A/N: You guys are so sweet! This fic has the fastest review count of all of them. Makes me a little embarrassed that this chapter is so short. I'mm update again soon! Promise! Enjoy~!
Chapter 4: The Past Returns! Enemies No More!
During the journey, bird messengers had been sent and received. Everything was all arranged, and, in the shady little bar not too far from Galley-La's Dock One was the welcoming party; three men who thought they'd never again set foot in the city that was one of the Grand Line's major trading hubs. Two of them sat in a carefully casual way that made them somehow blend in despite the iconic features that would ordinarily have made them stand out; just as they had years ago when the Strawhats had first blown through the town. But then again, they were professionals. Going unnoticed was a specialty. The third man stood behind the same counter he'd used as his cover the first time, polishing glasses, and for all the world looking like the barkeeper that was his persona. All three were skilled enough that under their assumed calm façade they were ready for any hint of trouble, ready to deal with it even before any of the civilian patrons would catch wind of it. All in all, everything was in position to go off without a hitch; the only thing left to do was wait.
At that moment, an excitable young woman that had been an even more excitable child during that previous incident burst into the bar, with a laugh, carrying a small blue cat-rabbit. "Grandma said I should get some juice juice, Gonbe!"
"Nyah! Nyah!" The animal that shared the name grinned, as they pounced on the nearest bar stool.
Behind them, one of the two men rolled his eyes, hidden by the baseball cap pulled low over his entirely too-recognizable nose, and sipped from his own drink, listening carefully. This was the signal. The young woman took her juice, but instead of drinking, held it up to look through the bottom of the glass.
"Aw, Gonbe! I wanted orange juice. This is mikan!" She pouted, but drank it anyway, and gave a small shiver, "Eh. Too hot, the stuff I get in the backstreets is better. C'mon, Gonbe, we'll go tell Grandma that it's better for kitties like you to go out at night, not now!"
With that she dashed out of the bar again, leaving many of the patrons who weren't Water 7 natives wondering just what the random young woman had been talking about. To the three men for whom it was intended however, the message was clear. The target had arrived, via Scrap Island thanks to the crowd of people flocking to witness the unveiling of Galley-La's latest achievement: a sky train, named Puffing Frank, designed specifically to connect Skypiea with the rest of the world. They also understood that one of their number should come pick her up after nightfall, when there was likely to be less commotion.
The tallest of the three adjusted his top hat, which despite the need for disguise he felt justified in keeping. The only ones who'd recognize it either were okay with him or long dead. This was the signal of 'that's the plan, we stick to it. No deviations necessary'. Despite being a rather large, lanky man, the way he sat in his corner made him appear squat and unnoticeable.
The man behind the bar, 'Gonbe', continued on with his job, but three bottles of cola were surreptitiously stowed in his fridge. A stock for a particular 'customer' to fuel up in case of trouble.
Said customer did arrive a short time later, flanked on either side by the two girls he'd always traveled with when he lived there full-time. He sauntered up to the bar, putting on the air of being the womanizing thug, slid his sunglasses down his metal nose, and gave a feral grin, "Fill me up, 'Gonbe'."
"Still don't know why he chose the girl's pet's name for his own." The man in the ball cap muttered almost silently about the bartender.
He had to fight the urge to glare at the man he'd known as a hoodlum and a criminal way back when, as the large man behind the counter silently got out the bottles and handed them over in a smooth movement with a little half-smile, just as he always had.
"It's as good a cover as any," the supposedly squat male in the corner replied in the same almost-silent murmur, almost like he was talking to himself as his tall hat shaded his eyes. "After all, after the last one was blown, everyone would recognize him since this is still referred to as his bar."
"He didn't even change his hair." The first responded, apparently ignoring the goings on of the others in the bar. "At least everyone else was intelligent enough to alter our appearances."
He didn't mention his nose, as there was little he could do about it, but he had grown his hair out and now sported a goatee that was thin around his mouth and hung down like a goat's beard from the base of his chin by about two inches.
There came a low growl on that odd sound length. It was almost like their own private audio channel. "Few that are spry enough to come to a bar recall it, and he had to be identifiable to the client."
The second man still got very touchy about having shaved off his uniquely-shaped beard and his previously luxurious curls in exchange for short, choppy strands. His neck got cold and the sharp ends both tickled and itched. He hated it.
All the square-nosed man replied with was a grunt that was almost more a different language than a sound, as he drained the last of his drink and stood, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched and affecting a limp.
"Mah, Koro-kun, ya git more stingy ev'rytime we come 'ere." He fished a few beri coins from his pocket to put on the table, his accent thick, but his voice louder than their previous conversation. "Nest time, th' drinks're on yew. I've jus' 'bout burned through m'coffer this week. Feh."
The apparently short man stood up, and he turned out to be very tall and slightly crooked, like he'd spent too much time bent over his work. He too had a thick accent and a slightly louder voice. "Aye, n' eff m'wife's left enno' fer vittles, ah'll pay on m'turn, Tommy."
"Feh." 'Tommy' said again, "Slipp'ry one she is."
Then he made to leave the bar, deliberately leaning heavily to one side, and glanced out from under his cap over his shoulder at the blue-haired cyborg at the bar with a barely imperceptible nod. He received a salute that looked like the other man was just scratching his head. The message had been sent, received and replied to; now all that was left was to wait for nightfall, which wasn't far off, judging by the angle of the shadows.
'Koro-kun' hobbled after him with an odd, peculiar lope often seen in older carpenters, developed over a lifetime of hauling timber, with a tip of his hat in the 'bartender's' direction. This was answered with a head-tilt that appeared to be the big barman cracking his neck. The door would be ready when and where they needed it.
Shortly after exiting the building, the crooked man lapsed into a shadow. If anyone noticed a particularly large alley cat following around a local gimp, they wouldn't think anything of it. Or, at least, most didn't. As the two disappeared into the alley, a fairly tall man, with wavy blue hair pulled back into a low ponytail tilted his head. The sunlight glinted off the lavender lenses of his sunglasses, and his eyebrow arched.
"Well, well, well… look who's back in town." He murmured, drawing a piece of paper from his belt.
He scribbled a short note, and strode quickly to the closest post office. The captain would want to know about that. Especially if the scuttlebutt around town about the Pirate Queen was to be believed. This could very well be the chance their crew had been waiting for since the death of their leader. As he walked, a second piece of paper fluttered from his long, fur coat. Nothing was written on it except for a symbol: a canceled smiley face with a grin that stretched from one side to the other, displaying entirely too many squared-off teeth.
Night came swiftly, and all around the city, more loud and boisterous than usual, the previous members of the Franky Family created disturbances. Mostly parties and goings on, but a couple of bar fights, and in one place, the attempted break-in of the neighborhood's resident yagara breeder. This kept the authorities of the city occupied, and left a defined silent, darkened path for one ginger-haired navigator to escape from the company of her dearest friends.
She knew she should have let them know the rest of what she'd planned, but she just couldn't risk one of them being caught by any of Luffy's enemies. So, as soon as she was certain the household was at least pretending to be asleep, Nami slipped out of the back door and into the gathered darkness. She tore down the streets as fast as she thought she could get away with, reaching the bar where the message had been delivered roughly half an hour after setting out on a deliberately backtracking and winding path. She clutched her hood together and pushed through the swinging doors, on edge and her other hand wrapped comfortingly around the cool metal of her Clima-tact.
The bar was curiously clear of customers, probably due to the rather large cloud of greenish gas that was currently escaping out the window as the bartender cut a door in the middle of the establishment.
"Hurry now," he murmured, "that stink bomb won't keep them out for long."
On the other side of the door was what looked like an underground tunnel, and a massive sharp-eyed, spotted yellow cat was waiting for her.
Without looking back, Nami stepped into the tunnel. Though she felt no safer among these than she had walking around on her own, the threat from each of them was well-known, for all that she was sure they'd grown stronger over the years since last they'd crossed paths. She didn't speak until she heard the 'door' shut behind her. Then she dropped her hood, in that non-space, and greeted the cat.
"Lucci."