Disclaimer: Still not mine.
The bids kept coming, yet Chopper didn't hear or pay any attention to anything around him other than all too familiar silhouette on the other side of the bars.
He's bound to stab us in the back, Usopp's words came back to him. They were huddled together, with backs to the railing and observing the dotted hat pulled over the dark-rimmed eyes from afar. Ever since setting sail, Law insisted on spending his days on the upper deck. It didn't fool Usopp, though. He is just waiting for a good moment.
"Hey, Law!" yelled Chopper through the noise. "Help me out! We had a deal!"
Words were lost in the ruckus. The overseer by the auction stage glanced down at Chopper and prodded him with a wooden staff. The reindeer bristled, but kept his eyes at familiar figure. "You hear me!? Law!"
The man stood motionless for a while, then pulled his hat over his eyes and slid back into the mass of bidders.
"LAW!"
"-o thousand five hundred, two thousand eight hundred,… three thousand-"
A woman seated in a third row from the scene weaved at the flustered man two rows from her. She had ribbons in her hair.
"-fifty, first, who will give more? Is it three thousand two hundred fifty belli?"
The man glared at the woman and put down his board, clearly disappointed.
"-irst, seco- four thousand!"
Auctioneer's voice cut through the commotion caused by another bid. Chopper slid down to his seat, resigned. It didn't matter who bought him now. His chances of escaping were next to nothing, not on his own and not with a collar round his neck.
"-sold!" Cried auctioneer through the roar of masses. Immediately, Chopper's cage was lifted and brought behind the scene.
"-adly accepted. Here is your order, sir."
A cage of ferrets, whimpering and choking on almost unbearable stench of stale air (how did humans survive this?) was lifted at Chopper's sight and passed onto the overgrown man apparently acting as a bodyguard to a plump kid. The kid looked about ten and was biting at his lollipop. The motion resulted in a slurping sound.
"Don't let them know you're scared! You're not anyone's property!" shouted Chopper after the ferrets.
You are the one saying that – the oldest ferret among the group met his gaze amidst the confusion.
Chopper stared, heart thudding. How could he not notice…
It was always easier to train the families, Breed said. Those were short moments Chopper wished never to come back to.
"437" vertigo shook Chopper out of his memories. Hauled at the eye level, he snarled at the face peering down at him from the outside.
"Perfect, sir." Auctioneer eyed the money, and with a well-practiced move passed them away to his assistant. "Behave, beast," he muttered. "They say you can talk, so I warn you: how you will act will decide your fate."
Biting off retort, Chopper glared at the man who apparently has won the auction for him. Tall and rather well-built, he towered over the auctioneer's assistant, waiting patiently for him to count the money and observing the process with sunglass covered eyes. Oversized coat and hood sloping over his forehead gave him a haggard appearance.
Breed all over again. Chopper felt sick.
"Here you go, sir," the assistant beckoned his helpers who took away the deposit. On cue, the cage was passed.
"Your order, sir." Brisk tone hid no satisfaction in auctioneer's voice. "I'm looking forward to seeing you again."
The outside was brittle with cold and hazy with clouds. Chopper trotted behind – he refused to think about the man in different terms – his unnecessary companion.
If he waited long enough, Luffy and others will notice him missing. They had less than a day's stay on this island, but Chopper was sure that the crew will not leave without him, alliances be damned. All Chopper had to do was to play along for a while and hope that his friends will be able to find him in this labyrinth of bazaars and streets.
Stupid Law.
A sudden halt shook Chopper out of his thoughts. The man before him stopped suddenly, almost resulting in collision.
They were in a backyard – a small, secluded memory of a garden squeezed between the cobblestoned walks, guarded by a rows of flats. The place could've been downright disheartening if not for a two men standing in an ostensible manner of varying attempts at looking intimidating.
"Heard you got yourself a deal here," spoke the shorter one, with long hair spiked in a painful resemblance of Franky.
It was so cliché. Chopper's usual past time back at Doctorine's was to listen the stories visiting patients and delivery men from the village shared with him. The stories were full of kings and thieves, brave warriors and knights fighting evil, sneaky bandits. The man before him could've been one of them.
"So what?" The indifference was all but oozing from the words. Chopper's ears prickled with unease. Something seemed off. He watched the man lean slightly to his side, a gesture suddenly reminding him of Zoro, just moments before a fight.
"Hairy Harry was lucky, but misinformed." The taller man on Franky-like's left fingered a halberd propped lazily in his hand. "Cotton Lover Chopper is worth more than a pesky four mill-"
"Misinformed or not, the rules are as it stands. The highest bid wins. The auction is over."
Bounty hunters. Chopper's heart skipped a beat. It was one thing to escape a private collector, but running from a professional trackers - another completely. He didn't want to put whole crew in unnecessary danger.
"Tough luck." The Franky-like one leaned forward, grinning. "Because, you see, we're here with the highest bid."
What happened next was a bit hazy to Chopper. One moment the hunters were standing at the opposite side of the backyard, the next thing they were rolling onto the dirt at Companion's feet. In pieces. Chopper's breath caught.
Trafalgar Law was taking off the obnoxious fur, dumping the coat and dark glasses in the nearby trashcan.
"Law! I thought you left me! A-are you crazy!? I seriously thought you are letting them sell me!"
"Keep it down or they'll hear us." Chopper didn't waver under the mild glare he received along with a response, too furious and relieved to care. Come to think of it, maybe the fact that he's been at the receiving end of similar looks for a past few weeks of their alliance helped a bit as well.
"The guys back here were just a messengers." Law sheathed Kikoku, not tearing his eyes off the men scrambling on the ground. They were crawling for their discarded body parts in a mayhem of curses. With a snap of his fingers, Law made the two -temporarily abandoned- sets of legs and an arm disappear from sight.
Still fuming, Chopper fell into steps after the older doctor.
"Whoever comes next, he won't bother with asking questions."
"Wait, does it mean Luffy and the others will be targeted too?" demanded Chopper. Luffy and Franky Sanji would be alright, he convinced himself, but anchored Sunny at the seaside was open to attacks, Zoro on board or not.
"Unlikely." Law strode through the streets, barely sparing a glance at his companion. This island is small, but crowded. The competition between the pirate hunters makes you the most likely target now that they know you were at Shoal's.
The rest of the crew would blend in. Probably. Chopper refused to feel relieved, not yet. They were on the street again, an old, run-down alley of decaying tenement houses and ghastly colourful stalls.
"Where are we going?" Chopper asked haltingly. He slowed down to a stop, hesitant. Law glanced over his shoulder and stopped as well. Chopper found himself fixed with yet another scrutinising look in the quietness of narrow alley.
"What."
Chopper looked down. He was free and relatively safe, yet the churn in his stomach didn't go away.
"I lost my things," he muttered, and voicing it brought the sheer weight of realisation. His bag, his supplies, even the book for Robin and Doctorine's tools. What use of a doctor was when he had no aids to carry out his treatment? You could put away wrapping himself against the cold or simple cuts, but it did not apply to stopping a haemorrhage. Even Hiriluk's hat was gone.
The silence stretched. Chopper's vision blurred momentarily, but he blinked away the obstructions. He thought he heard a quiet 'tch'. Law did a face heel turn and begin to march right back to where they came from.
"Law?"
"Get your bearings. We're getting your stuff back."
Things were not proceeding according to the plan.
This was nothing new, although with Punk Hazard and Breed incidents out of his way, the tendency was forming a worrisome pattern. The complications Law encountered ever since entering the alliance were piling up.
Miraculous as Straw Hats seemed to be, they appeared to be a true magnet for troubles. The reindeer trotted at Law's heels, subdued and full not for a first time this day Law pushed away the urge to snap at him or at least roll his eyes at the resemblance.
Soft fur and meek heart. Amazing what adversities could be shielded from by a loyal crew.
They arrived at another backyard. Turning back, Law faced the reindeer again and with a snap of his fingers removed his collar, for it to explode mid-air.
Reindeer stifled a yelp as a scarf and oversized jacket were thrown at him.
"Bounty hunters will be soon on to us the moment we set a foot back on to the street." It was sort of a relief to know that at least their first encounter has been productive – Law was a choosy customer when it came to clothing, but by no means would throw away a good chance while undercover. If dressing up was a means to push their pursuit off for a while longer, so be it. Scavenged coat and wide brimmed, fur lined hood were a satisfactory cover for him.
The reindeer looked uncertain. The scarf easily served him as both wraps and head cover, dangling off the antlers like from an oversized hanger.
"Won't they recognise the cloths of their friends?" ventured Racoon.
"They won't. In places like this, it's usually every man for himself. Sometimes a simple partnerships are formed. It helps to keep the share up. The messengers know our former disguises by now, but by the time they will update their bosses, we will be able to make sound reconnaissance. Now hurry. We've got to collect your stuff by sunset."
That, or risk Straw Hats' involvement and all the mess it will inevitably result in. From the three spare days Law reserved for Dressrosa meeting, one was lost to Breed, with another one ebbing away happily in this excuse of the black market. Further delays will be unacceptable.
Law knew his way around. He spent enough time running errands for Doflamingo to know how things worked.
"Let's go. First, we need to ask some questions…"
Davy Four Eyes was in a good mood today. First, there was a case of fairly well preserved antiques he managed to wheedle out of an unsuspecting old man at a quarter of their rightful price, then there was this talking pet somebody let loose in the middle of Harry's market imperium. Handsome provisions aside, the sheer interest in this exhibit allowed optimistic outlook on his commission.
He was therefore rightfully cheerful and not at all suspicious when an older gentleman with a really hairy kid stepped into his shop, asking for his just-in arrivals, Steene's Apothecary and Sunken Streets of Bolgravia. The surprise caught up to him at the payment point, however, when the gentlemen in question unsheathed his nodachi – a brilliant exhibit, worth at least 200 millions if the blade alone was anything to go by – and asked for the rest of his order.
Intuition kicked in as did the memory and Davy recognised in the presumed kid the very same reindeer he has sent just this morning to Hairy Harry.
Now, sprawled (or, in head's case, stuck) over the greater portion of his shop, all he could was watching his would-be customers sorting methodically through his uncatalogued belongings. As far as he understood, they were searching for the tasteless school set Davy dumped to his freshly emancipated apprentice, Maurice. Armed customer complaints came as an occupational hazard to Davy. If he could just wait until these two get either bored or caught by Vindi's henchmen, he would have discarded loot retrieved. Missing meetings was not in his habit – additional offering will cover up for any delays.
Some bosses were sticklers to appointments.
"What's this?" Davy's breath caught as he watched a tall man fish out a set of pre-Ethyryjan's hairpins out of the storage box.
These were worth more than 20 millions. To see them contaminated by unprofessional hands hurt literally and figuratively. As did his tongue which Davy bit to hold off his remark.
"You don't deal with jewellery, do you?" The man turned to face him, precious metal jingling softly in tattooed hands. Davy considered his options. The noble art of salesmanship dictated truth to not be among them.
"Fresh division, sir. Only recently, I managed to assemble an excellen-"
The earring went back to a box with a jingle of metal, followed by a small dust cloud.
"Antique shops don't do 'new'," said the man.
"Consider our visit a favour for safekeeping of these," he added, motioning at the reindeer with an armful of books to follow him to the exit. "You could be worse off."
Stuck to the tapestry and running out of precious time, Davy felt the professional façade slip. "Like what!?"
The grin flashed in his direction from man's place at the doorstep did not look promising.
"You could have always been offered the highest bid."