one piece: a work in progress
posted to: smokerxace ; onepieceyaoi
5.
The halls were always dirty.
That wasn't so much of a surprise. More than a hundred pair of feet traipsed through this path to and from drills, every single day of the week. And as one of those perpetually tired and frustrated recruits, Smoker knew that he had never cared about what muck was found on his boots when he was far too concerned with what shit was stuck in his hair.
So, Smoker wouldn't have thought twice about the state of the halls - but today, he was tasked with maintaining its cleanliness.
Smoker suspected that these halls had never been clean to begin with.
Still, Smoker was a dutiful young recruit and cleaning sure as hell beat filing. He had been filing backlogged reports for months after the last incident. The Commander really knew where to hurt a man. And so, with a tiny baby tucked under one arm, Smoker gamely started his work.
---
Cleaning was a lot easier when he was left alone. The idiots he had beat up and who had subsequently reported him to the Commander in the first place had shown up. Smoker didn't need to ask what they wanted from him.
So, even if it killed him to keep still and watch, he did.
It wasn't like he had cleaned a lot when they arrived.
10...9...8... The Academy's therapist had suggested that he count backwards from ten when he was stressed. It hadn't worked. Smoker's inner mantra sounded like a mixture of Hina and his mother. This pissed him off beyond belief. 7...6...5... And the therapist had never told him what to do after he reached zero and the source of his anger was still present. The idiots had kicked over his pail of water and were joyfully howling away as they skidded over the halls in their muddy boots. 4...3...2.... Damn it.
This counting shit wasn't going to work.
The Commander will kill you. The Commander will kill you. The Commander will kill you...
He inhaled, in an odd state of calm. He wasn't going to beat their asses again (no matter how easy it would be for him and how much he wanted to) just so they can rat him out again. Bunch of fucking cowards, hiding behind the Commander like that. Marines like that were no good to the world - worse than pirates, in his book. Anyone who hides behind a higher authority yet had the nerve to reap the rewards are scum.
Smoker sincerely hopes that they drop out.
And after the group - dumb, dumber and borderline brain dead finally left, Smoker let out a longsuffering sigh, unclenched his fists and got back to work.
He took a second to make sure the pain in the ass brat in all of his baby blue glory was still tucked up, silently napping, out of everyone's way. Confirmed. Smoker continued, secretly glad that his new mantra really did work.
The Commander might really kill him one day.
---
He was done. It took an extra thirty minutes longer than expected. But he was done.
He'll have to haul ass on his next few tasks, but he might, just might, make it to the mess hall in time. That brightened his mood significantly.
"Eehehehehehe...hee!"
The feeling was back.
Crash! The sound of water spilling. The uniform sound of a herd of approaching feet.
Smoker spun on his feet and barely had the time to scoop up the brat before the hall was filled.
Pandemonium.
Slipping, yelling, bumping and papers fluttered everywhere.
The new reports had just come in. They always came this way to be delivered immediately to the Commander, Smoker realized belatedly. So urgent and demanding was the Commander that very little got between the CO and the news. And pity the fool who got in the way of this regular delivery.
Smoker groaned.
Fool indeed.
The demon-brat clapped his hands to the beat of skidding bodies and laughed.
6.
He had made a slight miscalculation then.
He had underestimated the trouble this brat could cause. He still couldn't foist the thing onto someone else. He couldn't explain where he got the brat, who the brat was or why he had him. And he couldn't find Hina. Damn that girl. And while he can just force someone to watch the brat... he wasn't sure if they'd treat him - it properly.
Smoker fumed as he stared at the unrepentant thing. He was getting soft and he wasn't even in his thirties yet!
Well, he learned his lesson alright. He can't afford to lose sight of him for one second. That could be easily remedied. All Smoker had to do was sacrifice a bit of his dignity. But that was alright to the youth.
All for the sake of dinner.
The sling was tied securely around his torso. Nestled into his chest was the demon itself. No, not Hina. The other one.
Smoker had, after spending a good hour or so with it, decided to dub it demon spawn. It had come from Hina, in some loose sense. Which was something he'll never forgive her for, naturally.
And so, with his wayward charge quite securely confined, Smoker was ready to perform his next duty - all for the sake of dinner, of course.
---
Garbage disposal was not a walk in the park. It smelled.
Marines were filthy.
And while Smoker had no problem ignoring the stench, someone was obviously having issues. Just when Smoker was about done, the thing had woken up. It immediately tried to escape its foul smelling prison. What the brat didn't realize, Smoker thought wryly, was that no matter how bad it smelled in the folds of the sling, it smelled ten times worse where Smoker was standing.
The brat learned the hard way, of course.
Smoker was beginning to realize that nothing associated with the brat came easy. Yet another thing it shared in common with his mother.
He had been at the top of the ladder, ready to descend after throwing in the last bags, when the brat fucking popped right out and fell in.
What else was Smoker to do?
---
And so, smelling like last week's mystery meat and unwashed socks, Smoker moved on to his last task.
But Demon Spawn needed to feed first.
7.
There was one domain in the Academy that no one dared to enter - not even the Commander. That legendary place was the kitchen. It was the very heart of the institution and as such, any disturbance to it will cause over a hundred Marines to go hungry (for who knows how long). The kitchen was subsequently guarded by a small platoon of kitchen staff headed by one fierce tyrant - Chef Cordo.
Smoker - as he was uncomfortably aware after spending an afternoon with the brat - had found many, many new things he wasn't willing to do. On the very top of that list was step foot in the Chef's kitchen and ask for food. To the Chef, a person only needed three meals a day and nothing less, nothing more. To ask for more food was to ask for death.
Which was why he wasn't going to ask.
---
There had been crying. There had been a ruined souffle. There had been the Chef's wrath.
Smoker was willing to remember that much - and no matter what Hina did to him, he wasn't going to reveal anymore.
8.
They found him sitting pathetically in the brig. Just why an Academy would have a brig, no one really knew. But the older members of the staff swore up and down that the brig hadn't been in any condition to house... delinquents (like Smoker) before the Commander had taken control of the post. Apparently, it was the first part of the Academy that was repaired.
Yes, it seemed like something the Commander would do.
So, in the dank underbelly of the Commander's lair, Smoker waited. The thing had been confiscated from him what felt like hours ago and if Smoker was honest, he would have liked some company in this hole. Not that the source of his problems would be any company at all...
Actually, without the brat, he wouldn't be in this mess in the first place!
"Fucking brat." Smoker swore lowly. As soon as he got out of there, he... wait.
No matter how much a child pissed him off, he can't go around punching out babies. Someone, somewhere might find that offensive. Even if he did grow up in pirate haven.
Smoker quickly found another target for his anger.
As was most situations, the one responsible and the one to be blamed was one in the same. "Fucking Hina."
"That's not very nice, Smoker-kun." That voice was smug and Smoker could recognize it anywhere as Hina's. "I've come all this way to rescue you too." Three sets of footsteps echoed as they neared him. Smoker already noted the light steps that were Hina's trademark. That girl had always been light on her feet, which made her impossible to catch during training. Her companion, on the other hand...
"BWAHAHAHAHAH! So you're the one who took my little grandson."
Smoker sputtered, but Hina spoke for him. "Hina told Smoker to take good care of Ace-chan, sir."
"Hey, wait - Hina."
Like hell he wanted anything to do with that brat!
"Well, Ace-chaaaaaan, did you have fun today~?"
A set of high-pitched giggles echoed in the vast holding cells. Smoker twitched. What kind of nutjob brought an infant to a brig - Commander Trish's brig at that?
"Hmm..." The dreaded tones of the Commander came next. As usual, she did not sound very impressed. "Vice-Admiral Garp, you have seen this recruit -" She said the word, but she really meant piece of shit. "Rest assured that he will be properly disciplined."
Very faintly, Smoker heard a scream in the back of his mind. Oh no problem, just another part of his sanity chipping away.
"Ah, very well then." The large man moved closer. "Say good-bye, Ace-chan!"
Was that man really a Vice-Admiral?
The infant was thrust roughly up against the bars of his cell. The action had so much force in it that the thing almost smacked its forehead against the bars. Probably used to such rough handling, the baby hadn't even flinched. Its face almost split in half under that large, scary grin. "Heheheheheheee!" It waved.
Vice-Admiral Garp was promptly led out of the brig by Hina, leaving behind Commander Trish to present him with his death sentence. Silence hung between them as they assessed one another. Smoker was sure she could smell his fear and only half-heartedly tried to rally his nerves. That woman was a beast.
But, instead of screaming, delivering threats a mile a minute, she merely crossed her arms and smiled. Narrowed grey eyes glinted dangerously in what little light the brig held. "W-well, what's it going to be, Commander?"
"You've made quite a few enemies today, Smoker-chan." Meaning she didn't need to assign some punishment.
Someone will do her dirty work for her.
...shit.
5.
The halls were always dirty.
That wasn't so much of a surprise. More than a hundred pair of feet traipsed through this path to and from drills, every single day of the week. And as one of those perpetually tired and frustrated recruits, Smoker knew that he had never cared about what muck was found on his boots when he was far too concerned with what shit was stuck in his hair.
So, Smoker wouldn't have thought twice about the state of the halls - but today, he was tasked with maintaining its cleanliness.
Smoker suspected that these halls had never been clean to begin with.
Still, Smoker was a dutiful young recruit and cleaning sure as hell beat filing. He had been filing backlogged reports for months after the last incident. The Commander really knew where to hurt a man. And so, with a tiny baby tucked under one arm, Smoker gamely started his work.
---
Cleaning was a lot easier when he was left alone. The idiots he had beat up and who had subsequently reported him to the Commander in the first place had shown up. Smoker didn't need to ask what they wanted from him.
So, even if it killed him to keep still and watch, he did.
It wasn't like he had cleaned a lot when they arrived.
10...9...8... The Academy's therapist had suggested that he count backwards from ten when he was stressed. It hadn't worked. Smoker's inner mantra sounded like a mixture of Hina and his mother. This pissed him off beyond belief. 7...6...5... And the therapist had never told him what to do after he reached zero and the source of his anger was still present. The idiots had kicked over his pail of water and were joyfully howling away as they skidded over the halls in their muddy boots. 4...3...2.... Damn it.
This counting shit wasn't going to work.
The Commander will kill you. The Commander will kill you. The Commander will kill you...
He inhaled, in an odd state of calm. He wasn't going to beat their asses again (no matter how easy it would be for him and how much he wanted to) just so they can rat him out again. Bunch of fucking cowards, hiding behind the Commander like that. Marines like that were no good to the world - worse than pirates, in his book. Anyone who hides behind a higher authority yet had the nerve to reap the rewards are scum.
Smoker sincerely hopes that they drop out.
And after the group - dumb, dumber and borderline brain dead finally left, Smoker let out a longsuffering sigh, unclenched his fists and got back to work.
He took a second to make sure the pain in the ass brat in all of his baby blue glory was still tucked up, silently napping, out of everyone's way. Confirmed. Smoker continued, secretly glad that his new mantra really did work.
The Commander might really kill him one day.
---
He was done. It took an extra thirty minutes longer than expected. But he was done.
He'll have to haul ass on his next few tasks, but he might, just might, make it to the mess hall in time. That brightened his mood significantly.
"Eehehehehehe...hee!"
The feeling was back.
Crash! The sound of water spilling. The uniform sound of a herd of approaching feet.
Smoker spun on his feet and barely had the time to scoop up the brat before the hall was filled.
Pandemonium.
Slipping, yelling, bumping and papers fluttered everywhere.
The new reports had just come in. They always came this way to be delivered immediately to the Commander, Smoker realized belatedly. So urgent and demanding was the Commander that very little got between the CO and the news. And pity the fool who got in the way of this regular delivery.
Smoker groaned.
Fool indeed.
The demon-brat clapped his hands to the beat of skidding bodies and laughed.
6.
He had made a slight miscalculation then.
He had underestimated the trouble this brat could cause. He still couldn't foist the thing onto someone else. He couldn't explain where he got the brat, who the brat was or why he had him. And he couldn't find Hina. Damn that girl. And while he can just force someone to watch the brat... he wasn't sure if they'd treat him - it properly.
Smoker fumed as he stared at the unrepentant thing. He was getting soft and he wasn't even in his thirties yet!
Well, he learned his lesson alright. He can't afford to lose sight of him for one second. That could be easily remedied. All Smoker had to do was sacrifice a bit of his dignity. But that was alright to the youth.
All for the sake of dinner.
The sling was tied securely around his torso. Nestled into his chest was the demon itself. No, not Hina. The other one.
Smoker had, after spending a good hour or so with it, decided to dub it demon spawn. It had come from Hina, in some loose sense. Which was something he'll never forgive her for, naturally.
And so, with his wayward charge quite securely confined, Smoker was ready to perform his next duty - all for the sake of dinner, of course.
---
Garbage disposal was not a walk in the park. It smelled.
Marines were filthy.
And while Smoker had no problem ignoring the stench, someone was obviously having issues. Just when Smoker was about done, the thing had woken up. It immediately tried to escape its foul smelling prison. What the brat didn't realize, Smoker thought wryly, was that no matter how bad it smelled in the folds of the sling, it smelled ten times worse where Smoker was standing.
The brat learned the hard way, of course.
Smoker was beginning to realize that nothing associated with the brat came easy. Yet another thing it shared in common with his mother.
He had been at the top of the ladder, ready to descend after throwing in the last bags, when the brat fucking popped right out and fell in.
What else was Smoker to do?
---
And so, smelling like last week's mystery meat and unwashed socks, Smoker moved on to his last task.
But Demon Spawn needed to feed first.
7.
There was one domain in the Academy that no one dared to enter - not even the Commander. That legendary place was the kitchen. It was the very heart of the institution and as such, any disturbance to it will cause over a hundred Marines to go hungry (for who knows how long). The kitchen was subsequently guarded by a small platoon of kitchen staff headed by one fierce tyrant - Chef Cordo.
Smoker - as he was uncomfortably aware after spending an afternoon with the brat - had found many, many new things he wasn't willing to do. On the very top of that list was step foot in the Chef's kitchen and ask for food. To the Chef, a person only needed three meals a day and nothing less, nothing more. To ask for more food was to ask for death.
Which was why he wasn't going to ask.
---
There had been crying. There had been a ruined souffle. There had been the Chef's wrath.
Smoker was willing to remember that much - and no matter what Hina did to him, he wasn't going to reveal anymore.
8.
They found him sitting pathetically in the brig. Just why an Academy would have a brig, no one really knew. But the older members of the staff swore up and down that the brig hadn't been in any condition to house... delinquents (like Smoker) before the Commander had taken control of the post. Apparently, it was the first part of the Academy that was repaired.
Yes, it seemed like something the Commander would do.
So, in the dank underbelly of the Commander's lair, Smoker waited. The thing had been confiscated from him what felt like hours ago and if Smoker was honest, he would have liked some company in this hole. Not that the source of his problems would be any company at all...
Actually, without the brat, he wouldn't be in this mess in the first place!
"Fucking brat." Smoker swore lowly. As soon as he got out of there, he... wait.
No matter how much a child pissed him off, he can't go around punching out babies. Someone, somewhere might find that offensive. Even if he did grow up in pirate haven.
Smoker quickly found another target for his anger.
As was most situations, the one responsible and the one to be blamed was one in the same. "Fucking Hina."
"That's not very nice, Smoker-kun." That voice was smug and Smoker could recognize it anywhere as Hina's. "I've come all this way to rescue you too." Three sets of footsteps echoed as they neared him. Smoker already noted the light steps that were Hina's trademark. That girl had always been light on her feet, which made her impossible to catch during training. Her companion, on the other hand...
"BWAHAHAHAHAH! So you're the one who took my little grandson."
Smoker sputtered, but Hina spoke for him. "Hina told Smoker to take good care of Ace-chan, sir."
"Hey, wait - Hina."
Like hell he wanted anything to do with that brat!
"Well, Ace-chaaaaaan, did you have fun today~?"
A set of high-pitched giggles echoed in the vast holding cells. Smoker twitched. What kind of nutjob brought an infant to a brig - Commander Trish's brig at that?
"Hmm..." The dreaded tones of the Commander came next. As usual, she did not sound very impressed. "Vice-Admiral Garp, you have seen this recruit -" She said the word, but she really meant piece of shit. "Rest assured that he will be properly disciplined."
Very faintly, Smoker heard a scream in the back of his mind. Oh no problem, just another part of his sanity chipping away.
"Ah, very well then." The large man moved closer. "Say good-bye, Ace-chan!"
Was that man really a Vice-Admiral?
The infant was thrust roughly up against the bars of his cell. The action had so much force in it that the thing almost smacked its forehead against the bars. Probably used to such rough handling, the baby hadn't even flinched. Its face almost split in half under that large, scary grin. "Heheheheheheee!" It waved.
Vice-Admiral Garp was promptly led out of the brig by Hina, leaving behind Commander Trish to present him with his death sentence. Silence hung between them as they assessed one another. Smoker was sure she could smell his fear and only half-heartedly tried to rally his nerves. That woman was a beast.
But, instead of screaming, delivering threats a mile a minute, she merely crossed her arms and smiled. Narrowed grey eyes glinted dangerously in what little light the brig held. "W-well, what's it going to be, Commander?"
"You've made quite a few enemies today, Smoker-chan." Meaning she didn't need to assign some punishment.
Someone will do her dirty work for her.
...shit.