Ace was sitting on the deck, back pressed against a stack of crates, his gaze fixed on the floorboards. He was sulking because his latest attempt to take Whitebeard down had ended in failure yet again. He had not even managed to land a single hit. Ace was tired of being ignored, tired of losing, and even more tired of being treated like some kid throwing a tantrum.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. When he looked up, Marco was standing in front of him, his lips pressed into a thin line. Ace figured he was here to lecture him again.

"You done playing assassin for the day?" Marco mumbled. "Pops let you live because he saw something in you. So stop acting like a brat, yoi."

He then sat down next to Ace, still trying to catch his eye. As the ship's doctor and Whitebeard's right-hand man, Marco was the last person Ace wanted to talk to right now. Actually, he did not want to talk to or see anyone on this ship ever again.