"Well? What do you see?"
The patron hovered anxiously across the table, even going so far as to tap his wooden peg-leg in an exaggerated manner. The hooded figure opposite did not react to his question. Slit pupils instead focused into a cloudy sphere that lay nestled on a velvet pillow between them.
To any other eyes, there was nothing to be gained from examining this globe beyond warped reflections and tricks of the light. Some might go so far as to convince themselves they could spy meaning and purpose from those distortions. But it was simply their own fancies working against them. Only when she gazed into it was a door opened, though whether that portal existed as a part of the crystal ball or its owner was not clear. At any rate, within those depths awaited glimpses of things beyond this room, its occupants, and even the time they lived in.
After a few seconds in which her jittery guest grew even more frantic, the enchantress drew away from her observations and reclined back, closing her eyes.
"You would do best to stay away from raw shellfish, unless you want an embarrassing new nickname among your crew."
"Huh?" The pirate drew back with a frown. "That's it?"
She took a drag on her bubble pipe. "What were you expecting?"
A hook attached to his left wrist tugged abashedly at the gold hoops in his lone remaining ear. "I dunno. Something like… I'll find a mermaid bride, win great fortune in the New World, captain my own ship one day, and maybe even…"
"Find One Piece?"
His single eye blinked up at her shrouded features high above him, the other covered by a patch with a silver stud in its center. "Yeah! Exactly!"
"I see whatever is most imperative regarding your current fate. What that may be isn't influenced by anything you or I consider attractive."
When he clearly remained somewhat disappointed by this less-than-earth-shattering revelation, her heart softened. At a gesture, one of the hostesses waiting nearby scooted over on her bubble seat. "Thetis, will you find the gentleman a table and bring him some coral pasta with hot sauce?"
"Of course, Madam!" The gorgeous mermaid then took the pirate One-Half Wally's hand and proceeded to lead him out of the curtained alcove. "This way, please, we'll get you taken care of in no time."
As they left together, Wally could be heard to say, "Hey, how did she know the way I like my pasta?"
"Lucky guess, I suppose. Do you want scallops to go with that?"
"You bet! Wait… is that shellfish?"
Shaking her head in amusement at this caution on his part, the fortuneteller draped a black silk cloth over her crystal ball. After tucking it in the crook of one arm, she then shifted herself gracefully onto her own floating transport and followed them into the open area of the Mermaid Café.
Madame Shirley had grown tired with revealing futures for today, and yearned only to rest.
Around her, the liveliest undersea hotspot in all Neptune's ocean was swarming with gorgeous female merfolk, each attending to an assortment of merrymaking humans sporting seafarer's dress. Despite being surrounded by so many vivacious goddesses of the sea, many a pirate's head turned upon spotting the owner of this establishment emerging to be with them.
Admittedly, even among mermaids, the proprietress stood out. To start with, Shirley was far bigger than the average of her breed, over twenty feet long from the tip of her tail to the top of her head. The glossy black fins of her lower half also drew the eye with how smooth they seemed in comparison to the others' visibly scaly components. As if this were not enough, her human proportions would have made any woman green with envy. A V-necked black blouse displayed pearly white skin and a prodigious bosom, leaving exposed her toned midriff where fish met feminine. The purple-lined cowl covering her head only served to accentuate this short-finned mako shark mermaid's allure. Over one eye draped a concealing curtain of her short-cropped inky dark hair, while the remaining ovoid amber iris spoke of both temptation and an inhuman ferocity not to be discounted. In spite of this, the sheer splendor of her features would have prompted any sailor to dare this siren's wrath, if only to have their last sight on earth be one of such surpassing beauty.
A few of the customers called out to see if Shirley would join them for a drink. Their entreaties ranged from courteous to downright vulgar, these last being met with bared teeth and a vicious expression. All bad behavior quickly fizzled out, and her wrath vanished just as fast. Satisfied, the café's owner made her way past streaming fountains and playful pools to the back room where her private quarters could be found. Standing at attendance by the door was her maitre d', a tiny lobster-fishman by the name of Cecile Bastion.
"Everything alright, Cecile?"
Wearing black coattails above his segmented legs and a perpetually dignified expression, the chief waiter raised his eyes on stalks up from perusing today's figures. "The girls have endured some light groping and teasing. Nothing more severe."
Shirley smiled at this report. "I'm sure they've given as good as they've got."
"Undoubtedly, Madam." He smoothed one claw through his upswept pompadour hairstyle before continuing. "In spite of their best efforts to clean us out, the food supply is still holding strong. Though I must say, the special group at Table 3 have shown no signs of stopping since they came in. One in particular is a bottomless pit in human form. And completely devoid of manners, I might add! Perhaps he is one of the commanders."
From back here she couldn't see the customer in question, but it hardly mattered. "Give them a little more leeway than the rest. We owe their crew a great deal."
The little brown arachnid huffed. Still, he didn't deny it. The Whitebeard Pirates would find themselves welcome virtually anywhere below Ryuuguu Palace. Here on Fishman Island their presence served to emphasize the continued protection afforded that underwater paradise by their captain, Edward Newgate, known also as Whitebeard, or simply the Strongest Man in the World. Were it not for his placing the merfolks' home under his auspices, they would still be at the mercy of vicious human slave traders eager to fetch a high price in the auctions of Saobody Archipelago. Returning to those hateful days was not a source of nostalgia.
After casting an appraising glance around her place of business, she declared with some satisfaction, "I'll take a rest before my next appointment."
"We shall see to it that no one disturbs you in the meantime." The crustacean nodded over to where Alfonso, a hulking whale shark fishman bouncer, loomed nearby. His intimidating presence served to prevent any curious customers from attempting to further relieve themselves of the burning questions no one else might hold an answer to.
Opening the door to her private office, Shirley paused with one hand on the frame. "What was the name?"
"Pardon, Madam? Oh!" Bastion began to rifle through his pages. "You mean of the next prospective client. Let me see, that would be…" He looked up then. "A fishman. Mr. Jones."
Her penetrating eyes met his watery black orbs. "Just Jones?"
"No further name was given. He will be arriving in one hour."
She nodded thoughtfully. 'Jones' was likely an alias. Not everyone wanted their dependence on a mystic to be common knowledge. "Very well. Keep things running smoothly until then."
"Naturally."
With that his employer closed the coral door behind her. Immediately the sounds of revelry diminished into an almost imperceptible hubbub. Her rooms were well insulated to ensure both privacy and comfort. Chests containing precious artifacts rested beneath cultivated coral, and silk draperies further lent their appeal to the environment. Dimming the lights, the beautiful mermaid moved towards the soft luminous glow emanating from an open giant clam. On its exposed fleshy interior she placed her crystal ball. At a specific touch the mollusk shut tightly, and the surroundings lapsed into further darkness. This did not prevent Shirley from seeing its contents in perfect detail. Her eyes were those of a deadly sea predator, and life or death depended upon where they fell.
At last the drowsy ocean-dweller settled down upon her spongy divan. As her head touched its soft sides, a particularly loud chorus of 'huzzahs' drifted faintly into her inner sanctum. Hosting Newgate's men was never undertaken lightly. Shirley was not unmindful of what being part of a pirate lord's territory entailed. Still, as far as seadogs went, the Whitebeard family stood head and tails above the rest, not only in strength of arms, but of character as well. There was hardly a bad egg in the bunch of them. The example set by their mighty father-figure went a long way towards instilling discipline and respectful behavior in these formidable rogues. Their division commanders were objects of veneration themselves, sporting incredible bounties in the world above as testament to their prowess. It was no wonder that the World Government did not dare tempt the wrath of Whitebeard for any minor reason.
All the same, one had to wonder how long this fragile peace would last. Newgate wasn't getting any younger. For all that King Neptune was afforded the title God of the Seas, his strength alone could never be as much of a deterrent to their enemies as the power of the Yonkou's army. Once Whitebeard died, it was highly likely that things would go bad very fast. Shadows were always lurking, watching for any opening or sign of weakness to steal into this aquatic nation.
But such forebodings remained nebulous, even for her. More prominent concerns occupied her thoughts. The fishman population was breeding troublemakers by the barrelful these days. It was their belief that sea-folk should be responsible for their own affairs without the intervention of land-dwellers, whether for good or ill. And businesses like her own that brazenly served humans often proved a target for those hooligans' frustrated ire. 'Til now none of the rebels had dared impugn the activities of the Mermaid Café. With their reckless behavior, however, it was only a matter of time before carnage exploded into their daily lives once more.
Thus far, Shirley's own visions of the future did not entail anything particularly dire. The world was in a state of peace and likely to remain that way for a span. Now was the time to enjoy what life had to offer. That was the way to be.
Beset by such thoughts, the weary maiden nestled her head on her arms and drifted off.
Light broke her slumber. For a while Shirley simply lay there without recognizing she had even been asleep. But the glow coming through her eyelids eventually registered as out of place.
When a rustling sound came as well, it proved enough to rouse her fully. There was someone in the room with her.
No actual sense of danger came at this realization. Shirley received no impression, whether otherworldly or natural, that her life might be in peril. All the same, her dominion had been invaded. Who would dare?
When she opened her eyes and sat up, the answer came quickly. The glow was coming from the clam strongbox that held her crystal ball. It had been opened. This in and of itself was worthy of notice. That living vault held strength in its joints greater than any creature in the deep ocean thrice its size. And she was the only person entrusted with the means to unlock it. For someone else to do so most likely meant they had forced it apart somehow. That would require a show of exceptional power.
Locating the culprit was not hard. Their dark silhouette stood before the clam, back seemingly turned to her. While bigger than a regular fishman, this person was still smaller than Shirley herself. The form was curiously unwieldy; somewhat barrel-shaped, with relatively short legs and long ropy arms. The shirt and pants were plain and of no noteworthy quality. Other than a long fall of kinky dark hair beneath the cloth head covering, there was nothing to draw attention to this figure.
Except that Shirley's keen nose detected a scent coming off him. Mixed with a shark's odor and one other smell she couldn't place right away came the unmistakable tang of blood.
The intruder's head turned slightly back and forth as though they were inspecting what lay before them. After a while one arm came up and they took a bite out of something, chewing loudly. It was this further display of bad manners that caused Shirley to finally speak up.
"Why are you in my chambers?" she demanded frostily.
Her visitor paused in the middle of his meal. At last he turned to regard his glowering hostess. Black eyes fringed by weirdly girlish lashes blinked before swallowing that last mouthful. Something red dribbled down his clean-shaven chin, and he wiped one bare brawny forearm across it. Finally, the crooked mouth grinned hugely.
"Nee-san, you finally awake? I've come looking to discuss my fate today."
Shirley studied this odd person. His lack of decorum was something that would have to wait. First there was the issue of how he had even gotten in her rooms to begin with.
"Who let you in here?"
He scratched his stomach, left bare by his open shirt. "Little fellow with antennae whiskers and big claws. I showed him my ticket, and he showed me right in." With that the brute reached into a pocket and proudly displayed one of her appointment stubs, somewhat wrinkled and worse for wear. The name on it was still clearly visible.
"Mr. Jones."
That tremendous smile didn't wilt a bit. "He be me."
Her veiled eyes flickered over to a large hourglass in another part of the room. Red sands trickled down smoothly, and by this she gauged the time. "If you are my next customer, you're half an hour early."
"That's what your little doorman said. Him and his blubbery friend. But I convinced them it would be all right. I'm not looking to be a bother, Nee-san, it's just I'm trying to keep this business quiet. What I learn here could affect the fate of the world, you know!"
It was more than a little discomforting the way he said that. Casually, but in a manner that people sometimes used to reveal very large or important events. Like they were so used to knowing it by now they expected everybody else to be just as relaxed upon learning that a hurricane was heading towards them, or that war had just been declared.
At this point, Madame Shirley suddenly determined a few things. The person standing before her was lying. He was a human. And the smell on his breath was cherry pie, of all things.
"You are not Mr. Jones."
The man sucked on a gap in his teeth, then shrugged. "Nope."
Shirley pointed peremptorily to the door. "Then I have nothing to say to you, other than to make an appointment and come back later."
She was about to turn away from him to ring for help if need be, when suddenly he shouted, "Wait, hold on!"
The princess of prognosticators looked back. For the first time his face had taken on a rather uncertain expression.
"Okay, I'll admit, I didn't come by this nicely." He held up the ticket. "I got into some roughhousing with this shark fellow Jones at a bar earlier. Him and his pals tried to strong-arm me, and I had to teach them a lesson. Not like I killed anybody!" the man added. "Jabberjaws will just be sporting a new scar on his gut from now on. But after the fight, I was looking through their pockets, plundering the way pirates do, and I came across this ticket! Had the time, address, everything. And you've got a good reputation from what folks say. Always wanted to meet you! Still, not like I could just walk up and ask for my fortune for everybody to hear. That would be announcing my intentions. It's just good luck that I came across this one. This is my appointment with destiny, I was meant to have it! Shouldn't you know that?"
His story explained the smell that clung to him. The bloodstains were still prominent on his shirt. But his vicious reasoning did nothing to convince her. In fact, she was feeling her temper fast start to boil at the implications.
"Did you harm any of my employees to get in here?" she growled, lifting off her seat and floating towards him on her bubble chair.
The unnamed interloper gazed upwards wide-eyed as that menacing female came to loom over him. He looked more surprised than scared. "I didn't lay a finger on them. You've got my word as a son of Whitebeard."
As he spoke that name, Shirley paused and sent him a questioning look.
"You? One of that man's crew?"
An eager nod was her response. "You bet! For about two decades now, I've been sailing under his command."
She considered this. Would anyone be reckless enough to claim association with Whitebeard if it wasn't true? Those that did inevitably found themselves facing the Yonkou's wrath, as neither he nor his followers took such things lightly. Maintaining their father's good name meant eradicating anyone who carelessly blasphemed or abused its power. Actually, all she had to do in order to verify this was open the door and ask one of the pirates currently enjoying her hospitality. The matter would be quickly settled, one way or another.
For some strange reason, though, Shirley found herself inclined to refuse him regardless of whether his claim be true or not. There was something about this man, a weird aura. It was not the same as the heavy foreboding she had received upon meeting certain forceful people in the past, like the infamous Dragon, or Crocodile of the Shichibukai. It was more the absence of any such warning that unnerved her. Clearly he was dangerous. Ordinary humans, even Whitebeard's sons, did not talk about casually defeating a party of super-strong mermen as though it were no significant feat. Yet here he stood, giving off no other impression besides that of a boastful glutton with a high opinion of his own importance. Nothing else, even to her occult perceptions. It was like he didn't exist on some level. What could it mean?
To find the answer, she would have to give him what he wanted.
"Very well," she declared. "I will tell you your fortune."
His round eyes brightened. "Great! Let's do this!"
The two of them took their places on either side of the sparkling globe. Bathed in the bioluminescent light of its base, they looked at one another. Shirley appeared cautious, while her client was positively vibrating with glee. Like he couldn't wait for what came next. He rubbed his hands together rapidly. "Say, I don't have to cross your palm with silver, do I?"
"No," she waved a hand. "That's an old gypsy trick. Your destiny will be made clear without heed of wealth."
"Okay, fire it up!"
With only a curl of her pert lips to demonstrate her distaste for this figure, Madame Shirley gazed deeply into the crystal ball.
Almost immediately the impression of disassociation that came from foretelling settled upon her. The interior of the stone swirled and darkened. This was a regular occurrence, nothing out of the ordinary.
But then, instead of clearing to reveal any sort of image, the ball grew darker.
And darker.
At last it went completely black.
Madame Shirley stared, entranced.
The man, seeing none of this transpiring, looked from the sphere back to her. "Anything yet?"
She was seemingly absorbed with whatever was taking place between them. Raptly the enchantress continued to peer at the mark of her craft.
Frowning, the pirate shifted from one foot to another and stuffed the remainder of the pastry into his mouth. He chewed warily for a while, in which the witch still made no move. She looked hypnotized.
Just when he was starting to wonder if this might all be a hoax, however, the great mermaid stirred. Immediately his excitement returned, and he eagerly plied her once more. "Well, Nee-san, what did you see?"
Lips slightly parted, Shirley did not look at him when she spoke.
"Darkness."
The change in his manner was immediate. Gone was the school-boyish energy that had animated him before. Now a new persona settled in across from her. This one was calm, and crafty, and very sure of itself.
"Where?" he demanded in a voice low with hunger. He hadn't asked for an explanation. It was almost as if he had been expecting her to say that very word. "Where can I find it? Who's got it now?"
Shirley lifted her head to him, a distracted look in her eyes. "What?"
"The Dark!" the man insisted, leaning forward impatiently. "Where do I have to look to find it?"
She stared at him for a time. "You misunderstand. The darkness I see isn't an aspect of your future. It is an absence."
A puzzled expression settled on his broken-nosed face. "Eh? You mean I'm going to die?"
"Inevitably. But that's not what I meant." Reaching out, Shirley retrieved her pipe from where she had left it. After inhaling and blowing out a soapy bubble, she looked down upon his eager form with a certain degree of sympathy. "There is a force at work in the world. Some call it Fate. Others God. A very few know it as the Will of D."
A smile crooked his lips when he heard that, but she pressed on before he could speak.
"I can clearly see the designs laid out for those who have walked into this grand purpose whether by chance or choice. But for you, there is nothing."
The big man scowled, clearly disturbed by her words. "I don't understand. What is my fate, then?"
She shook her head. "Nothing, as I said. There is no purpose you are destined to achieve. Whatever might happen to you from this day onward, it wasn't meant to be. And whatever you accomplish, it will not last, borne away by the efforts of other men."
Her words had an effect on him. For a moment he seemed to have forgotten there was anyone else in the room. His gaze drifted down to the crystal ball, and one large hand came up compulsively as though to seize hold of the future.
Shirley swiftly reached out, closing the lid of her strongbox. Immediately the room was lost in shadows, leaving her watching the place she had last seen him, an afterimage of that strange misshapen frame imprinted on her eyes. Perhaps that is what this person is, she reflected. A leftover, an echo of something unwholesome that was not permitted to exist.
A corruption.
"Whoever you are, you are not part of the plan, human."
The man's image leapt out to her by his body's electromagnetic field and scent. His mouth hung slack at this revelation, crumbs on his lips and disbelief on his face. Slowly his head drooped down and he stared at the floor, breathing deeply, limbs quivering with some unknowable emotion.
And then quite unexpectedly, he laughed.
"ZE-HA-HA-HA-HAH!"
It made her shiver, standing alone in a darkened room with that strange creature bellowing gleefully. But he made no move against her. Instead the man turned and shambled confidently towards the door, refraining from bumping into anything in spite of the dark. Upon reaching it he wrenched the portal open. Light and noise came spilling in.
Framed against that raucous backdrop, the nameless pirate looked over his shoulder and smirked at the fortuneteller.
"Those who can, do, Nee-san. It's true no one can fight their fate. But if mine is empty, all that means is it'll take a lot to fill it up!"
The two of them regarded one another for a while longer, him grinning cruelly, her frowning with distaste. Never had Shirley experienced a stronger revulsion towards another living thing. She felt certain of just having met someone who was capable of causing grievous harm to the time in which she lived. It made her briefly wish for a weapon of some kind to plunge into this monstrosity's back and snuff out his life before he could do any more damage than he already had.
There was no opportunity to do so, however. The only objects at hand were the trappings of her profession, silks and gemstones, soft pillows and beautifully carved coral. These things were not of any use in subduing such a menace. And around him still was the protection afforded by Whitebeard. One did not injure any of that lot unless you wished for the heavy hand of their leader to come down upon you.
Madame Shirley moved to the door as he left, keeping her eyes locked on that retreating form and wishing she did not feel so utterly helpless. The source of her distress made his way through the crowd without anyone else seeming aware of the danger he represented. And for all that she could not say what the future might hold in store for him, without a doubt it would mean suffering. Perhaps for a great many people.
"Madam!"
Glancing to her right she found Cecile holding a wet towel to his head next to a mermaid fanning the prostrate bouncer Alfonso with a white napkin. The maitre d' scuttled over to her anxiously. "Forgive me, Madam, I… I don't really know what happened! Some rogue insisted on seeing you, and my head became dizzy, and... the girls found me passed out along with Alfonso. I didn't want to disturb you unless… "
His waving eyes turned to follow where Shirley had been looking earlier, and he jumped a foot in the air. "Merciful Nyads, was that scoundrel in your quarters this whole time? I'll place a call to the city guard, they'll be sure to teach him a lesson!"
"No." She held up a hand to forestall him. "Don't make a fuss. Just let him leave peacefully."
He gawked up at her with worry. "But Madam, why…?"
The young businesswoman only shook her head, rubbing her arms to dispel any lingering chill. "Did anything else happen while I was asleep?"
Bastion appeared troubled by her refusal to elaborate further, but did not press it. "Well, that vociferous gentleman at Table 3 also passed out, right in the middle of eating. Could have drowned in his soup, but his crewmates insisted he does that all the time and it had nothing to do with my own episode. He should wake up any minute now according to them. Another guest drank too much and tried to go for a swim without realizing it was in the crab tank. We pulled three out of his pants before they could do any real damage, and he's calmed down sufficiently. Though he insisted nothing was lost as a result, his friends have taken to calling him Down-One Wally. Also, some fishmen made a deal of noise at the front entrance about being robbed by a guest and had to be chased off, after which…"
Shirley listened to him with half an ear. The rest of her concentration was bent on making sure a certain eerie figure exited without any further incident. No one else seemed to take note of his presence. He afforded them the same lack of interest. She watched the man wander past giggling mermaids and swaggering pirates without sparing them a glance. His walk was filled with determination, like there were places and people awaiting his presence and no time left to waste here.
Only when he had passed beneath the portico of the Mermaid Café and disappeared outside did she finally let herself relax. Shirley knew she could not fight him. But perhaps the revelations she had come across today might be of use to those who would.
"Cecile?"
"Yes, Madam?"
"I won't be seeing any more guests."
"I'll get to work clearing your schedule, then." He withdrew a sheet from his coat pocket along with a pencil. "When would you like to resume telling fortunes?"
"Never."
She turned and went back into her room, leaving the lobster-man speechless.
In years to come, Madame Shirley would tell any inquisitive people that she had given up predicting the future simply because it was better left unknown. What she neglected to mention was the fear she felt towards what might be approaching.
Or rather, who.
FIN.