D (pt 5)
IT'S A THREE-THOUSAND WORD MONSTER! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!
Yeah.
It's even more depressing than last time! Maybe. Or it's just me.
Title: D
Info: WIP (will be posted in parts as I finish them)
Genre: Strangeness
Rating: T
Pairing: Smoker/Ace eventually
Summary: I'm screwing with your mind. 8D
--
“… Darkness.”
--
“Uh oh,” Ace said, startled. “It’s dead.”
Smoker looked up. He saw Ace holding the extinguished flashlight with an expression of mild dismay. Rolling his eyes, Smoker gave Ace an unopened box filled with batteries.
Ace smiled gratefully and resurrected his light source. He continued reading the large tome resting on his lap, lips silently mouthing unfamiliar words.
Near the windows, Smoker was also reading something. It was a letter.
Dear Smoker, it stated.
This is Tashigi. Right now, Hina is also with me.
We’re writing to say hello! How have you been? We haven’t heard from you in years! Please write to us every once in a while. We want to know how you’re doing. After all, we’re friends, aren’t we?
Hina and I were thinking… we should all get together! It’s been a really long time since we last met. Wouldn’t it be nice to spend a few weeks together? If you’re not busy, come see us! We both miss you, although Hina won’t admit it.
Well, hopefully we’ll see you soon!
Sincerely, Tashigi.
Smoker admitted mentally that he really hadn’t kept in touch with the few people he cared about (excluding Ace). It would have been nice to spend a few weeks with them. Then his eyes wandered to ace, sitting on his bed and immersed in inky pages, and his gut twisted with guilt. Smoker quietly folded the letter and placed it in his pocket.
“What were you reading?” Ace asked curiously, surprising Smoker.
“A letter from a friend,” Smoker replied slowly.
“I see,” Ace said. He closed his book. “Who was it?”
“Someone named Tashigi,” answered Smoker.
“She sounds nice,” commented Ace.
“… How did you know she was a woman?” Smoker wondered aloud.
“I just do.” Ace smiled. Then he asked, “What was the letter for?”
And Smoker hesitated, trying to make a decision on his dilemma. He couldn’t. “… She wanted me to visit her for a few weeks.”
Ace sat on the bed, digesting the implication of Smoker’s words. Then he declared, “Ask me three questions.”
Although accustomed to Ace’s disjunct thoughts, it took Smoker a few seconds to semi-gather his wits and remark intelligently, “What?”
“Ask me three questions,” Ace repeated. Then he added, “I promise I’ll answer you this time.”
Smoker decided to agree, although he had no idea what the other was trying to accomplish. “Fine,” he consented gruffly. A pause, to think of a question (with Ace, an offer to answer a question was like a wish from a genie). Finally, he stated, “Are you afraid of going outside?”
“Yes,” Ace replied immediately.
Making a note to not ask yes-or-no questions, Smoker scoured his mind for the more profound mysteries regarding Ace. There were many, but there were only two opportunities left… And he remembered the ‘reason’ for Ace’s fear. “Why don’t you like the dark?” he asked.
Ironically, Ace’s face brightened. “Oh, a better question!” he noted, laughing. And no doubt influenced by all the things he had read, Ace proclaimed, “I’ll tell you a story.” He paused in order to organize his thoughts, and then began:
“Let us start with a genealogy! That is always a wonderful way to begin. After all, the D.s are an age-old family with many branching connections. For example, the infamous Gol D. Roger! Or Jaguar D. Saul, the big friendly giant! But for your purposes, I’ll just focus on one small part…
“There once was a man named Monkey D. Garp. He married someone and then had a son. He named him Dragon. But then Garp and his wife divorced, and his wife found someone else named Marshall, also a D. They had a son, and he was named Teach. (“… Teach?” Smoker said, blinking. “To ‘teach’ Garp a lesson? I don’t know,” Ace said, shrugging. “Nobody cares, anyhow.”)
“Monkey D. Dragon also married someone. She was named… Portgas. (And here the tale was briefly interrupted as Ace’s body gave an involuntary twitch, but the moment quickly passed.) And the two of them had a son whom they at first named Monkey D. Ace… but Dragon thought it rather unfair and uncanny for everyone to be named after his father, and his father’s father, and his father’s father’s father… so they named him Portgas (a small twitch) D. Ace instead. Three years later, Monkey D. Luffy was born. (“He wasn’t as lucky,” Smoker noted.)
“Now, Garp wasn’t on very good terms with his ex-wife, but with his ex-wife’s son, Marshall D. Teach, he had no hard feelings. Therefore, Ace and Luffy were not deprived of an uncle of sorts. Also, Dragon and Teach got along reasonably well.
“Why, Marshall D. Teach was a wonderful uncle! He would play games with his nephews - trivial games, like tag, hide-and-seek, or duck-duck-assault. (“Duck… what?” choked Smoker. “Duck-duck-assault,” Ace repeated. “That doesn’t help much,” Smoker sighed.) He would give them cherry pie. Ace and Luffy greatly enjoyed their time with him. Was there ever a more fun relative?
“So one day, Dragon and Por - his wife had to leave for something pressing. (“What was it?” asked Smoker. “I still don’t know,” Ace replied.) Luffy was forced to stay with his grandfather, while Fortune smiled upon Ace and let him stay with his uncle instead.
“Oh, they had a grand old time! Teach would tease Ace every time he fell asleep while eating cherry pie. Ace would tease Teach about his gap-toothed grin. They both teased Luffy - although he couldn’t have heard them - because he was stuck with Garp.
“Teach also had very fun friends! They never minded playing with Ace. There was Van Auger, the prim and serious one with a monocle, who taught Ace how to use a slingshot. There was Lafitte, a flamboyant man that always had the most amusing stories to tell. There was good old Doc Q, somebody perpetually ill, but owner of a horse he let Ace ride on. And there was Burgess, a giant of a man that always had the time to toss Ace up and down a few times.
“Ace was very curious as a child. (“Why not now?” Smoker asked. “I grew wiser,” Ace said sagely. “Now hush! No more comments, especially small questions, or I’m not answering another one later!”) Like most curious children, he was also chronically disobedient. You know how it is… you tell curious children to ‘Stay out!’ or ‘Leave us alone for a while, alright?’ and they decide to barge in or return at inopportune moments.
“Anyways, one day Teach told Ace, ‘Acey-boy, the guys an’ I haveta go do somethin’ real important. Stay here an’ be good, y’hear?’ Ace was obviously displeased and voiced complaints. However, Teach firmly repeated, ‘Stay here an’ be good, y’hear?’ So Ace resigned, and he stayed home when Teach, Van Auger, Lafitte, Doc Q, and Burgess left.
“But he wasn’t going to ‘be good’. Oh no, Ace wanted to know what was going on! And he left the house eagerly in the manner of curious children.
“It wasn’t that difficult to locate Teach and the others. Ace found them quickly. But he had stumbled on such a peculiar situation! Many familiar voices, yet in unfamiliar tones, saying things such as, ‘Fool, give it to me!’, ‘You cannot have it Blackbeard!’, and even ‘Listen to us if you know what is good for you!’.
“And finally, ‘Damn it, just pass me the knife!’
“Ace definitely recognized that voice… it was the same voice, using nearly the same words. But he had the sickening feeling that his uncle wasn’t trying to cut a piece of cherry pie…
“A flash of light from the raised knife, and then it fell downwards…! And for a moment, Ace thought, It really was cherry pie. Where else could all the red have come from? But cherry pie did not scream, cherry pie did not have a face that twisted in pain, and cherry pie certainly did not resemble the kindly fruit-stand owner who gave Ace oranges just the day before…
“… And Ace ran back home, frightened by what he saw. Along the way, the sky began drenching things beneath it with a heavy downpour. Ace may have slipped in a puddle, but nobody knows or remembers anymore. After all, nobody really cared. Ace didn’t care. He was concerned with the rain coming from his own eyes, or the special red variety from Mr. Thatch that had dripped onto his uncle’s heavy coat…
“Well, Teach, Van Auger, Lafitte, Doc Q, and Burgess eventually returned. Clean. Laughing. Wildly pleased about something or the other. Afraid of his uncle, Ace acted as he normally did. But then, in a good mood, Teach exclaimed, ‘Hey Burgess, pass me a knife, would ya?’
“And Ace screamed and screamed…
“Teach was confused. ‘What’s the matter, Acey-boy? Don’t feel like having cherry pie?’ he asked. No, of course I don’t feel like having cherry pie, Ace wanted to say. But he didn’t. He started crying instead.
“This continued on for a while, baffling everyone… Then Van Auger, ever-observant, calmly tapped Teach on the shoulder and said, ‘His boots are wet.’
“Obviously, that was a serious matter! Wet boots often are. And Teach turned to Ace and shouted, ‘I told ya to stay here an’ be good, didn’ I?!’ His face was dark and ugly, and Ace was terrified. I’m going to die, he thought with horror. I’m going to die like Mr. Thatch…
“But he didn’t die. Teach, a cautious man, did not want to arouse suspicion. A dead fruit-stand owner is all fine and dandy, but a dead child - in his custody - on the same day? Oh no, no, that just wouldn’t do. That just wouldn’t do at all.
“There were many suggested solutions to the problem. ‘Why don’t we just ask him not to rat us out?’ Burgess proposed. This was shot down by Van Auger, who said, ‘Imbecile, he’s already disobeyed us.’ Doc Q coughed, phlegm rattling in agreement. Teach angrily shouted, ‘Then what do we do with the little bastard?’ He was answered by silence.
“Then Lafitte - his mind accustomed to fabricating stories and also lies, most likely - said mildly, ‘I know a way to keep him quiet.’ At this, everyone’s mouths snapped shut. ‘We’ll do as Burgess suggested,’ Lafitte declared, ‘except there won’t exactly be any, ahem, choice in the matter.’
“Teach guffawed. ‘Lafitte, you’re a genius!’ he praised. Lafitte bowed with a flourish, modestly stating, ‘Well, I do try, sir.’ And everyone agreed to the vague, but evidently interpretable, plan of Lafitte. Except for Ace.
“His uncle turned. A gap-toothed grin which Ace used to make fun of. ‘Acey-boy, are you going to rat us out?’ he asked, leering. Ace shook his head violently. ‘N-no, never,’ he answered shakily. Then Teach laughed. ‘I believed ya two an’ a half hours ago, and look at where that got us?’
“So Ace, by unanimous approval, was locked in Teach’s cellar.
“It wasn’t a very nice place. There was an unpleasant smell. The floor was hard and cold. The walls were sticky with something. And something kept making irritating dripping noises in the far corner on the left. However, Ace wasn’t lonely! He had plenty of mice, rats, cockroaches, and all manners of things as prospective companions.
“… But it was dark.
“It was always dark. What kinds of cellars have windows, anyhow? And there was nowhere else for the elusive light to enter except the door that occasionally opened.
“Yet Ace grew to dislike the moments when the door opened. Sometimes there was food. Sometimes. But more often than not, the open door meant pain, pain, and more pain, and bruises which made Ace as dark as the cellar!
“Of course, Ace was sad that he was stuck in such a dismal dungeon. But he was sadder that Mr. Thatch had died and that his murderers had walked away free…
“Then one day, Ace discovered something quite extraordinary when Burgess opened the door: the cellar wasn’t windowless after all! There was a small window, high above a shelf, boards nailed across it… and just the right size…
“It was a difficult task to fumble across the cellar without making a noise. There were so many things in the way! So easy to bump and stumble. But after a few days, Ace managed to climb to the top of the shelf without his captors being any the wiser.
“You see, his plan was to escape through that small window and tell somebody about poor Mr. Thatch! Anyhow, even if his plan failed, Ace needed something to do, or else he would’ve certainly lost his mind!
“Teach wasn’t a particularly fastidious man in terms of cleanliness, so it wasn’t that hard to find a makeshift crowbar to pry the boards off with. The nails holding them down were rusty and old. A bit of effort over a period of one hundred sixty seven hours, and the boards were almost off!
“But wretched fate! Van Auger, with his ever-observant monocle, noticed the footprints, the cracking wood, and the lack of dust on the top shelf. He promptly informed Teach, who promptly tore off the boards, promptly nailed them to the outside of the window, and promptly ruined Ace’s opportunity of escape.
“One nice thing happened… In all his haste, Teach also ruined the boards, and through the tiny cracks, light filtered into the cellar. There was a tiny golden trickle that always landed on the top shelf. So Ace spent his time up there anyways, trying to squint past the dirty, cobwebbed glass and cracked wood to see outside…
“Ace couldn’t see outside no matter how hard he tried, but he could hear outside. The window was already cracked and broken in some areas, most likely the reason it was boarded up in the first place. So he could hear the wind sough, he could hear the occasional birds, and he could hear Teach, Van Auger, Lafitte, Doc Q, and Burgess whenever they left the house…
“And one day, he heard someone shout distantly, ‘Oh bugger!’ Then something knocked into the boards outside, startling Ace and nearly making him fall off the shelf.
“But more surprising was that following the dull thump came quick footsteps. And they grew louder and louder and louder… until right outside, somebody whistled low and said, ‘Good thing nobody was home…’
“’Hello?’ Ace called loudly. ‘Hello?!’
“’Ack! Ghost!’ was the response.
“’No wait, don’t leave!’ Ace shouted quickly. ‘Can you please, please take off the boards outside?’
“’Whatever for?’ was the puzzled reply.
“’I can’t go outside. Please take away the wooden boards,’ Ace pleaded. ‘Please, open the windows! Before they come back home…’
“There was a hesitant silence. Then splintering, cracking sounds, as whoever was outside began pulling on the damaged wood. On the inside, Ace broke the glass with his makeshift crowbar, hitting the smashed window repeatedly to remove the jagged edges.
“’It’s a tad stuck,’ said a strained voice.
“’Don’t worry, I’ll help from the inside,’ Ace offered. ‘Be careful!’ So Ace and his unseen benefactor pushed and pulled with all their might until the boards finally gave, and they tumbled into a tired heap.
“’Thank you!’ Ace exclaimed gratefully, helping his new friend stand. ‘Who are you?’
“’I’m Marco,’ replied a taller boy with funny hair. He pointed to Ace’s lacerated knees, embedded with reddening shards of glass. ‘And you’re bleeding!’
“’No, I’m Ace,’ Ace corrected. He walked a few experimental steps before hypothesizing that he wouldn’t get very far. ‘Can you help me get to the police…?’ he asked timidly.
“Marco shrugged, saying, ‘I don’t mind, though I think you need the hospital instead.’ But he hoisted Ace into a clumsy piggyback and promised to take him to his destination. As long as Ace held onto his soccer ball. Ace agreed.
“The two of them eventually arrived. Ace told his story. The police left to find Teach, Van Auger, Lafitte, Doc Q, and Burgess.
“It turned out that Mr. Thatch had been killed because he refused to give Teach a family heirloom. Some black jewel only Mr. Thatch had. Such a petty reason for killing a man…
“Anyways, Teach - or Blackbeard, since that’s what everyone else calls him now - was brought to the station. Arrested, along with his friends. Charged for the murder of Mr. Thatch and, to Ace’s surprise and dismay, the murders of several others as well.
“Blackbeard was livid. He retaliated in the only way he could. ‘How did you like your time in the cellar, Acey-boy?’ he snarled. Ace flinched. He wanted to say, I hated it in there, but Marco hissed in his ear, ‘Don’t answer!’ So Ace stayed shakily silent.
“Undeterred, Blackbeard said, ‘I hope you like the dark, Acey-boy.’ He laughed. ‘Are you going to forget me any time soon?’
“Ace was tempted to say, No, but he heeded Marco’s advice.
“’You’ll never leave that cellar,’ Blackbeard declared venomously. ‘You’ll never leave the dark. D’you know why, Acey-boy? It’s because you’ll never forget the cellar. You’ll never forget the dark. And because you’ll never forget me, you’ll never leave me either!’ He laughed again.
“Marco squeezed Ace’s trembling hand. It was comforting.
“Then finally, Blackbeard stated, ‘I am darkness, and I’ll never leave you!’, before a police officer said sarcastically, ‘That’s enough Mr. Darkness, into the cell you go’ and dragged him away. Ace never saw him again.
“But Blackbeard never left. Oh no, he was always there! In the shadows, under the bed, everywhere during the night…
“Ace tried not to think about it. But darkness was everywhere. Marco, his new, wonderful friend, tried hard to free Ace mentally, like he did physically. But he failed.
“It wasn’t his fault! It was Ace’s. Ace’s fault for being weak-minded, for not forgetting, for being afraid of something so silly. But Ace stayed afraid of the dark, and he was never quite the same.
“Oh, his parents, Garp, and Luffy found out about Blackbeard. The adults noticed the bigger changes. But Luffy, not quite understanding at his young age, noticed the small things, like the fact his older brother refused to touch cherry pie for the rest of his life.
“And they lived happily ever after,” Ace concluded. “The end!” He smiled. “You still have one more question left,” he reminded.
Smoker, heavyhearted, decided on his final question. A yes-or-no. At the moment, he couldn’t handle anything else. “… Will you be fine?” he demanded, anxious.
“Yes,” Ace answered. “Visit Tashigi! Go ahead and leave me. I think I prefer to stay inside. Oh, and it’s almost been an hour,” he added thoughtfully.
Hesitantly, Smoker closed the curtains. Slowly. “Are you sure?” he asked quietly.
“I’ll be fine,” Ace said dismissively, “as long as the flashlight doesn’t die.”
--
One more depressing part to go. Then it'll start cheering up. :D
Oh, and I'll give somebody a fake justice!cookie if you can find the extremely brief Portal reference.
And now I'm officially exhausted from writing so much in so little time. Although Hosio should be more exhausted.
--
Previous
Next
Yeah.
It's even more depressing than last time! Maybe. Or it's just me.
Title: D
Info: WIP (will be posted in parts as I finish them)
Genre: Strangeness
Rating: T
Pairing: Smoker/Ace eventually
Summary: I'm screwing with your mind. 8D
--
“… Darkness.”
--
“Uh oh,” Ace said, startled. “It’s dead.”
Smoker looked up. He saw Ace holding the extinguished flashlight with an expression of mild dismay. Rolling his eyes, Smoker gave Ace an unopened box filled with batteries.
Ace smiled gratefully and resurrected his light source. He continued reading the large tome resting on his lap, lips silently mouthing unfamiliar words.
Near the windows, Smoker was also reading something. It was a letter.
Dear Smoker, it stated.
This is Tashigi. Right now, Hina is also with me.
We’re writing to say hello! How have you been? We haven’t heard from you in years! Please write to us every once in a while. We want to know how you’re doing. After all, we’re friends, aren’t we?
Hina and I were thinking… we should all get together! It’s been a really long time since we last met. Wouldn’t it be nice to spend a few weeks together? If you’re not busy, come see us! We both miss you, although Hina won’t admit it.
Well, hopefully we’ll see you soon!
Sincerely, Tashigi.
Smoker admitted mentally that he really hadn’t kept in touch with the few people he cared about (excluding Ace). It would have been nice to spend a few weeks with them. Then his eyes wandered to ace, sitting on his bed and immersed in inky pages, and his gut twisted with guilt. Smoker quietly folded the letter and placed it in his pocket.
“What were you reading?” Ace asked curiously, surprising Smoker.
“A letter from a friend,” Smoker replied slowly.
“I see,” Ace said. He closed his book. “Who was it?”
“Someone named Tashigi,” answered Smoker.
“She sounds nice,” commented Ace.
“… How did you know she was a woman?” Smoker wondered aloud.
“I just do.” Ace smiled. Then he asked, “What was the letter for?”
And Smoker hesitated, trying to make a decision on his dilemma. He couldn’t. “… She wanted me to visit her for a few weeks.”
Ace sat on the bed, digesting the implication of Smoker’s words. Then he declared, “Ask me three questions.”
Although accustomed to Ace’s disjunct thoughts, it took Smoker a few seconds to semi-gather his wits and remark intelligently, “What?”
“Ask me three questions,” Ace repeated. Then he added, “I promise I’ll answer you this time.”
Smoker decided to agree, although he had no idea what the other was trying to accomplish. “Fine,” he consented gruffly. A pause, to think of a question (with Ace, an offer to answer a question was like a wish from a genie). Finally, he stated, “Are you afraid of going outside?”
“Yes,” Ace replied immediately.
Making a note to not ask yes-or-no questions, Smoker scoured his mind for the more profound mysteries regarding Ace. There were many, but there were only two opportunities left… And he remembered the ‘reason’ for Ace’s fear. “Why don’t you like the dark?” he asked.
Ironically, Ace’s face brightened. “Oh, a better question!” he noted, laughing. And no doubt influenced by all the things he had read, Ace proclaimed, “I’ll tell you a story.” He paused in order to organize his thoughts, and then began:
“Let us start with a genealogy! That is always a wonderful way to begin. After all, the D.s are an age-old family with many branching connections. For example, the infamous Gol D. Roger! Or Jaguar D. Saul, the big friendly giant! But for your purposes, I’ll just focus on one small part…
“There once was a man named Monkey D. Garp. He married someone and then had a son. He named him Dragon. But then Garp and his wife divorced, and his wife found someone else named Marshall, also a D. They had a son, and he was named Teach. (“… Teach?” Smoker said, blinking. “To ‘teach’ Garp a lesson? I don’t know,” Ace said, shrugging. “Nobody cares, anyhow.”)
“Monkey D. Dragon also married someone. She was named… Portgas. (And here the tale was briefly interrupted as Ace’s body gave an involuntary twitch, but the moment quickly passed.) And the two of them had a son whom they at first named Monkey D. Ace… but Dragon thought it rather unfair and uncanny for everyone to be named after his father, and his father’s father, and his father’s father’s father… so they named him Portgas (a small twitch) D. Ace instead. Three years later, Monkey D. Luffy was born. (“He wasn’t as lucky,” Smoker noted.)
“Now, Garp wasn’t on very good terms with his ex-wife, but with his ex-wife’s son, Marshall D. Teach, he had no hard feelings. Therefore, Ace and Luffy were not deprived of an uncle of sorts. Also, Dragon and Teach got along reasonably well.
“Why, Marshall D. Teach was a wonderful uncle! He would play games with his nephews - trivial games, like tag, hide-and-seek, or duck-duck-assault. (“Duck… what?” choked Smoker. “Duck-duck-assault,” Ace repeated. “That doesn’t help much,” Smoker sighed.) He would give them cherry pie. Ace and Luffy greatly enjoyed their time with him. Was there ever a more fun relative?
“So one day, Dragon and Por - his wife had to leave for something pressing. (“What was it?” asked Smoker. “I still don’t know,” Ace replied.) Luffy was forced to stay with his grandfather, while Fortune smiled upon Ace and let him stay with his uncle instead.
“Oh, they had a grand old time! Teach would tease Ace every time he fell asleep while eating cherry pie. Ace would tease Teach about his gap-toothed grin. They both teased Luffy - although he couldn’t have heard them - because he was stuck with Garp.
“Teach also had very fun friends! They never minded playing with Ace. There was Van Auger, the prim and serious one with a monocle, who taught Ace how to use a slingshot. There was Lafitte, a flamboyant man that always had the most amusing stories to tell. There was good old Doc Q, somebody perpetually ill, but owner of a horse he let Ace ride on. And there was Burgess, a giant of a man that always had the time to toss Ace up and down a few times.
“Ace was very curious as a child. (“Why not now?” Smoker asked. “I grew wiser,” Ace said sagely. “Now hush! No more comments, especially small questions, or I’m not answering another one later!”) Like most curious children, he was also chronically disobedient. You know how it is… you tell curious children to ‘Stay out!’ or ‘Leave us alone for a while, alright?’ and they decide to barge in or return at inopportune moments.
“Anyways, one day Teach told Ace, ‘Acey-boy, the guys an’ I haveta go do somethin’ real important. Stay here an’ be good, y’hear?’ Ace was obviously displeased and voiced complaints. However, Teach firmly repeated, ‘Stay here an’ be good, y’hear?’ So Ace resigned, and he stayed home when Teach, Van Auger, Lafitte, Doc Q, and Burgess left.
“But he wasn’t going to ‘be good’. Oh no, Ace wanted to know what was going on! And he left the house eagerly in the manner of curious children.
“It wasn’t that difficult to locate Teach and the others. Ace found them quickly. But he had stumbled on such a peculiar situation! Many familiar voices, yet in unfamiliar tones, saying things such as, ‘Fool, give it to me!’, ‘You cannot have it Blackbeard!’, and even ‘Listen to us if you know what is good for you!’.
“And finally, ‘Damn it, just pass me the knife!’
“Ace definitely recognized that voice… it was the same voice, using nearly the same words. But he had the sickening feeling that his uncle wasn’t trying to cut a piece of cherry pie…
“A flash of light from the raised knife, and then it fell downwards…! And for a moment, Ace thought, It really was cherry pie. Where else could all the red have come from? But cherry pie did not scream, cherry pie did not have a face that twisted in pain, and cherry pie certainly did not resemble the kindly fruit-stand owner who gave Ace oranges just the day before…
“… And Ace ran back home, frightened by what he saw. Along the way, the sky began drenching things beneath it with a heavy downpour. Ace may have slipped in a puddle, but nobody knows or remembers anymore. After all, nobody really cared. Ace didn’t care. He was concerned with the rain coming from his own eyes, or the special red variety from Mr. Thatch that had dripped onto his uncle’s heavy coat…
“Well, Teach, Van Auger, Lafitte, Doc Q, and Burgess eventually returned. Clean. Laughing. Wildly pleased about something or the other. Afraid of his uncle, Ace acted as he normally did. But then, in a good mood, Teach exclaimed, ‘Hey Burgess, pass me a knife, would ya?’
“And Ace screamed and screamed…
“Teach was confused. ‘What’s the matter, Acey-boy? Don’t feel like having cherry pie?’ he asked. No, of course I don’t feel like having cherry pie, Ace wanted to say. But he didn’t. He started crying instead.
“This continued on for a while, baffling everyone… Then Van Auger, ever-observant, calmly tapped Teach on the shoulder and said, ‘His boots are wet.’
“Obviously, that was a serious matter! Wet boots often are. And Teach turned to Ace and shouted, ‘I told ya to stay here an’ be good, didn’ I?!’ His face was dark and ugly, and Ace was terrified. I’m going to die, he thought with horror. I’m going to die like Mr. Thatch…
“But he didn’t die. Teach, a cautious man, did not want to arouse suspicion. A dead fruit-stand owner is all fine and dandy, but a dead child - in his custody - on the same day? Oh no, no, that just wouldn’t do. That just wouldn’t do at all.
“There were many suggested solutions to the problem. ‘Why don’t we just ask him not to rat us out?’ Burgess proposed. This was shot down by Van Auger, who said, ‘Imbecile, he’s already disobeyed us.’ Doc Q coughed, phlegm rattling in agreement. Teach angrily shouted, ‘Then what do we do with the little bastard?’ He was answered by silence.
“Then Lafitte - his mind accustomed to fabricating stories and also lies, most likely - said mildly, ‘I know a way to keep him quiet.’ At this, everyone’s mouths snapped shut. ‘We’ll do as Burgess suggested,’ Lafitte declared, ‘except there won’t exactly be any, ahem, choice in the matter.’
“Teach guffawed. ‘Lafitte, you’re a genius!’ he praised. Lafitte bowed with a flourish, modestly stating, ‘Well, I do try, sir.’ And everyone agreed to the vague, but evidently interpretable, plan of Lafitte. Except for Ace.
“His uncle turned. A gap-toothed grin which Ace used to make fun of. ‘Acey-boy, are you going to rat us out?’ he asked, leering. Ace shook his head violently. ‘N-no, never,’ he answered shakily. Then Teach laughed. ‘I believed ya two an’ a half hours ago, and look at where that got us?’
“So Ace, by unanimous approval, was locked in Teach’s cellar.
“It wasn’t a very nice place. There was an unpleasant smell. The floor was hard and cold. The walls were sticky with something. And something kept making irritating dripping noises in the far corner on the left. However, Ace wasn’t lonely! He had plenty of mice, rats, cockroaches, and all manners of things as prospective companions.
“… But it was dark.
“It was always dark. What kinds of cellars have windows, anyhow? And there was nowhere else for the elusive light to enter except the door that occasionally opened.
“Yet Ace grew to dislike the moments when the door opened. Sometimes there was food. Sometimes. But more often than not, the open door meant pain, pain, and more pain, and bruises which made Ace as dark as the cellar!
“Of course, Ace was sad that he was stuck in such a dismal dungeon. But he was sadder that Mr. Thatch had died and that his murderers had walked away free…
“Then one day, Ace discovered something quite extraordinary when Burgess opened the door: the cellar wasn’t windowless after all! There was a small window, high above a shelf, boards nailed across it… and just the right size…
“It was a difficult task to fumble across the cellar without making a noise. There were so many things in the way! So easy to bump and stumble. But after a few days, Ace managed to climb to the top of the shelf without his captors being any the wiser.
“You see, his plan was to escape through that small window and tell somebody about poor Mr. Thatch! Anyhow, even if his plan failed, Ace needed something to do, or else he would’ve certainly lost his mind!
“Teach wasn’t a particularly fastidious man in terms of cleanliness, so it wasn’t that hard to find a makeshift crowbar to pry the boards off with. The nails holding them down were rusty and old. A bit of effort over a period of one hundred sixty seven hours, and the boards were almost off!
“But wretched fate! Van Auger, with his ever-observant monocle, noticed the footprints, the cracking wood, and the lack of dust on the top shelf. He promptly informed Teach, who promptly tore off the boards, promptly nailed them to the outside of the window, and promptly ruined Ace’s opportunity of escape.
“One nice thing happened… In all his haste, Teach also ruined the boards, and through the tiny cracks, light filtered into the cellar. There was a tiny golden trickle that always landed on the top shelf. So Ace spent his time up there anyways, trying to squint past the dirty, cobwebbed glass and cracked wood to see outside…
“Ace couldn’t see outside no matter how hard he tried, but he could hear outside. The window was already cracked and broken in some areas, most likely the reason it was boarded up in the first place. So he could hear the wind sough, he could hear the occasional birds, and he could hear Teach, Van Auger, Lafitte, Doc Q, and Burgess whenever they left the house…
“And one day, he heard someone shout distantly, ‘Oh bugger!’ Then something knocked into the boards outside, startling Ace and nearly making him fall off the shelf.
“But more surprising was that following the dull thump came quick footsteps. And they grew louder and louder and louder… until right outside, somebody whistled low and said, ‘Good thing nobody was home…’
“’Hello?’ Ace called loudly. ‘Hello?!’
“’Ack! Ghost!’ was the response.
“’No wait, don’t leave!’ Ace shouted quickly. ‘Can you please, please take off the boards outside?’
“’Whatever for?’ was the puzzled reply.
“’I can’t go outside. Please take away the wooden boards,’ Ace pleaded. ‘Please, open the windows! Before they come back home…’
“There was a hesitant silence. Then splintering, cracking sounds, as whoever was outside began pulling on the damaged wood. On the inside, Ace broke the glass with his makeshift crowbar, hitting the smashed window repeatedly to remove the jagged edges.
“’It’s a tad stuck,’ said a strained voice.
“’Don’t worry, I’ll help from the inside,’ Ace offered. ‘Be careful!’ So Ace and his unseen benefactor pushed and pulled with all their might until the boards finally gave, and they tumbled into a tired heap.
“’Thank you!’ Ace exclaimed gratefully, helping his new friend stand. ‘Who are you?’
“’I’m Marco,’ replied a taller boy with funny hair. He pointed to Ace’s lacerated knees, embedded with reddening shards of glass. ‘And you’re bleeding!’
“’No, I’m Ace,’ Ace corrected. He walked a few experimental steps before hypothesizing that he wouldn’t get very far. ‘Can you help me get to the police…?’ he asked timidly.
“Marco shrugged, saying, ‘I don’t mind, though I think you need the hospital instead.’ But he hoisted Ace into a clumsy piggyback and promised to take him to his destination. As long as Ace held onto his soccer ball. Ace agreed.
“The two of them eventually arrived. Ace told his story. The police left to find Teach, Van Auger, Lafitte, Doc Q, and Burgess.
“It turned out that Mr. Thatch had been killed because he refused to give Teach a family heirloom. Some black jewel only Mr. Thatch had. Such a petty reason for killing a man…
“Anyways, Teach - or Blackbeard, since that’s what everyone else calls him now - was brought to the station. Arrested, along with his friends. Charged for the murder of Mr. Thatch and, to Ace’s surprise and dismay, the murders of several others as well.
“Blackbeard was livid. He retaliated in the only way he could. ‘How did you like your time in the cellar, Acey-boy?’ he snarled. Ace flinched. He wanted to say, I hated it in there, but Marco hissed in his ear, ‘Don’t answer!’ So Ace stayed shakily silent.
“Undeterred, Blackbeard said, ‘I hope you like the dark, Acey-boy.’ He laughed. ‘Are you going to forget me any time soon?’
“Ace was tempted to say, No, but he heeded Marco’s advice.
“’You’ll never leave that cellar,’ Blackbeard declared venomously. ‘You’ll never leave the dark. D’you know why, Acey-boy? It’s because you’ll never forget the cellar. You’ll never forget the dark. And because you’ll never forget me, you’ll never leave me either!’ He laughed again.
“Marco squeezed Ace’s trembling hand. It was comforting.
“Then finally, Blackbeard stated, ‘I am darkness, and I’ll never leave you!’, before a police officer said sarcastically, ‘That’s enough Mr. Darkness, into the cell you go’ and dragged him away. Ace never saw him again.
“But Blackbeard never left. Oh no, he was always there! In the shadows, under the bed, everywhere during the night…
“Ace tried not to think about it. But darkness was everywhere. Marco, his new, wonderful friend, tried hard to free Ace mentally, like he did physically. But he failed.
“It wasn’t his fault! It was Ace’s. Ace’s fault for being weak-minded, for not forgetting, for being afraid of something so silly. But Ace stayed afraid of the dark, and he was never quite the same.
“Oh, his parents, Garp, and Luffy found out about Blackbeard. The adults noticed the bigger changes. But Luffy, not quite understanding at his young age, noticed the small things, like the fact his older brother refused to touch cherry pie for the rest of his life.
“And they lived happily ever after,” Ace concluded. “The end!” He smiled. “You still have one more question left,” he reminded.
Smoker, heavyhearted, decided on his final question. A yes-or-no. At the moment, he couldn’t handle anything else. “… Will you be fine?” he demanded, anxious.
“Yes,” Ace answered. “Visit Tashigi! Go ahead and leave me. I think I prefer to stay inside. Oh, and it’s almost been an hour,” he added thoughtfully.
Hesitantly, Smoker closed the curtains. Slowly. “Are you sure?” he asked quietly.
“I’ll be fine,” Ace said dismissively, “as long as the flashlight doesn’t die.”
--
One more depressing part to go. Then it'll start cheering up. :D
Oh, and I'll give somebody a fake justice!cookie if you can find the extremely brief Portal reference.
And now I'm officially exhausted from writing so much in so little time. Although Hosio should be more exhausted.
--
Previous
Next