Presently, at a hidden location in the Alabastan Desert (19 hours)
Mr. E., a meek, anxious man, stood at the foot of a long, empty table, laid with only a tall wine bottle and glittering empty goblet. Before him reclined a hulking, yet regal figure, seated in a rich, plush armchair as he idly toyed with a second, full wineglass. The spacious room was deadly silent, aside from the occasional sounds of gently exhaled cigar smoke, and the hasty, stammering chatter of Mr. E.
"Boss, we don't have any other single-digit class agents available for this heist, and none of the lower-ranked agents have the skills required to pull off this level of deception or infiltration."
Mr. 0 leaned back in his chair, a thick imported cigar sticking out from his firmly pressed lips. "Then find other people to hire for the job. Don't waste my time with such trivial matters, unless you've decided to personally take on the task of feeding my gators." He growled, jerking his thumb towards the wall-length tank behind him that expanded into a large aquarium, inhabited by four immense alligators.
"Uh- of course, b-boss! I didn't mean to, uh. Where are we supposed to find thieves skilled enough for this heist? Surely they can't just be hired so conventionally?" Mr. E, joked tensely, scratching behind his head.
"But of course." Mr. 0 deadpanned, picking up his rolled morning paper with his dangerously sharp, golden hook-hand. He tossed it carelessly towards Mr. E, who fumbled it in his confusion.
"Open to the first page of the classifieds, and read the advertisement in the lower-left corner." Mr. 0 instructed slowly, his deep voice holding traces of both challenge and disdain.
Mr. E opened the newspaper without further inquiry, flipping through to the classifieds and quickly spying the ad in question.
"Available: Two fully functional hot-ice machines. Mint-condition, never been boxed. Call 1-555-2826 for order and delivery." Mr. E read aloud. His brow furrowed in confusion, and he looked up at his boss for clarification. "Is this some kind of prank?"
Mr. 0 scoffed, his hook clinking against his wine glass as he raised it to his lips. "Don't be a fool, dear Mr. E. It's obviously code." He set the glass down with another clink, and patted his lips with a cloth napkin. "Criminal guild jargon. Hot-ice means stolen diamonds, which is your first clue; these are two jewellery thieves. Mint-condition and never been boxed, meaning they're successful amateurs who have never been jailed." He explained dully, taking a deep drag of his cigar and blowing the smoke in rings at his crony. "Quite juvenile, really. But one must learn these conventions, if one wishes to be successful in the underworld."
"Oh, I, uh. I see, Sir." Mr. E stammered, coughing slightly at the dense smoke's intrusion.
"Call the number provided and say this, and only this, exactly as I say. 'We are interested in your product, and would like to arrange both purchase and pick-up in three days time at the Spider Café, 18 hours sharp.'" Mr. 0 dictated, wisps of smoke puffing from his lips with every hard syllable.
・
Three days prior…
"Zoro, would you get off your lazy ass and at least try to help me out a little?"
Zoro, as the man was called, was fast asleep against a wall; his arms were curled around his precious swords even in sleep. His companion, a lithe woman named Nami, was tapping her foot impatiently with her hands on her hips.
"We're out of work and food and you owe me a ton of money! Unless you want me to compound more interest to your already hefty debt, I suggest you get up right now!" She snapped, kicking the sole of his scuffed black boots.
He jerked awake, rubbing his bleary eyes. "Morning already?" He said, cracking his back.
"It's past noon, you lazy bum!" She growled, kicking him again for good measure.
"Ow, ow! I get it! I'll think of something, okay?" He groaned, heaving himself up. Nami rolled her eyes, tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. "That'd be a first." She muttered, opening her morning newspaper. She was normally the brains of their operation, and Zoro was the muscle. But jobs were few and far between lately, and money was growing scarce, considering how Zoro, with his stupid muscles, ate like a horse and drank like a fish.
She flipped through to the POLITICS section, and scanned through the articles with her large brown, slightly catlike eyes.
"More civilian unrest in Alabasta, due to the longstanding drought. Must be hard for a desert country like that, considering the scarce rain they have anyhow. It seems there was an incident with Dance Powder three years ago, where a large shipment of it was discovered in a port town called Erumalu. It's prohibited, you know."
Zoro only blinked, picking up the rest of the paper she had discarded. "I don't know what any of that means." He admitted, rifling through the pages.
"Don't you know anything, Zoro? Dance powder is comprised of silver iodide, among other compounds, and when you burn it, it increases the size of clouds. In fewer words, when you burn it, it makes it rain more quickly." Nami explained. "It's called cloud-seeding, and because of the detrimental effects it has on surrounding areas, it's been outlawed in Alabasta."
"I kinda get it, but it still doesn't make any sense. Isn't rain good for a desert country?" Zoro offered half-heartedly, more focussed on his section of the paper than on Nami.
"No, actually. Because Dance Powder causes clouds to precipitate prematurely, instead of letting the clouds mature naturally while travelling over miles, it deprives surrounding areas of rain. The scandalous part is that, in Alabasta, the capital city Alubarna was the only place where it rained."
"Oh. So someone in Alubarna was using Dance Powder?" Zoro finally grasped the implications. "Their King?"
Nami nodded.
"That's what it looks like. The shipment to Erumalu was said to have been destined for Alubarna. That's why a civil uprising seems to be imminent. Hopefully something will be done about it during the next conference of the World Government." Nami said offhandedly.
Zoro hummed noncommittally, and Nami took it as a sign of agreement. He continued perusing the paper, and came upon the classified advertisement section. He glanced at a few ads uninterestedly, and suddenly had an idea.
"Nami."
She looked up with a raised brow; Zoro rarely spoke to her of his own accord unless it was important, and he almost never used her name.
"I got something."
"Yeah, and what's that?" She prodded him.
"We can do a want-ad."
Nami pinched the bridge of her nose exasperatedly and sighed. "I really thought you were on to something, stupid! What would it say, 'Help two thieves make a quick buck, call number below'? Are you a total meathead?" She snapped.
"Hey, hear me out, woman! I used to work for a small gang a few years back, and they had a certain way of doing things without being noticed by the authorities. They had code words that were specific messages to thieves, but would seem like meaningless banter to other people. If we did a want-ad in their jargon, maybe someone will think we're from a gang and do business with us!" Zoro explained, jotting down the contact info of the newspaper on a notepad as he spoke.
"Gosh, Zoro. I had no idea you could have so much sense!" Nami praised him patronisingly. Zoro mimed laughter and rolled his eyes.
"So if we say we're jewellery thieves, we'll seem more credible and be more likely to get hired… Uh…" He bit the end of his pen. "So hot-ice is stolen diamonds… We gotta make it sound like it's just some junk that's for sale…" He chewed the end of it thoughtfully for a long moment, and then started suddenly. "Oh, I think I got it!" He began scribbling, pausing as he added every new detail.
"Available: Two fully-functional hot-ice machines… In mint-condition, never been boxed. That should tell any seasoned criminal that we're young thieves that've never been jailed before." Zoro said triumphantly, writing the finished want ad on a new piece of paper.
Nami read the writing over his shoulder. "It's all paradoxical." She observed. "It sounds like the kind of "Is your refrigerator running?" joke a teenager would find funny."
Zoro nodded. "That's the point. Perfectly innocent, and even though it'd be a waste of time to most people, as long as we pay per line, the paper will print it."
Nami took out her purse and flipped through the notes in her wallet. "We should have enough to spare."
Zoro rolled his eyes. "Even if we didn't, you could pickpocket enough in five minutes."
Nami grinned coquettishly. "You flatter me, Roronoa."
・
As it turned out, it cost a thousand berries per line to print in the paper, something Nami was extremely displeased with as she pushed her assortment of bills and coins over to the surly business affairs clerk working in the lobby at the newspaper's office complex.
"Thanks for your business." The girl said dully. "Your ad will be in this weekend's paper."
Nami thanked the girl and then briskly exited the lobby as to not draw attention to herself, making a beeline for the café across the street. She ordered a latte and a biscuit, and sat down at a table with a sole other occupant.
"That took long enough." Zoro grumbled behind his newspaper, reaching for and taking a bite out of Nami's biscuit. She smacked his arm and he almost choked.
"Hey, that's mine! If you're hungry then why don't you buy yourself some lunch? I'll lend you some cash…" She offered, smirking deviously.
"As if I'd be as stupid enough to fall for any of your scams again!" He snapped, submitting himself to just sipping the water he'd brought with him. He lowered his newspaper, his dark amber eyes making contact with Nami's brown ones. She batted at his newspaper, ushering him to put it back up.
"Don't! What if people recognise you?" Nami hissed, gesturing towards his face. "Just because we've never been caught it doesn't mean we're invincible!"
Zoro rolled his eyes, though Nami couldn't see. "That picture of me in the newspaper was in black and white, and on top of that I was wearing my bandanna. My appearance isn't exactly memorable in monochrome." He said rather self-deprecatingly, referring to his oddly coloured hair.
"Green hair is pretty memorable off-camera though, and if the person that took that picture sees you, they'll recognise you on sight!" She retorted sharply, rooting around in her purse for something.
Zoro peered around the side of his newspaper in vague interest, watching her pull out a white scarf with a sunflower pattern. The fabric was translucent and slippery, like it was made out of very fine mesh. No sooner had he put down his newspaper again did Nami throw the scarf so it landed draped over his face.
"Tie that around your head. It's less conspicuous than your scary black one." She made a face, and went back to her biscuit and coffee. He scowled and pinched the scarf between his fingers, dangling it away from him.
"Are you kidding? I'll look like a homo." He complained, sulking like an overgrown child.
Nami shot him an impatient glare. He sighed resignedly and pulled the scarf over his hair, bunching the long ends into a knot at the base of his neck. The folded scarf's translucent layers were now almost opaque, and hid his hair surprisingly well.
Nami hid her smirk behind her biscuit; the cheerful floral print contrasted humorously with the dark glower the swordsman now wore.
This scarf was certainly a change from his black bandanna; the light fabric didn't cast much of a shadow, and he didn't look nearly as imposing when his whole face was visible, down to his decidedly pink cheeks.
This was what their silent observer noticed, as she watched them unobtrusively from behind a newspaper of her own.
'Targets confirmed.' She thought, with an enigmatic smile.