(no subject)
Who: Portgas D. Ace [ loadedace ] and OPEN
Where: Court
When: Now
Summary: Ace's trial ticks away. He's only seconds from a verdict.
Rating: R
Other: You guys are going to hate me D:
It was like a drum line; the chains rattled, his shoes scuffed the floor and he felt restricted. Restricted by the chains he wore, imprisoned by the suit he had been forced into, and imprisoned by himself. His mind spun, nothing coherent stayed long. He knew he looked like hell; the collar they had fitted around his neck drained his fire, left him empty. And a sick warmth filled him, something that wasn't his own flame. It was a cold chill, an illness and it washed all color from his skin.
He had been in the box for too long. Talked about his trials and his crimes for hours. He had watched others to the same; listened to people curse his name, point crooked fingers at him. Sneers cast themselves on him on a constant basis these days and he was feeling completely drained, both from the collar's poison and his own, heavy guilt. It made him sink and he didn't have any words as he sat next his lawyer. The man had been appointed by a secret admirer, it seemed. Ace didn't have to guess who it was that pulled the strings. And that just made him feel that much worse.
"All rise. Honorable Judge Alexander Lexus presiding." The court room hushed and Ace lifted his eyes. The judge sat, his cold gaze fell across the room and no one uttered a sound. Then, the the words:
"Be seated."
And the whole room fell.
"Portgas D. Ace. Also known as Fire-Fist Ace. You stand accused of several accounts of murder in the first degree. You have plead guilty to the task. Has the jury made a decision?"
"We have sir." A woman stood. Ace caught her glance and shifted in his seat.
"What is the verdict?"
Another moment of silence. Ace swallowed thickly.
"The jury is split sir." The woman held her head high. "May we take a vote?" The judge eyed them and shook his head. "Fine."
And so, began the agonizing seconds.
Guilty.
Not guilty.
Guilty.
Guilty.
Guilty.
Not Guilty.
Not Guilty.
Guilty.
Not Guilty.
Not Guilty.
Guilty.
Guilty.
The gavel hit the stand. Ace heard it thump and echo back into his ears.
"Portgas D. Ace. You have been found guilty of murder on all accounts. Your punishment is execution by hanging without repeal."
Ace shifted. He shifted out of both nervousness and contempt, not for himself, of course, but for the people that would suffer because of this. He couldn't help but to loathe himself at the moment, but the grin he usually sported stayed on tight lips, as if he were mocking the decision. Or suppressing the bubbling emotions that were trying to breach his surface.
He didn't even hear someone screaming in the back of the court room.
Where: Court
When: Now
Summary: Ace's trial ticks away. He's only seconds from a verdict.
Rating: R
Other: You guys are going to hate me D:
It was like a drum line; the chains rattled, his shoes scuffed the floor and he felt restricted. Restricted by the chains he wore, imprisoned by the suit he had been forced into, and imprisoned by himself. His mind spun, nothing coherent stayed long. He knew he looked like hell; the collar they had fitted around his neck drained his fire, left him empty. And a sick warmth filled him, something that wasn't his own flame. It was a cold chill, an illness and it washed all color from his skin.
He had been in the box for too long. Talked about his trials and his crimes for hours. He had watched others to the same; listened to people curse his name, point crooked fingers at him. Sneers cast themselves on him on a constant basis these days and he was feeling completely drained, both from the collar's poison and his own, heavy guilt. It made him sink and he didn't have any words as he sat next his lawyer. The man had been appointed by a secret admirer, it seemed. Ace didn't have to guess who it was that pulled the strings. And that just made him feel that much worse.
"All rise. Honorable Judge Alexander Lexus presiding." The court room hushed and Ace lifted his eyes. The judge sat, his cold gaze fell across the room and no one uttered a sound. Then, the the words:
"Be seated."
And the whole room fell.
"Portgas D. Ace. Also known as Fire-Fist Ace. You stand accused of several accounts of murder in the first degree. You have plead guilty to the task. Has the jury made a decision?"
"We have sir." A woman stood. Ace caught her glance and shifted in his seat.
"What is the verdict?"
Another moment of silence. Ace swallowed thickly.
"The jury is split sir." The woman held her head high. "May we take a vote?" The judge eyed them and shook his head. "Fine."
And so, began the agonizing seconds.
Guilty.
Not guilty.
Guilty.
Guilty.
Guilty.
Not Guilty.
Not Guilty.
Guilty.
Not Guilty.
Not Guilty.
Guilty.
Guilty.
The gavel hit the stand. Ace heard it thump and echo back into his ears.
"Portgas D. Ace. You have been found guilty of murder on all accounts. Your punishment is execution by hanging without repeal."
Ace shifted. He shifted out of both nervousness and contempt, not for himself, of course, but for the people that would suffer because of this. He couldn't help but to loathe himself at the moment, but the grin he usually sported stayed on tight lips, as if he were mocking the decision. Or suppressing the bubbling emotions that were trying to breach his surface.
He didn't even hear someone screaming in the back of the court room.