They had finally arrived in Baltigo. Gil was out on his own today, and had traveled into the eighth district in search of two things. Firstly, a place to offload the captured pirate. Secondly, he wanted to follow the lead given to him by the revolutionary.

One the way to Baltigo, the fishman doctor had been tending to three people mainly. Bazil, Zeed and himself. He hadn't bothered to do much to Zeed except clean him up, sewing or cauterising open wounds so that he didn't die from blood loss and applying a few low grade herbs to prevent the worst of infections. He didn't care much for his captive, and while he showed him respect, he didn't view him as a patient and therefore had no interest in treating him. The only reason he had been brought this far was because he was worth something to the marines, and some spare beli would make life a bit easier.

His own injury wasn't too bad and would have healed on it's own pretty quickly even if he hadn't done much thanks to his freakish ability to heal garnered from his zebra fishman biology. His leg was fractured from his entanglement with a fishman outside of Cactus island. He simply set it in a splint and massaged the bone back into place and bound it up. He was even able to still use it after that, as long as he made sure not to stretch it or bust the binding.

Bazil's injury was pretty nasty. Gil didn't know exactly how it happened, but apparently it was caused by what the red head had referred to as a 'little shit'. His arm was busted up, but again, this was nothing that Gil's expertise couldn't deal with. The pirate captain's anaesthetic of choice was hard liquor. The fumes from it made the fishman nauseous just from being in his presence. Relocating the bones into place was rather dangerous for Gil as he would sometimes find a buki-buki no mi pistol cocked at him after a particularly painful jolt. Massaging the bruised area, Gil then applied a homemade balm. He hadn't told Bazil that the contents had come from a sea snake's rear end, deciding that he could do without that detail for both of their sakes. After that, the arm was wrapped and set in a makeshift wooden cast until they reached their destination.

stuff:

Other than the healing, the trip here had not been wasted by the fishman. Finally he had managed to grab some alone time where he could go over the contents of the briefcase. He hadn't told Jackal about it just yet. It wasn't like he didn't trust him, but more that this topic was something a little more personal to him. Plus he didn't even know if it would be of any use anyway. He wouldn't tell him until he had a little more to go on.

The lock popped open with a bit of applied grip strength. Opening it, he peered inside, unable to suppress his hopes. Papers. It was filled with papers. Sifting through them, he studied each sheet with an intense glare. There were sheets of what looked like medical records. With the date and time listed, there was a description of experimental trials that had been conducted and the outcomes of said trials. Strange and peculiar methods, Gil couldn't remember seeing any sort of medical practice that sounded like this. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't find any list of an ailment. This wasn't medicine, it was experimentation.

"Failing all previous trials, we have begun to test on the subject's brain tissue. 2cm inscision made into the left temple. A 5x5x1mm slice of left cortex extracted. Subject screamed and jerked during procedure. Became necessary to secure full body to prevent movement. A filler was installed in the incision so that it may be opened for inspection tomorrow." Gil read under his breath. They took a chunk straight out of someone's brain? How did they not die or at the very least pass out? Gilbard was unorthodox in his methods, but this was straight out of horror fiction.

He began reading the next entry. "Filler was removed and location of operation inspected. Brain tissue had fully healed and brain fluid replaced. Study of extracted slice bears no difference to other samples. As predicted, brain tissue regrows similar to other tissue. Upon running tests on the subject, the subject had difficulty with recognition and coordination." There was no way. This piece of paper said that someone's brain regrew. And in a single day no less. Brain cells were irreplaceable. Once dead, the individual would have to carry the effects with them for the rest of their lives.

And then the next entry. "Tests were repeated today. Subject demonstrated perfect coordination and recognition checks. All recorded harm done by procedure has been undone by regrowth within forty eight hours. Tomorrow we begin more intrusive trials on subject's brain tissue." That was the last entry that he could find in the records. What was going on here? Gil sat there in front of the briefcase, lost for words. For most people, they would be disgusted at the thought of such inhumane experimentation. But for this particular doctor, his curiosity peaked out. He wished he knew more. He wished he could have been there. like an intense hunger, he craved more information. His stomach rumbled with anticipation. Or maybe it was the gas. He leaned over, letting out a cloud of noxious fumes from his backside. Yeah, it was the gas.

There was a different kind of record inside the briefcase. It was some sort of communications log. However it looked incomplete, like there were bits and pieces missing. And some lines were a mish mash of numbers and letters. After mulling it over, Gil realised that this was probably coded. But why was only some of these logs coded and some were readable? Locating the beginning of the log, Gil found the title 'Base Zeta Phi'. He couldn't make much of anything from what was here so he put the papers back in the briefcase and then slid that back into hiding. By the time they arrived, he had all of it memorised word for word.

Gil slipped a bag over Zeed's head and flicked up his own hood before stepping out into the dusky streets of Baltigo. Dragging the unconscious man after him, he set out to find the city jail. As this was an island inhabited by the revolutionaries, he couldn't just find a marine outpost to hand in Zeed, he would instead turn him over to the local authorities. He had no idea where to look, but he was used to being a stranger in a new town. He had the time to look so he would find it eventually. He began to head down the main street in Ninth District, scouting out the area.

The air had a smokey, almost sticky texture to it, thanks to the chemicals that polluted it. His cloth shoes scuffed against the grimy cobbles. He passed underneath a bright neon glow of a sign which contrasted against the black sky. This place... He hadn't been in one like it before. It didn't feel like the same planet here. Figures in trench coats huddled in alleyways. Bums huddled around fires in metal drums. A pair of glammed up lovebirds being escorted from one bar to the next by a massive bodyguard. The place looked like how hard liquor tasted - nasty, and obvious about it. Gil could appreciate the obviousness. He would much prefer that to being blindsided. Being a fishman, he was used to civilisation being hostile toward him though. It didn't look like there would be much change.

People on the street moved out of the way of him, not that he could blame them. A hooded figure dragging someone with a bag over his head through the street was a threatening image, even for the people of Baltigo. He couldn't help but think back to that strange encounter with the revolutionary in the water surrounding Cactus Island. The human had known him by name. Not even the marines knew about him. Apparently, this place is where he had come from. And upon realising that Gil wouldn't run away from the problem, had instead taught him a lot of things. It had been an awkward place for a lecture, like the revolutionary was going out of his way to do what he could to prepare him. Gil only went along with it because he was so intrigued by what he could potentially impart to him.

Gil thought back to what the revolutionary had taught him about haki. About sensing the presence of another living being. He had time to reflect on that teaching. The more he thought about it, the more the man's words sounded familiar. In a round about way, the Conclave Apostles preached this same presence of mind. It was talked about as something divine, something that was brought about from our faith. Whereas the revolutionary had explained it in a rather direct and almost scientific approach, Gil's brain processed the information if he could link it back to his education within the Conclave. 'Observation haki' he had called it. An awareness of all things. Yes, he understood now. That flash in his mind, maybe that was it. An awareness of a threat that was about to harm him. The silver sprays were protecting him. As Kappa had enacted the ocean's will onto the heretic marines, the sea had in turn looked out for him, granting him knowledge that no mere mortal should harness.

When he thought about it like that, he could see that this 'haki' was an important addition to his repetoir. It would push him to the next level, enabling him to become closer to his deity. So as he dragged the man's body behind him, he concentrated. From the raggedy child across the street, to the pairs of eyes that peeked out from their windows from above. An awareness above mortal senses. He could find it, if he could hone his mind. He was sure of it.

"Halt. Who goes there?" A pair of men had intercepted him on the street. They wore leather armour with metal studs and a brown cloak over their back. At their side they held pistols and a short sword. These were no marines, but they looked like an organised force of some kind. Possibly the thugs of the local kingpin. As these streets were owned by them, they had to enforce their own law. A mysterious man walking the streets with a body was something that needed to be checked out. "A traveller that wishes to cash in a bounty." Gil didn't want to announce himself to the world if he could avoid it.

Thankfully, these men respected his anonymity. The people in this city were a mixed bag, and some required their secret identity for their business. "You will be escorted to the district prison." He called over four more guards to make half a dozen. Gil nodded and followed the men as they surrounded him on all sides.

Arriving at a large stone building, the troupe wasted no time ushering him in, even helping to get the pirate's body up the steps. The prison was obviously older than the other fixtures in the district, it's cold, light brown stone walls loomed over the streets as a threat to all who defied the kingpin's law. The leading guard went to the reception area while the rest ushered Gil around the back and into a private room. They loaded the body up onto a table and unmasked him. "Zeed of the Crazy Heart Pirates. Captured alive. Sixty million beli." One of the men went to a file cabinet and began rifling through the drawers to find a poster with the captured man's face on it. There he was, a little worse for ware now though.

"Alright, I see no issue with his state. He is captured alive so you will be receiving the full bounty before tax." "Before tax?" Gil croaked before an elderly lady entered with the other guard trailing behind her. "You've done well, mister! Good work on capturing this thug. You'll be a rich man for sure. My name is Madeline, it is my pleasure to attend to you." She cackled softly before heading over to Zeed to check him over. "What's this tax?" The elderly woman turned to him, looking over her glasses with a judgemental look. "Do we look like the World Government, mister? What do you think we do with this man once you give him to us? We still need to make the transaction with the marines ourselves to claim the bounty. This takes time and resources." She laughed and turned back to examining the pirate. "Baltigo is an island where business rules all, mister. We won't do anything unless we get our cut."

Gil thought this through. He guessed it made sense, though he was not used to this sort of society. "Five million is the tax." Five million? That was a decent chunk of money. He wondered if he could turn and walk out now without a confrontation. What were the chances that these men would attempt to stop him? He quickly decided against resisting. There wasn't much point. Even if he did get away, it wasn't like he could find a marine base on this island that he could use. Maybe the price was hiked because the woman had identified him as a sucker, but there wasn't much a newbie like him could do with his limited options. "Fine. But I would like some information to sweeten the deal." The woman looked at him again over her glasses. "Mister, we aren't an information broker, this is a prison." "That's the deal, take it or leave it." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the guards put a hand on the hilt of his sword. The information was more important to him that the tax at this point, if he could get anything out of her then it would be worth it. And he didn't believe for a second that she wouldn't be able to help him with this in some way. His wits were keen enough to realise that the powers in this place were all connected in some way, like an ecosystem. The woman sighed once more. "You get five minutes. No promises either. Get 55 million beli ready." The last sentence directed at her lackeys. She promptly scuttled out of the room, impatiently beckoning to Gil.

Followed once more by the armed guards, he arrived at an office. Sitting down at the desk, the woman waved her hand expectedly at him. Clearing his throat he began. "I came across a man around the Sandy Island area who called himself a revolutionary. He gave me this briefcase and told me that what I was looking for could be found on Baltigo." He produced the briefcase from underneath his coat and took out a paper. "It has details of live experimentation and a bunch of communications records." Madeline leaned forward, her curiosity growing. Gil held the paper up to her but not for too long. "I'll waive the tax if you let me have that briefcase." She said almost instantly. "No deal." Gil croaked. "Can you help me or not?" She cracked a smile. "I do recognise one name on there. You may be able to contact them here at this address. It'll be impossible to meet them though. They aren't the most receptive of outsiders."

Gil took the piece of paper she had scrawled a street address on. He nodded and left, picking up his fat rolls of cash on the way out. The information wasn't much to go on, but he had a lead.

exit