The room they entered was spacious and dimly lit. There wasn't much furniture in it, save for some plush couches arranged in a circle at the centre of the room and a well-stocked bar against the far wall. It was quiet enough that Sanji could hear the distant thumping of the club's music upstairs through the ceiling.
A few men stood at the centre of the room, surrounding a stretcher. Sanji saw Killer's form on the stretcher, moving his shredded arm to rest on his chest. At least he was still alive. A man wearing a thick, red, fur coat, stood beside the stretcher. He said something Sanji didn't quite catch, and nodded to the medics, who proceeded to wheel Killer away through another set of doors at the back of the room.
The man turned to Sanji. Bright red hair spiked up from the top of his head, held up by a pair of goggles. He was pale, and as he saw Sanji, his stern face broke out into a wide and devilish grin. But the grin soon fell when he glanced over Sanji's wounds.
"For fuck's sake, Wire, you brought him here like this?" he grumbled.
The man who accompanied Sanji flinched. "But you said-"
"Jesus Christ... Heat, patch him up before he passes out and dies!"
The red-haired man turned and walked away as another new face presented itself to Sanji. This man, who Sanji presumed was Heat, didn't look any less bizarre than the rest of them. He was shirtless and his arms and neck were covered in tattoos of thorny vines. Grey dreadlocks, and a face that looked like a bare skull. Heat gestured to the couches.
"Sit," he sad, his voice gravelly.
Deciding to just go along with things for now, Sanji slumped down on the edge of the circle of couches. The adrenaline drained from him, and he felt light-headed as soon as he settled. His wounds let themselves known by sending hot, stinging sensations up his arm and down his spine. His eyes welled up, but he kept the tears in and gritted his teeth in an attempt to fight off the pain.
The dreadlocked man pulled up another chair and reached for Sanji's arm. The cook recoiled, and Heat frowned. He tapped at the white box on his lap.
"Hey, either I patch you up or we cut your arm off," he said, tilting his head to the red-haired man across the room. "Cat bites can be fatal."
Sanji followed his line of vision and watched the redhead rummaging around the bottles behind the bar. He didn't notice it before, but his left arm was prosthetic. Obviously so. Gears and wires exposed and uncovered by synthetic skin like Franky's modifications that Sanji was so used to seeing. He couldn't decide which he found more unusual.
Sanji extended his wounded arm out to Heat. He winced when the pain shot up his muscles. Heat unravelled the cloth around the wound and Sanji could hear the sticky noise of drying blood coming apart.
Heat pulled on the shoulder of his jacket. "Do you mind?"
Sanji shook his head and shrugged it off, leaving the other man to gently pry it apart from his right arm. He glanced up when the red-haired man approached them, extending his prosthetic hand to Sanji with a grinding of tiny cogs and whirring of pistons. The cook eyed the small glass he was being offered, watching the honey-like liquid slosh around at the bottom.
The man nodded. "Go on, don't be shy."
Sanji took the glass and lifted it to his lips. It smelt like whisky, and when he downed the contents, it sent a soothing warmth down his throat. Carefully putting the glass down, he turned to watch as Heat rolled up his shirtsleeve away from his wound.
Sanji held back a gasp. His eyes widened and his jaw slacked, feeling the blood drain from his face. It looked far worse than it felt. Four large gaps in his flesh, exposed muscle bleeding out everywhere. He swallowed, his heart racing as he willed his hand to move. A shiver rendered him paralysed when he found he could only twitch the two smallest fingers at the end of his hand. Shit. This can't be happening.
"Just relax," said Heat, as he sprayed the wound with liquid from a green bottle.
The stinging got worse and Sanji grunted and turned away. He'd have to panic later. Hopefully, this haphazard doctor can patch him up and his hands would still work.
The redhead laughed, amused by his pain. Sanji watched as he pulled out a glowing blue orb from the pocket of his fur coat. In response, a circular disk rose from the floor in front of the cook.
"You know, blondie, you and I share a lot of things in common."
Sanji gave him a blank stare. I fail to see how. The words never left his lips, as the redhead placed the orb onto the disk and a hologram projected into the room. Sanji froze. It was Zoro, hoping around on the balls of his feet, edging closer towards a hologram of Killer.
"Your 'tiger'," said the man, and Sanji glanced up to see him grinning down at him like a scheming madman. "Bet you thought no one would recognise him when you brought him in, huh?"
Sanji knew he was gawking, but he couldn't stop. His mind fought against the weight of fatigue on his body, reeling through his memories as he tried to place the man's face. What did he mean by 'recognise'? Did this guy work for the Company? Did he know about Law's project and about Zoro? What the hell was he doing in a place like this?
"Uh…" Sanji stalled, unsure of which answer would get him in the least trouble.
Heat cleared his throat. "Kid, manners."
The man sighed and scratched at his fiery hair.
"Oh the petty social processes of the common folk. Fine. Whatever. The name's Kid. I own anything and everything you've seen tonight. The club, the ring, Killer. Everything."
Sanji took a slow breath, hiding his sigh of relief. The owner, of course. At least he knew he wasn't at risk of the Company finding out what he'd been doing with the tiger. In fact, the most this guy probably wanted was compensation for what happened tonight.
"How much do you want?"
Both Kid and Heat stopped to stare at the blonde.
"Excuse me?" asked Kid.
"How much do you want?" Sanji repeated. "Money's not a problem. Name your price."
The silence drew out in the room, increasing Sanji's discomfort. Then Kid boomed out in laughter. Even Heat gave a few uneasy chuckles before he returned to treating Sanji's arm. Kid clasped a heavy hand on Sanji's shoulders.
"I like you already. But I don't want your money, I've got plenty of my own. Especially from tonight's spectacle."
He gestured back to the fighting holograms. It replayed the first moment Zoro bit Killer. Sanji winced, the wound on his arm aching at the sight. He was lucky to have gotten out of that better off than the other Companion.
"Perhaps we've got some wires crossed," said Kid. "Let me start at the beginning. This tiger of yours is quite a marvel. What d'you call him?"
"Uh… Marimo," stuttered Sanji, remembering the tiger's fake name just in time.
Kid grimaced. "Ugh. Not very threatening, but I guess that'll add to his charm. I'm impressed. You've modded him quite well. He actually looks like a tiger."
Modded? Sanji frowned. He couldn't have been this lucky. There was no way these idiots thought Zoro was just another feline Companion. His frown dispersed. Well, they were idiots after all.
"I worked hard on Killer," Kid continued. "But people still couldn't get it. Managed to get his mane implanted last week. Now he looks like a real King of the Jungle."
Sanji's brows furrowed, as he watched the hologram scene turn bloody and violent.
"I'm… I'm not sure I follow…"
Kid frowned. "Did your Companion hit your head when he bit you, or are you normally this slow?"
He strode over to the transponder and flickered it off, the holograms disappearing just as Sanji entered the scene, kicking Zoro away from Killer. Good. He didn't need to relive that moment again.
Kid placed a different transponder onto the disk. A green orb that then projected a simple, still image into the air. Sanji's face ached with all the confused frowning he was doing. As if this night couldn't get any more surreal.
The projected image appeared to be a poster. Bold letters jumped out at the top: MONSTERS OF THE OLD WORLD. There were a few crudely drawn images of what Sanji assumed were Companions, surrounded by more words he didn't have time to read, as Kid stepped in front of him.
"Monsters of the old world," he read out the caption. "Pretty catchy, huh?"
Sanji could only stare blankly at him. Kid didn't look impressed.
"I guess I'll have to put this into context for you. You must know, as much as I do, that there aren't many people left who remember the old world. Less so, people who want to remember it."
He turned back to the disk and placed another orb onto it. Several projections launched themselves into the room, all replays of other Companion fights.
"It's funny how these people seem to congregate in one place. I used to think I was the only one fascinated by beasts long dead and gone. I'm sure you thought the same, before tonight."
He paused and pulled one of the holograms closer. The fight was between an equine Companion and what Sanji thought was a grey-furred bovine Companion. Except this bull had his horns shaven and had two protruding from the end of his snout.
"But here you have prime examples of owners who want to cling to the past as pathetically as we can in this day an age. This guy was the first one I'd met. I laughed when I first saw him, but speaking to his big-mouthed owner after the fight, I learnt that he'd modded him to look like the old, African rhino."
Kid and Sanji watched the rest of the fight play out in silence. The 'rhino' finished off his opponent by lashing out with the two sharp horns at the end of his snout.
"It's uncanny," said Kid, pushing away the hologram and pulling up a familiar one. "But he wasn't as impressive as your Marimo."
Sanji's stomach churned as the scene of Zoro ripping into Killer presented itself again.
"He's fast," said Kid with a smirk. "Up until now, no other Companion's been faster than my Killer."
Then he pushed the hologram into the background again, and Sanji tried his best to ignore it.
"So?" said Kid, beaming down at the blonde. "What d'you think?"
Sanji looked up at him. "I… I don't get it…"
Kid's grin cracked into a scowl. He was getting impatient.
Heat sighed, and Sanji looked down to see that he'd finished wrapping up his arm in a bandage.
"Kid's not the best at explaining things," said Heat.
"Hey!"
"Basically, we hold grand tournament events every so often," Heat continued, cutting off the irate redhead. "Just something to boost the income of this place. So, in a few months time, we're holding a tournament especially for Companion's who've been modded to look like animals of the old world."
Sanji glanced down at his arm, half listening to the explanation. He willed his hand to close, relief washing over him like cool water when it did. It felt stiff, and his muscles screamed at every movement, but he was glad his hand still worked.
"Your tiger's perfect," said Kid, pulling Sanji's attention back to the topic. "We want him in."
The words started to sink into Sanji's brain then. Tournament. Tiger. Animals of the old world.
He jerked. "No."
"No?" Kid's voice rose, his face now a permanent scowl. "What do you mean 'no'?"
Sanji shook his head. "Sorry. Uh, coming here was a mistake. He wasn't supposed to enter the fight. I don't even know how he managed to slip in here. We weren't supposed to be here."
Kid's face levelled with clarity. "Ah, I get it. It's the rabidity, right?"
"What?"
"Don't worry about it. Heat has some pills we can give the cat that'll calm him down on fight nights."
Sanji shook his head again. "No, no. He's not rabid."
Heat stared at him like he'd just grown a second head. "You're joking."
"He's not rabid," Sanji insisted.
Kid chuckled a wrapped an arm about the blonde's shoulders. "Listen. If you want my advice, Companions never really get better once they're rabid. I say start with a clean slate. Just get him cloned and dump the crazy one."
Sanji reeled away from his grasp. "What?"
"'Money's not a problem,'That's what you said, right? I'm sure you can afford cloning."
"He's not rabid!" Sanji rose his voice. "And he's not really mine to clone, anyway."
Kid sighed and rolled his eyes. "Oh, great. Lemme guess: Pretty little rich boy's daddy won't give him his own Companion to play with, so you took his without permission and now you've got him rabid and injured in a Companion fight."
Sanji glowered. "The fuck are you talking about?"
"Look, I don't give a damn if your cat's a liability or not. For all I care, it's good money. Now are you going to show at the tournament, or not?"
"No! There's your answer. You happy?"
Sanji reached down and swiped his jacket up with his uninjured arm.
"Are we done here?" he asked, but didn't wait for an answer, and headed for the door.
"I haven't finished treating your wounds!" Heat called out after him.
"I don't fucking care," muttered Sanji. He couldn't feel the scratches anymore, so they couldn't have been that bad.
Sanji stomped down the dim hallway ignoring the placid jellyfish on the walls. He was going to get Zoro and they were both getting away from this place and putting as much distance between themselves and these weirdos as possible.
The underground fighting ring was deserted when Sanji returned. It was deathly quiet compared to the roaring crowds earlier. The contrast jarred with him. No one was left in the building, save for the people with silver headsets, each one armed with a dart gun. But they all stood a good distance away from the ring, and none of them looked willing to use their guns anymore.
He approached the glass. Zoro sat in the middle of the pit, hugging his knees, tail curled around him. He didn't move. His stare fixated on one, distant spot.
A few of the men with silver headsets approached him. One of them raised his gun. Sanji recognized him as the guy Kid referred to as Wire.
"Want us to sedate him?" he asked.
"No," Sanji shook his head vigorously. "Lower the shield."
They looked hesitantly at one another.
"It's fine," insisted the cook. "He's calm now, see?"
Wire's glance moved with uncertainty between the tiger in the pit and back at Sanji.
"What are you gonna do with him?" he asked.
"I'll just take him and you're going to let us walk out of here. No dart guns."
Wire shook his head. "No way. That Companion's defunct. You'll have to put him down."
"He's not defunct."
"I know it's not easy to accept, but Companions don't just go around biting their owners."
"I don't own him, and there's nothing wrong with him!" Sanji sighed, patting the pockets of his jacket for his box of tobacco.
"Look, just lower the shield and let us leave. Then you don't have to worry about seeing our faces again."
Wire gave Sanji a once over, then took a deep breath and raised his hand to the people behind him.
"Lower the shields!"
Something metallic clunked under the floor and cogs whirred to life. Sanji watched the glass shield sink into the floor, passing the time by rolling a cigarette. His arm twitched and spasmed, resulting in the worst cigarette he'd rolled since the first one he ever made.
When the shield was low enough, he stepped over it and hopped back into the pit. He winced as the force of his landing jarred with his wounds, but continued to walk it off, approaching the sulking tiger.
Zoro watched him as he walked closer. His eyes were back to their normal glowing amber. Balancing his jacket on his uninjured arm, Sanji struggled to get his cigarette lit, distracting himself from Zoro's stare. He stopped less than a meter away. Zoro remained motionless. Only watching. Sanji gave him a once over. He looked uninjured, but his fur was scuffed and flecked with blood. He could barely see the stripes on his muzzle and under his chin.
The cook took a long drag of smoke, letting it burn his lungs and sooth the tension in his chest. He sighed the smoke pouring out of his lips and evaporating in the air.
"Let's go," he said, and turned to head back to the edge of the pit.
His footsteps echoed off the walls of the pit. Just his. Sanji stopped and turned back to find the tiger still sat in the same spot, eyes downcast on the floor.
"Zoro," Sanji called him.
The tiger's ears twitched. He looked up and met Sanji's glance, the light glinting off his amber orbs and giving it that same silver sheen Sanji first saw in the warehouse. What was going through the tiger's mind right now? What was he feeling? What was he thinking of doing next?
Then, Sanji realised what he must be waiting for. He glanced up around the pit, spotting none of the guards.
"It's alright," he called back to Zoro. "They'll let us leave. They won't shoot."
After a moment, the tiger rose and slowly made his way towards the cook. Sanji smiled a little, relief flooded through him at the fact the tiger wasn't mad at him or anything. But they were far from home and safety yet.
Sanji leapt back up out of the pit. He noticed some the guards startle and back away. Zoro must've followed him, but the cook didn't want to chance checking over his shoulder.
Wire walked over to them, keeping his dart gun to his side and away from view.
"Leave through the fire exit," he said, pointing to the green doors glowing at the back of the room. "It'll take you right up into the street, and you shouldn't bump into anyone."
Sanji nodded. "Thanks."
He followed Wire's directions and headed straight up the stairs of the fire exit without checking behind him. Sanji didn't know why. But he didn't want to turn around and face the tiger until they were out. Maybe he didn't want to see the tiger's dejected face, or whatever expression he could be holding while his back was turned.
But once they got outside, and cool air that followed the rain hit the coat of sweat on his skin, Sanji couldn't resist anymore. He turned around, watching Zoro come up the steps a distance behind him. When the tiger got to the street, he met Sanji's glance momentarily, before looking away.
"You alright?" asked the blonde.
Zoro's ears twitched towards him, but his attention was focused on something down the alleyway. Sanji sighed and headed towards the station.
"Let's go home," he said, satisfied when he heard the tiger's faint and dragging footsteps following his.