So yeah. I'm back, yet again. I've been trying to find a new hobby, to no avail, but I figured I might as well get rid of this idea while it's still good. I've been reading some merthar fanfictions and re-watched parts of One Piece, I'm still not over it, *cries*. So I thought I would go back and give some love to my all time opt. :)

Cheers and enjoy!

-Axx

ps: I hope my writing has gotten better but, we'll see... Also disclaimer! I don't/never will own One Piece.

"WAHHHHHHH" A tiny baby screamed. Flailing its arms in the air, it pushed and shoved against its caretaker.

"GAHH. Magra do something!" Yelled a furious orange haired woman.

"I'm trying boss!" Said the man as he gazed over his shoulder quickly at his boss. Then returned his attention to the screaming child.

"Hold still Ace!" He tried, attempting to calm the baby. Rocking the kid back and forth in his arms he sighed, as the kid seemed to get louder instead of quieter.

"Damn Garp, dumping this brat on us." The woman sat in the corner as she took yet another sip of her quickly emptying beer bottle. Mumbling to herself about the situation, she frowned when she found her bottle to be empty. Grunting, she got up and headed to get another.

While this happened, the man continue to shush the infant, to no avail. Sighing, yet again, he put the baby back in its makeshift crib. Trying to ignore the cries, he slumped over to the kitchen.

Finding his boss, he sat down, thankful as she passed him a beer.

"Who knew children could be this much of a handful."

" That damn Garp. Putting this on us so he didn't have to do it himself."

" Now, Now boss. I'm sure Garp-San had a reason." Magra remembered the day Garp had given them Ace, and his head hung down, making him doubt his own words. The marine definitely wasn't the most responsible or sharpest.

" Try giving the brat something to eat. If he's anything like Garp he should be a bottomless pit." The woman suggested as she downed another bottle. Getting up to get another one, she opened the fridge.

" Here." The man looked up, just in time to catch a bottle of milk the red head threw at him. He looked up to her with a mix of confusion and surprise.

"Where'd you get this, boss?"

Taking a big sip of beer, she exhaled, answering his question.

"Went down to the village on the east."

The man smiled, taking note of his boss's uncharacteristically motherly act. The woman, catching sight of the smile, grunted.

"Hurry up and shut the kid up. He's giving me a headache."

Nodding, the man headed back to the other room, to the still screaming child.

"Hey, Ace," he started picking the kid up. He frowned when he noticed a cut on the kids cheek.

"Now what did you do this time?" He wondered aloud, as he wiped off the small line of blood. Grabbing a bandage, he placed it over the cut, and started to feed the infant milk. Immediately, the child quieted down, bringing a smile to the man's face.

-Meanwhile- (Somewhere in the New World)

He was panting. His legs ached immensely but he couldn't stop. He couldn't risk getting caught. His body started to feel numb as the sound of the frigid rain mixed with the sounds of his pants. The darkness brought confusion, making him question as he blindly ran. Unsure of where he was going, all he knew was he had to get away.

"Don't lose him!"

"The brat's escaping!"

"Don't let him escape with that fruit!"

The yells of the man following him only prompted him to run faster. He heard the shits of bullets, and realized they were aiming to kill.

'Shit.' He cursed to himself, flinching in pain as a bullet grazed across his cheek. Taking a sharp turn he ran down the alleyway, looking for a hiding spot. 'There!' He ducked into a small narrow road, hoping his larger figured pursuers couldn't fit. He didn't stay to find out, as he bolted through the passage. It led to a forest, and he sighed in relief. Slowing down his pace to waking, he glanced behind him, seeing his pursuers no longer on his trail. Running a hand through his drenched, ragged blond hair, he sighed again. A smile etched into his face. He had made it. He was free. Reaching his hand into his pocket he dug out the fruit. It was beautiful. In a flame like pattern, the blues and yellows could faintly be made out in the raining dark. He brought it to his mouth, and with no hesitations he took a bite.