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Aug. 16th, 2005 02:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dethoratsTitle: Which Side?
Rating: PG
Pairing: vague Smoker/Ace
Word Count: 300
The snail phone on his desk was only managing half-hearted gurgling by that point. He’d ignored its incessant noise all morning and most of the afternoon, and he was damn well going to continue to ignore what would undoubtedly be another spate of yelling from headquarters for as long as he pleased. He knew what they wanted – the exact opposite of what he wanted, of what was right. His job was to catch pirates, especially those he knew were truly dangerous, not to sit around Logue Town acting like some kind of damn nanny for criminals too stupid to know better than to stop there. What the hell had happened to his navy?
The cigars between his teeth smoldered, mere stumps, and he finally dragged his feet off the desk, sitting up to search through the long-ignored piles of paperwork for a match. There was a sudden burst of sulfur and the flame burst to life. It flickered between his fingertips, alive, and he stared at it, fresh smokes forgotten until the fire burnt itself out.
Twice now he’d been thwarted in his pursuit of Strawhat Luffy, and there was no way he’d let headquarters become the third obstacle. Dragon, well, there was little he could do about that. But Ace, Portgas D. Ace, older brother to his elusive prey and powerful pirate in his own right, why had he failed to stop him? Fire called to smoke, and vice versa, but could there be more to it than that? The elder D brother was chasing his own form of justice. Perhaps their wills were the same?
Smoker scowled, struck another match, and promptly lit his cigars. No. The situation in Alabasta may have been beyond upside down and sideways, but marines were always good guys and pirates always villains.
Rating: PG
Pairing: vague Smoker/Ace
Word Count: 300
The snail phone on his desk was only managing half-hearted gurgling by that point. He’d ignored its incessant noise all morning and most of the afternoon, and he was damn well going to continue to ignore what would undoubtedly be another spate of yelling from headquarters for as long as he pleased. He knew what they wanted – the exact opposite of what he wanted, of what was right. His job was to catch pirates, especially those he knew were truly dangerous, not to sit around Logue Town acting like some kind of damn nanny for criminals too stupid to know better than to stop there. What the hell had happened to his navy?
The cigars between his teeth smoldered, mere stumps, and he finally dragged his feet off the desk, sitting up to search through the long-ignored piles of paperwork for a match. There was a sudden burst of sulfur and the flame burst to life. It flickered between his fingertips, alive, and he stared at it, fresh smokes forgotten until the fire burnt itself out.
Twice now he’d been thwarted in his pursuit of Strawhat Luffy, and there was no way he’d let headquarters become the third obstacle. Dragon, well, there was little he could do about that. But Ace, Portgas D. Ace, older brother to his elusive prey and powerful pirate in his own right, why had he failed to stop him? Fire called to smoke, and vice versa, but could there be more to it than that? The elder D brother was chasing his own form of justice. Perhaps their wills were the same?
Smoker scowled, struck another match, and promptly lit his cigars. No. The situation in Alabasta may have been beyond upside down and sideways, but marines were always good guys and pirates always villains.
