Thirty Seven – All or Nothing! The Ultimate Gamble
I spend that night in a guest cot. My legs dangle over the edge, but it's still a fantastic sleep, after fighting zombies, being whisked across the ocean, getting attacked by an angry mob, nearly dying… you know, the usual. Just before noon the next day, Shakky wakes me up for a day of work, helping her around the bar, taking people's orders and bringing them their drinks and what-not. Of all the things… I never had much in the way a' ambitions for myself, but if I did, bein' a waitress'd certainly be near the bottom of the list.
"Won't it be a problem if people see a fishwoman workin' in here?" I ask.
"We'll just have to disguise you, then. You did the same before, didn't you?" She replies.
"Yeah… but I don't have it with me…"
"Well, we can come up with something. Here," she says, fishing through a drawer, then handing me a conical white hat and pair of gloves out of them. "The hat is from an island I visited in East Blue during my pirating days. It should work well enough to cover up your head."
"You was a pirate?" I ask, looking at the hat. It's very skillfully sewn together and embroidered.
She nods. "Ray and I both were. The gloves belonged to a good friend of mine. He was a fishman, so they'll fit over your hands just nicely." I try them on, and sure enough, they do slip on perfectly. I move my fingers about in them. It's a strange feeling; I've never worn gloves before. "Also," Shakky begins, holding a sky blue ribbon, "tie your tentacles back with this."
I'm taken aback. "Eh? Tie 'em back?"
Shakky sighs. "Do I have to do everything?" Before I know it she turns me around and grabs ahold of all my tentacles. Instinctively, I start squirming them around, trying to break out of her grip. "Hold still, will you?" She wraps the ribbon around all of them near their ends and ties them tight. It's extremely uncomfortable and I make sure she knows that. "Well, you'll just have to deal with it. You may have been able to fool others, but folks here are more perceptive. If you go waving those things around, people will figure out what's up immediately." Great. Guess I got no choice but to try and ignore it. I don't even wanna know how silly I look with this. Shakky puts a hand to her chin and thinks for a moment. "Hmm… I ought to have you wear a dress or something cute to attract customers."
A chill runs up my spine. "NO! No, no, no! I ain't wearin' no damn dress!"
She scoffs at my response. "You're probably too tall anyway…" I hear her mumble. "Well, put something on at least." She throws me a white, long-sleeved shirt similar in style to the hat. It's a little… frilly… but I guess it'll do. "I guess you don't wear make-up, do you?" I gag loudly. "Didn't think so."
For all the silly preparation, the bar doesn't see many customers. When the first comes in, I'm scared stiff he'll figure me out, but he doesn't give me any more than a quick look-over. "Ye hired some help, Shakky?" The man says as he takes off his black pea coat and finds a seat.
"Something like that." Shakky answers from behind the bar. "Take his order, will you Aki?" I give the man a quick glance. My skin color don't throw you off? Well, whatever.
The next several days proceed without too much incident. Some question my hat, many question my height, and all question Shakky's prices. A number refuse to pay her outrageous sums, and that's when I get to shine. She's ready to beat the tar out of them herself, but I insist I do the honors. I need to let off some steam anyway. Life is still relatively calm working for her, even when it gets dark and business picks up a little bit – and by that I mean three customers instead of one or two. The wound on my back is doing a swell job of healing as well; neither Ray nor Shakky are well-versed in the medical arts, but simply bandaging a wound and keeping it clean isn't hard.
One night at midnight, when not a single person has walked through the doors for over an hour, Ray convinces Shakky to close up early; he says he wants to take me somewhere.
"Ever been gambling?" He asks me, as we leave the bar into the cool night air, strolling from island to island.
"Not for money, no." I answer.
"Well, you might want to change that attitude if you want to leave for Fishman Island anytime soon. Quick way to make money gambling is."
"Or lose it…" I mumble.
"I heard that. If you go into a game with that kind of attitude you've already lost." He reprimands. "When it comes to gambling it's all or nothing! There is no middle ground!"
"Oh? And where'd you hear that?"
"You don't think I made it up myself?" No, not really. "An old friend of mine – that was his way of life. 'You'll never get far if you keep second-guessing yourself, Ray.' he'd always say."
"He sounds like a lot like someone I know as well. Get you into trouble as well?"
Ray laughs quietly. "All the time. I didn't mind it, though. That's what nakama do, you see: like each other for their strengths, but love each other for their faults."
I ponder on his words for a time as we walk in silence through the archipelago. After passing through a couple more islands, I ask "So what happened to him? He still around?"
The old man's eyes veer down a bit, as he shakes his head gently from side to side. "No, he passed away some time ago."
"Sorry to hear that."
"Don't be." Ray answers. "He died with a smile on his face. That's all that matters." He looks up. "Ah, here's the place." I glance at the place. A slightly run-down area of town with some shady characters lurking about, I suppose this is the kind of place an ex-pirate would go to gamble. When we enter the musty old building, the hall is full of cigarette smoke and the smell of alcohol. I count seven people: a bartender, a man passed out drunk at the bar, a young couple in one corner lounging, the woman a hired night by her looks, and three men at a table playing cards, one fat, one skinny, and one somewhere in the middle, oddly-shaped. The men at the table are armed: each has a cutlass at his side. I can't tell if anyone else is.
"Oi, Ray! That ye? Come to lose more money? Bahaha! " The fat man laughs in a groggy old voice. "And 'ho's this? Got yerself a wench for the night, 'ave ye? A bloody tall one, at that."
I want to slug the fat bastard, but Ray simply laughs instead. "Just a friend this time. A friend who might be up for a few games herself."
"I never said nothin', you wily, old fart." I grumble.
The fat man laughs again, ending it with a smoker's cough. "That so, lassie? Well, the more the merrier! More losers makin' my wallet all the merrier, that is! Bahaha!
"You in next round then, Ray?" The skinny man says, his voice like the hissing of a snake.
"Of course." Ray responds. "Deal me in!"
They shoot a glance my way, as if to ask the same. "I'll watch for a spell, learn how to play the game." I say, a satisfying enough answer.
It turns out to be the same game I played with Joey when I was with the Fang Frogs: Alabastan Mousespin. They have a couple strange house rules, but I understand it well enough. Once a few rounds have passed, and I can see that Ray isn't doing so great, I decide to join in. The three men try to hide demeaning grins; I pretend not to notice. I decide to start small, testing the waters.
"Aki!" Ray exclaims. "What happened to 'all or nothing'?"
I look at him inquisitively. "Givin' advice to your opponent?" I say. "No wonder you're losin', old man." Everyone has a laugh at that and we start the game. The rounds go up and down like rolling waves. I lose some money on the first round as expected, but gain my bearings by the third round, and by the fifth I've broken even.
"Yer getting' better at this I can tell, lassie." The fat man says, a strange mix of admiration and belittlement in his voice. "Shame the one what brought ye 'ere can't say the same. We rob this old fool every week, don't we, boys?" The skinny man and the misshapen fellow both emit a guttural laugh.
"Oh, you just wait," Says Ray. "I'll see my comeback!"
"He says this every time." Whispers the skinny man to me. His breath reeks of onions and fish. "Don't change a thing though."
Two more rounds and I've got a little more money than I came in with, so I decide to call it quits for the night. They protest, but I don't give in to their goading.
"At least wait for me to finish up here." Says Ray.
"That won't take long!" The fat man guffaws.
"Don't expect me to bail you out." I say. He only laughs. "I'm goin' outside to get me some fresh air." I grab my winnings, stand up and walk outside, and fresh air is exactly what I find. After spending over an hour in that dirty building, the breezy nighttime atmosphere feels fantastic. I want to untie this stupid ribbon and stretch out my limbs, but of course I know what a dumb idea that would be. There's an old wooden chair by the building; I sit down in it and watch the birds scrounging about in the streets for specks of food. Shame this is such a rotten place – the landscape's pretty.
My bird-watching is interrupted however, several minutes later, by the trio of gamblers, bursting through the front door of the pub, all with scowls on their faces. Spotting me, their faces shift towards malicious grins. "Some turn of events," the fat one says, "findin' out you's a fishwoman."
I stand up swiftly, surprised. I take a quick moment to choose the best response, then trying to stay calm answer "And just how'd you figure that out?"
"I 'ad a feelin' from the get-go. No 'uman girl I ever seen's over eight feet tall and 'as skin your shade." Damn it, I knew this disguise wasn't enough. It's only a miracle the thing lasted me as long as it did. "Plus, that ain't 'air behind your 'ead, is it?"
No point in keepin' it hidden it now. I let loose my tentacles, snapping the ribbon off. I hear the skinny man comment under his breath. Something about "nasty". "So what you gonna do, then? Call the marines?" I say. "I ain't here to pick a fight or make a statement or nothin'; I ain't even that proud of bein' fishfolk to be honest. So how about you forget you saw me and I run off then, hm?"
He spits on the ground. "I don't give a damn about yer feelin's, fishie. I plan on catchin' ye, of course." He pulls out his cutlass and tosses the sheath aside, as do his two associates. "Fishwomen are a rare find on the slave market – ye'll fetch a pretty penny, ye will." Slavery? They got slavery here!? This is a bustlin' city of the World Government, not some lawless town on the frontier!
I assume a fighting stance. "If you reckon you'll have me without a fight, you got another thing comin'."
The fat man laughs. "If ye brawl as well as ye play cards, ye shouldn't be too much of a problem." He taunts, coughing in between words. "Get 'er, boys!"
His two associates each run at me, circling around from opposite sides, attempting to flank me. No problem. I choose to clash with the skinny one first, and move in towards him. Before he can begin the arc of his attack, I lunge in towards him, grab his sword arm at the wrist, then step into his stance and in one movement, kick out his footing and jab into his neck. He falls to the ground, gasping for breath. His misshapen comrade thinks this the prime opportunity to strike, but I've got him in my sights as well, even if he doesn't realize it. He wields his mighty blade in both hands, which he brings up high to slash across my backside, but fortunately for me, my backside is just as well armed as my front. I lash out with a number of tentacles at him, grabbing him at his arms, his neck, and his waist, then once I've got his friend on the ground, I swing the misshapen man around in a circle, then let go, sending him skidding across the ground and into the front porch of a nearby building, snapping a support beam with the collision.
I then turn to their fat leader. He looks shaken at the swift defeat of his henchmen, but still determined and ready. "Ye little wench!" He growls. "Shoulda known. Ye may be a woman, but yer still fishfolk. Yer all a bunch of rowdy types, aintcha?"
"Yeah, we are." I growl back and charge at him. He readies his blade. Despite his weight, his stance is sound. He's a better swordsman than his flunkies. I need to be careful. The very moment I'm in range, he moves the position of his sword and slices at me. I just barely dodge the attack, the blade's edge no more than an inch from my elbow. Before I can counter however, he continues with another attack, and another, and another, and I am forced on the defensive. His swordsmanship is more precise, more fluid than I imagined it would be. I patiently wait for the right opportunity, but he doesn't give me one. He's too good for that. So I give him one instead, or at least I pretend to. Backing away from his attacks, I pretend to trip and fall backwards. Falling for the bait, or perhaps impatient with the neverending dance of combat our fight has become, he brings his blade downward upon me, hoping for a finishing strike.
But I catch myself. With my tentacles, I push myself against the dirt, back upwards and grab his arm with my hand, then force his sword to the ground with a loud clang against the rock path. Calling forth a great amount of strength into my other fist, I punch directly into the flat of his blade, shattering in two. I expect that to be the end of that, but the fat man wastes no time being shocked by my display of raw power. Knowing his weapon destroyed, he immediately pulls out a matchlock pistol and fires.
The spherical bullet buries itself into my shoulder, and I fall to the ground with a cry of pain. I immediately push myself up, but the man points the gun directly at my forehead and I freeze. "Shoulda just done this from the start, I reckon. Wouldn't 'ave gotten me blade all busted up. Now then, why don't ye make this easy and give up, eh little fishie? I don't like the idea of killin' me prize, but if ye keep resistin'…"
Growling, gritting my teeth, I don't know how to react. I overestimated this chump... Damn it, what do I do now? Is he serious? Slavery? I ain't gonna give myself up to such a horrible life! But what can I do!? He's fixin' to shoot me if I don't… and he ain't gonna miss somethin' vital this time… he'll kill me! If only… if only there was someone I could-
"Ray!" I shout, suddenly remembering the one I came here with. "Where the hell are you!?"
The fat man's grisly eyebrows raise. "Ray?" He says. "Bahaha! 'E can't 'elp ye now! I've already bought 'im up!" Ray appears as if on cue, from out of the pub.
"B-Bought?" I stutter. "Ray, what's he mean? What's he talking about?"
Ray ejects a soft sigh. "Sorry, Aki. I didn't do so well that last game."
"But…!"
The fat man laughs again. "The old fool up and bet 'is life, 'e did! And 'e still lost!"
"You WHAT!?" I yell. Ray shrugs, giving that same smile he always keeps on his face.
"An' after that," the fat man continues, "I forced 'im to confirm me suspicions about ye. An old man like 'im won't fetch much of a price, but ye, my little fishie, yer going to keep me fed for a long time, ye are."
"Like hell I will!" I spit, but as soon as I do, one of the fat man's two goons (I don't know which) comes up behind me and clubs me over the back of the head with the force of a battering ram, knocking me out like a lamp.