Final notes:
Up front, allow me to say this. This isn't a chapter. Yes, that last one really was the end. This is just a collection of final stuff I thought would be cool to share with you guys. This will be split up into sections, which you can peruse at your own interest. They are:
Explanation of Ending
Referenced Works by Other People
Deleted Scenes
Fun Facts
Psychological Explanation for each Inhabitant
The "Soundtrack" of Kill the Rabbit
Foreshadowing Guide
A Sneak Preview of the One-Shot Sequel, Gas the Warren
A Sneak Preview of my new story, Sing
(A SEPARATOR OF SOME KIND, THE SITE KEPT EATING THEM)
Explanation of Ending:
You guys didn't seem to pick up on it, or at least not on the full implications of it. That's okay, it's kinda subtle. Basically, that whole bit where Cheshire's talking to Whitebeard, saying how everything will go back to normal? Basically, there was an implicit threat there. Essentially, he's saying he'll return Ace to his actual age and that he'll take away Ace's memories of what he did to Hare (if he remembered that, he'd know that Cheshire was the real Ace and wouldn't have been able to maintain control anymore), and so Ace (the Knave) will think that everything's okay. And he's threatening Whitebeard and Marco into playing along. This is explained when Cheshire says "Such a betrayal…well. My father would never be capable of such a thing. So don't kick yourself out of my family, hmm? Bad things tend to happen to those I don't care about." He's essentially saying "things better go back to fucking normal so Ace (the Knave) doesn't figure it out or else when I'm forced to come back up here I will wreck you." So when he says things will go perfectly back to normal, he's forcing them to go back to normal, and threatening horrible consequences otherwise. So Whitebeard, Marco, and everyone else have to behave like everything's perfectly fine or else they're fucked.
Also, the last line is meant to tie the fic back into canon. At this point in the timeline, Teach hasn't done anything wrong. Thatch is still alive, the devil fruit hasn't been found yet…for all intents and purposes, Teach is still a good guy right now. So even despite Ace's warning, they don't kill him. Because Ace is crazy and thus far Teach seems like a good guy. And not listening to Cheshire's advice ends up getting them completely screwed over.
Questions, comments, concerns? Send me a PM or, if you don't have an account, email me at missmountain97 at g mail dot com (take out spaces and supply indicated punctuation)
(A SEPARATOR OF SOME KIND, THE SITE KEPT EATING THEM)
Referenced Works by Other People:
Just a list of what I drew from other books/videogames/movies/etc.
Brave New World: A dystopian novel that I found absolutely fascinating. The name Mr. Savage and the quote "everyone's happy these days" are direct pulls from the book.
Dune: Another novel, this time a sci-fi. The quote "I must not fear, fear is the mind-killer. I must face my fear and I will stand against it and it will pass through me. Then there will be nothing left. Only I will remain." Is something the main character, Paul Atrades (I probably spelled that wrong. It's been forever since I read that book) says/thinks occasionally.
American Mcgee's Alice/Alice: Madness Returns: The Cheshire Cat's appearance, as well as his (in my headcanon) voice. I also borrowed a few of his quotes from the games. Also, the little nursery-rhyme thing Sabo sings in Ace's nightmares comes from Madness Returns.
Alice is Dead: seriously, this is one of the best (if not the best) point-and-click games I've ever played. The idea for Savage Wonderland's Caterpillar's Domain bears a striking resemblance to the scenery from Alice is Dead pt3, and the conversation Marco has with the druggie is also in some ways similar to a conversation in the game. The song sung in the Wyrm Hole was introduced to me by this game.
Okami: Surprised? The idea for the appearance of the Black Widow in chapter 12 was actually based – in part – on the Spider Queen of Okami. If you have a Wii, I highly recommend this game.
The Nightangel Trilogy: My favorite book series of all time. I've reread the first book six times. I highly recommend it to all of you. The reference is again in the fight with the Black Widow. The way she's able to rearrange the bones and muscles of her body is similar to a creature from these books: the Ferali.
Assassin's Creed: Great games. Have an xbox or a playstation? Get'em. They're worth your time. The weapon Ace had, the hidden knife on the underside of his arm? Based on the hidden blade, specifically the model from Assassin's Creed 2. Also, the name Altair is borrowed both from this game and actual history as Altair was a real Middle-Eastern general. The Enlightened/the Ancients/other-assorted-names-for-them are also partly based on The Ones Who Came Before.
Donnie Darko: Great movie. Watch it. Frank will scare you. Probably. Anyway, the White Rabbit's appearance was partially based on Frank from Donnie Darko. I did alter his appearance, but specifically his ears always, in my mind, looked all twisted and bent and weird like Frank's.
Soul Eater: WATCH THIS ANIME. It's seriously amazing. I pulled several quotes from it, one of which Sabo says in one of Ace's nightmares: "It's time to shed your fake skin." Some more quotes are said by Mr. Savage in his confrontation with Marco, Whitebeard, and Thatch. These are mainly pulled from the Kishin.
The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess: Great game. Seriously. Probably my favorite game of all time. I kind of based some of Dead Hatter's movements and behaviors on Zant from the near-end of the game.
Auntie Nadeshiko's 100 Days of Ace Being a Buttwipe: If you haven't read this Ace fanfiction, you have not lived. Anyway, I don't actually know if Selma is a real character of One Piece or not, but either way I pulled her from this story. Go read it! It's really good!
(A SEPARATOR OF SOME KIND, THE SITE KEPT EATING THEM)
Deleted Scenes:
Some of these will be actual clips that just didn't make it into the story, some will just be synopses of things I didn't write.
1) For a while, I was planning on having Ace actually go to attack Marco there at the very end and have a Ghost!Sabo show up and get him to stop. Ghost!Rouge had already made several appearances I thought it was only fair to give him one, but it didn't end up flowing correctly, so I didn't do it.
2) Originally I was going to post an alternate ending to Kill the Rabbit, one in which Hare, in his last moments, says that he never did anything to Ace. Says that Ace had just been crazy all along, that he'd killed an entire island of people and the marines had been called in to help. Hare had been his doctor until Ace escaped. Marco would be disbelieving, would talk about all the memories Ace had shown them, all the things they'd seen Hare do. Hare would reply, saying Ace had made them believe in talking cats, in 8-foot-tall rabbits. How hard would forging memories be? And Marco would be left in utter confusion of what to do. He'd go to confront Ace about it, and when he talks about what Hare said before he died, Ace would just turn to him and say, "You believe a Marine over your own brother?" Then he'd grin, saying, "…How positively savage." And I'd just leave you all hanging there and you wouldn't know if Ace was really crazy or if Hare had lied. But I decided the other one was better, as I couldn't really do a sequel with this ending.
3) If Kill the Rabbit were to be a movie, the credits would be interesting. The credits music would be "Dream a Little Dream of Me" by the Mamas and Papas. As the song is playing, the camera would move through Wonderland, going through every place the trio visited on their way to get Ace back. As it goes, it shows each of the Inhabitants not dead but unlived. Violently unlived. The Gate to the Tulgy Wood to Hatter's Domain to Caterpillar's Domain to the Duchness' Room to the Red Palace. Finally it would switch to a shot of just this white, square room with Ace inside, his back to the camera. The wall he's facing would be covered in streaks of blood, and he'd be scratching at the walls, fingers all torn up and bloody from doing it for apparently a long time. Finally, before the music ends, he'd turn and face the camera and you'd see he was grinning hugely. That he was Cheshire. Or that Cheshire was him.
OKAY HERE ARE ACTUAL PARTIAL SCENES I'D WRITTEN. THE STUFF IN PARENTHESES SHOWS YOU GENERALLY WHAT THE CONTEXT AND CONTENT ARE AND SERVE AS DIVIDERS BETWEEN THE DIFFERENT SCENES
(Young Ace has woken up on the Moby Dick. He knows Marco, Thatch, and Whitebeard have seen his memories and Wonderland. Angstiness.)
"No, Ace. Never. It's not true. Hare didn't win." There were tears in Ace's eyes, but they hadn't fallen yet.
"How can you believe that?" Ace staggered back a few steps and threw his arms wide. "Look at me! What part of me looks like Hare didn't win? My body's broken and my mind isn't in such great shape either!" A sob tried to force itself up Ace's throat but he choked it back. "I broke. I couldn't take the pressure and I broke. I got two people killed in horrendous ways, and then I submitted to the man who killed them. I lost. That's all there is to it. My failure. My complete, inexcusable failure."
"No, Ace. Never. You survived, you won. You got your freedom back, you got away from him." Ace laughed bitterly at that, a hard, mirthless sound.
"Oh really? I'm not so sure. Every single fucking night I have to relive all of it! I can't forget, (Marco, Thatch, Whitebeard), and every day I get closer to breaking and I'm so damn sick of it! I hate it! I hate this! I hate being scared all the time! I hate jumping at every tiny noise and flinching every time someone so much as looks at me!" Ace fell back against the wall and sunk to its base, sitting against it. He pressed the bases of his palms against his eyes, drawing his knees up to his chest. "I hate myself for it. I'm so…pathetic. Worthless. Disgusting. And I could tell. I could see it in all their eyes. I wasn't even human to them. Just an object. A possession." Ace spat the words like they burned his tongue. "They looked at me like I was just a toy." Ace shuddered, trying hard to keep from breaking down. The next words were almost inaudible. "…Sometimes I agree with them. I don't feel like a person anymore, (Marco, Thatch, Whitebeard). I don't feel like I'm even human anymore."
(After Ace wakes up. Angstiness/Cheshire)
"What's this, now?" Jericho was holding Sabo's notebook, turning it about in his hand. Ace stared at him evenly.
"Give it back. It's mine." Jericho looked down at him.
"Oh really? And why's it so important to you?" He sneered mockingly. "You keep a diary in here?" Ace's eyes were hard. Part of him wanted to shrink back, to cringe away, but he would not allow anything to happen to that book.
"Give it back. Now." Jericho flipped open the first cover and turned to the first page. He blanched.
"Poetry? Who the hell writes poetry?" Ace's hands closed into fists. Jericho flipped through the other pages, never actually stopping to read any of Sabo's words. Jericho was exactly the kind of man that Sabo had been subjected to all his life. He didn't see the beauty in the poetry, in the minute worlds Sabo described, and he didn't even bother trying. That kind of man did not deserve to be holding something that contained that much of Ace's brother expressed on paper.
"Give. It. Back. Now." Jericho snapped the book shut and met Ace's eyes evenly.
"And why should I do that?"
"It's not yours and you don't even want it. Give it back." Jericho looked down at Ace with disdain apparent on his face.
"Or what? You've always been Oyaji's favorite. I never could understand just what made you so great. You're nothing. Just a pathetic weakling. You want your book back? Little bitches like you should know how to beg by now." Ace glared up at Jericho and Jericho met his eyes evenly. "Well?" Ace didn't move, only continued to glare up at the man before him. Jericho sighed. "A pity, really." He opened the book, flipping through the pages.
The sound the page made as it was torn out of the book might as well have been Sabo screaming for the effect it had on Ace.
His heart instantly froze in his chest and his eyes widened. He watched the page float down to the floor, watched it turn in the light. His heart resumed beating. The page had been blank. Jericho reached for another page and this time Ace could see it had writing. The Crab. Ace wouldn't do it. Wouldn't allow Jericho to destroy the last poem Sabo had written before he died. His pride was insignificant by comparison. Ace hastily raised his hands.
"Don't!" Jericho paused, holding the page taut, still ready to tear it out. He raised an eyebrow. Ace swallowed thickly. "Don't." Ace lowered his hands, then looked at the floor.
Slowly, almost painfully slowly, Ace moved. One knee bent first, then the other. Ace bowed his head and closed his eyes.
Ace knelt before Jericho.
It was a position of total submission. He was seated back on his heels, eyes downcast, hands resting on his thighs. All his weight was on his knees and ankles, and damn if it didn't hurt his still-healing legs. After a moment of silence, he moved further, bending his spine so that his forehead touched the floor briefly before straightening back to his former position. He kept his head bowed, staring at the ground between Jericho's feet.
"Please. Please give it back." He could almost feel Jericho's triumphant sneer on the back of his scalp. He hated this position, it reminded him too much of how he had felt around Hare. He felt completely inferior, too submissive to fight back against anything Hare might have planned. He felt degraded in a way he hadn't since that night of pure hell when he had become nothing more than an object, a doll, a toy. Ace hated this position, but that didn't matter right now. He'd remain like this forever so long as he didn't lose the last piece he had of his brother. Slowly, very slowly, Ace raised his head and looked Jericho in the eye, keeping his fear and his anger off his face and out of his eyes. "Please." Jericho smiled down at him.
"No."
His grip on the page tightened.
Marco was on his way back to his room, juggling a stack of papers, a mug of coffee, a box and a bag of documented profits and incomes, and the none-too-light expenses ledger. The book was balanced on his palm, the papers under his arm, the coffee mug in his other hand, and the box full to overflowing with other finance records under that arm while he clenched the strap of the bag that contained everything that wouldn't fit into the box in his teeth.
It was a surprisingly efficient way of carrying everything, and as long as nobody got in his way and he didn't slip on anything he'd be fine. He rounded the corner, beginning to head down the corridor to his room.
Marco slowed his pace, brows furrowing. Something was off. He felt…weird. Almost…lightheaded. No, that wasn't quite it. It was more like he had entered a completely silent room after being in a noisy one for a long time. There just seemed to be something missing, something very solitary where there wasn't solitude before.
Marco shook his head. He was just imagining things. He hadn't been getting nearly enough sleep recently; he was probably just lightheaded from that. Marco resumed his former pace, nearing the end of the hallway and, consequently, his room.
Blind terror, black as night, opaque as tar completely flooded his mind. He couldn't see, couldn't breathe, couldn't move. There was nothing, nothing but this complete, unending, indescribable fear and the knowledge that there was no getting away from it. He couldn't even think, the fear ran too strong in his mind for that. His instincts were telling him to run, to hide, to throw something between himself and this, anything to get him out of here alive because it wasn't a matter of escaping, it was a matter of surviving. Marco's heart was pounding hard and fast against his ribs, beating on them like a caged bird in a desperate attempt to escape.
"-co! Marco!" Marco blinked, coming back to his senses. The fear still coursed through him, thicker and hotter than blood. He realized he was sitting on the floor, pressed against the wall. His papers were scattered everywhere. The coffee had spilled and spattered over some of the papers and floor. The mug had shattered, shards of it littering the nearby floor. Jozu was leaning over him, looking in his face, trying to get his attention. He was the one that had spoken. Marco's chest was jumping with his panicked breathing and when he looked into Jozu's eyes he could feel his eyes widened far beyond their usual lazy half-open stare.
Marco's legs, joints, his whole body was almost paralyzed with terror, but he forced himself to lurch off the floor. His vision was practically spinning, and every now and then would flicker to a different view, but only for an instant and never long enough for Marco to determine what it was he was seeing.
Marco stood unsteadily, leaning heavily on the wall for support. Jozu was staring at him anxiously and looked unsure of what was going on. Marco paid him no mind, turning down the hallway back the way he had come. He started running in that direction, almost falling over until he slammed harshly into the opposite wall. He shouted at the stunned Jozu, not pausing in his haphazard progress down the hallway.
"There's something wrong with Ace! I don't know what's going on but he needs our help now." Marco threw himself down the hallway, slamming into wall after wall. If he hadn't known this ship like the back of his hand he would never have been able to find the infirmary with how disoriented he was because of the overflow of emotions coming over the mental link with Ace. As it was, it took him far longer than he would have liked to get there. Jozu stayed hot on his heels the whole time, occasionally lifting Marco to his feet when he went sprawling to the floor.
Marco finally reached the infirmary door and slammed it open. The door went flying open into the wall behind it, and Marco heard a choked cry of fear come from a corner of the infirmary. Marco recognized the voice and instantly moved towards it, following it to the back corner of the infirmary near the cot used for critical condition patients. Marco drew near, but couldn't see Ace anywhere.
The infirmary was a complete wreck. Cots were overturned, their mattresses slashed, stuffing spilling out like gore. Cabinets had been slammed open, the doors hanging off their abused hinges, their contents littered all across the room. Splatters of medicine and other chemicals coated the walls and floor. Rolls of bandages and medical instruments were strewn everywhere, and some of the walls sported dents.
"Holy shit." Jozu's voice conveyed shock bordering on speechlessness. Marco glanced over his shoulder at Jozu who had just entered. He was looking about the room, eyes wide.
"Quiet." Marco hissed the word and gestured at Jozu to pipe down. Marco looked around again. "…Ace?" Marco's voice was gentle. He had been able to push back Ace's terror from his own mind after his subconscious recognized the fear as foreign and not his own. Listening carefully, Marco could hear harshly ragged and uneven breathing to the point of complete hysterics. It was coming from his lower left. Marco crouched down and scooted closer to the wall.
Ace was hiding, literally cowering in terror, pressed back into a tiny niche of space between the corner of two of the infirmary's walls and the cot. He was curled in a fetal position, but upright; fitted into the small space as if he had no intention of ever coming out. He was pressed back as far as he could go into the corner, clutching his own arms, hugging his knees to his chest. He rocked minutely back and forth, his eyes squeezed shut.
There were tears running down his face.
If anything testified to how absolutely petrified Ace was right now, it was this. Ace never cried. Especially in front of other people. Marco moved into a more comfortable sitting position on the floor, trying to look as non-intimidating as possible. He put both his hands where Ace could clearly see them if Ace looked at him, and crossed his legs. If Ace were thinking clearly at all, he would realize how hard it would be to quickly get into a standing position from here. Marco bent over so his head was about level with Ace's.
"Ace…?" Ace's head snapped up, his eyes opening. Widened, utterly horrified eyes met Marco's. Ace raised a terribly shaking hand to his mouth, lifting one finger over his lips as if telling Marco to be quiet. Ace stared into Marco's eyes and whispered, so faint Marco could barely make it out.
"Quiet, he'll hear you." Ace glanced briefly to his left, then looked back to Marco for another moment. Once this was done, he squeezed his eyes shut again and resumed his faint rocking.
Thatch came running into the room then, accompanied by Selma and Izou. Jozu, who had been standing helplessly to the side, turned to the three newcomers. He spoke quietly, trying not to interrupt whatever Marco was accomplishing in his conversation with Ace.
"Stay quiet. Marco's talking to Ace. Something happened and Ace is completely hysterical, practically having a meltdown. I don't know what's going on beyond that." They nodded and Thatch approached where Marco was sitting. Moving slowly, Thatch sat next to him. Marco scooted over subtly, making room for Thatch to sit where he could see Ace clearly. Thatch smiled quietly at Ace, trying to send something, anything soothing over the mental link in an attempt to calm Ace down. Ace's mind, though, was just a solid wall of pure panic and he couldn't get through. This was different. Ace hadn't just had a nightmare or anything like that; this was something much, much worse. Thatch glanced at Marco. Marco looked back at him and they shared a moment of being at a complete loss of what to do. Thatch hesitated for another moment, then addressed Ace.
"Hey there, Ace." The words were quiet and soothing, gently positive. Ace's head snapped up, his eyes focusing on Thatch's face.
"Quiet! He'll hear you and then he'll- he'll-" Ace shook his head violently then met Thatch's eyes again. "He'll find you! He'll get you!" Ace shook his head again, squeezing his eyes shut. Thatch and Marco exchanged a glance. Marco spoke next.
"Who, Ace? Who is it that's going to hear you? You're okay, nobody's looking for you. Nobody's coming after you." Ace curled tighter into himself. He pressed his palms over his ears and his whole body tensed.
"Quiet quiet quiet quiet quiet quiet! I don't want him to find you! I wouldn't be able to protect you and you wouldn't be able to protect yourselves!" Ace looked up and met Marco's eyes. Ace's hazel-grey eyes were wide, begging Marco to understand, to protect him, to save him, anything. Ace's voice went soft, a terrified whisper. "He plays by different rules, Marco." And that was what gave it away. This hadn't just been a nightmare, nightmares don't shred rooms and didn't leave Ace hiding in corners.
Something from Wonderland had come to visit. Something dead.
"Who was in here, Ace? Which of them came to see you?"
"He was just…he was just trying to protect me. He thought I was being attacked and he- he-…" Ace buried his face in his knees. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry" Ace continued repeating it over and over, the words quiet, barely more than a whisper. Marco's eyes widened.
"Ace, who was in here with you? Which of the crewmembers were here? Where are they now?" Marco's voice was more forceful than before. If someone had been attacked by something from Wonderland, this was bad. This was really, really bad. Nobody on this ship could fight against anyone from Wonderland effectively, not even the commanders. Marco's voice was louder than Ace's had been, interrupting Ace's ongoing monologue. Ace allowed his words to trail off, but didn't look up.
"I didn't mean to…I didn't mean to…Hatter thought I was in danger and he…he…" Ace swallowed, turning his tearstained face to look at Marco again. His eyes were horrified, full of complete terror. "…he unsewed him." Marco's expression was dead serious now. He needed a straight answer.
"Where is he now, Ace? Where did Hatter put him?" Ace shuddered, shoving his face back out of sight again. "Ace I need you to tell me now. You said you're sorry, but if you really mean it I need you to tell me where he is. Hatter isn't going to find you, but this person may die. Ace talk to me."
"N-No need, Marco…I found him." Selma took a shaky step away from the door to her office.
Marco hadn't believed so much blood could come from one person.
Jericho was upright, blood still pumping sluggishly from his body. A long gash ran down his chest, starting at his collarbone and ending at the base of his ribcage. His skin had been peeled back from this central gash and muscle and bone was clearly visible beneath. Jericho had been pinned to the wall with every sharp object the infirmary contained, scalpels, tweezers, needles, everything and anything sharp. A bone saw was embedded in his left shoulder, the blade cutting through most of his collarbone and shoulder blade. His arms were pinned out away from his body, in a position of near crucifixion. His right arm was twisted horrendously and pinned in a beyond unnatural position, pulled far beyond the point of dislocation. His upper left arm was in a similar situation, the shoulder clearly dislocated, but everything below his elbow was just gone.
Blood pumped from the ragged injury, the bits of bone white flecks amidst the red mass of torn muscle and sinew where Jericho's elbow should have been. No kind of cutting instrument had been used to remove the arm, it had simply been torn off with brute force.
Jericho's face was a true horror.
His mouth had been sewed shut in the position of a painful, uneven crescent. Letters had been carved all over his face and ran down onto the remaining skin on his arms and chest. Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile over and over again. His eyelids had been sewed open, pulled away from each other as far as they would go.
His eyes were gone.
Well, not gone gone, but they weren't where they were supposed to be. Jericho's eye sockets were empty, pumping blood down his face. The blood looked almost like tears, flowing past the horrific smile in a mockery of everything humanity should be.
Jericho's eyes had been nailed above his head by their optic nerves.
They dangled down from the nail, small rivulets of blood running down the wall from them. Above them, in a gentle arch three words had been carved into the wood as if they were the title of the grisly scene like it was a piece of artwork.
SEE NO EVIL
Marco barely kept from gagging at the scene. The whole room reeked of blood and death, and Marco felt he could safely assume the others were having a similar reaction. All the same, he was the first division commander. It was his job to deal with the things the others couldn't. Marco took a deep breath and approached Jericho.
His progress was slow, his natural instinct being to turn his back on the room and run. As he drew nearer to Jericho the stench only grew worse and Marco realized it wasn't just blood. There was a rancid, acidic smell as well, and when Marco came up directly in front of Jericho he could see why.
When Hatter had gotten to Jericho he ruptured his stomach while it was still inside his abdominal cavity, spilling the acid all over his other internal organs, burning them. It would have been excruciating. Because of the way the skin had been peeled back, all of the acid had been held inside Jericho's body while it wreaked slow torment on his other organs. Hesitantly, Marco raised a hand to Jericho's neck, already guessing what the outcome would be.
Jericho had no pulse.
(Possible Tweedle-Dee scene)
"Oh. Y-You don't know?" He cocked his head to the side in a position of puzzlement. "…T-Then I have one more story to tell you." He inhaled shakily, audibly, as if in pain. "...O-Once upon a time there was a little world. It was so small it could fit between sanity and insanity. It was nice there. Harmless. Well…compared to reality it was.
"Reality hurt too much, attacked too much, and it burst that little world open, popped a hole in it. Alice- NO NOT HER. SHE'S HAPPY, THE FUCKING BITCH." Tweedle Dee's voice twisted into a snarl of rage, his shoulders and back contorting with anger. Just as suddenly as it had started, the rage quit him. "Someone special, a wanderer, fell into that little hole. All was well and pretty and fun, and he even won the Caucus Race, but that tiny hole was still open and early on, before even the Dodo, something slipped inside.
"It corrupted and broke and tarnished. Everything started falling apart and our wanderer got scared. So he took that little walnut-shell world and he put it in a box. A box inside a skull behind a face with hazel-grey eyes, just like mine, just like everyone's, you know. We sat in that box for ten years-"
"Wait, but isn't thi-"
"DON'T INTERRUPT ME." Tweedle Dee took a deep breath and seemed to settle. "We sat in that box, locked in a shell with a murderer. But not just that…a destroyer. A cannibal. He started nibbling, taking tiny bites, seeing how he could slowly pick away at us until we died.
(Hare encounters Ace on the Moby Dick before he revealed himself to the crew, but Ace mistakes him for a hallucination)
"Oh. It's you. Go away." Ace sighed tiredly. "Selma's going to be back in a few minutes, and if she finds me talking to myself again she's going to put me on meds that don't help. Again. And then Hatter'll pitch a fit. Again. And then he and Caterpillar will get in a fight. Again. So please. Go away. I've already got enough of a headache." Ace rubbed his eyes wearily, not even watching the hallucination. If he had been, he would have seen it staring at him in surprise for a moment, before throwing back his head and laughing. Really laughing.
He collapsed in a chair, still chuckling lightly, grinning in fascinated pleasure, shaking his head wryly. "You see, Ace, this is why you were always my favorite." Another brief chuckle interrupted his speech. "I don't even have to touch you, you tear yourself apart. Are you really such a mess of low self esteem and daddy issues?" Ace was cradling his head in his hands at this point, still not bothering to look at the illusion.
"Hatter was looking for you a while ago. Said something about a chess game. Still angry you beat him. In every sense of the word. I think he's upstairs right now. Check the galley." The hallucination chuckled, shaking his head again, and stood.
"All right. I'll be back later, Ace. You and I can have a nice chat."
"If you keep me up again all night Marco, Thatch, and Whitebeard are going to freak out. They already think I should be on meds, but as aforementioned, they don't help. They don't get rid of you, at least. So what's the point? Either way you just sit there all night insulting me and preventing me from getting any rest at all." Now Ace, too, gave a wry chuckle. "Mr. Savage was clever when he cooked you up. Or are you just another of his skins? I don't remember, I'm too tired. Four days is a long time to be awake." The hallucination crossed the room and exited, shutting the door behind him with another faint chuckle.
(Marco and Hare dialogue after Hare is revealed to the crew)
"How could you have hidden this long? Somebody must have found you!" Hare's eyebrows raised.
"Oh, someone did." He quirked his head slightly to the side. "…It's funny, I can't remember his name now. Rak…Raku…hmm." Hare slid mocking eyes over Whitebeard, taking in his stricken expression.
"Why didn't he call you in?" Whitebeard asked, feeling a terrible clenching in his chest. Hare smiled.
"Let's just say...he didn't have the guts."
(After Serpent's death)
Ace stared at the ceiling. He didn't cry. He didn't scream. He didn't whimper. He couldn't. Not anymore. Grief and sorrow and alone twisted in his heart like a plague and he needed to amputate, because there was no healing from this one. His pain was swallowing him. It was more, more than he could take, more than he could handle, more than he could shove down and gloss over and slap on an "it's alright" label. He couldn't deal with this. He couldn't repress it. But there was no outlet known to man that would let him release this. It consumed his mind and his heart and his soul, ate him from the inside out. And he couldn't-
"Someone's going to die for this, Serpent," he said, the words rotting in the still air. Silence fell again. A slow grin festered onto his face and his eyes widened hugely. He raised his right hand leisurely, flexing the fingers in front of his face.
"Someone's going to die."
(Ace hallucinates Hare)
Hare laughed and Ace felt a spear of terror impale his spine. Selma continued speaking, oblivious, but her voice had completely faded behind the white noise of Ace's fear. Hare grabbed his wrist, eyes burning into Ace's own.
"You were so confident. You thought you were so safe." He spoke with all the chill a human voice could contain, all the sadistic amusement and glacial detachment. He leaned down, toothy smirk cutting his face, eyes inches from Ace's own. "But pain is of the mind, Ace." He pressed his palm against Ace's shoulder, the place where he'd first been branded and Ace's whole world exploded into bright agony. His eyes widened and he clenched his jaw, fighting not to scream as all of that pain flooded back through his mind but more because it didn't stop.
Finally, Hare pulled back, only to hover his pointer finger just above Ace's arm, just above the beginning of the brand there. He grinned at Ace.
"Don't scream. Scream and it's real, right?"
(Concept that didn't end up happening)
Some character (either Estrella or Duchness): Talks about how he/she is pregnant with Hare's child. About how Hare must love him/her. It should be kinda weird. Really. And then later, when Ace is back on the Moby Dick and conscious again, Ace should touch his stomach in the same way the character did in Wonderland and nobody will get it at all. But still. It'll be cool.
("Ace?" Ace's gaze snapped around at the voice, looking away from the mirror he'd currently been regarding. He smiled a little vacantly at _, hands dropping from the absent place they'd taken on his lower stomach.
"Coming.")
(Whitebeard and the Mannequin)
Whitebeard stared at the figure. "…What?" he asked, after a brief pause. The figure lifted one hand languidly, pointing at the altered chessboard.
"Do you want to play a game?" it repeated. It sounded amused, nearly mocking. Whitebeard didn't approach and didn't answer the question.
"What did Caterpillar do with Marco and Thatch?" he asked, voice nearing a snarl. The figure, sighing, replaced its hand on the armrest.
"You'll have to ask him that."
"Then let me speak to him," Whitebeard said coldly. The figure seemed to straighten, resuming its former mirth.
"Oh but you have to win first. We can't let just anyone in to see the Wyrm," it said, voice clownishly happy. Whitebeard approached the table. As he did, the chessboard came more fully into view and, upon further inspection, Whitebeard wasn't sure it could even be called that.
It was massive. The table was probably a good sixteen square feet, and the chessboard covered the whole surface. The tiles that composed it, as usual, were white and black, but they weren't evenly dispersed as they were on a regular chessboard. They seemed to be randomly placed, with far more of them than there were of white tiles. On the mannequin's side of the board there were no pieces at all. On the side near the empty chair, near Whitebeard, there were two pieces. Two pawns.
"If you can get your pieces to the other side of the board, you win. I'll let you see the Wyrm and you can ask him your question."
"And if I lose?" Whitebeard asked. "What, you'll kill me?" The mannequin laughed, voice dropping to silky softness.
"As if death is the worst thing that could happen to you. No, you lose you'll be free to go. But…well. Your consequence is tied up in the game. So let's get to playing, shall we?" Whitebeard hesitated.
"…And if I leave now?" The mannequin cocked its head to the side. But in its voice Whitebeard could hear its unseen grin.
"Through what door?" Whitebeard stiffened and spun.
The door was gone.
Not locked, not closed. Gone.
"…You really thought it was just Marco and Thatch that we had snared…?" Whitebeard turned back slowly towards the mannequin. It hadn't moved, but as he watched it turned its head slowly to face him, the black hole in the front of its head empty and void. "…Tell me, Edward Newgate, when did you get so naïve?" The figure remained stationary, but the source of the voice seemed to draw closer to Whitebeard. "You'd better start taking this seriously. More than your life is on the line."
"In comparison to that of my children, my own safety is meaningless to me," Whitebeard said. The mannequin's head tilted slightly to the side.
"Then maybe you'll do better knowing their lives are at risk as well?" Whitebeard tensed, protective impulse surging.
"How dare you threaten-"
"I don't threaten. I state the truth. You're wasting time. Important. Time. You do realize that while you've been down here, three more inhabitants have separately been able to materialize on your ship? Your 'children' aren't properly equipped to handle us. Not at all. It's more than just you, Ace, Thatch, and Marco in the infirmary now, Pops. If you're so desperate to protect them…I have to ask, what are you doing here?" The sneer was back in the figure's voice, and Whitebeard had visibly paled.
"Who?" he choked. "Who got out of Wonderland? Who did they hurt?" The mannequin shrugged, tiny giggle escaping it.
"Who gives a flying fuck anyway?" Whitebeard stood there, stunned.
"…You do," he said after a moment. "You…you have to." The mannequin tilted its head to a horrible 90 degree angle.
"Oh?" it asked. "Why?"
"They…They're your family." The mannequin's hands slammed down on the table.
"Oh no, they're ACE'S family! But I'm not related to that FUCKER!" The figure seemed to subside, arms relaxing, voice returning from its previous roar. But still, behind the smooth purr Whitebeard could hear the seething rage. "Destroyer. Murderer. Monster. Disgusting. Sinful. Horrible," it murmured under its breath. It continued on like this, listing more similar words. Whitebeard could hear in them complete honesty, and in the voice the passion of true disgust and detestation. ...Does Ace really hate himself this much? As he regarded the mannequin sadly it suddenly threw its head back, laughing manically.
"Oh, and did I mention he's a fucking LIAR? 'CAUSE THAT ONE SHOULD BE IMPORTANT TO YOU AT THIS POINT."
(Selma while Ace, Whitebeard, and Thatch are still unconscious)
Selma was pretty damn close to being at the end of her rope.
She leaned back against the wall, trying to control her breathing, trying to find a shred of the inner stillness and strength she usually had more than enough of. Because she needed it. And so did her brothers and sisters around her. Selma took another shaky breath, fighting down pointless tears of stress or frustration.
The infirmary was quiet, its current inhabitants all asleep at this hour. Selma was glad for it. She didn't want anyone to see this little breakdown. She didn't need help. She was independent, self-sufficient, strong. She could handle this. She would handle this. Even if monsters kept hurting her brothers and sisters, even if it got worse by the day. She would handle this. Because if people kept getting hurt, she'd keep being there to patch them back up. They needed her right now, dammit, and she wasn't about to fail them.
Some of her resolve restored, if not necessarily her strength or spirit, Selma pushed off the wall, walking softly on the wood floor of the infirmary. She checked each patient carefully, making sure no bandages had come loose or I.V.s run out of fluid. And then she came to the last four.
Oyaji.
Marco.
Thatch.
Ace.
She felt tears rising up again, tears of bitter frustration, of resentment. She took a shaky, choked breath.
"What are you all doing?" she asked quietly, voice low enough to not disturb the other patients. Her breath hitched. "What are you doing?" she hissed again, forcing back her tears, letting some of her anger escape in that question, that accusation. She whipped to Thatch.
"Where the hell were you when Vista got attacked?! He needed backup! He needed another sword at his back!" She turned to Marco. "And you, you, didn't you say, didn't you promise that you'd always be here to protect the crew, your family?" She turned to Whitebeard, her breathing hardly more than choked back sobs at this point. "We need you. We, your children, need you now! Where are you? What are you doing? Why haven't you saved us?" she felt terrible, she felt wrong, she felt unjustified, yelling at them, letting them hear the strain and break in each of her words. This ugly part of her, this part that she wished didn't exist, the part that blamed. Sure everyone had it. But she was supposed to be better than this. She turned to Ace.
"And you." She shook her head slowly. "You." Her voice became wretched. "Why are you doing this to us?" A sob, and somehow she wanted to lash out, but she wouldn't, she couldn't, she'd never. "Why, Ace?! What did we do to deserve it?!" Tears were rising again and she hated herself for this moment of weakness. "You're our brother we're supposed to be family so why are you killing us?!" She wanted to shake him, to get an answer, to find justification for the three siblings they'd had to say goodbye to. Today they hadn't even been able to recover the body. He'd just been gone. She fell to her knees, shaking. "…why?" She asked quietly, former passion evaporated. Now all she felt was hurt. Emptiness. Cold. Alone.
A knock sounded on the door.
Selma blinked, her eyes snapping up to the entryway. Nobody came in and silence fell again. But Selma knew she hadn't imagined it. Eventually, she forced herself to stand, to walk over, to wipe any signs of her inner struggle and her fatigue off her face. She reached for the cold handle. "Yes?" she asked softly, moving the door open.
There was no one there.
Selma's brows furrowed. What…? She looked both ways down the hallway, but saw no one. Only darkness. Unsurprising, at 3 AM.
Just as she was about to close the door, she heard another knock. This time from a door a little down the hall, off to her left.
Selma licked her lips. Everyone was asleep at this time of night…right? Except those on watch, and they'd be up on deck. It was only her down here. Her, and those currently dead to the world.
The knock sounded again, softly, unobtrusively, nearly polite.
Maybe… the timing was a little too perfect for it to be coincidence, right? She swallowed, feeling absurd hope rising in her chest. Maybe it's them.
Part of her found this entirely ridiculous. But a lot of her just wanted it. Just wanted it so badly that she didn't care anymore.
She ran across the hallway, down to the door that had been knocked on. She opened it, finding, once again, nothing on the other side. But soon enough, another door was knocking, and she was off, down several consecutive hallways, through a few connecting rooms, until finally the knock came from a door that she knew was a dead end, and this was it, she knew it she could tell. She'd get to see them on the other side.
She threw the door wide, elated smile pulling at her face for the first time in what felt like forever in this hell, her heart tight with happiness.
She faltered, staring at the figure whose back was currently turned to her. He was facing the window, pale moonlight matching his blue jacket to the color of the night sky. Selma didn't recognize the outfit, but she'd know that tousled black hair from a mile away.
"Ace?" she asked breathlessly. "Is that…Is that really you?" The figure stiffened.
"Sorry," he said, voice so quiet it was barely distinct. "…I'm…sorry." His muscles seemed to nearly spasm, and she could see the way his back tensed, the way his shoulders hunched, like he was in pain, in agony. "We…I…I don't want…" His muscles twitched again, and he clutched his arms to his chest. "He wanted to…He just wanted to say…he's sorry, we're sorry, we never meant for it to happen like this." The words were falling out faster and faster, like he couldn't stop them, like he was trying to control them but slowly losing his grip. His muscles tightened again, and he curled in on himself. Selma's eyes widened and she rushed forward to help, but as soon as it had started it was over and he straightened.
"Ha. Ha," he said, voice dead. "Ha. Ha ha. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA." His voice rose in volume, slowly, and Selma took a step back. His head spun to face her for the first time, neck snapping, and she saw his face, all fishhooks and blood and stitches but it was still. Ace's. Face.
"Oh my God what happened to you?! Ace!" And she wanted to scream but somehow couldn't. She tried to take another step back, but he moved in an instant, body turning to face the same way as his head while his feet carried him across the room and his arm stretched out. He grabbed the door, slamming it behind her and she couldn't run. His face was inches from hers, when he finally stopped, her back pressed against the door, his hand pressed flat against it, holding it shut. He grinned and it didn't touch his eyes.
"Ace what are you doing?! Let me go-"
"Tricked you," he whispered. "Now." He leaned forward, still grinning, and Selma, horrified, tried to press farther back, but the wood was unyielding, and this door opened in anyways- "Let me see you smile, hmmm? Everyone's happy these days! Now that we're infected!" He snarled the last sentence tightly, the grin falling off his face to be replaced with hideous anger. He contorted again, crying out in apparent pain, and staggered back, clutching his chest. He coughed once, twice, three times, and Selma could hear something lodged in his throat or lungs as it banged around. He coughed again, doubling over, clutching at his chest. Blood began to pour from his mouth with each consecutive cough and the doctor in Selma said that there was no way he could survive whatever was happening to him now.
"Ace! What's wrong?!" Finally, with one great heave, whatever it was finally flew out of his mouth, indistinct, covered in blood and mucus. He straightened, not bothering to wipe his face. He gestured to the blood-covered object, which now looked far too large to have actually fit in his chest or throat with all the surrealness of a dream.
"A gift, a gift. Mr. Savage wants to thank you for all your help," he half sang.
"…What is it?" Selma asked guardedly. He grinned at her, even more blood than before staining his teeth.
"IT'S A SURPRISE!" he shrieked. "I CAN'T TELL YOU OR ELSE IT WOULDN'T BE A SURPRISE ANYMORE!" He shrunk, suddenly, back to stillness. "Unwrap it and find out, neh?" Selma licked her lips nervously and hesitated. The figure – Ace? Not Ace? – stared at her. Silence reigned. "…You know…to refuse would be rude," he mused quietly, watching her. She hesitated only a moment longer, then took a step forward. She didn't want to upset him to the point of violence. He was already too volatile for comfort, and Selma didn't want to set him off.
The object was right beside him, so as she drew nearer to it, she also drew nearer to him. She watched him carefully, warily, as she approached, and never broke eye contact. He stood there, staring at her, motionless. He didn't move or smile, just watched. Wide-eyed. No expression colored his face or eyes. Finally Selma crouched – crouched, not knelt. She wanted to be able to get up and go if she had to – beside the object. It was covered in blood, mucus, and bits of torn flesh, but she wasn't disgusted. She couldn't even really say why. As a doctor, sure she saw what most people would consider "gross" on a regular basis, but this would have usually freaked even her out. But…it didn't. It was almost like she was watching this from far away, through a sheet of glass, or as if she was watching someone else reach out, someone else pick up that warm, stained object, someone else wipe away the gore until they could see what it was.
She watched someone else stare, dumbly, at that severed human hand.
"He thought you'd want what was left of the body," the person beside her piped suddenly. "Mr. Savage did." She turned to stare at him wordlessly, shocked. Stunned. Appalled. He grinned at her like a triumphant child. "Burying's important to you guys, and after how much you scared the shit out of Ace, Mr. Savage thought he'd repay the favor. He doesn't like to owe debts, you see." Selma felt pent up rage rising once more and she clutched the hand, all that was left of someone that had been her family.
"You're a monster!" she screamed. The figure stiffened, grin falling from his face. He'd gone dead again, eyes vacant, blank.
He lashed out at blinding speed, the wire impaled through his hand – Selma hadn't noticed it in the dark – whipping towards her, wrapping tightly about her neck, so tight she could barely breathe. He lifted the arm higher, slowly, and the wire obeyed like it was an extension of the limb, lifting Selma off her feet, constricting her breathing further. He approached her, the wire bending to accommodate his movement. He'd somehow gotten taller, his head even with hers, even though the top of her head must have been nine feet of the ground. Cold, hazel-grey eyes burned into hers.
"I know. But it's still rude of you to say so."
(An alternate piece for chapter 47, so Thatch waking up from Wonderland, Queen on the ship)
Thatch's eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright, gasping, hands flying to his stomach. No blood. No wound. No pain.
"Oh my God! Thatch!" His eyes snapped to the source of the voice. Selma. She rushed across the room, sitting on the cot beside him. She took a moment to just stare at him, shock apparent on her face. Her eyes searched his face, looking almost disbelieving. After a minute, they softened and she grabbed him, pulling him into a tight, desperate embrace. For a moment, Thatch was too stunned to respond. Selma wasn't a woman of open affection, even familial. "It's good to see you again," she choked. That spurred Thatch to finally wrap his arms around her in return. He held her tightly for a moment before releasing her. She leaned back as well, eyes searching his face.
"What happened? Why are you awake?" Her gaze shifted to three of the other cots in the infirmary, and Thatch followed her gaze, finding Whitebeard, Marco, and Ace each in a cot of their own. "Are they going to wake up too?" Thatch swallowed thickly, looking down at the sheets of his cot.
"…Not yet. I…I fucked up. I got killed in Wonderland. It's only because of Marco's quick thinking that I'm probably alive at all. They're still fighting Queen, in all likelihood." Thatch saw Selma's shoulders shake faintly and blinked with surprise. "…Selma?" She wouldn't look at him.
"…It's been hell, Thatch." She looked back at him, and he could see in her face how tired she was, how overstressed and run down. "We need Oyaji. We need him back now. The commanders are doing their best to keep everyone together and calm, but people are scared, and more and more keep getting hurt." She twisted her hands in her lap. Her eyes looked haunted. "It's been getting so much worse. We thought the first ones to show up were bad? The new ones made those look like fairies. Some are hostile, some ambivalent…but those are almost more awful. They follow you around like ghosts just staring… Jozu had one that followed him around for two days. A mouse with no eyes and a tail made out of braided hair two feet long. It wailed like a banshee the whole time, "liar, liar, liar," just over and over. There was a kid too, no more than waist high. He didn't talk to or look at anyone, just wandered the ship crying for his twin. Half his face was a skull. Serpent's been trying to explain things, but-"
A distant thud cut Selma off, both of their gazes snapping to the ceiling.
(A SEPARATOR OF SOME KIND, THE SITE KEPT EATING THEM)
Fun Facts:
Hare wasn't originally slated to get a backstory. I didn't have one planned, even when I started writing it. It was only when everyone (specifically BlobFishington) pointed out how 2-demensional he was that it started to go in the works, but I really couldn't figure anything out, so I just kind of let my fingers go until I got something I liked.
Kill the Rabbit is, as of the final chapter (and discounting author's notes), 276,047 words long, 497 pages in Word, and 1,538,706 characters, including spaces.
When it first blipped into my mind and completed itself, Kill the Rabbit was – at max – a 10 chapter story. I hadn't even THOUGHT of the Wonderland section, and the backstory was a fraction as in-depth as it is now. It also had a different ending. And Sabo wasn't going to be in it.
The only hiccups/plot holes are in Marco's dialogue and perspective, because my headcanon for his backstory hadn't fully formed as I was writing KtR. Don't go back and look for them, please. ^u^;
(A SEPARATOR OF SOME KIND, THE SITE KEPT EATING THEM)
Psychological Examination of Each Inhabitant
Brief examination of what each important inhabitant represented.
March Hare: Ace's innocence. What with his whole needing to grow up fast to look after Luffy, it wasn't all that strong a piece of his mind by the time Hare caught him. And after Sabo and Gabriel's death, and then the rape, it was gone. Ace convinced himself it was gone, and so it was.
Dormouse: Ace's trust. The part of him that lets him reach out freely and effortlessly to others. Mr. Savage was really the one that unlived him, originally. Ace's fear of Hare became projected into a fear of everyone he wasn't familiar with, and there's no place for trust in that. Dormouse, for a while, was teetering on the very edge of non-existence and it was only through careful manipulation of Ace so that he could see that the Whitebeard Pirates were trustworthy that the Inhabitants were able to get him to any semblance of alive again.
Tweedle Dee/Dum: Ace's morality, his conscience. One tells him if something is morally right, the other tells him if it's morally wrong. It's…about as simple as that.
Estrella: This part of Ace is…hard to describe. Hard to put into words, at least. The Estrella is kind of… it's the part of Ace that feminized and sexualized itself due to the rape. Part of Ace's mind needed to develop into some kind of appropriate response to that situation, and the Estrella is the part of Ace that chose to submit to it, to integrate it and change to suit it. Then throw in Stockholm's Syndrome. There you have it.
The Duchness: The Duchness is fairly easy to describe. She/he (intentionally ambiguous) represents Ace's sexuality. Essentially, after the rape, Ace became scared of any kind of sexual relationship or activity. Any sexual desire or impulse he had, he repressed. He was too afraid of experiencing the same torment he did before, and equally frightened of inflicting it on someone else. His/her gender is left ambiguous because I'm essentially letting you dictate which way you think Ace swings, only given the knowledge that it was heavily influenced by what Hare and the others did.
Caterpillar: Ace's creativity. Everything in him that goes into the creative process. The part of him that can draw, the part of him that can write, the part of him that experiences beauty, etc. Mr. Savage was able to change him by making Ace too afraid to really enjoy the world or dare to express himself, too scared of ridicule, punishment, or the threat of having it taken away. And also bending Ace's creativity into adding differences and bizarre horror to the flashback-nightmares he has.
Hatter: Ace's logic. Mathematics, science, etc. Mr. Savage actually wasn't the one who killed Hatter, it was Cheshire. Cheshire both accepted and rejected Hatter in order to perform Metamorphosis and Synthesis, and this duality leads to an equally complex state of being for Hatter. He's both alive and dead, and teeters at the very edge of nonexistence. Hatter is reasoning, fact, stored knowledge. Hatter is the part that observes the world and files it away exactly as it is, unlike Caterpillar, who'd more record the impression the thing made on him.
Queen: Literally every part of Ace that is sin. Pride, wrath, dishonesty, murder, etc. Mr. Savage would never be able to entirely do away with him, but he was able to corrupt him by use of the worms. They were a way of manipulating Queen instead of breaking him. Queen, since he knows of all of Ace's sins, also acts as a kind of judge. He's the center of all of Ace's self-hate. Ace hates himself both for the things he's done and for who he is, and it's the Queen part of him that makes him think this.
Cheshire: The original Ace. He's the one that lived the first 10 years of Ace's life in the real world. He was once kind, compassionate, loving, rational, sympathetic, and brave. When Hare took him, he remained those things for as long as he could, but eventually, just as Hare wanted and planned, he snapped under the pressure and suffering. All of the qualities about him that made him who he once was are gone, methodically stripped away by Hare. All that's left is violent, savage self-preservation, to the extreme where it becomes offensive rather than defensive. For the sake of protecting himself and his family, he will do anything. He's vindictive and unnecessarily cruel, believing extraneous brutality to eliminate problems more effectively than negotiation. In a way he's right – if someone who possibly means you harm is dead they can no longer do you harm – but his methodology in the killing is excessive to the extreme.
The Knave of Hearts: This is the Ace we know now, as he's been molded to be by all of the Inhabitants. When he was first created, he represented Ace's empathy, his ability to sympathize flawlessly with others. The Inhabitants used this to their advantage as he was able to internalize all of their traits and become some semblance of a functional human being. They still have to occasionally advise him on how to proceed – the fact remains that initially he was never created to be a complete individual – but by the time we meet him in chapter one he has essentially learned how to be human.
(If there's any you particularly want to hear about that I didn't cover, I'll be happy to add more!)
(A SEPARATOR OF SOME KIND, THE SITE KEPT EATING THEM)
The 'Soundtrack' of Kill the Rabbit
This is the playlist I accumulated of songs that remind me in one way or another of this story. If you want explanations of the particular intricacies of why each song is reminiscent of this, shoot me a PM or an email (the email address is at the end of the section about the ending)
You're Gonna Go Far, Kid by The Offspring
Hear You Scream by Hania Lee
Through the Glass by Stone Sour
Alice is Dead by Hania Lee
Mad World (from the Donnie Darko soundtrack)
Plastic Soul by This World Fair
Everything Burns by Ben Moody (feat. Anastacia)
Hello by Evanescence
Demons by Imagine Dragons
Black Widow by Dolores O'Riordan
Hero of War by Rise Against (this song reminds me of Gabriel)
Mama by My Chemical Romance
Matryoshka (English Version) by Ashe
Bad Apple (English Version) by Ashe
Narcissistic Cannibal by Earlyrise
Bring me to Life by Evanescence
Louder Than Words by Les Friction
Here Comes the Reign by Les Friction (this is the song that played in my head when Queen was on the Moby Dick)
World on Fire by Les Friction
Save Your Life by Les Friction
Mz. Hyde by Halestorm
White Rabbit by Egypt Central
Re-Education (Through Labor) by Rise Against
Animal I have Become by Three Days Grace
Musunde Hiraite Rasetsu to Mukuro by Hatsune Miku (this is kinda the Estrella)
Mr. Alice by Hatsune Miku
Lost Cause by Imagine Dragons
Monster by Imagine Dragons
Beekeeper by Keaton Henson
Speak of the Devil by Sum 41
(A SEPARATOR OF SOME KIND, THE SITE KEPT EATING THEM)
Foreshadowing Guide:
I'll come back and fill this in as I reread the story myself. It's only got chapter 1, but as I reread each chapter, I'll edit this doc and fill it in. Keep checking in on it, if you're curious. c:
Chapter 1: Pretty obvious hinting that Hare is an antagonist. Also, if you look at Ace's behaviors between the first chapter and a few later ones, you can actually see that he shifts to Cheshire slightly – he doesn't respond to Hare with fear, as would be the normal response, but rather with detached, vehement wrath. It's subtle, but the foreshadowing of this story is in the nuance as well as overt comments. (Yes I did have Cheshire planned since the very, very beginning)
(A SEPARATOR OF SOME KIND, THE SITE KEPT EATING THEM)
A Sneak Preview of the One-Shot Sequel, Gas the Warren
Ace's breath gurgled as it passed through him. He could taste the blood welling in his mouth. The only reason he was still upright at all was because Luffy was supporting him.
His chest was solid agony, and he knew he wouldn't last more than a few more moments. Already his mind was fading. He could feel tears on his face, but they weren't caused by the physical suffering he was currently in.
"Thank you…for loving me!"
Don't you DARE don't you fucking DARE DO THIS, ACE! Marco's voice was desperate as it rang through his head. Ace smiled fondly.
Sorry, Marco. It's cruel of me to die so soon after Thatch. He heard a chuckle, deep and primal, inside his head. He didn't feel the pain anymore. All around, the clamor of battle rang on. This place would soon be silent as a tomb, so the current unnecessary volume didn't bother him. His smile, which had been no more than a peaceful turn of his mouth, stretched until it was almost painful.
You're not the one he's talking to.
(A SEPARATOR OF SOME KIND, THE SITE KEPT EATING THEM)
A Sneak Preview for my New Story, Sing
Robin stared at the tablet in awe. It wasn't a poneglyph. It didn't even have any writing to speak of on it. It was a mural, with no words or descriptors, only images. Images that had even Robin staring in complete, silenced shock, in awe. Her breath felt caught in her throat, stilled by the sheer force of disbelief and wonder that made her heart pound so loud.
"L-Luffy…" she choked quietly, far too quiet to be heard from nearly all the way across the island, where the rest of the crew were attempting to camp, as ordered by their excitable, naïve captain. This mural is ancient. Ancient. And it isn't fake, it's authentication is obvious in the fading of the paint and the artistic nuance… So how- Why-? She snapped herself out of her reverie, spinning on her heel, and almost sprinting back to her nakama.
The forest whizzed by her, unnoticed, her mind focused only on getting her back as quickly as possible and the images that felt seared into her retinas. This was important. This was a breakthrough. This was incredible. It was so gargantuan she couldn't believe it was the first she'd heard of it. She, of all people, who knew so much, had been completely in the dark. A facet of the world this gargantuan had been expertly concealed from her, every trace of it hidden or erased so perfectly that even she had been unable to detect its absence.
She burst from the trees to the clearing Luffy had selected as his camping spot of choice. She was panting from the running, and by the instantaneous attention and guard of her crew she knew they expected an attack. She never moved beyond a professional walk unless in the thick of combat, and her haste had alarmed them. She took only a moment to catch her breath before speaking.
"Luffy! Do you-" she broke off, gasping after the long run, "Do you have any way of contacting your brother? Of getting in touch with his crew?" Luffy looked confused, but he took Robin seriously. He could tell this was important to her.
"Ace? He gave me a weird piece of paper and said it would help us meet again, but I don't know how it works. If you can figure it out we can go meet him." He always took the desires of his nakama seriously, and he could tell this was something deeply vital to Robin at this moment and deserved his every attention and solemnity. "Why do we need to see him? Is something wrong?"
"No, it's- There's…someone on his crew, that I need to speak to," Robin replied, appreciative that Luffy was taking her so seriously. At the crew's curious looks, she elaborated. "The first division commander. Phoenix-san." When Luffy had asked her about the details on the Whitebeard pirates shortly after they left Alabasta, she had used the nickname and honorific flippantly, and only now did the sincerity of it truly hit her. God, how could she not have known?!
Deep in the woods, on a tiny island of the Grand Line, there's a tablet. It's been standing there, undiscovered, for ages. As the log pose took only twenty minutes to set – the shortest of any island – no one had explored the depths of the forest for many, many years, and as such the ancient ruins remained intact and undisturbed, fading quietly back into nature.
This tablet is the only part of the ruins of any real significance.
It depicts, in flaking fresco no modern artist could create to last even a quarter as long, twelve individuals, painted in such a way that they are reverenced, highlighted in gold, with markings indicative of wisdom and knowledge surrounding them. They all, with no exception, wore deep purple, and had blond hair and blue eyes. All were depicted in mid-transformation, some nearly entirely human, others just beginning the shift.
Blue fire highlighted their wings, enveloped their faces, an array of gold, blue, and flecks of green and purple trailing down long tail feathers in a display to outshine any peacock or lyrebird.
It's not a devil fruit. There has never been more than one of any devil fruit simultaneously, and all twelve of these individuals bore enough resemblance in their pseudo-bird, pseudo-human forms that Robin was left with no doubt that they all shared the same abilities. But it wasn't a devil fruit. Robin's mind was left spinning.
Twelve. Eons ago, there had been twelve.
There were so many questions buzzing in her head, ones that one individual still living today could answer. He could answer it all. Solve every riddle that had plagued her mind since she'd first discovered the imperfect nature of human records.
What happened during the void century? Why are there no records of you? How long have you lived? Where did humanity come from? Did you witness the evolution of society, of mankind itself? What is your language, and will you teach me to speak it? Are you going by your real name, or is this some kind of pseudonym? Why doesn't the world know about you? Why do you not appear in more recent records? How did mankind manage to forget about your existence, insofar that you can conceal yourself as the byproduct of a devil fruit? Are you the one who's hidden every record of the void century? Are you the one that's hidden every record about yourself? But the most important, the one hanging in the forefront of her mind-
What happened to the rest of your species, Marco?
(A SEPARATOR OF SOME KIND, THE SITE KEPT EATING THEM)
There you have it. Questions, comments, concerns? missmountain97 at g mail dot com is the place to send these! I'll continue updating the foreshadowing guide, finally reply to all reviews, and get cracking on Gas the Warren and Sing! Keep your eyes open and feel free to ask me any questions about this or future stories. Thanks for sticking through Kill the Rabbit! I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope you'll enjoy future works. c: See you all next time! ~Mountain97