Chapter 12: The Society
It wasn't long before the Syndicate's Inner Circle called on the pair—who now had become well established as partners—for a new assignment.
The briefing was fairly straight-forward; they were to attend a secret gathering of several notorious black market dealers who met once a year at a place called Deville Island. It was a small island that looked deserted from the outside, but contained a secret underground mansion that was rather popular for these types of meetings of the inhabitants of the underworld.
It would be a good opportunity, Scarlet explained, to make contact with other brokers in different businesses and to put out some feelers in other directions. Perhaps it could even open up doors in other markets or other places in the world.
Aylin was good with words—it was the reason that half of her job consisted of negotiation—so it was no surprise that she'd been selected. She was never seen without the ten-foot-tall Rocinante by her side, and so it was a given that he would be accompanying her as well. He looked and acted tough on the regular, doubling as muscle and body guard though he could be quite charming when he wanted to. On the other end of the spectrum, he could be a complete asshole. As far as the Syndicate was concerned, he'd been a great pick overall for his demeanor and abilities. They encouraged the partnership between them two of them, as they balanced each other out quite well.
For this particular mission, the Inner Circle had decided to send someone else with the pair; one of the Syndicate's own Curators, a demure woman by the name of Denise de LaCroix. Denise wore long gloves and hated touching anything with her bare hands. She wore slinky dresses that hugged her waspish frame and was never seen without her makeup or the long strand of pearls she wore around her neck. To most she was off-putting, but she could be very persuasive if the situation called for it, especially to those of the male gender.
Denise called everyone 'darling' and always seemed to take the words of others with a grain of salt, never expecting people to fulfill their promises, and not always keeping her own. She only did what was best for herself and for the Syndicate.
The addition of a Curator was rather intriguing to Aylin, who later explained to Rocinante that it was somewhat rare for their rank to be seen outside of the Syndicate's walls. There were only ever about two or three of them within the entire organization at one time, and, given the fact that their main job was to care for the contents of the Syndicate's vault and guard its secrets with their lives, Aylin was a bit surprised that Blackburn felt he could spare one of them.
Just what exactly was this mission about, anyway?
After about three days of sailing, Denise declared loudly that she'd had enough of the ocean. She had no sea legs whatsoever, and spent most of the relatively short voyage expelling the contents of her stomach over the railing.
"I simply can't stand the sea, darling, this is why I usually stick close to home. I have a wide reach with my den den mushi, but it seems like they absolutely could not do this mission without me." She winked up at Rocinante who was bent over slightly, offering her a glass of water.
"Please drink this Miss Denise, you're going to get dehydrated…"
"Oh thank you, darling…" The woman reached for the glass, but her face immediately turned green, her cheeks puffing as she threw her torso over the top of the railing to vomit again.
Finally, on the fourth day, they reached their destination, although Rocinante had to question whether or not they were actually on the right island (the ship's navigator assured him several times in succession that this was, indeed, Deville Island).
It was heavily wooded, much different from their last landing place. He could hear various birds singing as they pulled up to the sun-bleached wooden dock. The air felt cool and crisp, but not chilly. Rocinante guessed that this was a spring island as he caught sight of a patch of wildflowers growing right where the dock met the land.
There was no sand here, only rocks, and lots and lots of woods. Beyond the docks was a short grassy plain covered in the wildflowers, but cutting through it was a well-worn path of hard-packed dirt that led straight into the middle of the forest. There, an obviously manicured road looked as though it led toward the center of the island.
Rocinante wondered just how people lived on this island. Were the trees like a protective bubble or were all the houses just stuck in-between the trees where they could fit? Were there even houses at all? He scratched his head absent mindedly as he jumped over the side of the ship and bounded down the dock, immediately face-planting in the wildflowers.
"OOPS!" He rolled on his back and stared up into the sun, making a Rocinante-shaped indent in the grass and flowers and grinning like a fool. "Oh, I'm so glad I didn't fall into the water!"
Aylin landed neatly on the dock, striding along its wooden planks until she reached the grassy area where he was still sprawled out on the ground. She tilted her head a moment, listening to the bird songs around them. Save for those, it was fairly quiet.
Denise walked down the gangway, swaying her hips as she smoked a cigarette mounted inside of a sleek black holder.
"Darlings, I'm relieved to see land again. I thought I was going to die." Her voice came out flat and monotone as usual and Rocinante and Aylin were never sure whether to take her seriously. Denise was certainly a weird one, but the Syndicate considered her valuable so they were doing their best to get along with her.
Denise joined the pair in the grassy field, wrinkling her nose as she stepped gingerly onto the ground, looking like she hated the outdoors just as much as she hated the sea.
Aylin eyed her from the side, slightly amused. She paused for only a moment longer, staring into the trees ahead of them. "Looks like there's only one way in from here..."
She glanced down at Rocinante as he scrambled to his feet. After the last incident with the Alfredo Family, she felt more wary than ever, though at least they had arrived fully armed this time. What with the seedy sorts of people they would be expected to mingle with, there was simply no way any of them would have foregone a weapon.
Rocinante dusted off his pants and bowed, holding his hands out towards the path "Ladies first!" He bent down and picked a large yellow daisy as the two women went on ahead, though it didn't take him long to catch up with Aylin given his long legs. He swiftly placed the daisy into her hair and giggled at the action.
She gave him a stern look at this, to which he immediately covered his mouth, but her eyes betrayed the fact that she wasn't actually mad.
As they entered the path Rocinante was on high alert, noting how although the birds could still be heard and some rustling from other wild animals in the brush here and there, it was extremely quiet. He supposed the woods were a great sound absorber.
"Hey Lin ," he whispered, "um…so these guys weren't meeting us at the dock? Did you get any other specific instructions? Kinda rude of them not to welcome us…hmmm."
Aylin frowned as her eyes darted about their surroundings. "I was given an address. Supposedly there's a small town nestled in here." She shook her head as they continued along the dirt road. She could sense his unease, and couldn't fault him for it. "Believe it or not, I've negotiated deals in stranger locations. It's sketchy, but I suppose it needs to be in order to stay secret..."
"Oh don't fret, darling," Denise drawled as she took a long drag on her cigarette. "I've been to several of these affairs before. Just follow my lead. I do hope they managed to procure some decent spirits this time...last year it was quite a disaster and I was forced to ingest boxed wine. Can you imagine?"
"You didn't have to drink it," Rocinante pointed out, only to have that statement met with harsh laughter.
"Clearly you've never been to such a function. If these things don't drive you to drink as well, then I suppose I could consider you just as uncultured as the rest of them." She grimaced as she continued walking beside them.
The trek through the woods was largely uneventful. They moved in mostly silence until Rocinante pointed out something up ahead, his height giving him the best vantage point. As they drew closer, the three of them observed what appeared to be an abandoned village. Decaying wooden houses rose up amidst clumps of grassy overgrowth. They counted about seven of them, plus one site that had been burned to the ground. Nearly every window had been smashed and several of the rooftops were crumbling.
"Looks like nobody's been here in a long time," Rocinante observed, noting a rust-covered bicycle leaning against the decrepit dwelling nearest to them.
"The settlers must have been driven out when the brokers started gathering here," Aylin surmised, glancing around. "The entrance is actually in one of these old homes..."
Denise swaggered her way closer to the broken down buildings. "Tsk…it's been awhile since I've been here…I never travel by sea if I can help it, you understand after that voyage, right darlings? I'm not looking forward to the one home either. Ah…let's see…"
Rocinante and Aylin watched on as the Curator began walking up to each house, studying them intently for something that was anyone's guess. She made little contemplative noises now and then, curls of smoke from her cigarette trailing after her as she ambled about.
Upon reaching the second to last house, she made an agreeable noise. "It's this one, darlings," she said, gesturing toward the dilapidated wood. "You see? It's got the Society symbol discreetly carved here. Pity we have to walk through all this rot and rubbish to get to the actual opening." She blew a cloud of smoke up over her head and gestured with a long, gloved finger toward the pair behind her. "Follow me…"
They followed her through the empty door frame, finding themselves having to wade through some rotted leaves and wood before they arrived at what was evidently the actual entrance to the secret meeting place.
The Society symbol she'd pointed out earlier was carved into the floor and most of the debris had been cleared away, letting them know that they were definitely not alone on this island. Denise pushed the heel of her shoe into a certain spot on the floor and the stone panel the Society symbol was carved on moved, revealing a descending staircase.
The woman smiled over her bare shoulder at her companions before swaggering down the staircase. Rocinante glanced down at Aylin, shrugging and then motioning for her to go on ahead.
Denise's heels clacked loudly down the stairs, the sound bouncing off the close confines of the walls.
Rocinante gripped the banister for dear life, praying he wouldn't lose his balance and end up bowling the ladies over and causing them all to avalanche down the stairs. It would be super embarrassing for the Syndicate if they made such an entrance.
Finally, after what seemed like ages, they saw the light at the end of the tunnel and stepped out into it.
"Maurice, darling!" Denise shouted as she held her hands up over her head and a middle-aged suavely dressed man rushed over and then took one of her hands down and kissed it.
"You look ravishing Miss de LaCroix," Maurice answered, eyeing her appreciatively.
The woman smiled charmingly as she pulled another cigarette out of her purse and placed it into her fancy holder. "Oh, darling, it's so kind of you to say so. I feel like I've just been through hell to get here. I simply would have died if this had been a summer island, I abhor humidity! Do you mind?" She bent down slightly placing the holder between her lips and motioned for him to give her a light.
"With pleasure!" Maurice's cheek's flushed as he pulled out a golden lighter and lit the cigarette for her.
"Are Barney and Lizette here yet? I have so been wanting to see them again, I hope we weren't TOO late to the party."
Rocinante had to duck to enter the room—no surprise there—and was immediately astounded at the sight that greeted him. The dark staircase had led them into a huge underground building with vaulted ceilings at least eighteen feet high, which came as both a surprise and a relief to him. The tiled floor was extremely shiny, reflecting light off of the dozens of crystal chandeliers that hung from the ceiling.
Soft music drifted into the room from the main hall ahead, as well as the garbled voices of many people conversing among one another. Most people were dressed for the occasion, the men donning the best suits they owned and the women clad in sleek, fancy dresses. Denise fit right into the crowd, and it wasn't long before Aylin and Rocinante completely lost track of her.
"Looks like our babysitter wandered off," Aylin commented under her breath, her tone suggesting she was glad for that fact.
She had little doubt that Denise would be able to secure at least a dozen new partners that evening, as expected of a Curator within the Blackburn Syndicate. Still, she and Rocinante were also expected to do their fair share of schmoozing. She glanced up at her partner, meeting his eyes and gesturing for him to come along with her.
Heading into the room ahead, the sounds of light jazz music filled their ears. Small groups of people congregated at round tables, many of them holding glasses filled with various alcoholic beverages from a large open bar nearby. Servers holding platters of appetizers were circulating the room, pausing every so often so that a guest could take a sample of food.
Rocinante nearly ran one of them over as he was gazing around the large ballroom. It was a show of extravagance and power; something that tugged at him, something from long ago at the back of his mind. He felt his vision cloud over for a moment, but then Aylin's hand tugging on his long sleeve broke through the haze.
"Come on, let's get this over with," she said, looking a little embarrassed before pasting a huge, fake smile onto her face as she turned toward the giggling pair of socialites nearest her.
Rocinante grinned down at her, and they waded into the crowd together.
oOo
Several hours later, Aylin had finally caved into the temptation of partaking from the open bar. She swirled a particularly strong martini, feeling as though her lungs might catch on fire as she breathed in the smell and took the first sip. Socializing with all of the powerful, uppity people always drained her of her mental energy and so she was taking a much-needed breather.
They had made several good contacts, thanks to both Aylin's clever way with words and Rocinante's charm. Still, they hadn't been nearly as successful as Denise, who had managed to charm a great deal of the men and some of the women as well. She was constantly surrounded by a small throng of people who laughed at everything she said and paid rapt attention to whatever she was talking about.
Rocinante came up alongside Aylin, grinning at her when she glanced up. He was holding a tall glass filled with some orange and pink liquid that also sported several citrus fruit slices at the top.
"I like my booze to taste good," he defended himself when he noticed the look she gave his beverage. He sat down at one of the stools and leaned down slightly to talk quietly in Aylin's ear. "How much longer do you think this is going to be?"
Aylin sighed a bit more heavily than she intended, a warm feeling beginning to spread to her fingers and toes. "Long enough for you to finish that girly drink." She shrugged after a moment, watching a group of particularly well-dressed men and women as they laughed boisterously. "See those people over there...? That's the Society. Denise mentioned they hold a special event at the end of every gathering. Last year it was a raffle for billions of beli's worth of illegal drugs..." She trailed off as she took another slow sip of her drink.
Rocinante made a face and stared down into his drink before taking a sip. "Yeah, and thousands of ruined lives, I'd wager." He gulped a few more sips down. "Wonder what it'll be this year…I'd guess guns or bombs, maybe." He frowned after a moment. "It's kind of exhausting, having to come up with answers to all their questions. I'd rather just not have to say anything at all."
Aylin jabbed him in the side and shook her head. "As if you could ever keep your mouth shut."
"Stranger things have been known to happen." Rocinante grinned down at her. "Well, I guess we could think of this as a date…" His grin widened when she rolled her eyes. "It's just too bad there isn't any dancing. That dance floor is going to waste, though knowing me I'd end up with my ass on it instead of my feet. Mmph..."
He sipped his drink some more as he noted that the people Aylin had pointed out as the 'Society' were moving towards the front of the room where a podium was set up, a set of large wooden double doors behind it. He supposed that beyond those doors must be where they were keeping this year's prize.
The man called Maurice, whom Denise had greeted earlier, stepped up to the podium and pulled the receiver off a den den mushi microphone.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," he began, the sound of his booming voice quieting the crowd, "allow me to personally welcome you all to the Society's annual gathering. It's because of patrons such as yourselves that we've been able to hold these events each year, and so with that in mind, I'd like to thank each and every one of you for coming out tonight. I hope you've been enjoying yourselves and meeting some new people, rubbing elbows and the like! As I'm sure you all know, our end-of-meeting raffles are always highly anticipated. This one will not disappoint! In fact, I'm confident you'll find that this year's prize is the best one yet." He gestured behind him toward the wooden double-doors, giving a nod to two younger men in matching tuxedos.
They immediately moved to open up the large, ornate doors.
Rocinante leaned forward in anticipation, only for the next emotion he felt to be horror.
The prize was not drugs, nor was it guns or bombs.
It was people.
Three young women, two young men, an older man with a scraggly gray beard, and about five small children of varying ages and genders. They were all in chains, with cuffs around their necks, wrists, and ankles. Their heads were all hanging down, and many of them sported bruises or black eyes. Even the children were completely silent, their lips trembling with fear and eyes brimming with unshed tears.
Maurice only continued to grin as his eyes swept over the crowd, absolutely relishing in their horrifyingly positive reactions to his so-called prizes. "That's right! Premium slaves! These young ladies can cook and clean, and service you in other ways I'm sure…" He leered at the one closest to him. "These two young men are strong, with good solid backs, you might even want to use them as your own personal steeds! As for this old codger here, he may not look like much, but he was once a tinkerer, and he has the finest hands for craftsmanship on the Grand Line. These young ones here have minds and bodies ripe for molding as well, to suit your needs. So what do you all think of this year's haul, eh? Pretty amazing, right?! Yes, indeed, the Society certainly does aim to please!"
Maurice bowed deeply as the crowd erupted into applause and cheers and people nearby began whispering excitedly.
The sound of glass breaking beside him was the only thing that caused Rocinante to tear his eyes away from the sick showcase of terrified innocents. Upon glancing down, he saw that Aylin's glass had slipped from her fingers and was now in hundreds of glittering pieces on the floor. Her eyes remained fixated on the display on the stage before them, almost as though she hadn't even noticed.
Maurice was making a big show of holding up a large box full of raffle tickets that the guests had filled out, eliciting much excitement from the crowd as he shook it back and forth.
"Ooh, I hope I win this year!" A man nearby said loudly. "My slave is getting too sick to work, it's pathetic!"
Another man concurred, "Sometimes they just don't last very long, you know! I'd love to take that woman in red home with me!" He grinned lecherously at his companion, who laughed heartily as if he'd just heard the most charming thing.
Aylin swallowed thickly, her already-pale cheeks now white as a sheet. "I need to use the bathroom," she muttered flatly as she turned on her heel, stiffly walking off toward the restrooms at a hurried pace.
Rocinante whipped his head around, following her retreating figure until she disappeared into another room, not missing the way her steps faltered ever so slightly. Shocked and sickened as he was by this turn of events, he couldn't help the small swell of relief in his chest upon seeing Aylin show a bit of real emotion at the injustice of slavery. To him, it was further proof she wasn't like the other underworld types he'd encountered. Proof that she had higher moral standards, and he couldn't help but wonder yet again just how someone like her had ended up in this business.
He sat there a few moments longer, idly listening in on the excitable conversations happening around him. Men and women alike were overjoyed by the surprise human raffle.
Living beings, treated as though they were nothing more than possessions.
Toys.
Carefully, he set his drink down on the bar behind him, thinking quickly. What should he do? Leave well enough alone? He didn't know these people, and it wasn't as though such things didn't already happen all the time. More importantly, if he were to do anything, then the mission and possibly his entire cover could become compromised.
But if he were to act, then this moment was the time to do so.
Could he really just ignore this?
Rocinante hesitated for a split second longer before glancing back up to where the slaves were chained. Suddenly he felt a surge of anger.
Never.
He was a marine, after all, undercover or not. It was his job to protect innocent people. He couldn't just let slaves be sold right under his nose when there was something he could do to stop it.
A plan was just beginning to hatch in his mind. He looked over his shoulder, checking to see if Aylin was on her way back from the bathroom.
She wasn't. Good.
Rocinante tapped his chest, mumbling the word 'Calm' as he silently slipped away from the crowd.