It was late at night.
There was a large tent set up in an open space some distance from the center of Port Chibaralta. It was a circus tent, in fact. During the day it was a popular tourist attraction for families, but it was closed now, without a soul around.
Until a figure appeared on the darkened path, pulling a cart.
The cart contained some very large wooden boxes. There were shackles on the ankles of the man pulling it. Behind the cart were more men in chains, carrying heavy boxes of their own.
“Here you are.”
Ace led the cart and its procession through the entrance to the circus tent and into the rear area, where the hoodlum from earlier awaited.
Ace greeted the man without a word, pointing out his cargo. The man who pulled the cart fell to his knees with exhaustion.
“Ahh, you’ve got a fish-man slave too, eh?”
“Helps with the heavy lifting,” Ace explained. Wallace was the one pulling the cart.
“And the product is inside of that box?”
“Yeah.”
One box on the cart had the word MERMAID written on the top for easy identification.
“I just want to check it out before I call for Oliva,” the hoodlum said. Ace opened up a little window hatch on the box. Through it was a glimpse of a mermaid’s fin.
“Let me out,” said a frightened woman’s voice, husky and sexy.
“Oooh!” The hoodlum was elated. If this deal went well, a mermaid would bring in tens of millions, possibly over a hundred.
“I want this over with quick.”
“Hang on to your skivvies, I’m getting Oliva now. I asked him to wait nearby,” said the hoodlum, picking up a transponder snail and placing a call.
“The deal’s on,” he said, putting down the transponder snail. “Oliva’s on his way here. You can sit down and wait.”
“Okay.” Ace sat in a nearby chair.
“Say, what’s that other big box for?” asked the hoodlum, glancing at another box on the cart.
“It’s a different product. I wouldn’t look inside if I were you. It’s a hideous wild beast; I’ve got it asleep for now.”
“Yikes.” The hoodlum quickly backed away from the cart.
“I saw the festivities on the way here. They’re very impressive.”
“Yeah, Oliva makes sure we go all-out here!”
“What’s he like?”
“If I had to describe him in one sentence…I’ve never seen a more refreshing man.”
“Refreshing?”
Makin’ a killing… Makin’ a killing…
A loud voice emerged from the middle of the tent.
Whoosh!
A man dressed in a flashy striped suit appeared. He was darkly tanned, with a sharply defined undercut. From thumb to pinky, his hands were covered with rings like gold nuggets. He was accompanied by a middle-aged woman with thick makeup and a secretary working an abacus.
His features and figure conveyed one thing: gorilla.
“That’s…refreshing?”
“It’s refreshing to see a guy who loves making money this much. Hey, Oliva!”
“Yo, hoodlum. What’s going on? You makin’ a killing?” said Oliva the gorilla, raising a hand in greeting.
“I sure am. Tonight’s festival is a huge success!”
“Guess you’re makin’ more money than you know what to do with!”
They were certainly enjoying themselves.
“The people in this stretch of sea work hard and save up all year long, just for this festival. And our business model is to do whatever it takes to loosen the purse strings of all these miserable paupers who come to our town!”
“That’s our Oliva! You’ve got it all figured out, sir! But…can you let me be the star tonight?”
“I hear you’ve got a major item to sell,” said Oliva. He looked in Ace’s direction at last.
The man was imposing, that much was certain. Your average citizen would probably curl up into a ball with just one hard glance from Oliva.
“Sorry to bother you on such a busy day,” said Ace, doffing his hat. He kept his fake nose on, though.
“Spare me the formalities. So this item is in your possession, eh? You’re a young one. And this is it, eh?” Oliva said, looking at the box marked MERMAID.
“Hang on, sir, I’ll open—”
“Makin’ a killing, yah!”
With a tremendous crack, Oliva punched the wooden box himself with his heavy-ringed fist, smashing it to smithereens.
And inside the box was a certain mermaid…
“Whaaaaaaaaaaat?!” the hoodlum screamed, his voice shrill with shock. He grabbed Ace and hastily pulled him aside.
“What’s the matter?”
“What the…what the hell is that?! That’s not the mermaid in the photo… She’s an old hag! What kind of a scam are you running here?!”
He pulled out the picture Ace had given him and jabbed at it angrily, comparing the two.
The contents of the wooden box was undoubtedly a mermaid. But it was a mermaid who had passed into middle age, beyond the point where her fins had separated into legs. In other words, it was Banshee.
“That’s her in the picture, all right. You got bad eyesight or something?” Ace asked him.
“Who do you think you are, the boy who cried mermaid?!” the hoodlum snapped. Already, he could feel the life draining from his body.
Oliva stared dully at the mermaid who emerged from the box.
“Ah…ooooh…”
“What are you starin’ at?” glared Banshee, who had put on makeup and even wore a mermaid swimsuit.
Oliva scooted backward, apparently shocked into silence. Then he beckoned the hoodlum over in what seemed like embarrassment. Now it was their turn to head to the sidelines to speak.
“Hey, hoodlum. What’s going on here?”
“I’m sorry, Oliva! That youngster lied to me… I can’t believe it! Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he pays the price! Hey! Hey, you! Nobody humiliates Oliva and gets away with it!”
“I never knew…a real mermaid could be so…beautiful…” Oliva murmured.
“Yeah, she’s beautiful, all ri—Beautiful?!” the hoodlum gaped. Oliva already had a lovestruck look in his eyes as he stared at Banshee. “Oliva, you have…working eyesight, right?”
“Well, they do say that a man is struck blind when he lays eyes on a true beauty… Hey, youngster!” Oliva hailed Ace.
“Yes, sir? How can I help you?”
“I’ll buy that mermaid from you! No auctions or brokers or nothin’. I’ll take her. I’m buyin’ her for myself!” he said, looking Banshee over from head to fin as he made his decision.
“Umm…”
Ace scratched his head, puzzled. The hoodlum rushed back over to Ace and whispered in his ear, “Hey! Don’t get any funny ideas and start raising your asking price now!”
“I wasn’t gonna….”
“Master Oliva seems to have taken a liking to your mermaid hag.”
“But…why? Deuce’s plan didn’t account for something like this…”
“Plan? Who?”
“Never mind, ignore that.”
“Fine! I don’t care! In any case, you can see what’s going on here. He loves older women!” the hoodlum said, pointing out the flabby woman at Oliva’s side. “But every cloud has a silver lining, I guess. Put on a smile, man! Show him everything’s cool! Go on and give him the OK sign!”
“Fine, fine. Hang on, I need to talk this over with her.”
“Talk? With the slave? What would you need to talk about?!”
“Plenty. It’s a business, you know,” said Ace. He walked over to Banshee and began to converse with her quietly.
“What’s going on here, Ace?” she whispered.
“I dunno, but it seems to be working so far. Just stick to our plan…”
He showed off a glimpse of a scrap of paper in his hand. It was a piece of Banshee’s vivre card, an item that would perpetually point in the direction of its owner.
They would likely take Banshee to where the other slaves were. Ace’s mission was to learn the full scope of the covert slave trade on Port Chibaralta. And the ultimate goal was to make an example of those who mocked Whitebeard’s flag and all it stood for.
“All right, fine.”
“Sorry about this, Banshee. But actually, it sounds like that guy really likes you. Whatcha wanna do about that?”
“Do about it? Why would I get with that gorilla?!”
“Look, you’re a woman in your prime. I know that being a pirate can be lonely—you don’t meet many people,” he said, in an attempt to be sensitive that probably wasn’t helping.
“Well, I want nothing to do with a young fellow like him, all blinged out with rings. I like dashing older men like Whitebeard, and men who can cook, like Thatch.”
“Hey, you done talking over there?” yelled the hoodlum. Ace gave him a disarming smile.
The price didn’t actually matter for the plan, but Oliva quoted an amount suitable for a young mermaid, not an old one with legs. Ace decided to take the offer on the spot.
The secretary produced a trunk packed full of bills. Ace checked that they were authentic.
“It’s all there.”
“Ahh, this was a good purchase. Let me know if you ever snag a find like this again, fella!”
Ace and Oliva shared a firm handshake.
“By the way, what kind of slaves do you normally deal in, Mr. Oliva?”
“Hmm? Well, you’re in the right place,” Oliva said. He gave his secretary a look. “Go on.”
She walked over to a switch on a tentpole and flipped it. The lights turned on.
Ace gasped. A mountain of metal cages surrounded them.
A circus was a wild animal show, after all. There were lions, bears, even elephants in these cages. And among the animals were human slaves. And other races as well. Some of them shrank away in fear at the sight of Oliva, others were as still as the dead, and a few slammed the metal bars in fury.
“You’re keeping your slaves in the circus…”