Chapter Text
A crack had formed in the world as the feed from Marineford ended. It marked an end of the age started by a man on a platform screaming to the masses of something fantastical left behind—one that had been ended by that man’s son, now being whisked away by his brothers and his lover to parts unknown. What was on the other side was hard to tell, as crews scrambled to scatter into the winds of the New World, clinging to the hope that it would still be marked with prosperity for their kind.
Drake was not one of those men, even though he claimed to be—marked by cynicism and the weight of his mission, he was long dried of that hope. Yet even with gloved hands clinging tightly to the railing of their box, jaw clenched just as hard, he could feel his chest swell and his heart hammer with something he hadn’t felt in a long time.
“He’s a fucking fool,” his first mate, Lind, almost spat. “He can’t lie his way out of this one, even if we can get the paperwork to him. He’s going to hang.”
Drake sighed and forced himself to let go of the railing, hands and back aching from the position he had locked himself into. A dull, more frustrating throbbing started to form behind his eyes. “I know, but the worst part is…I would have done the same thing.” He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment to try and make the pain subside, but to no avail, “Someone doesn’t deserve to be executed for the blood they share.”
Lind scoffed, perhaps more at the notion Drake would have acted the same if put in Smoker’s shoes than the comment about sharing blood. He knew his captain was the son of Bastard Barrels, a man who decided becoming a cutthroat was better than keeping the peace. “No, the worst part is knowing who you would do it for and why.” Lind peered over the railing of their box, sharp eyes scanning for familiar faces. “Crowd’s dispersing, we should get on the ship and get out of here. Especially if we wanna play catch up with our man.”
Drake knew he was right. Lingering here would be of no help to anyone, much less to their colleague whom they had to catch before the hangman did. He turned, Lind in tow as they made haste towards their ship. The chaos around them began to bloom like unwanted weeds, as crowds of people whispered about what had been broadcast.
“Fucking shitshow,” Drake muttered under his breath, pulling down the brim of his bicorne, “What kind of lie are they going to spin to cover this up, I wonder?”
“I doubt anything good.” Lind too had lowered his head, keeping his voice as quiet as possible, “Wouldn’t surprise me if they decided to just blow the place up, lie what was on the feed, and produce a body for a man who isn’t dead.”
Bread and circuses, except it isn’t bread at all and the circus is certainly not in town. Drake thought bitterly. He knew the tactics well enough. At first, he hadn’t disagreed, he helped with the appeasement and spoke the words that the top brass told him to speak. It wasn’t long though where it felt more like a ventriloquist act, and he was the wooden dummy. That was why he was here now, his moral compass spinning wildly in a way he never thought it would. His sense of justice couldn’t take it then, and it couldn’t take it now. There was something deeply broken in this system and what he had bore witness to had proved it.
“It will be difficult to diffuse. Everyone is agitated, like sharks when there's blood,” Drake said, “Which makes me wonder if they'll just throw out more chum.”
He knew he and Lind both could feel it, the stifling tension that was waiting for them on the other side. He made him agitated, jaw clenched again with fists balled as they cut through the crowd. Even the beast that lingered coiled up in the back of his head felt unnerved, laden with the urge to bolt as if something larger and more frightening was coming up. He glanced over at his first mate, only to be met with the hard gaze of yellow. He didn’t doubt his eyes had shifted as well—the predators they hid within were now amped for fighting or fleeing. In this situation though, he truly had no idea if they could do either.
“Wanna give the boss a ring once back on the Hind?” Lind suggested, trying his best not to be obvious he was searching the crowd for any threats. “He’s going to be having a heart attack when this is over.”
To say anything more would be putting it mildly—Drake knew this as he grunted in agreement. It would be better to touch base with their higher up before they took off, better to have a plan in place if things went pear-shaped. He wanted this whole nightmare to be over with, for the stubborn tension in his jaw to ease.
Use your fucking head boy. His father’s voice echoed in the back of his mind and Drake squared his shoulders, pace quickening as they reached the Liberal Hind. Coated and ready to sail at its dock, Drake knew that they would have to make haste to catch up with their query.
The Hind's bubble burst outward as it broke the surface and the weather that greeted the Drake Pirates poorly fit the gloom cast over the ship. Drake paced the deck, low growls of frustration escaping from the back of his throat. Lind leaned against the railing, letting him take his laps. The black snail bound to his wrist hummed with activity, its eye stalks swiveling between the two men.
“They say the war is over,” Hard lines settled in at the corners of Lind's mouth as he continued to listen, “—and the Polar Tang managed to get away with the Straw Hat captain, with Boa Hancock in pursuit.”
So you sensed something too, Law? Drake thought, though the mention of the Tang provided little comfort. Most of the rookies had gathered outside of Marineford now and Drake was unsure of what their motives were. It felt like carrion birds circling a corpse, ready to pick the spoils of the dead and dying. It would make sense for Law to be there, but why did he save Luffy? Drake had to focus, had to keep his mind on his goals. As much as he wanted to, there was little he could do concerning whatever Law’s plans were. The Hind would attract too much attention and there was the matter that he was technically still a Marine...
“If Boa is giving chase, that could mean trouble.” Drake finally stopped to join Lind up against the railing, “But if we try and interfere, we lose the Whitebeards to wherever hole they’re likely going to go lick their wounds in.” He couldn’t wring his hands over this forever. They had two rabbits, one which they needed to chase and one that he wanted to chase. One could likely be found again, but the other had to be found now or it would be lost.
“So what’s our course?” Lind asked, meeting Drake’s gaze. He could hear the frustration in the way Drake breathed, the low growling from before returning, the ancient rumble audible to no one but the two of them.
“We chase Smoker and hope the Whitebeards don’t flag us as a threat. If we can, we make contact with the Tang after. From there, you know what the goal is.”
“Yeah, I still don’t like the fact that you’re still considering that idea. Going alone is foolish and you know it.”
Drake almost smiled at that. He trusted Lind above all else on his ship, with the man’s bluntness serving as a much-needed jolt of reality. Though even with the offered concern, it wouldn’t sway him. Duty came before anything else. Duty was what drove him, the ever-present thorn in his side. He pulled off his bicorne, raking fingers through the plume of red hair beneath. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but if he wanted easy he would have stayed put and climbed the ranks into a cushy position as the Government’s lapdog. The corners of his mouth turned more sharply down as he placed the hat back on his head.
“Tell the helmsman we’re going hunting.”
“Yes, sir.”