The Moby Dick's deck trembled not from Whitebeard's quakes, but from the heat of Ace's fury. Flames roared around him like a vengeful halo as he lunged at the towering figure seated on the throne. "I'll kill you, old man!" Ace snarled, fists molten. "This ends today!"
Whitebeard didn't flinch. With a lazy swing of his bisento, the air itself fractured. Ace's fire snuffed out like a candle in a hurricane, and he crashed into the mast, ribs audibly cracking. Blood dripped from his lip as he slumped, glaring up through sweat-soaked bangs.
"Gurarara… Still just a boy playing with matches," Whitebeard rumbled, though his gaze lingered a heartbeat too long—a flicker of pride beneath the mockery.
From the shadows of the upper deck, Gunnar watched, his smirk sharp enough to cut glass. Lean, coiled like a predator, he leaned against the railing, fingers drumming a restless rhythm. His eyes—pale as cracked ice—never left Ace's crumpled form. "Pathetic," he drawled, voice dripping with venom. "How many times will he crawl back for another beating? Ten? Twenty? Or until he finally dies trying?"
Smoothie stood beside him, arms crossed, her third eye rolling. "At least he does something besides brood and break things," she snapped, though her cheeks flushed when Gunnar's gaze snapped to hers. "N-Not that I care what you do! You're insufferable either way!"
Gunnar's laugh was low, dangerous. He stepped closer, invading her space until her back hit the wall. "Jealous, Princess?" he purred, tracing a finger along her jaw. "Don't worry. I'll break _you_ last."
She slapped his hand away, face scarlet. "Pervert!"
Before she could retreat, Gunnar seized her wrist, his grip bruising. "You'll miss me when I'm gone," he muttered, voice suddenly raw. Then he released her, turning back to the deck as if nothing happened.
Ace staggered to his feet, flames rekindling. "I'm not done—!"
Whitebeard sighed. "Sit. Down."
Another shockwave flattened Ace to the planks.
Gunnar's grin widened. "Marco," he called, not taking his eyes off Ace. "If I fought that trash… who wins?"
Marco, perched on the rigging, didn't look up from his newspaper. "You spent half your life in a coma. Ace? Fought Jinbei to a standstill at 17. Earned a Warlord invite. You're strong, kid, but he's a prodigy."
The word hung in the air like a challenge.
Gunnar's jaw twitched. _Prodigy._ Ace, the golden child—Roger's spawn, Whitebeard's favorite. But Gunnar's blood wasn't inferior. He was Newgate's son. The tremor-tremor fruit pulsed in his veins, begging to tear the world apart.
"Prodigy," Gunnar echoed, voice lethally soft. "Funny word for a dead man's legacy."
Ace's head whipped toward him, eyes blazing. "Say that again."
Gunnar stepped onto the railing, staring down at him. "You heard me, Roger."
Ace's flames erupted, but Whitebeard's bisento pinned him in place. "Enough."
Though he literally meant Roger as a Father. Other understood something similar to fanboy as he kept mentioning being King of The Pirates.
Gunnar ignored the order, leaping down to land inches from Ace. "You think you're special? That fire_makes you worthy?" He leaned in, breath hot against Ace's ear. "You're just a replacement. A shiny toy he'll toss aside when he's bored."
Ace's fist lashed out, but Gunnar caught it, his own hand shimmering with unstable tremors. The deck beneath them cracked.
"Stop." Whitebeard's voice boomed, Haki crushing the air. Both men froze, knees buckling under the pressure.
Gunnar laughed, sweat trickling his forehead "See? Even now… he protects you." He spat the word like a curse.
Smoothie's voice cut through the tension. "You're both idiots!" she shouted, storming down the stairs. "Ace is a reckless fool, and you—" She jabbed a finger at Gunnar. "—are a mad dog who'll get himself killed before noon!"
Gunnar grabbed her arm, yanking her close. "Careful, Princess," he growled. "Mad dogs bite."
She glared up at him, unflinching. "Then learn Haki. Master your fruit. Stop throwing tantrums and act like Whitebeard's son for once!"
For a heartbeat, his mask slipped—vulnerability, hunger, _fear_—before he shoved her away. "Fine." He turned to Whitebeard, trembling with rage. "Send me to the front lines. To the strongest you've got. I'll carve my name into their bones."
Marco sighed. "Pop, don't encourage—"
"Do it," Gunnar snarled. "Whatever you want, I don't care."
Whitebeard studied him, then grinned. "Gurarara… Go. But if you die, I'll disown you."
Gunnar's smile was all teeth. He glanced at Smoothie, who was furiously adjusting her hat to hide her tears. "Don't miss me too much," he taunted.
"As if!" she shouted, but her voice cracked.
As he strode toward the gangplank, Ace called after him, "You're chasing death, Gunnar."
Without turning, Gunnar raised a middle finger. "I'm chasing legacy."
And in the quake of his footsteps, the sea itself began to split. Behind him, Smoothie's voice carried like a whip. "Don't come back covered in someone else's blood!" she shouted, then added weakly, "…It stains the deck!"
He smirked but didn't turn. "Careful, Princess," he drawled. "That almost sounded like concern."
"I-It's not!" she snapped, her both eyes narrowing. "I just don't want your blood staining my new dress!"
Before Gunnar could retort, Whitebeard's laughter rumbled across the ship, shaking the timbers. "Enough squabbling." The crew stilled as their captain rose, his bisento gleaming in the sunlight. "Gunnar. Ace. Front and center."
Ace, leaning against the mast with his arms crossed, stiffened. "Why's my name in your mouth, old man?"
Whitebeard ignored the jab. "Neo Marines've been sinking ships near Red Sand Isles. Their leader's Zephyr—ex-admiral, hates pirates more than sea kings hate anchors. You two'll handle it."
Gunnar whirled, his smirk venomous. "Him? You're pairing me with a matchstick who can't even scorch his own ego?"
Ace's flames flared. "Say that again, Quake Baby."
"Matchstick." Gunnar stepped closer, the deck splintering under his boots. "All spark, no blaze."
Whitebeard's bisento slammed down, splitting the air between them. "Enough!" The force of his Haki pressed both men to their knees. "Zephyr's no fodder. He'll chew you up if you're sloppy. You go together, or you swim to the bottom of the Grand Line."
Gunnar's lips curled into a sneer as he glared at Whitebeard, his tremor-laced fists trembling at his sides. "You're punishing me," he spat, voice dripping with venom. "For what? Being better than this trash?" He jerked his chin toward Ace, who leaned lazily against the mast, flames flickering at his fingertips like taunting embers.
Ace snorted, rolling his eyes with theatrical flair. "Better?" He pushed off the mast, smoke curling from his shoulders. "You've got the combat IQ of a seasick seagull. Last week, you punched a wave because it splashed you."
Gunnar's smirk turned lethal. He pointed to the purple bruise peeking beneath Ace's shirt. "You speak too much for someone who hasn't even put up a fight against Father."
The flames around Ace exploded into a wave. "I'LL KILL YOU"
Marco materialized between them, a streak of blue phoenix fire, his hand planted firmly on each of their chests. "Kids, kids," he sighed, as if herding feral cats. "You're both insufferable. But Pop's right—Zephyr's a threat. He's got a grudge against pirates. All pirates."
Ace batted Marco's hand away. "So? Burn him and go. Easy."
"I'll* handle it," Gunnar growled, stepping closer to Ace until their noses nearly touched. "You can stay here and cry into your bandages."
Whitebeard's bisento slammed into the deck, silencing the squabble with a seismic crack.
"Zephyr's ship's armed with Seastone torpedoes," he rumbled, his gaze sharp as a blade. "Sink it, and you sink his pride. Together."
The crew erupted into chaos.
"50/50 odds they capsize before leaving the bay!" Thatch crowed, waving a bottle of rum.
"At least take a life raft!" Haruta yelled, tossing a deflated buoy at Ace's head.
Smoothie stormed through the crowd, her heels clacking like gunfire. She shoved past Jozu and jammed a finger into Gunnar's chest. "You'll get yourself blown up," she hissed, "and then who'll—who'll annoy me?!"
Gunnar seized her wrist, pulling her so close she could see the storm brewing in his eyes. "Worried, Princess?" he murmured, voice low and dangerous.
She wrenched free, cheeks blazing. "In your dreams!" she snapped, adjusting her hat with trembling hands. "Just… don't let *him* show you up." She jerked her head toward Ace, who grinned like a shark.
"Oh, this'll be fun," Ace said, lighting a cigarette with a flick of his thumb, of a crewmate.
Whitebeard's laughter boomed across the ship, shaking the sails. "Gurarara! Marco—give them the coordinates."
Marco tossed a Den Den Mushi to Gunnar, who caught it midair without breaking eye contact with Ace. "Try not to drown each other," Marco said flatly. "Swim lessons aren't in the budget."
Gunnar pocketed the snail, his glare promising violence. "Touch my kills," he said, "and I'll break your legs."
Ace blew a smoke ring in his face. "Try to keep up, coma boy."
They will be moving towards the location the very Next day.