Chapter 13: Intruder in Section Me

May 30th

Travel time on the Grand Line varied. Storms, sea monsters, and other unwelcome surprises could tack days or even weeks onto what should've been a journey of half that time. Thus was Ace displeased to find his progress towards Foodvalten interrupted time and again. After the delight of proving to himself that he could fuel Striker's engine without issue, it was one delay after another.

First, it was a sea king that took exception to Striker blazing through its territory. The beast was so big it swallowed Striker and Ace whole. Stuck waiting in the acidic and foul comforts of its belly on Striker while he dried off, Ace could only count the seconds passing by until his fire came back and he could burn his way out. There was a tricky bit involving forcing the thing to surface rather than dive, but it worked out in the end and he got his freedom back.

Then he'd hit some kind of fog labyrinth he knew for a fact hadn't been in this stretch of ocean the last time he'd passed through. It took him days to get out and he wound up farther from Foodvalten than he'd started.

Surely, he'd thought, that was the extent of the universe screwing with him. Surely.

And yet.

Not for the first time and not for the last, he cursed his luck and his narcolepsy. Shortly after escaping the labyrinth sometime past midnight, he'd fallen asleep, something had chewed through his sea anchor, he'd gotten caught in a particularly bad current, and finally he'd been swept into the port of a marine base that was practically its own island.

He'd managed to wake and hide before anyone caught him, stowing Striker in a patch of reeds and lying low, but now the gate that covered the opening to the base had been closed and he wasn't confident that he could melt through it before cannon fire sunk his ship.

"Intruder in section E! Intruder in section E! Squads Gamma through Kappa, report to section F!"

Ace groaned, scrubbing a hand through his hair. He needed that gate open but strutting around this place undisguised was asking for trouble. Somewhere this big had at least a vice-admiral helming it.

He ducked through the numerous smaller buildings next to the port, sticking to the shadows and moving as silently as he could. Luck was on his side—probably trying to make up for getting him in this situation in the first place—and he managed to corner an ensign that had been separated from his squad.

"Hello," Ace greeted. "I need your clothes."

The marine didn't even have time to scream.

Ace pulled his new baseball cap down lower over his eyes and kept walking, his similarly new vest resting comfortably over his shirt and covering the mark on its back. His shirt was blank on the front, so he'd kept it instead of stealing the ensign's since his was perfectly adept at concealing the scar tissue there. There was nothing he could do about his arm tattoo, but no one seemed to care. He didn't need to hide the scars, but they would no doubt invite questions, and questions were dangerous right now.

Step one: figure out how to raise the gate and keep it open.

Step two: get back to Striker.

Step three: get out.

Short and simple—although, as a particularly delicious smell floated over to him from down the hall—perhaps there was room for one more step. All those delays in his trip to Foodvalten meant his supplies had run low, so a little food was really just taking care of himself.

Yeah. He'd go with that.

The mess hall was chaotic. The intruder alarm was still going on, but everyone not roped into the search, as well as those who thought they could manage it before their higher ups noticed, was grabbing lunch. Ace, copying the example of the guy who'd walked in right in front of him, grabbed a tray and joined the line.

Someone ahead of him requested double portions. Ace, delighted to learn that was possible, requested triple. The man serving the food raised an eyebrow, but Ace's anticipatory "please" apparently worked. Grinning at his prize—a loaded tray—he found an empty spot at an out-of-the-way table and got to work.

Unfortunately, his spot was right next to a rather talkative squad, and they took notice of his pile of food.

"Hey," the man across the table called. "They gave you triple rations? How'd you manage that?"

Ace swallowed and cleared his throat. "I asked."

"No way."

"Look," said the woman next to him, "he's got the food, so maybe that's really all he did."

"I swear they give me half portions."

"Have you tried asking nicely?"

"Don't you start."

The third man at the rectangular table leaned forward to get a look at Ace. "Say, I don't think I've seen you around here before."

"Now that you mention it," mused the first man.

"We're the people who usually get stuck with orientation for new recruits. Were you out yesterday?"

Ace bought himself a bit of time by chewing the next bite of meat a bit more slowly. Guides, yesterday…so new recruits had come in yesterday. That could explain why that one ensign had looked lost and confused, wandering where Ace could catch him alone. "Yeah, I…was sick. They told me to grab some food today and get my strength up."

"Huh. You hear the intruder alarm?"

"Hard to miss. Did they find the guy?"

"No, but you should probably head back to your barracks after this. Now's not a good time to be wandering around alone, especially if you're not feeling well."

"I'll do that, thanks."

"Is this your first time in the New World?" asked the woman. "If it was seasickness, I totally understand—I got hit by it too. The sailing here isn't like anything else in the world."

He would really prefer they stop trying to talk to him, but a little conversation wasn't the worst thing. "It's my first time, yeah. Actually, there was a storm on our way here. Hail as big as the ship. Does that hit the base, too?"

"Rarely, but it can happen. We've got cannons and the like to smash anything too big."

"Pirates ever attack?"

The farther man snorted. "Not the smart ones, that's for sure. We lower the gate and all they can do is pepper us with cannon fire. None of 'em can take what we dish out in return."

"And the gate. Looks heavy. It sure closes fast, but what if you have to open it fast?"

"What, to chase something? It's some complicated pulley and gear system. You saw the tower on the east wall coming in, right? That's where they control it from. Best place on the base to spend time, though; you can see for miles from up there."

"From there, huh?" Ace moved on to the last of his meal, which he'd been managing to plow through during every little gap in the conversation.

"Probably got the place locked down now, though," said the nearer man mournfully. "Intruder and all. You'll get your chance, though. Cleaning up there is miserable with all the crap scattered around, so all the new guys get stuck with it pretty quick. What squad are you in?"

"Theta," Ace lied through his teeth. All he had to go on were the announcements from earlier, but thankfully, his guess had struck true.

"Let's see," mused the woman while she searched her memory. "They're on armory rotation for this week."

"I'll find a way to visit on my own time," Ace assured her.

His meal finished, he stood to find another woman hustling towards their table. "Nate, Aura, Toram, get up! Didn't you hear the announcement?"

"What's going on?"

"There's a supply ship coming in."

"Right, but the gate's closed."

"It hit a sea king on the way in. They're taking on water; they need to be brought in now."

Ace wondered if it was a relative of the monster he'd fought off.

"So they want us joining the hunt? Right, okay, yeah. Be right out. Uh, newbie—what was your name?"

"Ace."

"Ace. Get back to your quarters, got it?"

He nodded and watched the marines—alongside nearly everyone in the mess hall—scramble to dispose of their trays and get out. A few didn't even bother with that much and left their food sitting where it was. Ace moseyed past a tray with a fresh, still warm cinnamon roll sitting on it. He paused.

Licking the last of the sticky icing from his lips, Ace peered around the corner to the long corridor beyond.

Was this a risk? Absolutely. But it was one worth taking. This wasn't the same base he'd hit in the previous timeline, but there was a chance the marines were sharing info about a certain shady underground figure slowly making a name for himself. A frontline base like this probably had some kind of intelligence operation.

Seeing no one in his way, he walked down the hall with all the confidence of someone who belonged there. A secretary emerged from one of the offices and saw him. He nodded at her. She blinked, nodded back, and continued on her way, muttering something about tugboats.

He started going into offices somewhat at random. The first two had nothing of note besides one marine's rather unusual collection of…Ace peered closer, stunned. Action figures. Of pirates. He recognized many of the faces, grinned when he saw Whitebeard, and scowled when he noticed Roger. Frown firmly in place, he reached out and unceremoniously flicked that figure so it toppled off its platform.

The third office was nondescript at first, but after melting open the locked drawer in the desk, Ace found a trove of reports. He rifled through them, hunting for anything related to Blackbeard, his associates, or his base of operations.

Footsteps came from the hall. Ace froze and ducked low behind the desk, knowing that his flimsy cover wouldn't explain why he was searching this office or the slagged bit of metal where a padlock used to be. Thankfully, the squad kept right on going.

Exhaling, he kept looking. He was getting to the end of the papers stored here, and so far, nothing that looked promising.

Until he got to the last page. That paper mentioned Blackbeard. A quick scan: the name coming up in relation to noted inquiries about Impel Down and suspected ties to certain prisoners. Plus unconfirmed suspicions of trafficking of some kind.

Nothing that said Teach, but at least proof that Blackbeard existed. He took the paper, folded it, stuck it in his pocket, and headed out. A glance out the window showed a ship riding very low in the water approaching the gate, which was trundling open. Ace eyed the frothing water where the ocean met the edges of the wall, then lifted his gaze to the bustling hive of activity that was that control tower. Maybe he could fight his way through all that, but if they lowered the gate or sabotaged it, he'd be out of luck.

No, better to do this quiet.

In the deepest bowels of the wall, things were relatively calm save for the pounding feet of hundreds of marines overhead. The patrols down here were comparatively scarce; they all thought he'd go for the controls, not the parts.

Damp, cramped, and distinctly slanted, the wall's interior spoke to the time it had taken to both build and spent standing since. The faint crash of the ocean, whose waterline he was currently beneath, sent goosebumps up his skin.

With no one crossing his path, Ace snuck through the depths unhindered. Per the marines earlier, the tower directly overhead controlled the gate. That meant at least some of the mechanisms were located on and around it. Mechanisms like the giant gears he was now passing, which were so massive they stretched up through the grated ceiling and scaffolding beyond. Ace grinned.

If the gate had been closed, he'd be in far more trouble trying to get it open. But since they'd opened it for that supply ship, his job was far simpler: jam it open. All that meant was ensuring the gears couldn't turn.

His fist lit up. First red, then orange, then yellow, then a searing blue that made the humid air steam. The nearest gear started to brighten from the heat.

He could manage that.

His sabotage left the gate stuck halfway open. The supply ship couldn't get through, alarms were blaring, and kicking the hornet's nest a second time revealed an even larger, angrier nest within it. Ace ducked into the veritable tide of marines going every which way and tried to direct his progress back towards Striker.

Unfortunately, he couldn't remain an anonymous face in the crowd forever. Someone demanded he identify himself and his squad. "Ace" and "Theta" weren't sufficient; they wanted some kind of identification number. Staring at the red-faced marine, Ace had a sudden burst of clarity, and with that clarity came a kind of relief. Sure, he could do things quietly, but that wasn't his strong suit.

Punching the marine yelling in his face was pure catharsis. He bowled over several of his comrades and then Ace was sprinting for Striker, bullets filling his body with holes.

He retraced his steps as best he could, remembering what he'd seen while disguised and using the incomplete mental map to his advantage. He ran across a training field and toppled a veritable wall of crates, scattering the splintered wood and shattered contents across the grass and forcing the chasing marines to pick their way across or take a detour.

This place was huge. He hadn't had the time to properly appreciate its size when he was drifting through the main gate, but now that he was being chased headlong through the courtyards and training grounds and supply warehouses and barracks, he was really getting to appreciate the scale of it.

He skidded around a corner and kept sprinting, arms pumping and boots pounding against the ground. Striker was just past a large stretch of open ground and through a short trail across the reeds, which he could bypass with a flame-powered leap now that stealth was no longer an issue.

He was in the middle of the open space when he had to dive out of the way of a sea stone cage falling from the sky. It clanged heavily against the ground; he retraced its path and saw another two cages getting launched from catapults. He scrambled out of the way, and the time it took him to get recover cost him; he was surrounded.

"Well," he said slowly, looking around. "Shall we?"

In the distance, he could see the great gate, still stuck open. The supply ship was slowly edging in at the mercy of the strange tides that swirled through the manmade bay whenever the gate was opened. The main mast had been shorn off to get it through.

"Give up! You're surrounded!"

"Does that ever work?"

The marines charged and Ace leaped into the air. He came down on a guy's sword, kicked off, and began jumping off their heads with quick, sure footsteps before being forced back to the ground when the marines realized what he was up to. Still, he'd cut the distance he'd needed to go by nearly a quarter, and half the marines were behind him.

A spear passed through his midsection and Ace retaliated by punching the offending marine in the face, stealing his spear, and knocking back another six marines with a wide swing. He then abandoned the spear and turned to flames, weaving between another twenty soldiers before a sea stone staff forced him to return to normal.

He kicked that staff away, leaped into the air with his body blazing, and gathered his flames for a new surge.

A great pillar of flame erupted around him and shot to the sky. Its raging torrents spilled across the ground, forcing the marines away. Ace darted through the firestorm, using flame bullets to quickly shoot down any marines that tried to fight their way through the flames.

Once he was sure there were no sea stone ranged weapons, no cages about to get the drop on him, and no weapons about to put holes in his ship, he shot himself into the air and then rocketed to Striker. The small craft rocked in the water when he landed in it but he paid that no mind as he wrenched the boat around. Then he was blasting out of the reeds, fire roaring from his feet to push Striker's engine to its limits.

Cannonballs crashed into the water around him, turning the waters already churning from the gate even choppier. He wove around the impacts, keeping his senses open. The brief haki training was already paying dividends: he could tell where and when they were going to hit, so it was startlingly easy to weave around the paths of oncoming cannonballs.

Alarms blared, lights flashed, but there was nothing more they could do to stop him. He passed through the main gate, offering a wave to the dumbfounded marines on the deck of the supply ship that had unintentionally aided him in his escape.

Only when he was speeding away from the naval base, the wind once again whipping through his hair, did Ace relax. He was sweating, his heart was pounding, and his scars were aching. But he'd done it. He'd fought, he'd won, he'd escaped. All under his own power. No attacks or anything.

Embracing that nascent pride, he pulled out an eternal pose, oriented as best he could, and poured more flames into Striker.

Behind him, sirens still ringing, the marine base sank below the horizon.