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Mr 9 was accompanied to the almost monotonous task of killing random pirate crews and stealing their loot. Almost second nature. What wasn’t very monotonous was when a baroque works higher up reared their head. Mr 9 only heard mere whispers of an officer agent coming to check up on the outpost.
“Why on earth would an officer agent need to check up on us?” Mr 9 was off shining his twin bats. They just had to be pristine with superiors showing up! No way would he be seen in such an uncouth way. Miss Wednesday sighed, slumping into the couch. “They’re sending the psychos.” His eyes widened.
Mr 3 and Miss Goldenweek. Mr 9 has only heard the worst about them. “Oh god.” He set his bats down, rubbing his temples. “And I assume we have to do all the work with the absence of Mr 8 and Miss Monday?” They were on a mission elsewhere for the coming weeks, procuring a shipment of weapons and food.
“Precisely.” Miss Wednesday tended to roll her eyes. She had this air around her that just oozed confidence, even with the threat of this dangerous wax man and his insane painter kid. “Just show them around.. give them the logs of the imports and exports.. simple.” She set the paper aside and brushed her legs off, standing up.
Mr 3 wasn’t in his usual 3 topknot, opting for a long, neat slicked pack ponytail. “I hate stealthy missions on dumps such as these.” He sighed, tying up the boat as Miss Goldenweek was no help. His outfit however, was just as fancy and intricate as ever, his shirt was loose and unbuttoned half way, lace lining the sides. Perfect for a dessert climate such as this, yet the blue sweater vest he wore unbuttoned seemed to negate a lot of the loose, airy qualities of the shirt itself.
“I don’t think they’re too bad.. maybe they’ll let me take one or two of them as Dollies.” She sat sipping tea and eating rice crackers. “I’d prefer if you didn’t.. these places need all the members they have…
… yet it would be highly amusing.” He giggled, finishing up a knot. He rolled up the bottom of his flared jeans, careful not to get his hands dirty. “Come on now, we’re supposed to meat with Miss Wednesday and her Partner.” Miss Goldenweek was about 4 steps ahead of him, her picnic being all picked up and cleaned, now only holding a bag of rice crackers. Mr 3 held a small parasol, very much more comfortable for weather like this. His skin was pasty and spattered with vitiligo, the conditions such as these were not in good taste for someone such as himself.
He scoffed. “This is why we’re only sent to winter islands.” As they walked into town, there was an air of fear that spread through the town as they walked. Mr 3 couldn’t help but smile. They knew exactly who they were and the consequences for merely breathing wrong around them. Even if it was greatly exaggerated. Galdino was just not that cruel! Mr 3 maybe was, however.
“Excuse me.” Mr 3 bent down, his parasol still in hand. “Miss Goldenweek…” He had a sing song quality to his voice and movements. “Would you mind wiping the paint up off this poor man?” Miss goldenweek got side tracked, opting to mess around with the baroque works millions around her. She sighed. “Fine.” Aggressively wiping the paint off the poor man’s arm.
It’s like he was talking to a child, because, well, he was “Apologies for my partner, could you show us to the office of the Baroque Works members in charge here?” The man shook as he shakily pointed to the inside of the building they were standing in front of.
“You are just a doll.” He smiled, grabbing Miss Goldenweek and heading inside. It was a saloon. Great. The saloon went silent as they walked towards the bar. “Hello. I’m Mr 3, this is my partner—
“They’re in the office up- upstairs- welcome-welcome Mr 3.” The lady pointed upstairs. He scoffed but thanked her, leaving a pouch of berry as a thank you. Mr 3 was especially generous with members who gave him directions and didn’t make a fuss. He walked up the stairs, Miss Goldenweek trailing behind him. “Do I have to go into the meeting with you?” “No you don’t have to.” He was feeling nice today. This mission didn’t have the fear of death over his head so well, that was nice. “I do believe Miss Wednesday is about your age, I’m sure she may like to play.” Mr 3 knew that was a lie but well, he liked doing things on his own.
The signal was three knocks. “Oh welcome Mr 3!” Mr 9 was obviously surprised at the height similarity and how different he looked from the accounts he was given. “Hello, Mr 9.” He smiled, it was something genuine, that was odd for him. He had not a clue why he was in such a good mood, yet he was. “Please, uh, sit!” Mr 9s voice cracked with every word. He was nervous. “No need to be nervous. I’m in a very good mood today.” Mr 3 smiled, crossing his legs and setting his hands in his lap as he sat down.
“Oh- uh..
..tea..?”
“I’d love some tea.” Mr 9 poured him a cup, the tea set being especially intricate. He quite liked the look. “Sorry it’s, uhm—“ “Earl grey is fine with me, dear.” Mr 9s face turned this especially awkward shade of pink as eye contact wasn’t broken for a good three seconds. How fitting. “I just need the files and this mission is complete.”
“Yes! Here you are. Has all our records from the past year.” He was especially professional when it came to dealing with men such as higher ups like Mr 3. He quickly flipped through the pages and made sure everything was covered before quickly slipping them into a bag slung around his torso. “I shall be off—
A loud boom of thunder, quickly followed by rain echoed through the silence as he was cut off. “Oh god.” Mr 9 muttered as he covered his face. “I suppose this isn’t proper weather for me to be sailing in, would you mind if me and my partner quartered here?”
“Well, we don’t have any rooms available that aren’t, well for pirates… I guess you and your partner can stay in mine and my partners respective quarters— “Perfect.” How was this man psycho? If anything he was.. polite. Maybe I just got him on a good day, when he’s less.. murder..y Mr 9 tried opening his mouth before Mr 3 held up a finger, signaling him to be quiet.
He grabbed a baby transponder snail that looked like what Mr 9 assumed was his partner “Miss goldenweek?” “Yeah?” The background was silent, a bout of relief washed over him as he was thankful that she managed to stay out of trouble “The weather is just terrible, we have to quarter here for the night. Is that fine with you?” He smiled as he spoke, he had this gentle tone with her that he didn’t have with anybody else. “I guess.” “I’ll take that as a yes. Thank you!” He fed the snail a rice cracker before setting it back in his bag.
“Would you be interested in some wine?” Mr 9 offered, standing up and out of his chair, going around the desk and offering Mr 3 a hand. “Sure.”
He didn’t remember much of that night after a bottle in, just a whole lot of wax and wine. A pounding morning headache was a memento of such. He woke up, naked, covers barely covering anything , Mr 3 was sleeping beside him, much more covered, with a silk robe on, but still practically naked himself, his glasses sitting on the nightstand.
He put on a robe, hobbling out of the room, careful not to step on the clothes that littered the floor. Miss Wednesday was waiting for him in a chair outside with a glass of water. She did not look very pleased to see him in such a condition.