A Chance Encounter on the Hill

[Jade]

"Just admit it, old man. You don't actually have a plan." Greyson Gaunt laughed, smirking behind the man who had, at one point, been paid to be his butler. The larger of the two men, clad in a newly-bought black dress pants and shoes, and a white dress shirt, left purposely unbuttoned to show off the layers of recently-changed bandages. In front of the giant of a man strode the grey-haired (and, until just recently, paid) butler, Alistair Hayes, who was leading the pair through a busy central street. "Permettez-moi d'énumérer the ways we're screwed... Well, numéro un, we're out of money. Numéro deux, as you've said, we don't exactly have any way of getting onto the Grand Line, now do we?"

"Greyson, sir, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to draw attention to us." The grey-haired man, wearing similarly new dress clothes, rolled his eyes and readjusted his glasses. "Again, there is a plan. You know this plan. We've gone over this plan, in great detail, several times, and in two languages. So stop swaggering about, keep your voice down, and follow the plan, you great oaf. Sir." The butler responded, a slightly scathing tone in his otherwise business-like voice, prompting the immense Zoan user to let out a booming laugh in response.

The duo had arrived in Strawberry Hill not even three hours ago, leaving behind the shoddy lifeboat that Lieutenant Xavier Mack and his men had lent them for their escape at the docks. After leaving the boat behind, they had made their way into the town of Strawberry Hill proper, purchased their new clothes (which had actually taken up the majority of the time they had been on the island thus far), and got Greyson new bandages with the last of their money. His wounds from his fight with the Marine officer Marv had left the Zoan user heavily battered and broken, and the majority of those wounds, despite the fact that he was currently waltzing throughout the city as if nothing was wrong, were still healing over.

People that the two passed by couldn't help but give them a second glance, or, more often, a long stare from the first glance; after all, how often did the island natives see two well-dressed strangers walking around, one of whom stood at least a head and a half over the average man and the other who carried an ornate blade at his waist and did not appear to be a Marine? Some whispered that they were pirates, which was the most popular rumor circulating across the street, considering how utterly eccentric the vast majority of pirates could be. A well-dressed pirate crew surely wasn't unheard of, after all. But it was the older man that made some people question that gossip; he seemed too old, too stiff to handle the high seas. Others talked that they may be World Government agents, technically unaffiliated with the Marines, or that they were bounty hunters, merchants come to peddle their wares from across the West Blue... But the one thing that all of these stories had in common was that those who heard and repeated them were making every excuse they could to avoid asking the strangers just what they were.

"Alright, sans doute, old man." The massive man grumbled, folding his arms, wincing from the pain and dropping his arms back down to his sides, clenching and unclenching his fists as he walked. "Se détendre, good lord..."

[Aubs]

Strawberry Hill huh? Well it certainly wasn’t the worst place she had ever been. Compared to the dust storm she had been on only a few months before this was a paradise. Having been caught in a desert wasteland and some tiny little excuse for a city had only given her sunburns and a bad temper. Now that she was back in civilization, the women in question could go back to living her life, even if it was a bit of a strange one. The place was actually quite nice all things considered. Built on a series of steep hills, and littered with ever-growing strawberry bushes, with very neat, tiny houses and immaculate, stone streets. The city split into two main thoroughfares near the entrance, and strolling casually down one of them was our heroine of the day. The sun high above her, the day had the promise of a fine one, with gentle rays of light and not a cloud in sight.

Jaymi, a simple yet seductive name if said correctly. Perhaps that was rude to say so blatantly, but there was power in something as simple as a good name. Standing just over 5 feet tall, with a bombastic figure, Ms. Walter had made a living out of what the world had given her, and taking what else she needed of course. She had golden blonde hair that waved down at her back, massed with volume. Her features were sharp yet subtle, full lips and a trim nose, well-structured eyebrows and a long graceful neckline. She had fair skin but not pale, with a sterling complexion. She was beautiful from head to toe, and yes she knew it. Swaying down the street, her hips moving from side to side, she seemed to glide over the pavement. If someone had been watching her walk away they might have noticed the tattoo on her lower back, the only outward reminder of her life before.

The Dragon’s Hoof.

Coming to a stop outside of a particular inn situated lower in the city than many others the woman jingled a little as her jewelry fluttered. She wore a decent amount of gold, it caught the eye you know. Her small red corset and lightly pinstriped black pants seemed a bit out place in this classy town, but hey use what you got right? Her favorite black and gold jacket matched her outfit of course, she had designed it around this old, well-worn coat. It’s trimming even hid the two golden daggers at her waste which had handles shaped eloquently as two naked women. Taking a moment to ensure she was at the right place, the bombshell sighed a bit under her breath and walked inside the dingy bar.

This was where most of her business went after all. By trade Jaymi Walter was a collections agent. Usually someone connected that trade with Bounty Hunters, but there were much more important cogs in the machine that was the world than just a single pirate here and there causing mischief. The real driving force behind the world was the World Government, its lackeys, and its money. Who knew who, who was helping who, and who was screwing who? Enter into high level political intrigue and collect debts, and then you were really important. Not just some run of the mill bounty hunter to find a single man, but someone who could connect the dots between everyone and everything. That was her job, serve as the intermediate between many warring parties, few of which ever used actually swords. Now, they didn’t have to know that she was taking down most of that information for herself. It would come in handy sometime.

The bar was dark, with boarded up windows. It would most likely cater to lower end travelers, making it a great place to do business. Nonchalantly, which was hard for someone who looked like she did, Jaymi slide into a chair near the back and slid her small shoes off, bringing her feet up under her in the corner. Placing her hands on her feet the woman sat comfortably, like she had not a care in the world. Overall she was rather excited about the prospect of being out of the desert, and now with a chance to get somewhere else. After a while anywhere became boring, even if there were a few interesting people here and there.

It wouldn’t be too long before the next buyer would arrive. And come to think of it she needed her pay from the last job as well. Little did she know however how much things were going to happen on this island? She didn’t know that the chance encounter she was about to have would shake her life to its very core.

And she certainly didn’t think it would be at the hands of some old man and a dinosaur.

---

SPOILER: Click to show

[Jade]

The establishment wasn't the most... Well-kept place in the world, what with the boarded-up windows and the dark interior. Greyson peered into the darker corners of the bar, where he thought he could make out the outline of a broken booth with a few chairs thrown over it. Classy., the Zoan user thought, his face contorting into an expression of immense distaste as he threw his gaze around the area. There weren't a whole lot of people present, either; three people who looked as shady as this bar was shabby, the barkeep, and... The criminal gentleman thought he could make out the shape of another person in the back, but his eyes hadn't quite adjusted to the low light, and so he decided to pay that person no mind.

This place would not have been his first choice; oh no, this had been Alistair's idea. The two of them had conned an entire fighting ring over the course of many years, and Greyson's butler believed that they could run a similar operation once again while they were on the run. The idea was, of course, to engage in less violent means of gambling than the brawls Greyson had so loved, but the Zoan user figured that, if cheating at a card game didn't work, he could always punch some fool out. His Devil Fruit ability gave him a significant edge over the usual riff-raff that populated the West Blue's islands; he had even managed to stand his ground against a Marine officer, until he passed out from the wounds he had sustained in that brawl. The massive man's expression of disgust shifted to a wince as his wounds decided to remind him that they were still, in fact, present and painful, and then he was following Alistair to the bar, leaving four empty bar stools between themselves and the shady patrons.

"Ah, old man, it feels good to be resting..." Greyson grumbled, sarcasm dripping off every word. These stools were hell to sit on, and the black-haired man could practically feel his newly-healed ribs cracking all over again. He was positive that he was just imagining that; the newly-wrapped bandages covering his torso should be keeping everything in order. The Zoan user may have made fun of his butler almost constantly, but Alistair was a godsend, especially now that they were on the run. He was no doctor or specialist, but the grey-haired gentleman had lived long enough and amassed enough knowledge over the years to play the part of a medic and a navigator while on the sea.

"Oh, yes. Rest is exactly what you need, sir. Try not to run your mouth too much; you might strain yourself, and then you shall be bedridden for a week." The butler pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his left index finger. The action may have been more impressive if the glasses had caught a light and glinted, but, alas, there was almost not enough light in this bar to see in the first place. Though, that said, Greyson's eyes were adjusting to the low light, and so he shifted his gaze over the top of Alistair's head, over the heads of the three shady patrons who were still paying the two well-dressed strangers no mind, to the back, where he had thought he had spied another person earlier.

Greyson caught himself before his jaw dropped. Compared to the other people in this all together shabby, crappy place, that woman was a veritable explosion of color and sensuality. The Zoan user was beginning to be able to see things in greater detail, and for that he was grateful; he could make out the woman's outfit, which consisted of a corset and a pair of what he was guessing were black pants, but colors were still a little difficult to make out in the dark of the bar. The woman had a beautiful body, for certain, and that in and of itself was a strange thing to see here, at least in the criminal gentleman's mind. He had half a mind to get up and start a conversation with her, but he had just gotten settled in this seat... And he highly doubted talking to pretty strangers was in Alistair's master plan.

"Alistair. In the back-"

"Oh, yes, sir. Je suis au courant."

The two spoke in hushed tones, but there was no pretense of secrecy between them. The bar was almost so quiet that a pin drop would have seemed deafening, but the conversation between the two newcomers seemed to spark a whispered, hurried discussion between the bartender and the man in the middle of the group of the three shady patrons, none of which Greyson bothered himself to even attempt to listen in on.

[Aubs]

Like always the whispers started not long after Jaymi set down. While she didn’t always try to attract all the attention it was sometimes hard to not notice how pathetically obvious men were when they saw a woman. For instance, the hulking figure amongst the pair who had just walked in. First off they were clearly out of place, but more importantly he was blatantly starring at her with his mouth open. Some might have been taken back by all of this, but instead our femme fatale just rolled her eyes and smiled, leaning back in her booth at the same time and waiting for her server to come to her. Even in a place like this the bartender would come over and introduce himself to her, it might be the highlight of his shift. But before he ever could the large man with dark hair began whispering and gesticulating ungraciously in the quiet bar.

Before Jaymi could even think up what she knew was going to have to happen next two men appeared by her side, both smelling of alcohol and filth. The third man they had been speaking to, if Jaymi was correct which of course she was, was still sitting in the back of the bar. He must be the boss then if he didn’t stand up. Leaning in much too close for comfort the man drooled over Jaymi with words of welcoming.

“Well honey, our boss would like to meet you, it’s not everyday someone like you comes to visit this place. Maybe we could help you with whatever is troubling you.”

“Thank you, but im kinda waiting for someone…else. Say hello to your boss for me.” Was her only response, through a plain face and no hint of desire. An easy let down all things considered. For her trouble Jaymi received a slam on the tabletop in front of her rattling the weak hinges meant to sustain it. Immediately the happy drunk man became a raging fury, his face turning red while normally bland features crunched together into a tight ball. Some would have been scared of this show of violence, but Jaymi only looked perturbed. “This aint no real suggestion bitch.”

“I said no.”

In all their commotion to solicit the young woman the drunkards had forgotten to keep track of her hands, so when the man reached out for her arm his grubby paw was met with a gold-hilted dagger through the top, pinning it to the table. Without another warning Jaymi dove under the table that was just in front of her, curling her body to do so. The other knucklehead decided to follow. But, as excepted he was big, strong and drunk. So, he decided to flip the table out of the way. Tossing it aside he never even heard the screams of pain from his friend, whose hand was still pinned to that same table via knife blade.

Before he could grab hold of the sultry blonde however his windpipe was sliced in twain and he collapsed backward in dying breath and ripping pain. The spray of blood got over Jaymi’s hair, mostly because she was too short to take it in the face. Looking up with pale, powerful eyes our heroine looked only at the “boss” of the two men, who was now standing on his feet in shock and anger. Still clutching her second dagger in her left hand, Jaymi rolled it in her hand by flexing her taunt yet delicate metacarpals.

The door to the bar opened as a small clutch of men came in, purpose lighting their strides. The first pair of the subsequent 6 people slowly drew pistols out from their musty looking clothing and trained them on our girl. At the same time, a small man with sharp features and a long trench coat peeked from between two broad shoulders.

Just what the hell was going on in here?

SPOILER: Click to show

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[Jade]

As the scene unfolded between the woman in the far back and the two companions of the man who remained at the bar, the larger of the two well-dressed men's expression quickly changed from his best poker face to one of amusement, smirking at the misfortune of the two drunk men. Greyson made a mental note to remind Alistair that they should loot the two drunk morons - sure, straight-up thievery wasn't usually his forté, but, then again, he didn't particularly care for Alistair's other plan. The brawler's smile quickly dropped, however, as six men carrying guns entered the dark bar, pointing their firearms at the woman who had just masterfully dropped the other two men.

Alistair touched Greyson's shoulder (a faint touch, but it by no means felt like the old man was getting any weaker), pulling the self-proclaimed gentleman's attention away from the brewing conflict. "Sir, devons-nous partir?" Greyson sat still for a moment, observing the bar and it's current inhabitants; common sense would say yes to his butler's question. They should leave, but... Oh, yes. The Zoan user shook his head, pushing himself up from his seat, knocking the bar stool over in the process, and then smiled again.

"Oh, non non..." The dark-haired man grinned once more, cracking his knuckles as he slowly moved down the bar, toward the man who he had also assumed was the boss of the two men who had tried, and then promptly failed, to assault the sultry woman. The man, a pale-faced, oily looking creature, looked over at the men who had just entered the bar with a faint smile underneath a thing black mustache - and then his gaze quickly snapped back toward the towering man who was advancing on him. "You must excuse me, monsieur, but I am afraid that my butler and I don't have much time to waste here. I'd hasarder une hypothèse that the lovely woman in the back doesn't, either..."

The fat man leaned back against the bar, trembling, as Greyson continued his advance. Oh, but no, Mr. Gaunt was no longer simply getting larger because he was getting closer, he was actually visibly growing, looking more like a monster by the minute. "M-Mons-"

"A monster, am I?" Greyson leaned in close, a strand of hair that had evaded his ponytail falling over his face as he grinned down at the pallid, disgusting man. His smile briefly contorted into an expression of pain; getting into a fight wasn't the best of ideas right now, not in his condition. Not that it mattered, in truth. This man was either a coward of a boss or not the real boss, and Greyson was beginning to suspect that the latter was a bit more likely. And if it weren't the case, well, then whatever form of gang this man was operating was the saddest thing Greyson had ever heard of.

The elder of the suited men frowned, standing up with his elaborately ornamented sword drawn, staring down the six armed men who had just entered. "Sir, surely you know this is not wise..."

"Oh, can it, old man." Greyson chuckled a little, lifting one hand, just now covering itself in the scales of his Zoan-given forms. The pathetic man in front of him suddenly stopped trembling, and the towering, monstrous Greyson stopped for a moment. Had the man... Passed out? Oh, good lor- Oh, that was a gun. The man had faked passing out, and was now pointing a gun in the horned face of Mr. Gaunt. "... Fascinating." He smiled at the man, who was grinning back up at him, and then took his much thicker skull and bashed his forehead, the only part of his body that felt truly healed, against the head of the stupid "boss".

And, all the while, Greyson hadn't been keeping an eye on the lovely woman in the back.

[Aubs]

An interesting situation they found themselves in, the woman and these two strange men who certainly weren’t from around here. Even as the towering figure smashed the fat man who had apparently been in charge of the bar thugs, the scene rolled on to even stranger heights. First, the men standing at the front of the establishment lowered their weapons that had been trained on Jaymi and instead took a step apart, revealing the full scope of the tiny man standing between them. Again, his angular features made him look like a very vicious rat or something else that crawled deep down in the hells of this sterling city. Before anything could happen that same little man spoke, his voice not as high as one would expect, but instead very controlled.

“Excuse my…associate. I’m sure he deserved that, whatever he did. Not the smartest man in my employ but certainly an interesting character.” Then, without another glance at the bloody Greyson the rodent looked over towards Jaymi, who had managed to avoid most of the blood around her. The two locked eyes for a moment before he continued speaking, only addressing her this time. “You must be Ms. Walter. Sorry for the trouble of my worker, I have your payment here from the Waste and your next assignment. The Group thanks you.”

Of all things. Well, the cat now out of the bag the bombshell took a moment to pick up her weapons from wherever they had been stashed. The pinned thug had passed out by now, the other was clearly dead. Moving gingerly, as if trying to appear dainty our heroine picked up her things and moved over to the bar in order to sit with the small man. She spared only a brief moment to look at her two saviors if you will. It looked more like an analyzing glance and not a friendly gaze. Sitting down beside her new employer the focus returned to business, even as the henchmen who had brought the real boss to the bar were cleaning up and the barman was furnishing the two out-of-towners at the behest of the rat.

“So I am in need a favor.”

“I assumed as much.”

“I need a message delivered to the Peace Route. Not the safest place for you to be I imagine. Hire whatever team you like. Half the money now and half from my people on the Line. Fair enough?”

“Done. Though I do work alone. I’ll leave as soon as possible.”

“I hate to intercede Ms.” Came the voice of the bartender, who was leaning in on the conversation. The fact that he was allowed to do so considering the stakes here meant far more than an unobservant person might expect. Jaymi noticed instantly, but would others? “But some muscle might help you on the Line, the Peace Route is in a bit of turmoil currently.”

“The Line won’t move for a single debt-collector. But your precaution is appreciated.”

With that Jaymi stood up and slide the small parcel that had miraculously been set on the bar, presumably by the Bartender, who was just now walking away. Perhaps there was more than one boss on this island?

“The Marines are expecting that package, you had best keep it safe Ms. Walter. Reputations are powerful things are they not?”

“I see.” Was all Jaymi said as she made for the door. First step of any assignment was to ensure that the employer had faith you would deliver. But the second step was even more important. Know what you were getting in to. Ideally things would work the other way around, where you would know before accepting…but the Underworld didn’t always make sense.

Give her a few minutes though she would come up with a plan.

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SPOILER: Click to show