt to escape the scorching warmth and whimpered, eying the flames that licked upwards from the pirate's forearm. His sword was imbedded in the ship's planks yards away, hopelessly out of reach. His rifle was hanging uselessly in his grip, armed with nothing but balls of lead that melted in the flames.
He didn't want to be a cripple. The woman in the photo, she was pretty, red hair like the fire and eyes that were as disturbingly green as the pirate's, and she'd never live at HQ if he had no legs.
But, a pirate is a pirate, and they lie.
"Die, pirate scum." He liked to think that it sounded brave, but his voice was dying in his throat.
The man quirked an eyebrow and he could only really see it past the cowboy hat because the bastard had him by the collar. Fuck, the world was shaking, or maybe he was just trembling so badly his eyeballs were rattling.
The flames grew and danced towards him, licking up his dark tie and then, he was burning. Thrashing, screaming, and everything was too painfully, terribly, excrutiatingly hot. And still the pirate kept him suspended in the air, watching his shirt burn and blacken his skin. Some tiny, aware part of him was grateful the monster wasn't smiling anymore.
"Where. Is. He?" Firefist hissed, and his swamp eyes burned like lit copper sulfate. The marine patted and clawed at himself madly, only just extinguishing the flames and comprehending the black, red oozing burns on his arms when the pirate lived up to his epithet.
She would never marry his now. He was a good soldier, was.
The flaming hand was going to wrap around his throat, and he'd die. He was burning and sobbing in pain, and he was going to die.
He didn't want to die, no, he was supposed to marry that fiery, emerald eyed girl and support his parents and save people. He wasn't meant to die.
He wasn't meant to know either. But he—he overheard the vice-admiral on the transponder snail, reporting in to a base he'd never been to, where there were other men with things they were planning to do, other men with promises to keep.
He was a good soldier; he was a life-saver.
But today, that life would have to be his own.
"G—" A sword came through his gut, and the whole world went black.
"Vista," Ace groaned into his hand, dropping a limp marine officer to the deck. "He was about to tell me!"
The swords man blinked, pulling his sword from the collapsed corpse's gut. "Really? Fuck." He hadn't meant to kill the poor bastard, but floorboards of this ship were strangely slippery under his shoes. Just one little stumble and he had lost his grip on his sword for just a moment, awkwardly impaling a foe right through. "Whose ship is this anyway?"
The past few days had been hectic, and Vista could barely remember where he was and how he got there. One minute, just a week ago, they were all eagerly awaiting the return of a crewmate that had been gone too long, and next thing he knew every printed media in the world was reporting the capture of Thatch. Now the commanders of the Whitebeard pirates were scattered across the seas in pairs—they couldn't afford to be careless and solo now, Thatch was fourth division head and no pushover, but he'd been defeated while he was alone—tearing any marine patrols they could find to shreds.
"Just some guy I met a while back. He said he found some Marines for us to interrogate. But now you've gone and slaughtered 'em all."
"You haven't been holding back either." Vista pointed to the charred remnants of ships now reduced to driftwood in the water. They were both a little wound up, he supposed, worrying about the wellbeing of their friend and comrade.
Ace shrugged carelessly, surveying the deck for any living foes. The native pirate crew was all huddled by the cabin, their clown captain floating about with a face of false bravado. There were tens of bodies scattered around, silent and unmoving in their stained and singed uniforms. His own division's ship was just cruising through the calming battle field, men hopping aboard and returning victorious, as well as mostly unharmed. Their opponents had not been so fortunate, floating in the water like swollen, painted dolls, but the air still tasted bitter.
They had learned nothing.
So damn close, but so damn far. Thatch could be dying in a cell, being boarded onto a ship in chains, or already awaiting judgment at the Judicial Island, and they knew nothing about it.
"Oi! Commander!" A voice called over the water to them, addressing who they did not know, so they both just turned to see Vista's ship pulling up on their starboard side.
"What's up?" Vista said, cheerfully sheathing his blades and approaching his division member, who pointed to a snail excitedly.
"We've got news!" He announced, handing over the communicator with a grin. "Commander Marco has ordered all divisions back to the Moby Dick!"
"Already?" Ace wondered, but a smile pulled at his lips. Any news was good news at this point. Pity he himself almost got something out of that last marine, but to hear that someone else had better luck than they did was heartening.
"Yeah, the newspaper revealed that he hasn't been transferred yet! Those damn marines are keeping him in a base!" The crews were now chattering excitedly, his own division having also joined the line of pirate vessels.
Vista laughed in relief, obviously about to say something jovial, but Ace cut him off.
"What about Teach? Did it say anything about Teach?"
Pirates across all three decks quieted, and most smiles faded.
"No," The fifth division member admitted reluctantly, "at least, not that I know of."
Ace slumped, guilt twisting in his gut and frustration brewing behind his eyes. Damn. Some commander he was; he couldn't even keep track of one of his own men. It should have been him that had gone, but Thatch had instead, and now look at what had happened. Teach could be dead, killed and unrecognized by the marines, or captured alongside the auburn haired fourth commander.
Just what had ambushed those two?
"Well," Vista tried to fill the awkward silence and turn his friend's mind away from his fault, "we should probably get back to Pops."
Even injured, Thatch had killer instincts, so when someone approached his bed in the dark, he knew, despite his sleepy, exhausted state. He's awesome like that.
And well, Observational Haki helped too.
He grabbed the thin hand that had been reaching towards him, barely noticing how cool and hard it felt in his grip. He expected to see a knife when he hit the switch to the lights, Conis had given him another remote, and a Marine assassin sent to insure that Whitebeard's fourth division commander died tragically from his wounds.
What he did see was something out of a nightmare. Only years of experience pillaging, thieving, and slaughtering—because pirating was a grisly business no matter who your captain was—kept him from screaming bloody murder. Only the chains around his wrists kept him on the bed and from tearing his stomach open by scrambling away.
His fingers were wrapped around bone. Just chiffon phalanges, connected to metacarpals without any muscle or tissue, just fitted together like grisly puzzle pieces, leading into a torn, stained, weathered suit sleeve. The fleshless arm he gripped connected to a torso clothed in an old coat that just hung on to the fragile frame, the undershirt so torn he could see ivory ribs curving around.
Eyeless sockets stared at him, black and empty, and the revealed teeth trapped in the jawbones, completely gumless, clicked as the mouth creaked open.
"Ah, I apologize, did I wake you?"
"Oh my god. Talking skeleton. I'm high. I'm so high."
"On what? It must have been difficult to smuggle it into the infirmary, but ah, you are a pirate after all. May you release my hand, please?"
Thatch couldn't release the appendage fast enough.
"I'm so sorry for disturbing you. I just came to pick something up." The skeleton, the talking, walking skeleton, reached over to the nightstand and selected an old dial from the stack of shells that Conis had left when he started dozing off. He reached for the crack in his skull, pushing back the freaking afro, by god, an afro skeleton, groovy, and opened his head.
Thatch flinched, but the skeleton didn't seem to notice as he plopped the dial in and shut the crack as if that was where it belonged.
By god, Conis, his nurse, had touched that thing. Ew.
"The nurses here are all lovely, but tend to be a bit to commandeering. This dial is very important to me, you see, it would be awful if I lost it."
"Keep it," Thatch tried to suggest as evenly as he could, but his voice still squeaked.
"I am 'Dead Bones' Brook. Are you Sir Thatch, the pirate?" An epithet? A skeleton with an epithet?
These hallucinations just got more bizarre. Or maybe he was dreaming.
Ah, yeah, definitely dreaming. "Uh, yep. That's me. Probably the only pirate on the base, right?"
The skeleton chuckled pleasantly. His voice was rich and light, musical, and his entire being had such a surreal feel. Thatch relaxed and let himself be caught along in the dream, figuring that this was the best therapy he was going to get.
"I wouldn't say that. I'm a pirate myself, or rather used to be. Haven't managed much pirating in recent years."
"Being dead does that to a career, huh?"
This time the skeleton laughed heartily, long white fingers tracing a violin that he placed in his lap as he sat down in the chair Conis had left alongside the hospital bed.
"You could certainly say so. If I'm not mistaken, you're not in such a different situation."
"Ah, I'm far from dead. Just a bit chained down and cut up, that's all."
"Really? How did that happen?"
Such a strange dream his mind had concocted. Maybe his subconscious was trying to help him sort through everything that had happened. Talking about it was better than dwelling on the knife that had cut him open and the laughter of strangers that had echoed in his ears as he bled out. If he told the whole story aloud, maybe he would stumble across a thought that hadn't occurred to him already. Maybe he had missed something important about Teach's actions, or his capture. He had been given a puzzle with half its pieces, and maybe this dream could help him locate the rest.
Alright, story time.
They arrived back at the Moby Dick by noon, and were greeted excitedly by their comrades. Ace's mood had lightened during their sail and cheerfully reported in to Pops, and soon enough all sixteen division commanders were gathered around their captain, awaiting the news they were all pulled back for.
Marco took the lead, "Alright, listen up." They all perked to attention, except for Haruta who was harassing Jozu over something or another. The youngling had to be shut up with an exasperated glare. "This morning the newspaper published an article that states Thatch is being detained in one of the Marine strongholds, not heading to Impel Down because he is apparently wounded." They all knew what that meant. Whoever had taken Thatch down was bad news, because if he was tricked, trapped, or found drunk in a corner somewhere, he would be in fine condition. He had been taken by force. Even their captain frowned pensively into his drink.
"What's worrying," Marco continued, holding up the article in question, "is that the article got published in the first place."
"It's a trap." Vista muttered, and the blond nodded gravely.
"Those marines want to start a fight with us, eh?" The laugh was booming as it filled the deck, their towering captain setting aside his drink just for a moment. He did not rise from his seat, he did not need to, but his eyes were ablaze with fury in a way that none of them had seen for years. "If they want war, they have it!" Though he spoke smoothly, with vindication and resolution, not even raising his voice, his words still thundered through the ship. The seas themselves seemed to tremble against the bow. "However, not while one of my sons is at risk."
"The Navy probably expects us to go stampeding into this trap, but Thatch's position makes that not an option. They could kill him if we attack all-out." Marco explained, and they hissed at the thought.
"Then what are we going to do?"
"We're going to take Thatch back from right under their noses."
Haruta snarled like and animal, obviously not liking where the conversation was heading. "Woah! Hold on a second. We'e pirates! We don't do sneaky infiltration! That's for cowardly Cipher Pol agents!" Generally, they did avoid doing anything in a sneaky manner. They were a crew of the strongest man alive, it would be ridiculous if they were timid. Normally they were bold and brazen, taking on the Navy and other Emperors head on.
But this situation was a difficult one.
"We have to, Haruta."
"But we don't even know what base to target!"
"And what about Teach?" Ace added, bringing up something the rest of them had forgotten momentarily. There had still been no word or sign of their remaining missing comrade.
"If he's anywhere, he's probably in the same base as Thatch," Marco placated, trying to prevent an eruption before the volcano boiled over. Ace was obviously agitated over his subordinate, but the phoenix knew better than to worry too much about Teach. That man may not be a commander, but he was without a doubt powerful. "We just need to figure out where exactly that is."
Izo hummed, her painted lips turning upwards in a smirk, as Ace backed down with a scowl. "Actually, it's a pretty simple game of elimination. What base was Teach closest to when Thatch went to pick him up?"
"G-5, I think." Vista piped up, recalling the week previous.
Immediately the second youngest was rearing to go. "Alright, so let's—"
Ace interrupted once again, eyes calculating, "No. If he was there, he'd be dead. What's the next one over?" G-5 was infamous for their brutality, some said the marines there were practically pirates themselves, even if the base commander was said to be honorable.
"G-9."
Jiru hummed, tossing out the only thing he knew of that particular base. It was pretty out of the way after all, the only island the marines could maintain a hold on in the area, mostly because nobody else wanted it. "That's by the Blistering Strip, right?"
"Yeah, because nobody ever approaches the base from there, they only have to defend one side."
"We'll use that to our advantage, yoi." Marco said, and everyone quirked an eyebrow.
"Huh? How?"
"It's usually too hot beyond G-9 for anyone to be able to circle around the base to attack from behind, right? Well, for two of us, the heat isn't going to be a problem. We'll get in where their defenses are weakest." They all turned to glance at the second division commander as Marco spoke, who smirked with flame rising off his bare shoulders.
"Just you and Ace going in, then?" Izo summarized, but a rumbling rejected the notion instantly.
"No." The captain said resolutely, and Marco opened his mouth to protest, but resigned with a sigh before even bothering. One of their brothers was already in danger, if either he or Ace slipped up on the mission, two more of Whitebeard's sons could be lost.
With no other choice, he adjusted the plan accordingly. "We should still keep the group small, then. Haruta, Jiru may be faster but he'll be staying here in case war does break out, and your speed would probably be handy to have. Vista… you might be too big and noticeable, but this situation could get hairy very quickly, so you and Izo, let's say?" Jozu would never get in undetected, so Vista was the strongest available after him and Ace. Haruta was not only fast, but small, and would be best for an infiltration like this. Unfortunately, the phoenix, Vista, and Haruta were all close combat fighters, so taking Curiel would probably be the best way to balance them out, but the fire-arms expert was too huge. Izo would have to do with her pistols.
"But how will we get in? No way am I going into the Blistering Strip!" Haruta muttered, obviously considering the possible death by dehydration waiting in one of the hottest spans of ocean in the world.
"Ace and I will go in first, you guys will need to get on a small craft and lay low a little way from the base. We'll find a weak point in surveillance and signal you in." He elaborated, trying to think of a way to keep them out of sight while he and Ace found a hidden entrance or just a good place to climb the wall. It would be best to begin the mission at night then, so the darkness would keep the four-people craft hidden. "Naturally, this is just a brief sketch. We need to get a map of the island or something so we can flesh things out, but the rest of you will be staying here. The Navy could have planned this too, and are trying to get some of us out of the way, so be on you guard."
Brook had gotten used to walking through the halls unseen. He had at first felt like a trespasser in this base, manned as if was by the Navy with rifles and seagull crests painted on the walls to remind him exactly where he was if he ever tried to forget. Nowadays, months after their arrival here, it felt a bit like home. The base was never quiet, always a bustle of activity and combat against the constant waves of pirates that inhabited the New World, and his personal friends among the soldiers were a lively, bright bunch.
Of course, if anyone saw him besides the select few he was familiar with, that would be a problem. But Brook had long ago mastered quiet steps and thin presence, and was ingrained with the habit of ducking behind corners and slipping away from passerbys. He no longer needed to think about dodging wandering marines or janitors, though there were days when he delighted in singing or playing an instrument as he went through the base, tunes that sounded eerie when they echoed in the bases steel, bare halls. Stories about him had spread around in the enlisted men, tales of a tall skeletal ghost haunting their corridors, accompanied by a lonely tune. New recruits and trainees delighted in tests of courage, testing their nerve by journeying out to confront the undead that terrorized them at night.
His sun found it hilarious, and in turn, so did Brook. Maybe if Luffy wasn't always laughing by his side, the reaction would be dampening and pierce his nonexistent heart, but the little vice-admiral was there chuckling through thick and thin.
Just as he was now coming around the corner, smiling widely when he noticed the skeleton.
"Brook!" He called, hurrying over, thankfully unaccompanied.
"Ah, Sir Luffy. I thought you were busy at the Control Tower, things are quite hectic up there, you know." Luffy's smile did not ever flicker, just widened.
"Yup, I'm heading there now."
"Ah, then it is good I caught you! I just finished speaking with Mr. Thatch." The smile did fall then, but just out of interest, as the eyes were still bright with intrigue. Always so impossibly bright.
"Really? What did he say?"
Ah, how does one say…?
It took a moment for him to find the words. "It would seem that the traitor in Whitebeard's crew is Blackbeard."
Luffy blinked.
"So there is no traitor?"
"Ah, no, Sir Luffy. Blackbeard was the one who assaulted Mr. Thatch. He is the traitor."
"Eh, wait, Blackbeard is part of Whitebeard's crew? No way!" Brook was well informed of his friends' history with the now infamous pirate. The story of the ragtag, hand-selected little squad of marines he encountered months ago in the Florian Triangle seemed endlessly intertwined with the journey of the pirates bearing a triple skulled Jolly Roger. He himself had once stood against the Blackbeard Pirates, and had felt Luffy's ferocity taint the air as the two met in battle. If he had skin to crawl, it would be at the memory.
"It would seem his real name is Marshall D. Teach, though the Emperor is unaware of the epithet."
Luffy froze before him, his eyes gradually widening with some great, horrific realization that Brook knew nothing of. The skeleton took a step back, moving so the shocked face was hidden and he could only see the great word of justice emblazoned on Luffy's back. It was difficult seeing Luffy not smiling, sometimes. He tried to avoid it.
"Sir Luffy?"
"H—he's Teach?" His friend's voice was oddly breathless, and he shifted uneasily.
"Y—yes? Is there something wrong?"
"I'm looking for a guy named Teach. Ya seen him?"
"Nope."
"Really? Damn, I just can't seem to find anyone that has."
"Is he your friend?"
"Yeah, a guy in my division. I've been searching for him all over. What are you doin' here in Alabasta anyway?"
"Chasing a pirate. Name's Blackbeard."
"Blackbeard? Somebody trying to steal my old man's name?"
"Dunno." Pause, they stared out over the water together, warmth bubbling in their chests. "You like him."
"Who?"
"Your new captain. You like him a lot."
A laugh, easy and soft. He used to laugh rambunctiously, but that was many years ago.
"I do. I really, really do. The whole crew is family now."
"Family, huh?" He never would have said such a thing back then either.
"You should ditch the Navy and come back with me. You'd love 'em."
"Nah, I'm cool. This job is way too awesome to pass up! Shishishi~!"
"You're just chasing an unknown pirate! How's that exciting?"
"Oh, you'll never believe this—"
"No." Luffy said, continuing down the hall. "I have to get to the CC, but after I'm going to visit Franky at the docks. See you there?"
Brook fiddled with the violin he carried, wondering, but nodded. "Ah, certainly." Even after all this time, his sun still caught him by surprise.
Luffy turned and grinned at him, obviously a bit off kilter with the news, but he was still the light of day and would endlessly shine on. "And good work with pompadour-man!"
If Brook had lips, he would smile, but instead he hummed a jolly tune and turned to head for the bridge that would lead him back to the main portion of the base, away from the CC.
Rear-admiral X Drake casually cut a cannon ball in half, a mini transponder snail in hand, and then switched weapons to send a whole row of pirates flying overboard with his axe. The pirates harassing their patrol were a large crew, one of Whitebeard's many upstart allies, eager to prove themselves to the Emperor by lending a hand in the rescue of the missing commander.
"Oi, Dino. What's going on on your end?" A familiar voice called out to him through the snail. He jumped up and rested on top of the cabin of his vessel, leaving his crew to momentarily manage the invaders that had boarded their ship.
"The pirates have become more aggressive, and seem to be focusing less on searching our ships. Before they were trying to distract us from afar and infiltrate to search our holding cells, now they seem to be just trying to push through." The pirates currently scampering across his deck were now the distraction, so their fellows on separate ships could slip on by and head for the base. A few were even demanding to know the location of Whitebeard's fourth division commander while they grappled with his men, who all remained stubbornly silent.
Ah, but that was the oddest thing. Here were the scum of the sea, lawless cutthroats and vicious, merciless criminals that could decapitate children and force themselves on women, fighting for the sake of a single, distant comrade, fueled by loyalty and pride. Here were brave men putting their lives on the line to save the whole world from chaos, just, dedicated Marines who would never sacrifice so much for a single life.
A captured Marine either had to escape on his own, or died. A captured pirate of a certain crew could watch his friends fight for him.
It was astounding, how varied pirates could be, compared to the singularity of the marines. In the Navy it was justice or corruption, yet a pirate's values could range from despicable to honorable.
X Drake was ever curious.
"Yeah, there was a leak. They know he's in a base now, and that he's not gonna be transferred for a while yet."
"A leak?"
"Somehow, a newspaper article was published. We're looking into it, but for now fall back and form a perimeter around the base. Considering the size of their forces, Sanji says they won't go for an all out attack. But make sure the men keep their mouths shut."
There wasn't a sailor in their forces unaware of Thatch's location. Just one man's slip up could bring an Emperor knocking on their front gates. X Drake hung up the snail, barely containing a snort, and drew his sword.
He leapt from atop the cabin, purposely landing on a pirate's shoulders and sending him toppling into the deck. He easily stepped off, casually swiping off the fallen's head with his blade, while bringing his axe down on the skull of an opponent that did not raise his own weapon fast enough to parry. Someone to the side bellowed in rage, and he rolled out of the way of a shot bullet, coming up to the side of the shooter. He easily cut the man's unprotected side open, noticing the reflection of another creeping up behind him in the shine of his sword. Completely disinterested in a foe that did not even face him head on, he spun on his heel and slammed his axe into the pirate's pelvis like a mace, the shattering of bones drowning out all other noise for a brief moment.
Only a mere five of the enemy remained, but there was a ship attempting to slip by on their flank, its cannons still firing. Drake sprang forward and dispatched of two at once, using his axe to bat aside both of their swords and slashing them both across the chest with his blade in a single smooth motion. His subordinates, had the others surrounded, so he set his sights on the pirates' ship, measuring the distance between them.
With decent altitude, he could make the leap.
He once again hopped atop the cabin, backed up just enough to give himself the proper momentum, and sheathed his sword. With a running leap he was in the air, and already shifting his form. He felt his bones either shrink or grow or completely contort, as his jaw expanded and extended, as his teeth grew into rows of canines. His pale skin darkened and developed hard scales, his hands and fingers converted into claws.
A tyrannosaurus rex met the floor of the pirates' deck, its boards crumpling underneath his weight, and the pirates screamed in terror as a great maw descended upon them.
Fleet Admiral Sengoku did not lose his head, or his patience, often.
But there were some days that seemed to be dedicated to just testing him; as if some god out there had a personal agenda of 'how far can I push this poor sucker today'.
Today was one of those days.
"Is the pacing really necessary?" Kong sighed, his chin in hand as he sat behind his desk before the aquarium. Sengoku ceased his long strides back forth across the office and turned towards his superior, grave as a burial yard on an overcast morning.
"Unfortunately, sir, I believe it is. To think I thought the capture of Fourth Division commander Thatch was a stroke of luck at first. But of course, a damn D. had to be involved—" Sengoku broke off into a groan as he brought a hand to his eyes. Why did Garp's grandson have to inherit the old man's sheer capacity for stubbornness? Was it possible for a family to be more pigheaded? Within their navy, everyman bore his own definition of justice as a medal of honor. Every one of them lived by what they believed to be right, but there were days when he wished they all could just agree on what the word they bore on their backs even meant.
"Now, now, Fleet Admiral," Kong diverted the topic away from any troublesome grudges. "The situation can still be shifted into our favor. Have the pirate transferred immediately, even if he does die. Simply allow Whitebeard to believe he is still breathing, and lure him into a trap."
"We could finally be rid of one of the Emperors once and for all." The Buddha agreed, but knew there was no chance. "Except, last call I made to G-9 demanding such a thing resulted in the transponder snail's signal suddenly being lost."
"The kid hang up on you?"
"Discreetly, but yes. He insists on keeping the commander alive."
"This child is quickly becoming a nuisance. His work in Alabasta and Impel Down was nothing short of miraculous, but we must still consider that disaster at Thriller Bark and Dressrosa." Vice-Admiral Luffy was undeniably a war hero, him and his small fleet single-handedly responsible for the revival and reunification of the Grand Line's highest admired country, as well as his unorthodox, but disaster preventing actions during the breakout months ago. Garp's grandchild did good work; however, he was a loose-cannon of the worst kind. "Wasn't his promotion to base commander meant to chain him down a bit?"
Sengoku groaned at the reminder. "It worked for a little while. Still, Whitebeard believes that this is all according to our schemes, no doubt. I have not yet received word of the investigation of the newspaper publishers that allowed the article to reach print."
"Brannew is looking into it, I assume." The Commander-in-Chief steepled his hands before his mouth, mulling over the possible scenarios. There was a possibility that another force was at work, playing both the Marines and Whitebeard against each other.
A certain recently active, chaotic figure could be responsible, as so little was known about him that he could be thought to be behind everything. He had played them before, after all. "Any signs of Blackbeard's involvement?"
The Fleet-Admiral jolted, recalling another report he had forgotten in the stress. "Ah, that's another thing. Interrogation of the pirate has revealed that his assaulter was actually another of Whitebeard's crew, Marshall D. Teach. However, it would seem that Teach and the mysterious Blackbeard are one and the same."
"A traitor aiming for Whitebeard's throne, eh?"
"It would seem so. He apparently still has the group made up of some of the escaped Level Six prisoners with him. And there has been talk of him obtaining a Devil Fruit."
"Find out what it was, where they are now, and whatever they are planning. I will discuss the conflict with Whitebeard with the Five Elders."
"Yes sir." Sengoku saluted and took his leave, and Kong waited until he was gone before picking up a transponder snail. Now was hardly the time to be going behind his Fleet Admiral's back and suspecting his own men, but unfortunately there were duties that needed to be done. Inwardly apologizing to his two longest-lived brothers-in-arms, Kong dialed the number for the Head of Cipher Pol.
There was another investigation to be put underway.
Working was hard. Well, working a desk job from nine to five was hard. Get up, eat breakfast, kiss the wife goodbye, and hop on the crowded shuttle to office building, get bumped around, almost drop the drafts in his suitcase, fix his tie using the reflection in the glass, get off the shuttle, and boss lazy newspaper editors around.
Except, he didn't really have a wife.
So he really just kissed the mirror.
He took a sip of the coffee he had picked up on the way, black with two packets of artificial sweetener, and glared at the intern that didn't quite get out of the way fast enough. He dropped the drafts in the hands of the secretary with the nervous twitch and the horrendous eye shadow; the smokey look so did not suit her complexion at all. She scrambled to grasp them, hitting herself in the nose and probably getting a painful paper cut across the nostril, ouch, and gave an anxious greeting of 'Good morning, sir!'
Relax hunny, he thought, I can't actually fire you. But out loud he grunted and muttered into the coffee cup rim about falling sales and news coos. She flinched, fingers quivering as the drafts were shoved aside. "Um, sir, some, uh, nice men from the marines"—Aw, already?— "have been calling all morning. They, uh, insist on speaking with you."
"They can wait, Jan, until I've seen tomorrow's newspaper!" He almost laughed when she flinched, nervously eyeing the rows of ringing snails behind her desk.
"Ye—yessir!" She motioned wildly to the rest of the room, where rows and rows of journalists and editors quaked in their cubicles. Immediately, they all rose and began exchanging papers in a flurry, shoving unedited articles this way and that, organizing those that had been completed and matching photos to captions.
"And need I remind you all that I wanted to see it yesterday?" A few audibly squeaked in terror as his fist met the strong mahogany of his desk. The coffee cup jumped and rattled, spilling as it fell on its side and rolled off the edge. "And someone clean this mess up! It's disgraceful!" The secretary rushed over with a roll of paper towel, tripping over her heels, and nearly bashing her forehead into his expensive desk.
"Yessir, right away, sir!"
God, this was better than that time he was king. So beat prison, too. "And where's that article on the breakout? We should been on that story months ago!" The secretary gaped in horror at him, wiping desperately at the spilled coffee as she kneeled to the side. Wow, she did have great lipstick. He would have to go through her purse and find out the brand.
"Ah, but sir, the censors say that under absolu—"
"Does it look like I care about what the censors want me to publish?"
"But sir, the government—"
"Can kiss my fine-tailored suited ass!"
Eventually, he let things in the office cool down, glowering at the newspaper employees while slumped in his plush spinning chair. As usual, he had to resist the urge to twirl in it; as fun as being in character as the hardass, loudmouthed publisher was, sometimes it was hard to not be just himself.
The secretary was eying the ringing snails with dismay and some horror. He felt a little bad then, because the poor dear could potentially lose her job by the end of the day, and for all he knew she could be supporting a family. But duty and loyalty always conquers sympathy, and pity is worthless to a woman with nothing.
But then the ringing stopped, and the office collectively let out a held breath, relief evident on their faces.
He knew it was time to go.
He stood up from his plush chair, carefully constructed a thunderous expression, and all eyes fell on him.
"S—sir?" The secretary called helplessly as he approached the window at the back of the office. Their floor was ten stories up, and he had to admit that the view was alright, overlooking the sprawling metropolis of a city. The sun was rising in the east and shined in his eyes, painting yellow across cerulean blue.
He couldn't hear the feet pounding up the stairs, but he didn't need to.
"Adieu, my friends." He said, because it felt right, like an apology. It tasted of familiarity and a tad bit remorse. He learned the word from a chef he met, and back then the man had spoken it in the same way, carrying the resolution of a soldier to his given duty.
He shattered the glass of the window with a kick. The doors to the office burst open, navy and white clad men swinging in, rifles in hand.
He didn't hesitate, and leapt, just as Brannew shouted for him to freeze. Bullets pelted through the air above him as he plummeted, but he could almost imagine himself as a swan in flight, wind rushing through his wings.
A gust of air slowed his descent suddenly and effectively, and as he touched the ground he cast aside his coat and tie, and touched his face with his right hand. He was in the crowd and stripping off his collared dress shirt before the Marines had even reached the window to glance out, but he heard the echoing of outraged shouts as the people around him whispered.
"What the heck just happened?"
"I dunno, I think something fell through a window?"
"Holy shit, why's glass every—"
He grinned, rolling his shoulders in his t-shirt and felt happy to be free of all those suffocating layers. Minutes later he was strolling off a shuttle at the harbor, grinning at a woman with a purple weave who waited there.
Yeah, this so beat prison.
And, done! Yay! I figure this is a good time to say some things. Every single segment of a chapter is going to raise a question, or provide an answer. So, uh, pay attention! Of course, if something is confusing you, just point it out and I'll clarify anything. Also, there will be no Japanese terms or horofics in the fic, unless it makes sense for the character speaking to use them. Most attacks will not be named, and any that are will be with Funi's translation.
I was originally going to include all of Thatch's conversation with Brook, but when I wrote it out, it gave way too much away. A lot is going on this chapter, so I removed it and will get back to it later. The WB crew scenes just did not want to be written, so those might be a tad awkward. critique and advice is always welcome!
I'm sorry I can't respond to everyone's reviews one by one, but just know that you are all lovely. To all of you who guessed about Luffy tearing out the page, nice job! I was nervous no one was going to pick up on that, because this fic is built of foreshadowing and dramatic irony, and will just be boring if you don't like that stuff.
I meant to get into Zoro and Robin's presence in the base, but in the end it didn't fit in, but not to worry, all answers will come! And we will be going back in time at some points to important events in the past, so if you don't understand something mentioned here, fear not!
Once again, thanks to you all! And hope you enjoyed chapter 2!