Chapter 40

The Marines were setting up a blockade around Baterilla, Rouge told him, and once she hung up Marshall didn't waste any time, bullying the first Sea King he saw into taking him across the Calm Belt.

It took two days to get to Rouge's home island, two days that he spent going out of his mind with worry as the timer in the back of his mind quickly counted down. He called his crew to let them know what was going on; Thenetos Island wasn't that far from the South Blue objectively speaking, a week's sailing if they used the Dials to cross the Calm Belt, and Vertara assured him that they were setting sail as they spoke.

He told them how to get to Baterilla and hung up knowing that they wouldn't make it in time.

Dread pooled in his stomach as he could have sworn he heard the sound of sand falling through an hourglass, fists clenched tight as he struggled to breathe through his growing panic. It was one thing to read about it and another to know it was about to happen, that the Marines were about to wipe out an entire generation of children in search of a child that they weren't sure was on the island or in fact even existed. His eyes narrowed, because fuck that, the haki seeping from his body spurring his purloined Sea King to swim faster.

Then they came into sight of the blockade, the first scream reaching his ears...

And Marshall D. Teach saw red.

(Jumping from his rowboat to his captured Sea King's head, the red sea serpent trembling from its dragon-like head to its spiny-finned tail from the sheer fury radiating from the monster atop its skull, Marshall bared his teeth.

"You see those ships right there? The ones with the white and blue sails." He pointed, "I want you to find all the others you can find and feast." He snarled, disappearing before the last word finished echoing.

The Sea King's shaking paused as the order sank in, and then it immediately swam off to do as told.)

Baterilla wasn't a large island, but it wasn't a small one either, the edges surrounded by bluffs and cliffs and the interior made up of rolling hills and grassy plains interspersed with groups of trees.

He found his sister and several others that she had to be related to leading at least two dozen women and children towards the back of the island, lingering at the back of the crowd to help any stragglers. He landed a short distance away, already calling out, "Rouge!"

She whipped around at the call, her face lighting up as she launched herself forward, Shaving across the distance to tackle him in a hug. "Marshall! You came!"

"You idiot, of course I did, where else would I go when my sister calls for help?" He shot back, returning her hug with one just as fierce.

One of the men helping with the evacuation's faces twitched when he heard those words, an indecipherable look flashing across his features before he turned to continue to guiding the fearful crowd.

(More and more screams and angry shouts were coming from the town, but worse was the laughter, high and mocking.)

"You got here just in time," Rouge said, pulling back enough to look at him but not letting go just yet, "the Marines just started making landfall and this is the last group to get to the caves at the back of the island." She hesitated, a shadow crossing her eyes as she whispered, "or at least the last group that believed me."

He hugged her tighter, uncaring of the warm droplets falling against his neck where she buried her head.

Only a minute later Rouge pulled back, this time dropping to stand in front of him. His sister's eyes were still wet as they met his own, an entire conversation passing without a single word spoken.

I'll stay and help you, her eyes hardened stubbornly.

Not a chance, his own narrowed.

I know Armament and I'm good in a fight! She protested. There's no reason not to let me help!

Yes there is! A damn good one! He argued back.

I'm pregnant, not dead! She scowled.

Exactly, and I plan to keep it that way!

Taken aback by the vehemence in his face, Rouge reluctantly backed down because he was right, she wasn't just protecting herself now. All it would take was one good blow to the abdomen...

Shuddering at the horrific thought, she looked back at Marshall, making a face that conveyed agreement and a good deal of cursing that he was right. He grinned in response, and she couldn't help snorting in laughter at his triumphant look.

As he turned towards where he sensed the Marines moving, plumes of smoke rising from the direction of the town, she looked at her brother's back. Broad shoulders clad in his purple captain's coat, looking so impossibly strong it reminded her of the back of another man she loved. Choking back a sob, she whispered, "thank you,"

"I never need thanks for something like this, but for what it's worth...I love you, sis." He looked at her from the corner of his eye, at the protective arm she had curled around her stomach. He sensed the Marines getting closer and reached out to nudge Rouge in the direction the evacuation had gone, telling her, "Now go, get out of here. Get off this island with the others and keep your head down. If I come find you after this and you're dead, I'll raise you from the Locker to kill you myself."

He was completely serious and she knew it.

Laughing nervously, a drop of sweat ran down her face as she took a step back, raising her hands in surrender. She became serious a second later, reaching forward to hug him one more time, nothing but honesty in her voice as she whispered, "I love you, bro."

"I love you, sis." He repeated, the two Ds holding each other tightly before parting, the blonde woman turning and running towards the caves as the black-haired man spun to face the approaching horde.

Saber in one hand, claw weapon in the other, he growled, "now then, let's get started," as the first Marine came into view. They were still a distance away but closing fast, the ones at the front using a half-baked version of Shave. The strongest one he could sense among the tide of bodies was only a Vice-Admiral.

He smiled. It wasn't a nice smile.

When they got close enough to see the lone man standing between them and their mission, any and all jeers abruptly fell silent. Fear trailed ice cold fingers down their spines and squeezed.

All of them saw the same thing in that man's eyes as he raised his weapons:

Death.

(The Vice-Admiral had stepped forward to order the man to step aside, sneering at what he saw as a suicidal attempt to buy time, when the man waved his sword and swoosh, their commanding officer's mouth slowly opened...and kept on opening until, with a sickening plop, everything above his mouth fell to the ground.

It took several minutes before it registered what had just happened, the first scream sounding as the Vice-Admiral's body fell to the ground with a thump. Several Marines attempted to gun the man down only to meet the same fate as their commander, bodies chopped into pieces with a wave of his sword. The bullets that hit did nothing, ricocheting off to the side or simply falling to the ground without even rustling his clothes. That was when the brace of Marines began to panic.

They were the scouts and vanguard, they weren't equipped for combat!

Several of turned and tried to run, only to be cut down by either the enemy or their comrades for the crime of desertion. More pulled out Baby Transponder Snails to call the ships and the main force for backup, but none of the calls connected, those attempting to make them breaking down in fear and denial. Yet the rest tried to fight, charging the enemy.

He was just one man, they cried, they could win!

They were wrong on both accounts.

They couldn't win, and he wasn't a man.

He was a devil.)

("No, no no-!"

"Please don't-!"

"Try to go around him-!"

"Aiiiiiiieeeeeeeeee!"

"The dark-! THE DARK-!"

"We were just following orders-"

Crunch

(The reinforcements arrived too late.)

By the time the Coddiwomple arrived a week later, the battle was long over, if it could have even been called that.

Pieces of debris floated around the coast, bits of wood and torn sails all that remained of the blockade. From above it looked like the island had been split in half, one side a lush, vibrant green and the other a mix of black and dark red, the center of the island containing the worst of the carnage.

When they arrived at the scene, it looked more like the killing ground for a savage beast than the site of an actual battle. The formerly green hills had been dyed red, transformed into a sea of blood of blood and viscera, the sickly-sweet stench of death filling the air. Vertara breathed in deeply, sighing in pleasure as Cino and Zarazan covered their noses.

Staying above the literal lake of blood that had yet to dry with the aid of Moonwalk, they raced towards the figure they could see standing on top of the hill, crying out in shock when they got close enough to see the state of their captain.

Marshall D. Teach was hardly recognizable beneath the coat of blood covering every inch of his body, only some of it his. Coat tattered and torn, his hat lost somewhere in the sea of bodies and his weapons still firmly clasped in his hands, he might have been a statue for all the life he showed.

It took a moment, but eventually they saw the shallow rise and fall of his chest and erupted, trying to shout over each other to be heard.

"He's alive!"

"Captain, Captain can you hear me?"

"We need to get him back to the ship!"

"Roar!"

In the middle of the cacophony, Marshall blinked as the familiar voices reached him, eyes exhausted but focused. Voice faint, he groaned out, "...what took you guys so long...?"

Silence, and then:

"Captain!"

That was the last thing he heard as exhaustion dragged at him, and he passed out, not even feeling it when he hit the ground.

Waking up four days later to his stomach roaring like an enraged Sea King, the first thing Marshall did was eat the veritable feast laid out at his bedside and then go shower and dress. At some point one of the crew had found his hat and left it sitting on his dresser, clean as the day he'd got it, his coat blood free and neatly folded next to it. One of his crewmembers must have helped him shave at some point since there wasn't a hint of stubble to be seen.

Thankfully, he was fully dressed when Olivia burst through the door and started cursing at him for being out of bed, promptly dragging him back to the infirmary for a check-up.

Most of the Baterillan people had escaped to their sister island and were laying low, the doctor told him as she worked, and the Marines hadn't managed to get out a call for help before their ships - and Transponder Snails - sank. The Baterillans had confirmed that all the Marines who'd come ashore were dead, incredibly grateful to him for saving the evacuees and unlikely to breathe a word of what really happened.

The Saint of Baterilla was what they were calling him, Olivia told him, lips twitching at the look on his face.

And though she danced around the subject, hemming and hawing, he knew what she wasn't saying.

Rouge had disappeared.