Chapter 5: Rampage
Summary: Drake struggles, Hina struggles, Smoker struggles.
Notes: Art by CrowSizna!
Extricating herself from Doll's bed was not a simple task. Careful thought had to be applied to delicate movements so as not to wake her, then leave the room without sound. Put on appropriate outdoors attire, again without sound, and leave Doll's warm apartment without letting the lock click.
The inconveniences Hina will suffer for a smoke alone.
Doll's rooftop offers a sweeping view of G-14's barracks, training grounds and SG-1, the sea rolling in the background ever present. The bright lights of the base reflect off the snow and ice, the ocean a dark expanse except for the occasional patrol ship and far, far in the distance, the bright beacon of Egghead Island, a place she had never been.
Hina knew somewhere to the south was Hachinosu, another island she had never set foot on. A place of scum and villainy. Poor Koby-kun was being held hostage there, but it was preferable to that obnoxious Cross Guild.
Either of those organizations could be harboring the missing Princess Vivi, Cross Guild a higher suspect due to Crocodile's involvement. But surely, if that was the case, they would have made demands by now.
Things did not add up. How irksome.
What was more irksome was that she was not as focused on her mission as she should be. No, instead Hina's precious time continued drifting to a certain redhead and times long past and best left there. She had caught him walking the base, his blue eyes as contemplative as she recalled.
And according to Kujaku (against Hina's wishes), Diez Drake was the same man as he'd ever been. She sneered around her cigarette. Kujaku failed to see how loathsome that statement was. If he was the same man as the one Hina had known, had once done something as stupid as loved, then he was a lying bastard who said one thing and did another in a world where words mattered little and action was king.
Duty did not absolve him of his duplicity or of his choices. It did not make up for the pain he had caused. Worse still, it did not undo the wound from which Smoker was finally healing. Hina's heart could withstand betrayal, lies, and the devastation from the unexpected. She believed the world to be mostly cruel with warm exceptions.
Smoker, however much he would argue the opposite, did not share her viewpoint. Betrayal cut him deeply, and if he was not careful, could deliver a fatal blow. If Diez Drake was not a different man than the one who had stabbed her heart five years prior, then Kujaku was not giving the needling cajoling she thought she was.
No, the ice blue eyes of Diez Drake still wore a mask, his soul visible to no one. This she knew, and until something changed, Hina would not engage. With that thought, she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a baby den den mushi.
"Yeah?" Smoker's voice comes through the snail, and Hina detects the gravel texture of a late night smoke within it. It is kind of him to always answer her calls, even at inopportune times.
"Hina wants your thoughts on Cross Guild being involved with Princess Vivi's disappearance." The ember of her cigarette flares and dies as a breeze lifts the ends of her hair on Doll's balcony. If she looks west, perhaps she can spot the miniscule flare of Smoker's cigars on his ship. She does not look west.
"Unlikely, Crocodile would have made demands already and you're smart enough to know that," he grunts. The snail's amber eyes blink at her slowly and shrewdly. She does not like that snails can convey expressions, a facsimile of the real, replaced with the impressions her fallible mind conjures.
"Why are you really calling Hina?"
The char of her cigarette tastes like the back porch of her family home, nights waiting for her father to fall asleep so Hina can slip into the living room to hold her mother's hand so very tightly. "Hina… Hina is concerned."
"About what?" The snail looks almost bored, a practiced expression Smoker-kun has learned well since the days of the academy. But in the back of her head, in her gut, she thinks he looks too much like Admiral Aokiji.
"You." The snail blinks, once, long and slow.
"I'm fine, Hina." The lie is predictable, pointless and irritating. She knows if she let herself, the image of him, years prior, face tear streaked and pale with rage, blood soaking through the bandages on his chest would bubble up, make the pit of her stomach ache. (Hadn't she told him not to seek Drake out? Begged even? Pleaded? He never listened, he never listened, he never listened !) The beginning of the end.
"Don't lie to Hina, it is unbecoming of our long affiliation," she stubs out her cigarette on the railing. The snail adopts a slimy look of irritation.
"The same goes for you," Smoker accuses. The audacity to think Hina would waste time lying. Absurd. The obnoxious pattern seeking behaviors of the brain connect the present with the past. Smoker had not understood the difference between omission and duplicity back then either. Had never understood or followed the protocols of emotional management. For him, it was all frontloaded. The middle of their ending.
"Smoker-kun presumes much," the railing is cold under her tapping fingertips.
"You're the one not taking me at my word," he growls back. Hina sighs, the peace from the nicotine of a cigarette is so often too fleeting. She supposes that Smoker has a point, though it is a silly one.
"Fine, then Smoker-kun is fine and Hina has no concerns." Over the breeze and the hum of the lights, she can hear the ice in the harbor cracking and grating together as it shifts, jostled by the waves down deep and dark below it.
"...Tch, it's bullshit, all of it," Smoker says after moments on moments pass. Hina stays quiet, listening, a skill Smoker has only truly begun to grasp since Tashigi-chan entered the picture. "We are supposed to believe that he has been one of us this whole time? "Once a Pirate, always a pirate"," he spits.
He never could let things go, too enamored with letting the world shape his actions. Reacting instead of acting. Holding on to everything so tightly in the hopes of things making sense, forming a picture, a painting, a tapestry. Not seeing that there was no overarching narrative, that the world was only what one could make with it. The end of the end.
"Hina will until proven otherwise," she states. Protocol and order over prejudice and hunches.
"Hn. Have you spoken with him?"
"No, and there is no reason for Hina to do so." The breeze is getting colder, and she knows Doll will not appreciate Hina's icy skin.
"Right," Smoker mutters, the snail giving her a look one could describe as knowing if one was a moron. The snail knew nothing, just like Smoker.
"Hina is tired, give Hina's regards to Tashigi-chan," she says and hangs up. If she looks west, she imagines she can see the death plumes of Smoker's cigars.
She does not look.
He swung Morgane high over his head, the force from bringing the blade down at high speed towards the earth exploded snow and mud outward in a crater, splattering his boots, his face, his jacket. Wind from the force of it tore a button off his borrowed uniform. What the hell was the point in even wearing a uniform anymore anyway?! The tattoo was still there, would always be there. A black X, like the one on his record!
Should have placed it on his fucking back instead!
"Rear Admiral Hina won't speak to you without an appointment, she's very busy you see, with Navy business." Hina's purple haired subordinate and his weird partner had both glared at him, arms crossed.
"And her appointments are booked. Permanently."
Guinevere cut through the air like butter, smoothly flipping from one hand to the other, striking outward. That CP0 bastard had been so fast, Drake needed to be faster! Except suddenly it was Smoker in his mind's eye, going to smoke and jamming down his throat, the lump there so hard and painful–
"We tried to stop him, Lady Hina, please forgive us, we are not worthy of your beauty, your grace, your amazing perfect–!"
"Do not bother, this one sees Navy protocol as beneath him, an inherited trait." Hina's eyes are purple like a bruise. But she knew where to hit, where to strike him still.
He transformed, weapons useless in the face of his almighty primal power. Drake bashed the training dummies to bits, tail whipping through the air. His teeth tore into the wooden bullseyes, into the metal obstacle course equipment, bending, rending, ripping!
He just wanted to explain, she understood devotion to duty better than anyone. He hadn't wanted to cause her pain, hadn't wanted…
"Rear Admiral Hina does not have time to speak with you unless you have information related to Hina's current mission parameters. Now, Hina is busy. Leave."
He lunged forward, roar tearing from his throat, the howl of a beast! He charged across the field, crushing everything in his path, a trail of rippling ruin behind him. He could go destroy the jail, free Hawkins, leave leave leave this place that asked so much of him!
And gave him nothing in return!
Ice, God's favorite comedic weapon, skidded under his claws. Airborne! The clouds high, the ground waiting–! He slammed onto his back, human once again, shattered ice burning into his bare skin. Shreds of the ill fitting uniform blew across the mud. Were the gray clouds that flew high overhead, shrinking and breaking and reforming in the wind reflecting in his eyes?
Sengoku had said Drake's fate was up to Smoker and Hina, that he had nothing to apologize for. That justice required sacrifices but…
Drake sat up, fists clenching, snow and sweat dripping down his face. Heartbeat fast like the tango, Hina's favorite dance to watch. Sengoku didn't understand that he hadn't joined SWORD for justice. His fist slammed into the mud! He'd done it for her, for Smoker ! Mud and icy rocks exploded from his fists, again, and again, and again!
Hina with her secret smile, her perfectly manicured nails, the way she'd wake up in the morning with the worst breath known to man. Smoker's arm over his shoulder, amber eyes trying to pull one over on him in poker, earning a laugh from a terrible pun.
That if they asked him to do it again, to do it all over once more–! Again and again and again his knuckles going numb, the fabric of his slacks soaked with biting snow and earth, sweat burning his eyes–!
"Um, excuse me?"
Drake whipped around, a snarl on his face only to freeze in place. It was her. Blood pounded in his ears. The young woman with the long black hair and red glasses. Her nose was pink with the cold, matching the color of her coat. A katana on her hip, and in her arms… Guinevere and Morgane.
"Are these yours?" It took an eon for him to nod once. A sharp pain shot from Drake's hand up to his shoulder. His knuckles were a bloody mess as he reached out shakily to take the blades from her. "It's a beautiful rapier, well made, the weight contrasts your axe nicely." The woman offered him a smile. Drake swallowed, the world muffled, blood still plunging through his veins. But slower, slower…slower. His eyes darted across her frame. He must look…unrefined, unbefitting of his rank, unbefitting of a Navy soldier to lose control so easily.
"What do you call them? My katana is Shigure, a Grade Meito, though I hope to one day elevate her to her true worth, Supreme Grade." The woman ran her thumb over the hilt of her sword reverently.
"Uh, Morgane and Guinevere," he said through what felt like a torn throat. Had he slightly reopened the wound he'd gotten from that Cipher Pol agent's Shigan? Or was it from screaming? Did it matter?
"Oh, feminine names! That's rare for blades," she gasped, a look of…excitement in her eyes.
"...I named them after my mother and grandmother, respectively," Drake mumbled slowly. The woman smiled, glancing at his weapons again. How long had it been since he'd said their names aloud? The Beast Pirates had no place for such sentimentality.
"They must have been very great women for you to do them such an honor!" She almost looked like she wanted to take them from his hands again, but in the same way that he liked to study a lizard he'd never seen before. He felt an outsider looking in, as if watching a play.
"Y-yeah…" he trailed off, the cuts on his hands beginning to burn. Behind the woman was a path of utter destruction, the earth pockmarked with craters and claw marks. Doll would not be happy about the expenditures it would take to return this part of her base to its former state. Heat rose up the back of his neck.
"Oh, forgive me, where are my manners? I'm so sorry. I'm Tashigi, Captain of the G-5!" Tashigi said, saluting him. Drake blinked carefully, surprised. When was the last time anyone had saluted him? Koby maybe? As jarring then as it was now.
"Uh, at ease. Diez Drake…Rear Admiral," he muttered, gesturing to himself. She smiled before looking around at the sheer amount of damage he had caused.
"Wow…" she breathed after a moment. Humiliation bloomed over his cheeks. How could he lose control like that?! "Would you like to spar sometime Sir? I would love to test myself against a powerful opponent!"
Once again, he was taken aback and before he could stop himself, words were tumbling from his mouth. "Not sure if Smoker would like that." Tashigi stared at him, no surprise to be found in her eyes. So she did know who he was. He looked away, down at his feet instead. What a fucking thing to say. Why had blending in with pirates been so easy, but here he did nothing but shove his foot in his mouth?!
It was true though. He couldn't imagine Smoker willingly letting any of his subordinates near him. Trust had been paramount to Smoker five years prior, and Drake doubted that had changed. "Smoker-san would approve of me getting stronger," she responded after a moment, leaving him floundering in the wind. What could he say to that? Drake scratched the back of his neck, flinching at the freezing stretch and pull of his numb fingers.
"Excuse me Sir, but…" Tashigi worried her bottom lip between her teeth. "Can I ask you something?" Ah, here it comes. Of course.
"You just did," Drake retorted coldly. The world made sense again, his face settling into familiar grooves. That smile Smoker had given her flashed before his eyes. His chest twinged somewhere near his heart. Instead, she gave him a funny look, like he'd said something that amused her.
"I suppose I did. But… well, I was wondering…" she trailed off. His eyes narrowed. "I was wondering if… if you're alright?" Captain Tashigi of the G-5, Smoker's subordinate, tilted her head, her fingers twisting together.
And absolutely knocked the wind from Drake's lungs. "I mean, all this," she gestured around, "And well, your hands Sir… you seemed um–" Tashigi began babbling as Drake tried desperately to pick up the pieces of himself that had just blown apart.
Was he alright? Hina hated him. Doll looked at him like he was pulling the wool over her eyes, and Smoker? Drake was too afraid to approach him! His fellow soldiers whispering behind him as he passed, the guard outside Hawkins' cell, the sneer on Hina's subordinates faces, the nurse in the medical bay practically running from him…
"-I apologize for asking such a personal question when it's really none of my business but you really did seem quite upset, oh gosh I apologize for making assumptions again!" Tashigi suddenly squeaked, bowed and then dropped her glasses on the ground, the frames bouncing to a stop between his feet.
Before she could move, he bent down and picked them up, holding them out to her as her babbling came to an abrupt end. "I… I'm fine, Captain Tashigi. Thank you for your concern." Her fingers were small next to his as she took her glasses back, placing them back on her nose. She gave him a long appraising look and he wondered what she saw there. Pirate or Marine?
She nodded at last. "Well, it was nice to meet you Sir. I must be on my way, duty calls." She gave him a small smile and he could only nod back.
He stood there in the snow and mud long after she'd gone.
"So, you saw Hawkins huh? Weird one isn't he?" Doll drawled, cigarette dangling between two fingers.
"The info we have on him matches his attitude. Cold, detached, and cunning," Smoker growled, arms crossed.
"Yeah, that's what I thought. The type to betray at the first chance. Lizard Boy has been around pirates too long," she put out her cigarette in the ashtray on the corner of her desk. A nice one, Smoker was sure he'd seen a matching one in Hina's office at HQ.
"Diez sniffing around?" he bit down around his cigars. Basil Hawkins was no innocent, was certainly no complicated case like Mugiwara. No, the blonde haired, one armed man, was a pirate through and through. Smoker chose to ignore Trafalgar's smirking face in the back of his mind, or the news of Kuzan being spotted with the fucking Blackbeard pirates.
"Tch, the idiot wants me to release him into SWORD's custody."
"Does he now…" Smoker's eyes narrowed.
A knock sounded at the door, Barbie stepping in quickly. "Vice Admiral, we have just received a distress call from Verräter, apparently their port city is under attack by the On Air Pirates." Smoker's lips thinned, that was an island not far from G-14.
"The On Air Pirates? Weren't they one of Kaido's?" Doll asked. Barbie nodded. "Crap, I've got orders to keep a full guard around here and Egghead," she swore.
"I'll go." Smoker said. Barbie and Doll looked at him, Doll quirking an eyebrow. Beating the shit out of a pirate without strings attached sounded perfect. A former ally of X Drake's at that. Perhaps the pirate would be a little loose lipped.
Doll pursed her lips and sighed. "You won't listen to me whether I give you the go ahead or not. But do me a favor, Smoker." He put out his cigars in her ashtray, the smoke curling upward. "Do it by the book, I don't want more damn paperwork."
Notes:
The plot starts picking up from here :)