AN: Hey guys! I am once again trying my hand at a (proper) long fic. I got a whole bunch of mafia!au asks on tumblr, and they kind of...spiraled into an au...and then I really wanted to WRITE the au...Annnnd everything kind of went from there.

Please be warned that this fic is going to cover some SERIOUSLY sensitive topics, and in one section there are more than a few inferences of dub-con content & abuse. I'll post warnings on each chapter, and I'll summarise whatever happened in said chapter at the end if you don't want to read it, but hey; basket warning right now. It doesn't go any further than referencing/referring to in terms of the dub-con. but I don't want to squick or trigger anyone inadvertently.

Unlike most of my other fics, this one DOESN'T have a few chapters stocked up and I won't be updating fast, so this is pretty much just a taste of what the fic will actually develop into, and a way for me to see what the general opinion for this fic will be.

So hey! If you want another update, and you want to see this continued, pretty please drop me a review and motivate me to keep working on new chapters!

Annnddd, one last thing;; super special thanks to 12freddofrogs, lollesblog, silmil-of-erebor, and condemnedbysunset (as well as everyone else that sent me mafia!asks on tumblr and inspired me to turn this into an actual fic : 3)

Here's to hoping I do you all proud! vuv

Warnings: Abuse & relatively graphic violence

Ace had, over the years, learnt a few things about survival.

1. Do anything and everything you can to survive. Fold, before someone makes you break and you lose it all.

2. Don't gamble what you don't have. If you fall into debt, you're going to stay there unless you can figure some way out, because someone will hold it over you, and, finally -

3. Always, always, do as you're told.

He'd followed his rules faithfully, slowly clawed his way to the top of the list of debts that'd been forced on him and surviving by the skin of his teeth. He did everything and anything, threw himself into situations that could've almost gotten him killed but didn't, fighting to stay alive, only-

Only number three?

He'd always had problems following rule number three.

The steady drum of fingernails on the tabletop made his hands clench reflexively, tightening and loosening as he tried to stay calm.

"I told you to do one thing," Blackbeard finally said, and his fingers stopped drumming. The silence almost made Ace's heart stop. "One thing, something you've done a million times before, and yet-" He trailed off, as though expecting Ace to finish his sentence, but Ace bit his tongue, knowing from painful experience that such an assumption was incorrect. "Yet, you couldn't kill them. Tell me, why would that be?"

His mouth was almost too dry to swallow, but he managed, feeling his throat drag in the movement, but unable to find any words. He couldn't exactly say, because they were small. Because they looked like Luffy. Because they looked scared.

If he did say that, then he knew exactly what Blackbeard would do. Ace would be dragged back to his apartment, a hand tight around his throat, and then he'd be reminded of exactly how Luffy looked when he was scared.

It was Blackbeard's favourite motivator, and it worked all too well.

"Well?" Blackbeard demanded when Ace was silent for too long, and his lips bared in a snarl, exposing little black gaps. Sometimes Ace felt as though he would've liked to add a few more missing teeth to Blackbeard's mouth, felt as though nothing he could do could hold back the anger he felt at being so blatantly used, but whenever he got the urge to punch Blackbeard's face in, the memory of all his obligations came back to haunt him.

No matter how much he hated it, Blackbeard had saved his, Luffy, and Sabo's lives when they were younger. He'd saved them and trained them and given them a place to stay, and taught them the value of a debt.

No matter how much he wanted to, Ace wouldn't – couldn't – fight back. He'd traded his loyalty for safety, and by the very definition of 'loyalty', rule number three should've come easy to him.

It didn't.

The silence stretched on, and Ace watched as Blackbeard's anger steadily grew, bracing himself. Better me then Luffy, he told himself, but when Blackbeard finally snapped and Ace was sent flying into the nearest wall, he still had to order himself not to fight back. His muscles buzzed with the effort it took, and when Blackbeard hefted him from the floor, rings cold on Ace's throat, he couldn't help but scramble for purchase against Blackbeard's hand, trying to peel his fingers away.

"Answer me," Blackbeard growled, and the pressure on his throat abated; just enough for Ace to heave in a desperate breathe and wheeze,

"I jus- I wasn' fast enough-"

Blackbeard's hand fell from his throat, and Ace coughed, stumbling forwards and rubbing at his neck to try and ease the phantom sensation left behind. "Get out of my sight," Blackbeard said, and Ace couldn't help the crushing sense of relief that rolled through him. However, Blackbeard's voice chased him as he slipped out the door. "One more strike."

The words echoed in his head, and he couldn't help but stiffen even as he shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to exude an aura of disinterest. Ace had lost his three strikes when he and his brothers had first joined; speaking back, speaking out... he had more than a few problems keeping his big mouth shut and his temper in check, and he'd paid dearly for it.

Though the rule was fair, considering you still had the protection of Blackbeard's gang even if you'd done something stupid or made him displeased, suffering through initiation again to prove misplaced 'loyalty' had more than a few drawbacks.

Now, though Ace's strikes been reset and Sabo had begged for them all to share to make sure Ace had a better safety net for the times when his anger flared, he couldn't shake the memories. Nor could he get rid of the hanging fear in the back of his head that if he messed up again, Blackbeard would take that as all of them messing up, and Sabo and Luffy would have to pay for his mistake.

He angrily jabbed at the elevator button, hand clenched in a fist as it dropped, but kept his eyes on the floor. Consorts catching the eye of any of the actual members of Blackbeard's gang?

Not a good idea.

Not a good idea, and one he'd already had first-hand experience dealing with.

Spindly, iron-tipped shoes stopped next to him, and Ace resisted the urge to shift on his feet, knowing that Lafitte would eagerly jump at any sign of nerves, seeking out a jitter like a spider in a web.

Of course, that analogy meant that Ace was a fly, and he had the sinking suspicion that even though he wanted to be a fly on the wall, he'd long since become entrapped in the spider's web.

"Hello," Laffite purred, and Ace fought back a shiver. There were very few people who made chills run down his spine, and Laffite – with his thin grin and immaculate suit – was one of them. Blackbeard's lead consigliere, Laffite was involved in everything from their drug trade to weapons dealing, and every time someone ran out of strikes…Laffite was the first to volunteer with a punishment. "Will I be seeing you soon?"

Ace fastened his gaze on the grimy steel of the elevator, willing it desperately to arrive. "I doubt it," he answered, keeping his voice flat, "my next clip ain't till next week, and I ain't working with you."

He could see Laffite's smile stretch in the reflection, his eyes dancing like he knew Ace's secret (and he very likely did,) but thankfully the doors slid open before Laffite had time to say anything else. Ace slipped inside, hitting the button for his floor, and watched Laffite incline his head without blinking but walk away without joining Ace in the elevator.

Thank fuck, he thought, and the elevator's doors slid closed without anyone else joining him. It smelt like stale sweat and cigarette smoke in the enclosed space, but Ace had long since gotten used to the stench, and only leaned back on the banister. The elevator was slow and old and half the time Ace was honestly afraid the cables would snap and send him to his death, but it was better than taking the stairs at this time of night. In an hour, the building would be empty, but for now people slipped in and out of the place, reporting to different levels of the building.

Residential areas for people like Ace – those that were expendable and could be called on at any time – were above the main office. Other members of Blackbeard's group had their own places to stay, often with much better security. After all, why waste money on a commodity, on weapons that could be retrained in eager, young bodies desperate to belong?

The elevator doors slid open, and for a moment Ace hesitated, unwilling to leave. He had barely enough energy to stay standing, let alone deal with Sabo and Luffy, but he had to at least let them know he was okay.

Forcing himself to move, he pulled out the keys to their apartment and slipped inside, hit by the smell of slightly burnt food. Sabo, then, trying to cook.

He could do this.

Ace could hear Luffy's voice raise in a yelp, and Sabo snap back a reply, the undercurrent of a laugh in his tone.

He could do this.

He couldn't pull his hand away from the door knob.

Ace stared into their apartment, trying to convince himself to step forwards and leave the past behind, but all he could remember was huge brown eyes, stretched wide in terror before her friend had managed to grab her and pull her out of the way. A bullet ricocheted off the gravel a few seconds later, but instead of emptying his clip, Ace had let them escape.

He'd been fast enough – but a second of hesitation had cost him the kill, and he couldn't stand an unclean hit. Ace had killed more than enough people that had gurgled and stammered and ungracefully fallen into death, tripping over themselves as they bled out on the ground, and he didn't want to hear that sound again.

He slid off his holster, gun clacking on the side bench, and Sabo's voice died off in the kitchen.

"Ace?" Sabo called, and he felt his skin itch, crawling and shifting and making him sick.

He couldn't do this.

"I'm going out!" he called, roughly pulling open the front door again. Crashes resounded in the kitchen, and then Sabo stuck his head around the kitchen doorframe, hair askew.

"What?" he asked, brow knit in a frown, "Where? You just got back!"

Ace shrugged before slipping out the door. Though he knew Sabo wouldn't be happy with his vanishing act, right now Ace couldn't care less. He couldn't stand being stuck in that tiny space with Sabo and Luffy, slowly suffocating and feeling as though his skin would crawl off his bones.

Besides, even if Sabo was upset, he'd understand Ace's need to leave. He'd felt it often enough himself. That choking, clinging feeling, like every inch of skin was pulled to tight and any noise managed to somehow be painful.

Ace skipped the elevator, his footsteps echoing in the stairwell a more comforting sound than the whirr of machinery, and reckless wished for someone else's footsteps to resound in the space. Levels passed by his peripheral vision without incident, however, and in a few minutes he'd escaped to the streets.

Cold night air and the noise of the city hit him at the same time, and he let some of his tension escape with the wind. Shoving his hands in his pockets he let his mind and his feet wander, drifting from one thought to another and ignoring the aches and pains that seemed to constantly reside in his bones.

He needed this time away from Sabo and Luffy to collect his thoughts and compartmentalise some of the reoccurring nightmares, but so far it'd slipped away from him, Luffy demanding his attention and Blackbeard breathing down his neck.

He'd messed up, letting two of his hits slip away, but one of them had looked so young and terrified-

His heart seized in his chest even remembering it, and he forced himself to breathe, tearing his mind from his memories. Ace couldn't live in the past. He'd learnt that long ago, but sometimes it was still hard to remember, especially when his head seemed determined to remind him of all his failures.

A choked off cry interrupted his walk, and his feet slowed, ears pricking at the sound. Ace had heard it enough times, usually the deliverer of whatever would cause such a sound, but hearing it now made his blood boil. He'd wanted to get away from all of this, not be reminded of it.

Of all the rotten luck- he thought, mind urging him to keep walking but body pulling him down the alley. He caved to impulse, slipping down the alley way and sneaking closer. Ace could hear taunts filling the air, aimed at anything from the victim's hair to how stupid he looked when he refused to keep his head bowed.

Don't do it, warned the sensible voice in his head, but when Ace peered around the corner and saw how outnumbered the guy was – and how, even though he stood, he placed his hands up in a gesture of peace instead of fighting back – oh he couldn't stand it.

Knuckles cracking, he strolled into the open, rolling his shoulders. "C'mon guys," he said in a tone that he hoped conveyed his disappointment. "Really? One on five? That's hardly fair."

All five looked at him in surprise, mirrored expressions on their faces, and Ace felt his lips quirk up in a grin. Their victim had the same expression on his face, but it morphed as soon as Ace came into view, concern easily read in his unfocused eyes.

"You don't need to get involved. Walk away, kid." One of them finally managed to growl, and Ace almost bristled.

I'm not a kid, he wanted to snap, but held it back and instead tilted his head to the side. "Why?"

"G-get out of here," the injured man on the ground ordered croakily, but Ace only grinned, breathed deeply, and then lunged forwards.

He may've hated fighting for Blackbeard, but fighting for himself?

That, he could do. That he could do, and would do gladly. Even if he was inadvertently protecting this stranger, maybe this fight would get rid of some of the burning itch beneath his skin. He narrowly missed a punch to the gut, feeling it clip his side, and forced himself to concentrate.

The first to break from their stupor and attack was the one on his left; Ace easily dealt with him by slipping to the side and sticking his foot out. They were sent sprawling, skidding across the gravel.

Pulling his leg around in a half circle to give himself momentum, he quickly smashed a punch into another's nose, feeling it crunch under the bottom of his palm and watching blood dribble down their face. Tears blinded them for the moment, and Ace stepped to the side, driving his elbows into his next attacker's sternum before returning and throwing his knee up, hitting the man with the bloody nose in the chest and sending him stumbling backwards.

Ace's 'damsel' stuck his foot out, and another of his attackers hit the dust with a loud cry, head resounding with a sickening crack on the pavement.

The man he'd hit in the sternum had managed to recover, however, so Ace was left with little time to applaud. He danced backwards, keeping a wary eye on the three left, and ducked under the punch sent his way, darting beneath their guard and snapping out a left hook and then a quick punch to their jaw. He would've kept hitting until they fell, but the other two contenders grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him back.

Before they could get a good grip on his arms, Ace gripped their wrists and twisted, pulling himself from their grasp and forcing them to bend lest he snap their arms. He snapped his leg out, sending one of them sprawling, and grabbed the other with his now free hand, using their body weight to send them to the floor.

A punch hit him in the back, making him stumble forwards with a grunt of pain, and he turned quickly, refocusing his attention on the man he'd been punching before. It hurt to breathe, now, but he firmly pushed it to the back of his head, moving forwards and attempting for the second time to send his last opponent for an appointment with the gravel.

The last fighter, however, was more wary than before, and ducked out of the way of Ace's first punch, shoving him to the side and off-balancing him for a brief second. A fist hit his shoulder, and he felt something delicate crick, shifting in a way it likely wasn't meant to shift. A muffled groan from behind him told him that unless he wrapped this up fast the ones he'd downed before would soon be on their feet.

He breathed deeply again, shoving the pain to the back of his mind. When he next darted forwards he kept his guard up, snapping out two quick punches that send his opponent reeling back. He didn't stop, however, punches falling in quick succession, the metronome of left, right, left, right, resounding in his head like a mantra; a prayer.

When finally his opponent's back hit the wall and he slid down the bricks, unable to stand, Ace peeled himself away. His chest heaved, and he could feel his knuckles ache, hot blood on his hands. He'd long since gotten used to both sensations though, and instead stumbled over to the man he'd rescued, letting his legs collapse beneath him.

"You'right?" he asked, letting the words slur through his teeth and subtly checking his limbs to make sure nothing had been broken. Apart from the weird sound his shoulder had made, Ace figured he was fine, but it never hurt to check – especially when his adrenaline was still running high.

"Thanks for the save," the stranger said, giving him a grin, and Ace resisted the urge to crinkle his nose, noting the cherry red inside of the man's mouth. He pulled out his newest burn phone, flipping it open and giving the stranger an expectant look.

"You got someone you can call?" the stranger tried to reach into his pocket, and Ace rolled his eyes as the brunet struggled, unable to bend his wrist properly. "If it makes you feel better I'll just leave it with you. It's a cheapie."

The stranger's shoulders seemed to slump, but Ace wasn't sure if it was because he'd finally realised he couldn't get to his pockets, or because he'd given in to Ace's demand. Maybe a bit of both, he thought, as the stranger rattled off a number obediently. He dialled quickly before setting it on speakerphone and handing it to the stranger, who held it gingerly with what appeared to be broken fingers.

A sleepy mumble filled the air, a passage taken from rote memory, but the stranger interrupted before the other person's automatic response could finish. "Hey, Marco, it's Thatch."

"Please tell me you don't need me to pick you up from a bar again, yoi," Marco's voice grumbled, and Ace felt his nose crinkle as a smile fought to make its way to his face. That long-suffering tone was one he'd heard often from Sabo, and having it directed at someone else – and said someone's face immediately turn sheepish – well, it made him want to laugh.

The urge to laugh vanished, however, when he saw that the person he'd downed first had managed to rise. His attention snapped up and he pulled his tired body with it, but the men he'd beaten only stumbled away, pointing an accusing finger at Ace and threatening, "Blackbeard will find you! You defied us, and you will never be safe!"

Cold horror flooded him, drowning out all rational thought, and Ace couldn't help but choke. Those- those had been Blackbeard's men?

He'd just attacked – and beaten – people working for Blackbeard? People working for Blackbeard, whose aim had been to kill this man?

He stumbled back, barely remembering that he'd been talking to someone and barely managing to get out a, "I've gotta go."

"Wait!" the stranger called desperately, grabbing for his leg, and it took all of Ace's control to not kick out. "At least tell me where I can find you! How can I pay you back?"

"Don't," Ace replied, resisting the urge to sprint and knowing it would only draw more attention and suspicion on him. His mind buzzed as he went through plans. He'd have to clean the blood off before he went home; dump the jacket in the homeless shelter on the other side of the river and then cross back on the shallow side to get rid of any remaining traces of blood from his nails or skin. "Just forget it every happened."

"At least give me your name," the stranger pleaded, and Ace heard himself snort, pausing for half a second and feeling his mouth twist.

"I don't have one," he replied, before vanishing into the night. "Names are for people."

Not for weapons.