Chapter Text
“This has got to be a record.” Thatch sidled up beside him, an undisguised awe in his voice as they watched over the chaos from Marco’s perch of the day.
Marco didn’t deign the comment worthy of response. A soul-deep exhaustion raking his false-immortal flesh at the utter anarchy playing out across the Moby Dick’s deck.
Swords, maces, and the like clashing in battles between the crew and those they’d been in the midst of absorbing as crew. Though, Marco could actually make out some of his brothers fighting on the side of their newest recruits.
As if to drive that fact home, a certain characteristic laugh of one of Marco’s many brothers rang out across the deck from the chaotic battle. ”Zhahahaha! You’re all out of shape!”
“Teach sure is having fun,” Thatch snickered, wincing at a particularly heavy handed hit by the piano-teethed man upon one of their other brothers. His voice taking on a more wryly tone as they continued to watch. “You know, I think I’m losing my touch. He complimented the cherry pie I made earlier…”
“That doesn’t bode well, yoi.” Marco snorted, it wasn’t exactly a secret amongst the crew that Teach’s taste buds were screwed and anything the man thought tasted good belonged amongst the nine levels of hell.
Despite the easygoing lull of their conversation, there was an undeniable tension winding up in their figures.
Marco wasn’t sure how to feel about witnessing such blatant betrayal, even if it is a mock riot. And a mockery it is. The rioters, though greatly outnumbered, weren’t even taking them seriously. A kind of duplicitous ease to their form as if to say they didn’t see anyone on this ship as a threat beyond its reigning Captain.
The same bastards, who not a month and a half ago had been clobbered by them. As heart warming as their pathetic attempt to rescue their captain had been, their strength had been pitiful. Still is pitiful, which made their attitude all the more irritating.
It pricked at Marco’s pride but he’d let it go given Pops was so intent on taking them in. What Marco couldn’t stomach was the various burns now marring their Adam Wood deck, and the fires a designated group of his brothers were working desperately to put out.
And by the Seas, Marco hadn’t even been aware fire could grow hot enough to set Adam Wood ablaze. The temperature required was far more than anything Marco’s own flames could reach even after more than a decade of experience out on the sea, yet here was a brat with not even two years of experience with his Devil Fruit managing it. Something to lose his mind over another time though.
Let’s not forget the splintered gaping hole in the ship, exposing Pops’ quarters to the open deck, from where the enormous — still slumbering — man had sent their newest recruit — and instigator of this entire disaster — flying through. You’d think the kid would have learned by now that Pops tosses and turns a lot in his sleep.
That made five times this particular hole in wall would need to be patched and Marco was honestly contemplating just leaving it as an open window. Maybe Pops would enjoy a more open floor plan.
There hadn’t been a single peaceful day since they’d napped the crew, and Marco didn’t know how much more of this—this insanity, he could take before it drove him up the wall.
It’d been little more than a month. A single month, and they’d already needed to take the Moby in for semi-serious repairs two times. He’s talking the “will result in them being stranded at sea if not promptly fixed” kind and Pops did nothing but laugh at their spirit.
Marco was going to lose what little hair he had left, even with the regenerative ability of his Fruit, if the cost of damages continued to spike.
All courtesy of the absolute imp their Pops was determined to have as his son. Well, and Thatch foolishly deciding to have the imp’s captured crew work under them. Honestly, whose idea was it to leave the new recruits under Thatch’s care?
“How long do you think they’ll last? Nobody’s ever resisted this long before, let alone dared put up such a fuss.” His brothers were no help either, Thatch especially with his awe and delight at the lively chaos ripe with potential mischief. The chef’s next words had Marco doing a double take though, “Maybe we ought to respect their wishes, it might do us some good to rethink how we do this.”
Surely, surely Thatch had been poisoned. Did one of the Spades have a mind control Devil Fruit they weren’t aware of? As far as they knew, the Spade’s Captain was the only Devil Fruit user on the crew. And for all their captain certainly wasn’t a planner, that Vice-captain Masked Deuce was far more levelheaded. Marco wouldn’t be surprised if they were hiding another Devil Fruit user amongst them, maybe that skull-obsessed weirdo, or that Banshee woman. Of course, it was entirely possible that the chef just had a delayed concussion from that last riot.
Mind you this was the fourth rebellion, as in this had happened three other times, led by Spades — who had even successfully convinced some of his brothers to join — in protest of being forced to join the Whitebeards.
It’d been fascinating the first time, witnessing the sudden strength of the crew when backed by their captain, especially given how easily they’d clobbered the Spades earlier. But the novelty of such an interesting dynamic was swiftly lost, especially as they couldn’t do anything to harsh to the imp’s crew if they wanted the brat to join.
Of all the people Marco expected to protest their methods, Thatch certainly had never come to mind. Despite being the most empathetic of their brothers, Thatch was always open to the prospect of more brothers to feed, prank, and conspire mischief with. The closest thing to protesting he’d done was ask Marco to address hazing between division members.
By the Seas, Thatch had been the most enthusiastic about the Spades and their absolute Spitfire of a Captain becoming their brothers. Marco had been trying to convince the other to give up on it for weeks now but nothing worked.
Yet, Thatch was now looking at Marco like he was the one who wanted to keep the imp and his minions around?! He resents that!
But Marco wasn’t his Pops’ Vice-Captain for nothing, and it didn’t take a genius to realize Thatch wasn’t just talking about giving up their current adoption targets.
Admittedly, it was a reasonable concern. Neither of them, nor any of the other Division Commanders, had even noticed the resentment still held by some of their brothers regarding their own forceful adoption or the subsequent adoption of others.
(Which, yeah understandable. Their Pops had adopted quite a few crews, each with their own respective rivalries and sworn enemies. It’d certainly leave Marco feeling resentful if someone who’d killed an old friend and crewmate or tortured you was suddenly adopted as your brother and you were told to play nice.)
Pops may say he loved all his sons equally, but that didn’t mean there weren’t subconscious favorites or that he even had time for all of them. As such, the woes of their lower ranked crewmates often went unheard. It’d been a matter Marco did his best to remain willfully ignorant too, after all there was never a good time to bring it up with Pops. At least, until now.
Marco highly doubts Portgas D. Ace, the spitfire super rookie captain of the Spade Pirates, had meant to but his steadfast refusal to give in had given some of their brothers the courage to speak out their own grievances.
Sure, the majority still appeared perfectly content with life as a Whitebeard, but if they didn’t address those aired grievances they were leaving themselves open to a knife in the back. And unfortunately they were no longer in a position where they could get away with or afford to ignore them. Regardless, Marco was not looking forward to bringing it up with Pops.
Has Marco already talked about how much he dreaded the very idea of the Spade’s Captain joining them? By the fifth day, he’d actually contemplated transforming, grabbing the brat, and dropping him on some distant island, where the demon spawn’s crew would undoubtedly follow.
The Spades themselves were manageable, and decent enough company. Portgas though, was a feral thing. All taunts, claws, and teeth. An absolute imp and spitfire with actual flames to assist in his craft.
Marco had his fair share of experience dealing with Ds, but nothing could have prepared him for this. This rabid fiery ball of anger and spite, that did not hesitate, and did not know when to quit.
Ace was a literal Hellcat disguised as a human, and no one could convince him otherwise. By the Seas, the Spades have an honest-to-god lynx on their crew, a cowardly feline named Kotatsu, that acted more human than the feral spitfire.
He was not being biased just because the little shit had tried to eat him that first week.
“Uh oh,” Thatch chuckled nervously, though Marco did not miss the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes, “our resident spitfire is looking—er, heading—this way…”
Correction, has been trying to eat him.
Marco didn’t even have time to process Thatch’s purposefully delayed warning, let alone take flight before he was tackled to deck. Yelling—squawking—indignantly at this betrayal, as he struggled against the assault of the demonic hellcat. Thatch had set him up!
Apparently, witnessing Ace spend every waking minute planning and attempting to assassinate their Pops wasn’t enough. No, his brothers just had to assist Ace in his attempts to murder and eat Marco too!
What did he do to deserve a family like this? The phoenix wanted to cry, but there was no time for bitter tears whilst avoiding a feral brat’s teeth. Marco didn’t even know what he did to earn the hellcat’s ire in the first place.
It’d been a relatively peaceful afternoon, what with it coming up to their second week of unsuccessful attempts to convert the Spades. They’d all been enjoying a lovely normal meal — after Ace had tried to poison them all the day prior — and Marco had been convinced the hellcat was too exhausted to start anything after his punishing beat down courtesy Pops that morning.
As such, he’d paid the scheming eyes of the Spades no mind when they suddenly started teasing their captain. A mistake. He should’ve realized they were up to something the second they started praising Marco’s flames.
Instead, he’d foolishly believed they were finally getting somewhere with the brats. Brats that had proved themselves ridiculously loyal to their prideful blazing hellfire captain. What an idiot he was, trusting the crew of a feral imbecile like Portgas D. Ace to be sensible.
Then again, even then he’d underestimated the spiteful fury of demon cats. Marco never stood a chance, saved only by the intervention of his brothers, who were equally caught off guard by the brat’s sudden change in target. Especially, when the hellcat had just been given a bruising battering lesson by Pops to not involve his children in his assassination attempts.
Thatch would say he was being dramatic, but it’s not like the cook was the one the demon cat tried to eat!
Even now, Marco could the little shit’s crew egging their Captain on, shouting nonsense like “Eat his flames!” or “Your fire needs to be stronger than that!”, at one point someone had shouted “You can’t leave him alive, he’s a potential love rival!”
Again, Marco didn’t know what he did except exist in the hellcat’s proximity. He sure as hell would bet Thatch had some inkling though, given the absolute amusement on his face.
Marco was going to kill him. They didn’t need to worry about potential knives in the back because Marco was going to look his asshole of a brother in the face and strangle him to death. At least, he would once he escaped the stupid hellcat.
Thatch would admit, he felt the slightest bit of guilt for setting Marco up. But the sight of their typically calm and collected Vice-Captain flailing about in his phoenix form as he fought to escape Thatch’s newest brother — whether the spitfire joined the crew or not — made it absolutely worth it.
The only thing that would make it better was if he knew why their newest recruits were so fixated on Marco. As for all that Ace continued to target Pops, the firecracker’s focus had rather abruptly shifted toward the Phoenix.
It’d been a startling shift. Especially given the prideful young captain had been doing his utmost to avoid his crew since their capture. Still Thatch had a front row seat to the way the spitfire’s face grew darker with every word of praise toward Marco, the pupils of those mercury eyes shrinking like that of a wild feline locking on its prey.
Thatch supposed, it was on them for foolishly believing a spitfire like Ace could ever manage to form such an obedient crew. They shouldn’t have been so surprised that the youth’s crew knew how to deal with their stubborn captain, especially that Masked Deuce. Had Thatch not been freaking out with the rest of his brothers over rescuing Marco, he might’ve shed a few tears at the oddest “reunion” between a pirate crew he’d seen to date.
The Whitebeards had stood a real good chance of recruiting Ace, but the second the stubborn youth’s self-imposed isolation ended, well that opportunity had been snatched away. Rather than recruiting new brothers, it seemed to Thatch that they’d merely provided the Spades the opportunity to prove to their captain that they were always with him. With the bond between Captain and crew reaffirmed, strengthened by their trust in each other, well this brother-acquisition was a bust.
It was still startling, how abruptly everything shifted the second Ace stopped avoiding his crew, though. By the Seas, the entire dynamic of the Moby Dick had been flipped on its head. The Spades were a riot, both figuratively and literally.
Now if Thatch could only figure out how, what, and why. Just like their oddball captain, the Spades sporadic comments were a confusing irritating mesh of scattered information that never gave the full picture. Which was unfortunate, because of what little Thatch had understood his newest honorary brother had a crush!
Look, Thatch loved Marco, but this was his chance to be an Uncle! He could have a niece or nephew to spoil! And obviously, the flaming turkey was a greatly unwelcome threat for this new couple to sail. So Marco would have to suck it up for a bit, besides his sacrifice would be held in great esteem.
Even Pops agreed with Thatch! And it wasn’t like Marco would be giving them little ones so they’d rest their hopes on Ace. Maybe they could use this as an opportunity to send Marco on vacation too, the seas knew he needed it.
“Oi!” Today’s designated lookout crowed, pulling everyone’s attention. “Ship approaching from the starboard!”
There was a pause in the crowd, but their hellcat recruit did not cease his attack on their resident flaming turkey. Nor did the kid’s crew cease their encouraging him.
“Marines?” Izou, paying them no mind, asked.
”Doesn’t look like it!”
”Let’s just hope it’s not more rookies,” Vista snorted, “the Seas know our hands are full with the ones we got now.”
Thatch certainly agreed, they’d been lucky this month not encountering any enemy crews while the Spades continued resisting conversion. And while the Spades weren’t like the more dishonorable pirates on the seas, desperation often brought out the worst in men. They’d be in a pickle if the Spades decided to revolt seriously and left them fighting on two fronts. Not to mention the tension that was beginning to reveal itself between Thatch’s brothers.
The best option would be to lock up the rioters below deck for now, but that meant having to break up the fight between Marco and Ace, without having to taste those claws and flames himself. It also meant convincing the Spades to go down too, which likely wouldn’t happen without a fight, meaning they’d have to spend precious time and energy fighting.
Thatch exchanged looks with Izou and Vista as they silently tried to decide who’d be given the job. A wasted effort, as the firecracker was springing away — not unlike a startled cat — from Marco seconds later.
”It’s Akagami no Shanks!” The lookout announced with glee, “Looks like it’ll be a party tonight, brothers!”
Cheers erupted from the men on the deck, but Thatch only felt cold sweat drip down his spine in unison with his fellow Division Commanders. “Shit. What are we going to do with the Spitfire?”
They were royally fucked if the kid tried anything against Akagami…