Okay, I am sosososososo sorry for how late this chapter was, but my computer had a bit of an episode... word froze, I was five pages and about 2000 words in, and CRASH. Everything. Gone. It took me a while of ranting and raving before I finally sat down and picked up again. I mean, SOOOOO much work... I could have cried. I didn't, but I could have. Have you ever had that happen? It gets so discouraging that rage-quitting is easy to do. I tried to see it as a blessing in disguise though, because I had such mixed feelings about my first attempt at this chapter. It was an opportunity for me to take a fresh approach. (Didn't stop me from almost crushing my computer into oblivion, though.)

Ugh, but anyway, here's my second attempt. Hope you like! :)

Connections

He had a new room. Again.

He was satisfied enough with it, he supposed. It wasn't much different from the others, except that it was better in every way. Not only did he have plumbing, but he had something akin to a bathroom. There was no door, but since no one else was here there was no need for one. He had a toilet, a sink, a small cabinet, and a shower. A shower. The water was always freezing because it came directly from outside, but he didn't give a damn. The feel of water on his skin was something he'd longed for since the beginning of his captivity and he would do anything he could to keep it.

The mat from his old room had been moved to this one. He had a window, which was perhaps his favorite feature. He could watch the water. It also put him at ease, because he didn't have to worry about things like gas leaks, and truthfully, there was nothing like sea-air to a fishman.

The most important thing, however, was its location. Directly next to that woman.

He'd found it odd that she chose to reside in an abandoned cell block, but if he had to guess, he'd say she wasn't much of a people person. He wasn't going to complain; she proved herself slightly more competent than the average guard.

Currently, he was standing on his hands with his feet against the wall. It was the only way he found push-ups challenging anymore, and he saw no reason to sit around doing nothing now that he could wash away the sweat.

As he began his first set, he wondered about his close-call. The woman claimed to have theories, but she never parted with any. Would she tell him, if he asked? He wasn't sure. Most likely not, even though he felt he had a right to know.

He'd have to find a way to get it out of her; she was too clever to be easily fooled. He'd have to test the waters by bringing up the issue and gauging her reaction.


Rhia was sitting at a table with Domino, eating her lunch in silence, when an arm draped around her shoulders.

"Oh, Miss Videlle, how are you today?" Sadi purred in her usual sultry sing-song. The Adviser merely scowled and continued eating. "And darling Domino...?"

"Good afternoon, Sadi-chan," the other woman offered pleasantly. "I hear you just returned from Lougetown."

"I did. Mmmm, a lovely place for an execution, truly." Domino nodded politely. "Oh, before I forget; Miss Videlle-"

"Adviser," Rhia cut in. Sadi huffed.

"Adviser Videlle-"

"Just Adviser."

Sadi stared at her a long moment, as if daring Rhia to interrupt her again. "Adviser. The Vice Warden asked to see you after your break. Mmm, I like the sound of spring rolls," she meandered off, and Rhia tossed the rest of her salad in the trash bin.

"Oh, Rhia, you haven't finished eating. You shouldn't waste food like that."

"You know she's coming back. I'll starve before suffering that woman any longer than I have to," Rhia announced, getting up from her seat. Chief Guard Sadi was everything she despised in a person; shameless, undisciplined, and unprofessional.

"I don't think she's so bad," Domino observed, watching the scantily-clad woman tease the line cook.

"Well, you can eat with her then. I'm gonna see what Hannyabal wants."


Rhia flung his door open without so much as a quick tap to warn him. It was something he was long used to, he'd just prefer it if she'd try to catch the door before it hit his bookshelf and skewed all his nick-knacks.

"You sent that pink, flamboyant closet-case to tell me to come see you?"

"It was convenient, and I thought you might like to know what I was able to get from our assassins."

"Wh- oh. You talked to them?"

"I did; I discovered two things- most importantly, that there is still another perpetrator at large. He is the one responsible for the attack on Arlong."

"And the other?"

Hannyabal smiled reassuringly, "From what I can tell, no one else was a target."

Rhia visibly relaxed. So Reed would be okay. "So what about this... other man? Any idea who he is?"

Her boss frowned. "It's as we feared. He's one of ours."

"So... we have to evaluate every single guard?"

"Some we can rule out already, but yes, we have our work cut out for us."

"Ugh." She took a seat and let her head fall back against the wall. "If we start asking everyone questions, then he'll catch wind that we're on to him."

"Then ask no questions."

She raised her head slightly to get a look at his expression. "You have a plan?"

Hannyabal nodded, looking slightly pleased with himself. "After learning about his poison gas method, I went down to the ventilator room to have a look for myself. Sure enough, I found this," he used his foot to slide a black, mechanical-looking box from behind his desk.

"Wait... that... I've seen one of those somewhere."

"Do you recall the Technical Ingenuity Conference we attended last year?"

Rhia got to her feet in sudden understanding, "Right! It was on display as a prototype from one of those big manufacturing firms! It houses chemicals that react dangerously with air."

"The firm is Ripro Developers. The device was designed for use by the marines, but they weren't interested because the cost of materials was too great. So Ripro tried to catch the attention of other buyers at the conference; only the prototype didn't hold much appeal because the conference itself was a charity event."

"So our guy somehow got his hands on it?"

"Allow me to paint a picture for you." Hannyabal tossed her a napkin; she recognized his shorthand and gathered that he'd been taking notes in a hurry. "The prototype fails both at private exhibitions and the TIC. When it's discovered there's no money to be made, Ripro scraps the project. A year later, one shows up in our prison. So I contact the company and ask if the project was ever sold, stolen, or distributed. I learn that only three were ever made, and that up until recently they remained in storage. However, just last week a private citizen arrived claiming to be a collector, and asked to purchase one of the boxes. The sale was conducted personally by the firm's chief executive officer."

"So the collector is our culprit?"

"Not so fast. Remember that these men are hired hands. Care to take a guess as to who the CEO of Ripro Developers is?"

Rhia shook her head, "I wouldn't have the slightest clue."

"Morris Rider, Minister of International Affairs."

"You mean he's on the council?"

Hannyabal nodded.

"So he's the one who's been covering for Nezumi all these years?"

"It appears that way."

"Alright. So Rider attends your meeting, and learns that you plan on collaring the idiot Marine Captain. So he hires someone to kill the people who know details about the investigation. Did he stage one of the assassins to purchase the box?"

The Vice Warden sighed. "That's what's bothering me. Two pieces aren't fitting; why would he go to such extremes for such a small-time criminal, and why would he use a device that so obviously points to him?"

"It would make sense if Nezumi provides some kind of service worth killing for. And we could assume we weren't meant to find the device; I mean, they meant to kill us and obviously failed- it's reasonable to think that they made other mistakes."

He tapped his chin. "Perhaps. Take another look into Nezumi's activities and see if you can't find the link between him and Rider. I'll speak to the CEO."

"Right."


The usual double-tap and she was opening the door with a lunch tray under her arm. She wasn't expecting to find Arlong hanging upside-down from the ceiling pipes.

"Er... lunch," she announced, trying not to look alarmed. She set the tray on the floor and turned to go when his voice stopped her.

"Do you know who's trying to kill us?"

She paused, unsure of how to respond, or whether to respond at all. The man who'd tried to kill Arlong was still out there, but should she tell him that?

He didn't miss her hesitation. "If you were planning on telling the truth, it wouldn't take so long for you to answer."

"I'm not obligated to tell you anything, so don't act so entitled."

Arlong unhooked his feet from the pipes and dropped to the floor. Rhia turned to watch him with a wary eye. "Listen, woman; whatever you're up to, you're getting me mixed up in it. So don't you go acting like you've got more to lose than me."

That pissed her off. "What, your life? You threw that away when you became a criminal; you landed yourself here and now your answering for it. If you want to bitch about your situation, then go ahead, but you're not going to make me feel like the bad guy." She tugged the hatch closed and marched off, too frustrated to notice that the fishman wasn't trying to kill her through the door.

'Well,' he thought to himself, 'that answers that.'


The night sky glittered with stars, but there was no moon. Reed lit up a cigarette, sitting near the bow of the ship. Rhia was right; he had been thinking an awful lot lately.

He wasn't happy. It took him a long time to figure that out. He loved working with his sister, and honestly felt more at ease that she wasn't doing such a dangerous job by herself, but he had a harder time than her accepting government-sanctioned justice. He felt like a hypocrite; he wished he could make peace with his past as easily as Rhia, but then again, she wasn't guilty of his crimes.

He'd hoped perhaps that playing a role in justice would atone for his past, and perhaps it did, but he couldn't deny the truth. And the truth was, he was miserable.

Someone took a seat at his table. "A drink?" The stranger offered, but Reed shook his head.

"Thanks, I'll pass," he said, getting up. He didn't feel like having company.

"You only live once, you know," the stranger said. What a strange thing to say, Reed observed, but dismissed it just as quickly.

"Enjoy your night," he offered in reply, retreating to his bunk.


Someone was humming.

He didn't particularly give a damn, except that it was keeping him up. It was probably that woman; she was the only other person who had any business here at this hour. He was about to yell at her to shut up, but two things stopped him. The first, was that the sound had a metallic twang to it; he deduced that it must be coming through the air vent. Their rooms were connected. Huh.

The second, was that he recognized the tune. It took him a minute to realize what it was, but when he did he was hit with a huge pang of nostalgia.

It was a lullaby he'd whisper to Shyarly on especially dangerous nights in the Fishman District. Some nights she'd be so terrified, it was the only way to get her to sleep. How strange, hearing it here, of all places.

So he couldn't bring himself to silence her now. It just didn't seem right. And in some small way, in some small part of him, he found that it gave him comfort. He didn't notice when he fell asleep.

Kay. This is WAAAAAY shorter than what you're used to (By damn near half! Forgive me!), but I just couldn't find anything else to put in. Even the Reed scene was mostly filler, though I felt it did in effect portray his voyage to Fishman Island, which is something I thought should be done at least once before his arrival. I think next chapter we'll leap forward a few days – now that the bulk of the investigation following the murders has been completed – so he'll arrive at Coral Hill and we'll get to see Shyarly.

Also, I just thought Arlong was a good note to end this on.

I liked the idea of their rooms being connected by a vent, because I see a good opportunity to work that into the story in the future. As always, give me your two cents; it'll honestly help with the development of the story- it is, after all, being written for you guys. And me, a little bit. But mostly you.

And of course, thanks for reading!

-Louisia