An Enterprising Endeavor

[cowboyjotaro]

The Ring Renegade was taking to his new employment with aplomb. There were skulls to crack abound, the one in front of him holding a knife to the ship seller’s neck. Should he fail to receive that money, there would be no ship, and therefore no transportation - so much for their enterprise. R.R wasn’t worried. Instead, his silly grin only got sillier.

"H-he got lucky! Come on guys, there's no way this suit can take on all of us!" the rattled crowd had said. The half-fishman didn’t quite think so. It took a special kind of nerve to wear your main weapon around your neck and resting upon your chest. Such a sensitive area was left for armor or devoid of obstructions for easy movement, not a hair’s width away from sharp blades.

“Now! No sudden movements, or I’ll spill his blood all over the floor! He’s my hostage!” R.R’s adversary yelled out. The fishman watched his movements carefully, taking a slow step forward, and the assailant followed suit, gingerly stepping backwards, his Adam’s Apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed nothing by dry air.

Confident in his new boss’s abilities, in uncharacteristic fashion, the Ring Renegade decided to pause for a moment and consider his options. Rather than aiming for the most rational choice, however, he was seeking how he could derive the most thrills from what lay before him. He crouched for a second, stroking his chin, as deep in thought as someone raised in a gladiator ring could be.

“Listen here, I’ll make you a deal. My boss has decided to take matters into his own hands and deal with all of your colleagues behind me. Should he fail, I will lay down my weapon and surrender to all of you. The minute he dispatches all of your shady, no-good thief friends, though…I’m gonna hunt you. Sound good?”

Perhaps the most unsettling to the hostage taker wasn’t R.R’s insane proposition, but rather the very genuine smile that he flashed as he did so - he was enjoying himself.

[Burgundy]

On all sides of him were a variety of thugs in every shape and size, at least as far as humans go. When dealing with his particular brand of clientele, there was always a chance it ended like this. After all, wearing a suit amidst salty pirates was a declaration on its own — a fashion statement indicating a role of superiority – which pirates tended to take as a challenge.

In a case like this, however, there was no real transaction to be found, no profit to find by having mercy or acquiescing to demands. All he could see around him was unruly rabble, interfering with good business, with no statements of their own. Just spite. His employee seemed to understand the confidence emanating from his demeanor, and simply defused the hostage situation.

"R.R. makes a pretty good offer. You'll get one person to drag the lot of you off the premises when I'm done," he would say wryly.

"Tch! Get him!"

No longer willing to mince words, somebody in the crowd of Prime Brother fodder would call for an attack on the suited sailor. With a flourish of his tie, Lawrence shifted his stance, turning his gaze to take stock of the mob. Not that large of a mercenary company, maybe 10 or 13 combative members, plus a downed captain and a hostage-taking rat.

"Let's start the re-interview."

He only needed to focus on those immediately around him though. With a general count taken, he could divvy up his effort ahead of time and manage the crowd. It was easy to predict who would reach him first, the smaller few with many blades between them. Discharging a firearm would cause a larger scale panic so they wouldn't bother doing it here unless there was actual money to be made, so there was no fear of gunfire.

The obvious solution, was that Lawrence was stronger than them, overwhelming numbers with force. Reeling his tie over his shoulder with a twisting step, he swiped, causing the svelte enemies that reached him first to slam into eachother as he whirled his blade through them. They were batted aside as a whole, raining them upon a heavier enemy that might have been able to match him, who was instead knocked over.

"Too light, too weak. A stiff breeze would send you overboard, and you can't even react on time. Next!"

Next were those who were more in his weight class, though only bodily. They immediately noticed that he was strong, too strong, so they needed to approach him carefully. However, their hesitation was a part of his calculation. As their steps wavered slightly, Lawrence would step into their ranks and blitz through them instantly, a flurry of deft tiework. They toppled one after the other.

"No confidence. No follow-through. When an emergency happens, you freeze. You'd sink the ship as soon as the weather changed."

The entire time that Lawrence was chastising them, his expression and intonation remained utterly impassionate. He was simply giving them feedback as he rejected their applications more personally. They failed to understand his process, so he needed to break it to them. Putting his foes through their paces, and finding them lacking, he'd whittled them down from maybe 10 or 13, to a mere two heavier-looking foes – probably the Prime Brothers' finest, which wasn't saying much.

He wiped the blood off his tie. Once more, the sheer amount of starch left his neckpiece spotless and rigid. Lawrence's eye held a visible glint in it, as he stood menacingly between the bodies of their mercenary crewmates, one corner of his lips turning upwards.

"Now you two... look like you might have potential. Let's talk business."

[cowboyjotaro]

As a gladiator, the problem with fighting large crowds was this: as the number of opponents dispatched increased, so too did the amount of onlookers in the audience decrease, for they are both one and the same. In Lawrence’s case, however, his dispassionate style made it abundantly clear that he did not share the gladiator values that the Ring Renegade himself did.

What the Ring Renegade had hoped would come to fruition, however, was that Lawrence’s utter decimation of the lower Prime Brothers struck fear into the heart of the hostage taker. The blade of the knife, once pressed into the neck and drawing globulous drops of blood, was now a small distance away. If one squinted and focused on the assailant’s hand, the slight trembling of his hand could be seen.

Snapping him out of his fear, R.R called out, “Well! It looks like the boss man is having no issues. He’s down to two now! So, about our little deal…” the fishman began, putting the man back on high alert. “I’ve had a quick think about it. The body is fragile. Imagine if suddenly, my superior’s heart gave out or somethin’. That’d be a big trouble to me, who promised to surrender! And yet, that’d be no fault of his own, and you’d get no credit for it. So, just thinking here, but I think I’ll just start the hunt now, instead.”

“To make it fair, I won’t use my trident,” R.R began, twirling the weapon above his head and motioning as if to set it down on the ground. At the last second, a slight shift in his stance, a small motion of his plant foot, and a twist of his body later, and the trident was flying straight for the briefcase in the hostage taker’s opposite hand. The briefcase flew out of his possession, and, distracted by the loss of his prize, the assailant looked backwards.

"I'll just set it down somewhere to collect later!"

The Ring Renegade sprinted forward and pushed the ship seller out of his grasp, sending both men stumbling backwards. Unrelenting in his assault, R.R sent his fist careening into his enemy’s stomach, the opposite fist into his chin, and a third to complete the chain square in his chest, sending him flying. Grinning, he calmly walked over to his trident and the briefcase, handing it to the ship seller.

“Sorry about the case,” R.R apologized, referring to the three holes square in the middle. “Luckily, I think I remember hearing that banks take damaged bills, so you should be fine.” Giving the man an amiable pat on the shoulder, the half-fishman turned towards his boss to view the results of that final duel.

[Burgundy]

Lawrence was a man of patience and calm, and a man of incredible work ethic. So long as there was even the slightest pretense of him performing a job, be it one of an accountant or a hiring manager for his own company performing an interview by combat (even if only sarcastically for all intents and purposes), the suited sailor would carry out his duty with professionalism.

"Question one," he spoke, lowering the point of his tie in their combined average direction, "Let's say, for instance your thieving rat of a friend were to be attacked by R.R. amidst these proceedings. How would you carry out your duty?"

With that one of them looked to check while the other would charge him. Lawrence was already too fast for either of them, but it was clear that one had his priorities more straightened out. When his question happened to be a bit more correct than mere hypothetical, the mercenary who lingered behind's guard lowered in a combination of despair and indignation. Lawrence would slide past the charging mercenary deftly, and strike the hesitating one at the back of the knee with his foot, causing his stance to give out entirely.

"Second question," the salaryman dictated, lowering the edge of his starchy neckpiece to the throat of the toppled mercenary, "Presume the tables were turned completely to my favor, and I now had a hostage. How would you carry out your duty?" The hesitating mercenary sweat in fear at the deadly piece of haberdashery which had dispatched all of his co-mercenaries.

The mercenary who charged was now shaken, unable to process how this total 180° happened. "T-this can't be happening..." he gulped.

With a bit of trepidation, the man would pull out a seashell-looking device. Lawrence had been around the ritzy upper class long enough to recognize a Tone Dial, or a TD as they had taken to calling it, but he pressed a chunk of the shell inward to confirm, as it played some of Lawrence's pitch for a split second before turning it off again. "I... I'll trade you. Just give him back and you can keep this," the mercenary sputtered.

Lawrence raised an eyebrow and considered for a moment. This was certainly an unexpected arrangement. This man was showing initiative and a business sense, even in the heat of a hopeless conflict. "Hmm..." he mused. He lowered his tie intentionally and without trepidation, pulling his hostage up by the collar and pushing him forward with his free hand.

The large man stumbled forward, while Lawrence's hand was held out expectantly, "I accept your offer. Toss it here."

The negotiating mercenary was too taken aback to do anything tricky immediately, and so he acquiesced, tossing the TD to Lawrence. Who began fiddling with it with his free hand. He's never gotten to use one of these for personal purposes, but it was certainly a neat toy. It dawned on him that perhaps he was letting his whimsy get the better of him, especially as the shadows both loomed over him as he was distracted.

A clever trick, but not clever enough.

The suited sailor ducked under the wild lariats the two Prime Brothers would try to sidewind him with while slashing the cowardly one across the chest deftly. By the time the other had time to turn around, Lawrence had already pivoted in place, and returned his tie to its rightful place around his neck, tucked under his collar, and cleared of any blood splatters.

The man came at him once more fists curled and pulled back. However, he was stopped cold in his tracks by the most intimidating gesture the businessman could possibly show to him — A handshake.

His hand loomed out before him, fingers downturned at a slight angle for optimal grabbing shape, as appropriate. The mercenary was unable to make heads or tails of the offer for a moment, but as he reached to take his hand, he had a devious idea. The larger man would take this opportunity to crush Lawrence's hand, with all his might.

As he took hold and began to squeeze however, he found a problem. This typical businessman, he's strong sure, but this... This was way too much! How could a small man's grip be so strong? The towering mercenary's teeth gritted as he felt pressure on a small section of his meaty hands, crushing his fingers like a black hole. He wondered if this was how he was going to die, tears welling up in his eyes as it took everything in his power not to scream.

Before he knew it, the pain was gone, and he was crumpled onto his hands and knees, unaware of how much time had passed or how he got to be in this postion. A hand rested on his shoulder for a moment, as the salaryman leaned in close to his ear to tell him the good news.

"You're hired."

"H-huh?"

"Your first job is to clear the Prime Brothers' bodies out of this place. They're an eyesore and terrible for business."

"Y-yeah... I mean... Yes Sir!"

The large man would will himself to his feet and hoist his similarly large co-mercenary over his shoulder while scooping up an armful of more typically-sized goons and hooligans before trotting away dutifully.

With that sordid business concluded, he would approach, R.R. to reconvene. "Great work, R.R., though in future briefcase rescuing escapades I'd far prefer the thief lose a hand than my property and finances take any damage, if you can manage," he'd joke wryly, looking at the holes that were perforated through the case, "...Though I suppose that's his briefcase now."

[cowboyjotaro]

Instead of disposing of the last Prime Brother as he had done with so much ease the previous lackeys, Lawrence instead decided to use fear to recruit the men into his organization. Giving them their first order, they lumbered about this way and that, doing their utmost to hastily dispose of the bodies. Lawrence walked over to the Ring Renegade, making a comment about the damaged briefcase, and R.R couldn’t help but raise one hand and scratch the back of his head, a sheepish grin illuminating his face.

“Yes, well, sorry about that boss. I just thought it’d be best to bring him off balance. It is a shame about the briefcase, though,” R.R acquiesced, studying his own handiwork closely. His trident wasn’t of superlative quality, but it was certainly capable of doing the job in a pinch, it seemed…

It was at this exact time that the ship seller, rattled by the transpiring events, had thoughts racing through his head. His life had been in danger - unacceptable! But who was to blame? Was it the pair of curious individuals, barely able to call themselves a business, whose grudge with these so-called Prime Brothers? Or, from another perspective, had it been this same pair which had saved his life from no-good ruffians who might have put him in danger anyways?

The topic of conversation was the briefcase he was now holding, and yet the ship-seller’s thoughts were far away from the Beli bills he could have been walking away with right now if it hadn’t been for this life-threatening incident. Was he grateful, or was he angry?

“Hey, you! Put your back into it!” R.R laughed as he ordered the former Prime Brother around, giddy at the sudden loss of his more brutish, manual responsibilities. He didn’t really mind doing them, but it was quite humorous seeing someone do them under threat of death. The ship seller could barely hear the half-fishman’s boisterous laughs. They were but an underwater echo outside of his consciousness, a ringing in his ears.

“Hey! What in the name of — are you doing?” he cried out, exasperated at Lawrence’s calm demeanor and the Ring Renegade’s easygoing attitude. “I could’ve died!” The Ring Renegade’s laughs stopped abruptly as he recognized the ship seller’s attitude. It was the same behavior he had observed so many times from innocent fodder dropped into the gladiator ring, unprepared for the violence that awaited them. He walked over and placed a hand on the shell-shocked man’s shoulder.

“You didn’t die. You’re alive and we saved your life. In your hand you’ve got a briefcase full of crisp bills. You’re gonna take this pen,” R.R began, unhooking a ballpoint pen from the ship seller’s breast pocket, and placing it in his closed fist. “And you’re gonna sign these ownership papers, relinquishing the ship once and for all. After that’s done, you’ll spend the cash on something nice for yourself and you’ll never see us again.” The ship seller complied, in a confused daze.

“Right, boss? We’re off?” R.R asked.

[Burgundy]

With the threat of the Prime Brothers dispatched, and summarily humiliated, it was easy to make the mistake of taking his consortium as the party of aggressors here. After all, there was no way that your everyday business owner would make enemies of a mercenary company and then beat them up, bully their largest, strongest man into doing labor, and then laugh about it as though they were never a threat. Really, Lawrenc was ready to acquiesce some guilt and spin a tale about how these men took issue with his employee and tried to pressure him into firing R.R. and hire them, as opposed to what actually happened which wasn't terribly different.

But instead, when the Ship Seller began manifesting his stirred-up emotions as frustration with the two of them, it was R.R. who decided to take charge and pacify the complaints of their audience of one. Lawrence raised an eyebrow as he watched with distant interest despite being so close-at-hand.

With the ship seller stumbling off with a small shaving cut and all of his fingers intact, Lawrence gave a short applause to R.R.'s performance, almost short enough to be taken as a joke if he hadn't already made his joke for the day not 45 seconds ago. "Very nice, R.R.! You've got some chops! Usually charisma like that's found in upper management," he would compliment with what might be construed as enthusiasm.

Of course, he didn't have many members to his consortium, so he couldn't rightly promote him or anything...

"B-boss?" cut in a deep brutish voice in a comically sheepish manner, "I uhh... Moved them bodies off the premises for ya. What else should I do?"

The suited sailor would look over his shoulder at the large man he 'hired' earlier, returning from presumably dumping the entirety of a mercenary company into a nearby dumpster. "You've done fine work. That said, I'm not in the business of micromanaging my every employee. I've got some forms to go sign, so for now, you'll be working under the uh... Security Division. R.R.'ll be your boss unless I order otherwise, got it?"

The large man's eyes glanced with panic laced in his expression at the exotic winged half-fishman, who he'd attacked earlier. "Y-yes sir," he acquiesced, truly defeated. At least he was professional enough to accept the boss he was hired under.

Lawrence would lightly pat R.R. on one of his arm spots as he passed, a wry smile as he gave out some casual orders, "Go easy on him, his hand probably still hurts. I'll be back with the ship, which we'll use to sail around to where I'm docked for the loading to begin. We'll get food supplies for the trip now that we have the storage space for it, and we'll set off."

With that the suited sailor would disappear into the building representing the Ship Merchant's office, wherein he would apologize profusely, before signing his name at least a dozen times across many sheets of very bureaucratic paper. Afterwards it was simple formalities, as he was handed the ship's blueprint, which he could actually read rather well thanks to spending time as a construction worker in what felt like another life, and the ship seller gave him the rundown on special features, rigging, lifeboats, and of course, the secret weapon that really caught Lawrence's attention and effectively sold him the ship.

Nonetheless, formalities ate the better part of an hour, but Lawrence would find himself pulling the ship around, stopping it at the end of a pier and deploying the boarding ramp. The ship was a sizeable beast, an steel-crafted caravel with a single mast and sail, with both a forecastle and and aftcastle, and a figurehead that quite resembled an upright cobra. "All Aboard! Don't forget the crate. It's not everyday we buy a ship, I feel like celebrating once we're done loading up and shipping out! Maybe I'll call myself 'Captain Lawrence' for a bit as well. I think I've earned it," he would announce and order in a celebratory, but highly official fashion. It also just so happen that this was the first time he spoke his own name, so this technically qualified as his official introduction to his employees.

[cowboyjotaro]

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, go on, move it,” R.R lightly kicked his new subordinate in the calf as he made him walk around the pier, gathering the food supplies necessary for the trip. He was the largest Prime Brother, and yet the Ring Renegade, standing at 3.33 meters tall, was even taller. Despite this, it didn’t take long for the half-sky islander to invent a nickname for the brand new employee.

“Ok fatty, I’m sure you know what food is best. Lug all of that good stuff for our journey, and I’ll get the important crate. I don’t think I trust you with that,” R.R ordered. The busywork didn’t take long, but it did allow for R.R to reflect on what he wanted his future to look like. For the moment, sailing with the talented, suited fighter seemed like a good idea - this was a man he respected. What about later?

True loyalty could never be forged in the gladiator ring. It was a universe where one could only depend on his own flesh and blood. The empty promises of a potential friend could just as easily be the sweet lies of a future enemy. In this new society though, R.R discovered that there was a custom that implied trust: the custom of employment. The employer gave the promise of financial restitution to his employees, and the employees worked for the benefit of the employer.

"All aboard! Don’t forget the crate!” Lawrence yelled, arriving with the promised vessel.

“Already on it, boss!” R.R yelled back, carrying the cargo onto the deck. Perhaps on the seas, there was yet another word for Lawrence’s relationship to the half-fishman. His wings perked up at the mention of it.

He grinned, smiling at his suited leader.

“Aye, aye, Captain Lawrence!” the Ring Renegade bellowed with a goofy salute.