I thought my fellow Americans here might appreciate a bit of light distraction on this eve. I at least needed the stress relief. And we all know what that means...sorry, Sanji-kun...
"You've heard of an electric eel, of course."
"No," Zoro said flatly.
Sanji gazed in some fascination at the large tank they had wheeled into the room. It was filled to the brim with saltwater and squirming black shapes, slimy hides pressing against the glass and leaving slick trails the water was slow to wash away. "They're not supposed to be very good eating," he offered.
"Don't worry," the fat man smiled. "These boys aren't for dinner." He tapped his pudgy fingers against the glass, stirring the long forms into a slow roil. "They aren't quite the same anyway. These are blitzeneel. They're a species found only in a few places on the Grand Line. Cousins to the original electric eel, but over time they've had to develop stronger defenses to survive this dangerous sea.
"Electricity is a marvelous thing. We're only recently learning just how much we can do with it. I'm hardly a scientist, but I've made some discoveries myself. A lightning bolt can kill a man, but you'd be amazed how much can be...experienced, without any lasting damage."
He sounded so pleased with himself that Sanji thought it would be cruel to laugh at him. "I'm sure," he said politely, while imagining all the things Ener could have done to the man.
"Still not interested in answering the question?"
"Oh, we're very interested," Sanji said. "We still don't know the answer, though."
"You're wasting your breath, cook. We've already established they're morons."
"If at first you don't succeed--"
"Can you hurry it up with this electric thing? I'm getting tired of hearing him talk."
"Very well, then." The fat man nodded to one of his associates, who currently bore a large bruise on his forehead from Zoro's headbanging. It made the two thugs easier to tell apart, though Sanji doubted the man appreciated it. He was certainly eager to get to work, ripping open Sanji's jacket and shirt with great enthusiasm.
"Hey, watch it!" Sanji protested in dismay, as the buttons went flying. Another shirt ruined...and silk was expensive on the Grand Line, too. At least the jacket hadn't torn.
"What, now you're a pervert, too?" Zoro inquired, in that particular lethargically annoyed tone of which he was a master.
"I'm a professional," the fat man smoothly replied. He crouched before the cart, reached around the large metal drum set beneath the tank and then stood, holding up two metal-pronged wands attached to the drum by long black cords. "These are more effective on bare skin."
"Looks like a pervert's things to me," declared Zoro, studying the instruments narrow-eyed.
The fat man lifted the lid off the tank, reached into his pocket and took out a couple small, dark pellets. "The blitzeneel are very sensitive to any traces in the water that might be signs of danger. Such as a shark's blood." He tossed the pellets into the tank and slammed the lid down again, securing it with a couple metal clamps.
The effect was almost instantaneous. As the pellets dissolved in a dark red mist, the tank exploded into a frenzy, the snake-like bodies twisting and squirming in the frothing water. Light sparked, flashes so quick they might be imagined, and the metal drum at the tank's base began to emit a low, teeth-aching hum.
The fat man stooped to adjust a dial on the drum, then tapped the metal prongs together. They crackled and he smiled. "Now," he said to Sanji. "Let's start with something simple. What's the name of your comrade here?"
"I already told you. Roronoa Zoro."
"Please answer again." The fat man touched the prongs to his bare chest.
Sanji blinked. "Roronoa Zoro. Pirate Hunter Zoro, Santouryuu Zoro--"
Current hissed as the metal brushed his skin again. "His real name."
"Uh..." Sanji gave it some sincere thought. "'The lazy asshole in the ugly haramaki'?"
At the fat man's nod, one of the thugs twisted the dial on the tank a couple degrees. That concerned him less than Zoro's glare. The jolt at the prongs' touch wasn't appreciably louder, not nearly enough to distract him from Zoro's almost subsonic growl. Payback when they got out of here was going to be interesting. Zoro usually was pretty thick-skinned about insults, but usually he didn't have to just sit and endure them either. Sanji couldn't count on his crewmate letting any of it pass; revenge was a classic swordsmaster hobby, after all. "Why don't you just ask him? Maybe I don't know his real name, did you ever think of that?"
"I've worked for marines, " the fat man said. "I know how you operate. They wouldn't keep you entirely uninformed."
"Please," Sanji said patiently, "do we look like marines? Do we sound like marines? Do we in any way appear to be marines?"
"Your loyalty to your captain is admirable, but how much is he worth? Where is he now, while you suffer for him?"
"This is suffering?"
The dial was turned again at another gesture from the fat man. It belatedly occurred to Sanji that he might have taken a page from Usopp's book and faked a little agony.
On the other hand, Zoro was right there, watching. So no.
He definitely felt this one, but didn't think the involuntary twitch was obvious. "Wait, now I remember. It's Private Cactus-head. I'm sure of it."
"Can't you turn it a little higher?" Zoro asked. "I want to see all his hair stand up."
The fat man leaned in close. He was wearing a scent, a spicy masculine aroma, which didn't hide the ham salad and light white wine on his breath. Lunchtime, then. Sanji had been wondering. "Give me his name," the man said, "and I'll stop this with you now. He," and he nodded to Zoro, "might be a more interesting prospect, don't you agree?"
"Oh, absolutely." Sanji glanced at Zoro. "And I'd've given it already, if I knew what the hell you wanted me to say."
"Ah, but that would be telling." The man took a step back, angled his head toward Zoro. "What would you like for dinner?"
"Some of that ham salad would be--" Sanji began, but was cut off by the fat man raising the wands to his skin. He let them linger for a moment and Sanji's teeth gritted, locking his jaw against the juddering current.
"We won't have enough for both of you," the fat man told him.
"Ham salad sounds good to me," Zoro said. "Don't worry, cook, I'll let you know if it's better than yours."
"He's the one who blew your cover, did you realize that?" the fat man asked Sanji.
"I did what?"
Sanji frowned. "What do you mean?"
"We only had some basic details about the two of you. That you're two of Captain Beinkusu's best officers, that you were still working under the guise of pirates, that one of you was quite the ladies' man, and somewhat stronger than he looked; and his older partner was a powerful fighter--"
"Older? I've got months on him! And what do you mean, somewhat stronger?"
"Not much to go on, there," Zoro noted.
"No," agreed the fat man. "But there aren't many pirates coming through here. Because of the Marine base, of course."
"So you just decided, since we showed up--"
"And of all the pirates that come here, there aren't any others who, upon disembarking their ship, head directly for that very base. I wonder what was so important that you had to report it immediately? The present whereabouts of your captain, perhaps? So a rescue operation can be raised, before any of the pirates he's helped arrest and convict find him first?" He shook a chiding finger at Zoro. "You should have suspected someone was watching."
"What are you talking about?" Sanji demanded. "Zoro, you didn't go to any Marine base, did you? ...Zoro?"
Zoro had gone quiet, and not his characteristic taciturnity, either. This was a more subdued quiet. A patient quiet. A guilty quiet, even.
"Zoro. Tell me you didn't."
"I was looking for the tavern," Zoro mumbled.
"I don't believe this--Zoro, you were standing right there when I got directions to that tavern!"
"Well, they were confusing!"
"How can 'go straight down the main street for five blocks, the tavern is on the corner on your left' be confusing!?"
"Oh, five blocks."
"Forget that--even if you couldn't find the right place, what were you doing going inside the base? Are you blind as well as stupid? A marine base doesn't look anything like a tavern!"
"Yeah, but marines always know where the taverns are!"
"So you did talk to them! You damn swordsman, this is all YOUR fault!--ow!! Will you cut that out?" Sanji switched his glare from the chained-up dumbass to the jerk wielding the electricity.
"Of course," said the fat man, his calm distorted by a touch of anxiety. "But you have to give me something to work with." He leaned in closer again, carefully withholding the sparking prongs, and lowered his voice. "To be honest, I'd rather not continue this. Not with you."
"Then ask him."
"I would," said the fat man. "But--again, in all honesty--even if technically he outranks you, it's obvious who's the more capable and intelligent here. I doubt we would have ever seen you report anything--I wouldn't be surprised if you already had done so before we caught you. If it'd just been you, you would have been here and gone without us any the wiser.
"So you understand why my employers would rather have the answers direct from you, disagreeable as the process may be. I've been keeping the power low, but I can only do so much. But if you give me some sign that you're willing to cooperate..." He glanced at Zoro, a sidelong look, dropped his voice further to an almost inaudible whisper. "I assure you, whatever you choose to say won't pass beyond these walls. Outside, who's to know who spoke and who held their tongue? And your...less than competent comrade here will hear nothing.
"Just tell me his name now, and we'll take you away for further questioning. And a late lunch...my employer has a surprisingly excellent wine cellar, I can see you're a man who would appreciate it."
As performances went, it wasn't a bad job. It might have worked, if Sanji had actually been a marine, had actually been hurting, and if the fat man had weighed fifty less kilos and been a different sex.
Though even if he had known what the man wanted, Zoro was still there, still watching.
Sanji worked his mouth to bring up enough moisture to spit, directly in the man's beady blue eyes. Then he raised his voice. "Zoro? I take it back."
"Yeah?"
"Not your fault. His fault. This pasty uncooked sack of ham salad and shit here."
Zoro laughed, a short, sharp cackle. "He's already yours, cook. You claimed him, right?"
"I might not have enough spices to hide the rotten taste, though."
The fat man wiped his eye, rubbed his thumb off on Sanji's jacket. "I suppose it's too much to expect marines to be reasonable."
"Not marines, you moron. Pirates."
The man hadn't been lying about one thing, at least; he had been going easy on him. Sanji more than felt it this time. Catching his breath, he released it in one of the more extravagant curses Zeff had addressed to their worst patrons.
The fat man smiled, and touched the instruments to him again, and again. As the power crackled, Sanji gritted his teeth, and methodically began to list the man's family tree, starting with his great grandfather the diseased rat and working down to his conception following his mother's overly enthusiastic congress with a giant slug.
"Come on, cook, is that the best you can do?" Zoro asked. "You forgot all the wild hogs on his father's side. And his uncle the fruit bat."
"Fruit bat? What's so--insulting--about a bat?" In spite of his best efforts his voice was unsteady, his body still twitching in the aftermath of the electricity. He remembered this feeling, half of him tingling painfully and the other half too numb to be felt at all. Not anywhere near what it had been like when Ener had unleashed his power, but involuntary muscle spasms weren't that much a step up from the lightning's paralysis.
Not that there would be much he could do anyway, seeing as he was still chained to a wall. "Next time," he snarled in his crewmate's general direction, "find your own damn bar. And don't ask any marines for directions!"
"Next time don't just chug every drink you're handed!" Zoro shot back.
"Same goes for you!"
"You're absolutely sure you'd rather stay here?" the fat man inquired.
"Give it up. Who'd believe that shit about special treatment, after this? Besides, if that cheap vinegar on your breath is what you think fine wine is, then I'm probably better off here anyway."
The fat man's expression didn't change, exactly, but something in his eyes deepened. Satisfaction, maybe, the look of a cat that's found an unguarded bird nest. Waving his thug out of the way, he crouched before the tank, twisted the dial most of the way around again. As he stood he slammed his thick fist against the glass, and the eels, which had been settling, whipped back into frenetic motion. The hum of the drum crescendoed.
Sanji licked his lips, steeling himself. It didn't help much. His was vaguely aware that his head cracked against the stone wall behind him when his back arched; he saw stars, or maybe the sparks were visible. Then, like a wave passing over, it ended, leaving him trembling helplessly, as if he had been submerged in ice.
His vision was fuzzy, slow to clear when he blinked, and sounds were muffled. Zoro's voice was a scathing static rasp. "--tell you what the hell you want to know if you fry his brains?"
Difficult to tell if he were working his numb tongue properly. "What are they going to fry? That was nothing. Can't even match a shit god--"
It lasted longer this time, he was pretty sure. Eternity give or take a couple seconds is a tough call. His throat was raw; he really, really hoped he hadn't screamed. Squinting at Zoro's face, he had a sinking feeling that hope was fruitless. Or maybe just a moot point.
He preferred Ener. Losing to a god--even a wannabe deity--was far less embarrassing. Eels, for pity's sake. A cook brought down by seafood. Zeff would never let him hear the end of it. "So help me, swordsman, if you tell anyone--"
"Tell them what?" It was hard to read Zoro's expression through the dried blood on his face and his own blurred sight, but his crewmate's snarl was reassuringly unsympathetic. "That you went and got us--"
"What? This is your fault!"
"No, yours!"
"Yours!"
"Such childishness," clucked the fat man, and completed his patronizing reprimand by more direct methods.
It took a bit for Sanji to tell it was over; the only way he could be sure was that his lungs were working again, enough for him to breathe. He kept his eyes closed, slumped back against the wall, half-hanging from his chained wrists. No point in zapping an unconscious man, was there? Besides, he wasn't entirely sure his legs would support him anyway.
He heard Zoro saying something, couldn't make out what it was, but he sounded pissed. Usually one only heard that particular tight snarl when there was a katana clenched in his teeth.
Well, it wasn't his fault the swordsman was swordsless. Zoro had gotten them both into this mess. And maybe he was a bit to blame, but Zoro had followed him to the tavern and Zoro had drunk that ale and Zoro wasn't the one getting humiliated by a sorry excuse for a sushi platter. Damn eels. What the hell did Zoro have to complain about? Compared to some of the training he did, this was practically a resort.
"Nice try," and the fat man's voice was close enough that he could hear all the satisfied words those thick lips shaped. "But it's too late to play dead."
It didn't even register as pain, just brilliance. He didn't think he was screaming again, but he couldn't hear anything but white noise to match that white light.
As it finally died he thought he heard Zoro's deep-voiced growl, promising, "I am going to kill you," but he had the strange impression that Zoro wasn't talking to him at all. And then that notion faded, along with absolutely everything else.
to be continued...