Chapter Text
Most of what he felt was the pain of that knife in his forearm. Sure, it had been removed already and the bandage did ease his worry, as the slight pressure of it reminded him that he was okay now, but the mere fact that he was injured in this squabble made him even more furious about the loss of the precious wares. He had a buyer, he had almost had the profit.
Which was the second emotion he felt: Rage. How dare that captain meddle with his affairs again? His men were already on their tail. They won’t be left unscathed. “Messing with me has consequences…” he muttered to himself as he walked back to his office. He’d have a few of his men clean the whole thing up.
The market was a mess. Pantalone couldn’t help but scowl. It would take at least 3 weeks to get everything back in order. 2 months if things were far worse than even he was aware of, not to mention the ruined reputation. His blackmarket, his empire, should be able to provide all wares with 100% guarantee and now? A few pesky pirates and a merman had destroyed everything within a mere day.
The Regrator was so worked up he failed to notice the figure tailing him. With so many of his men following the cerberus, none were left to guard Pantalone on his sad little walk back to the “safety” of his workplace.
Only when he was suddenly tackled to the ground by that very figure did he feel the dread sinking in. Did they miss one? Did one of those bastards stay behind to finish him off? The throbbing pain of his arm made his brain spiral into many possible scenarios that could play out.
“Fucking BASTARD”, he blurted out. The figure lifted their head. Pantalone couldn’t see much. When he fell his glasses slipped off of his face. What he did see was the shape of a head, draped in a dark piece of cloth, a hood probably. Cyan coloured strands stood out.
“B-bastar-rd?” The figure repeated it with a rasp in his voice, which Pantalone could only describe as grating and annoying to the ears, as if they had trouble speaking or were unused to using their vocal chords. “That’s a new one… what does it mean?”
Was this person serious? Pantalone didn’t even know what to reply. How do you explain to your supposed attacker that the word you used is an insult for children conceived before marriage, without making it all seem utterly ridiculous.
The figure moved off Pantalone. “Apologies. I-I did not me-ean to make you fall.”, said the figure. calm, collected. Pantalone had a very bad feeling about this one. As he sat up he put his glasses back on his face. Finally, he could see the other clearly-
A man with torn clothes stood above him. Bare feet, scraped hands and the “clothes” were just scraps themselves. His face is fully obscured by a mask of his own people. The cyan strands he saw were small remnants of hair, which the man was hiding under his hood and behind the mask. To truly drive all the shivers down his spine, Pantalone noticed that the clothes were bloody. “Oh fucking hell, who is this?”, Pantalone thought to himself, as he finally got back up onto his feet.
The man just stared at Pantalone for a while, did he even stare? The Regrator really couldn’t tell, but he wished he did. He hated nothing more than not knowing something about the people he encountered, since things could turn out the exact same way like they did today.
“What do you want? No, scrap that. Who even are you?”, Pantalone questioned the stranger, who tilted his head in response.
“A new c-client you could say.” The man shifted his weight, as if uncomfortable with standing at all. Pantalone observed the man from head to toe again.
“My clients usually don’t tackle me to the ground.” It was an accusation as much as it was a bewildered question.
“I underestimate-ed my own str-stre- physical ability.” So the stranger had difficulties with “sh” sounds. Interesting. Pantalone shook his head.
“My clients ALSO usually do not come dressed like a beggar. My wares are expensive afterall, my services even more sought after.” He’d put this stranger in his place, even if only for making his arm ache again.
The stranger stayed quiet. Before making a sound akin to a growl, but not quite there yet. “Well, the p-peop-le I us-ushually w-work with don’t act all shnobby like you.”
Oh, the nerve. Pantalone was already having a bad day and this man certainly wasn’t helping. However, having felt this man’s strength first hand, even if unwillingly, the looming danger was still present and Pantalone didn’t have the guts to test his luck any more today.
“Fine, come with me to my office. You must excuse the mess, however. The guests before you… were nuisances.” He walked off, picking the path back up, which he had walked before being unceremoniously thrown onto the pavement, ohhhh the bruises.
Atleast, the stranger was kind enough to follow without protest, although Pantalone questioned himself, how this one had caught him off guard, taking note of how the stranger limbed like he had never really used his legs before. Steps heavy, coordination was miles off. “Maybe he meant overestimating himself. No wonder he crashed right into me” the Regrator thought, taking a deep breath to prepare for whatever conversation he was about to have.
Walking through the doors he found himself in his lush office. Some of the chairs had fallen over when that Merman had taken off with that precious pearl. He sighed, no use sparing seconds to think about that headache when he had a whole another problem following behind him. Along the fallen chairs, Pantalone’s trinkets and papers have scattered all across the room, but he didn’t have the patience to pick any of it up.
Pantalone signaled his unwelcome guest to take a seat, while he sat down in his own seat. The stranger hesitated, looking around before hoisting up a chair and falling into it after losing his balance. “Like a fish out of water”, Pantalone commented in his own head. “How amusing.”
“So, you say you’re a client. What do you want?” A simple start.
“I-I am shearching for a sh- gemstone. Green.” This man either had a lisp or another speech impairment. At least he tried to choose his words according to what he could pronounce. Pantalone kind of appreciated the effort.
“I know many green gemstones. Be more specific.” Pantalone smiled. He felt like he had the upper hand. Good.
“It’s a- Well, it is sharp and more like a..” The stranger searched for a word. “Spike- ouu..” The small exclamation of pain surprised Pantalone.
“Did you sit on a needle?” While he asked, he mentally went through all the spikey green gemstones he had seen. None came to mind.
The Stranger nodded no. “It’s- s a necessary proshess… my teeth pick at my tongue.” Pantalone blinked. So this man keeps accidentally biting himself? He wasn’t sure whether the stranger was simply that incompetent, or if he had found a brain-damaged beggar.
“Well, anyways,” he chose to ignore it. For now, he couldn’t do anything about this man’s weird behavior anyways. “I have never seen a spikey green gem. Only ones that were shaped that way, but I doubt you’d be making such a fuss if it was a shaped gem.”
The stranger nodded. So Pantalone had guessed correctly. It certainly gave him a starting point to dismiss him. “Well, then I’m afraid I cannot help you. Searching for such a special gem costs time. And time is as I’m sure you know, Money. Money, which you do not have. If you did, you would have had the courtesy to buy shoes.”
When Pantalone looked up at the man sitting across from him, his smile left his face. The stranger sat silently. Clearly staring, even through the mask. Danger. Pantalone felt like he hadn’t been careful enough. Curse his ego. The man stood up.
“You’ve seen the blood. I have ‘tackled’ you down. So you. WILL. help. me.” The tone alone made the “if not”-condition more than clear. If it had been any other day, Pantalone would have called his men and made them dispose of this bastard immediately, but precisely because he was so vulnerable today, it would be unwise to resist any further. As much as it annoyed Pantalone, as much as he detested the fact that he had to cave to protect himself and his business. What he doesn’t sacrifice for his beloved coins.
“Fine. I'll help you.” He despised those words more than anything that happened today. “Let’s discuss this in greater detail tomorrow.”
“And why not today?” The stranger asked, tone sharp, urgent even. It annoyed Pantalone just a little.
“Because I’m tired, the place is trashed and because we need to board a ship to Dornman Port. Lastly, I don’t even know your name-”, he started to explain the proceedings only for the stranger to interrupt him.
“Zandik.” The man said it calmly. Was that his name? But before he could ask, the stranger continued undisturbed. “And why do we need to take the ship? Can’t you just look for the gem from here?”
Oh, the sweet sweet relief Pantalone would have if he could. “No, this is a black market and while we do have a lot of wares here that do resemble yours, in the genuine business such natural stones are sold at way higher prices. Dornman port is the location of my trading company, specialising in jewels and gems.”
The man, Zandik, nodded. He understood. “So tomorrow, because the crew has to get ready”, he mumbled to himself, but Pantalone didn’t mind. He even smiled softly, because it wasn’t everyday that someone did the thinking for you.
“Precisely. I’ll make sure to accommodate you accordingly though, so what do you eat for dinner?” Pantalone tilted his head to the side slightly, people told him he looked more calm and genuinely curious that way.
“Do you have whale meat?” By the lack of hesitation Pantalone concluded it was a serious request, but who the hell just eats whale for dinner?
“Er, we do, yes.”, he started calmly, stalling for a few more minutes to think what to say next. “I can get a chef to cook it for y-”
Zandik interrupted him. Again. “No need. I want it raw, if possible.” Pantalone had to do a double take at that.
“R-raw?! You mean “RAW WHALE MEAT”? That is not only incredibly unhealthy but also tasteless!” He was appalled. This Zandik guy was absolutely disgusting. “Calm down,” he reminded himself, “As disgusting as he is, he could kill you.”
“Yes. Raw whale meat. That’s all I require:” Zandik seemed unbothered by Pantalone’s repulsion. The Regrator just nodded and stood up.
“Alright, I’ll have it ready for you. I’ll show you to a room. And for the sake of my sanity, please help yourself to some proper clothing there.” He walked off and Zandik followed him diligently. It was a short walk, out of the mess of an office to a neat hotel just nearby. A hotel the Regrator always had at his sole disposal. Poisson was, no matter how much power he held here, still dangerous.
At the room, he left Zandik there alone and instead went to the kitchen for the whale meat. Even the chef was flabbergasted and then disgusted by the request, but started on it anyway. Leaving her to do her job, Pantalone visited the docks next and told the remaining of his men, who were busy with repairing what they could to get another ship ready to depart tomorrow morning for Dornman Port. He didn’t want to listen to their complaints. He was paying them, so they should do everything he says.
Back at the hotel he collected the whale meat and brought it up to Zandik’s temporary stay. He knocked politely.
“Yes?” Zandik’s voice, now much more steady than before, replied swiftly, so Pantalone let himself in.
“Dinner.” He spotted Zandik inspecting the bedding. He had in fact changed out of those clothing scraps and changed into the clothes still left in the room, that they belonged to a noble, who had tried to rip Pantaone off, was a piece of knowledge his “guest” didn’t have any need for.
Now, Zandik looked proper. The tailored suit actually fitted his frame quite nicely. It was a flattering white, with gold lacing and light blue accents. The trousers were contrasting it with a darker shade of blue, but continued the golden lacing all the way down to the white shoes. Zandik still wore the mask, which he had probably stolen from one of Pantalone’s men. He didn’t press for details on why.
“Thank you.” Zandik stepped closer and grabbed the plate. Facing Pantalone if expecting him to walk away.
“Oh, no no no. I’ll watch you eat that. I’m curious how someone could eat raw stuff.” He simply shifted his weight and watched as Zandik’s shoulders slumped and he nodded. Pulling down the mask. Pantalone had to concentrate not to gasp or react in a way that betrayed his shock.
Zandik had sharp teeth, something Pantalone had never seen. The teeth weren’t only sharp, they were long. Two fangs actually stood out from his upper row of teeth, visible even with his mouth closed. His hair was a light teal or cyan colour, which was totally fine, if it wasn’t for those two strands that were lighter than the others and looked like rhinophones. Not to mention his blood red eyes that had split pupils and an inhumane shine to them. The worst thing, however, was the amount of scars that decorated Zandik’s face. Most of them were circular, some others looked like teeth wounds.
Zandik tried to ignore Pantalone as he ate the whale meat. No wonder he had constantly bitten his tongue, with teeth like that. Pantalone couldn’t help himself.
“You’re not human, are you?”