Click. Click. The light dials were being turned off one by one by the head researcher of the laboratory below the Fourth District. The green boi showed his assistants to the stone staircase and asked them to leave. It was nearing the end of the day and they had wrapped up production while the sun was barely still up. He still had some things he wanted to get done. Gil was very aware that the workers that had been sent to aid him were also attempting to learn as much as they could from him and his unusual methods, and this was probably asked of them by their director. Gil was a valuable resource to the 4th at the moment, but if they learned his secrets, they could cut him out of the profits entirely. This was unrealistic of course, they couldn't glean much from simply observing his actions - maybe they could surpass the average doctor, but they'd never be able to replicate his products. Even so, the fishman was careful about showing people the minimum that he could. Sourcing his ingredients personally helped too. He often got the assistants to do the menial labour and clean up. Like today, one of them had to carve off an arm of a patient after it had started to decay rapidly. That arm was now sitting in a vat of acid, fizzling away until all of the evidence had been disposed of.

Once the assistants had left, he retraced his steps and flicked on a lamp at the back of the room and sat down at his desk. He breathed deeply and pressed his fingertips together. His methods had slowly grown more and more excessive, lacking less ethical protocol with each passing month. The pursuit of the Miracle Cure had gripped him tightly, like a ball on an incline, only able to pick up speed without slowing. He had become a different doctor to his days traveling the Grand Line in years past, even a couple of years ago when he had dwelled in the sandy city of Alubarna. Was he obsessed? He conceded that this was probably true with a deep sigh. Not that this introspection mattered though.

Clop clop clop. Heels clicked on the stone staircase and their owner descended into the lair. "I was waiting up there for you, but you kept me waiting!" It was Peck, Gilbard's contact with the 4th district and the 'project director', thought that was a formality at most. The man had no idea what was going on down here on the daily, nor did he seem to care. Results spoke, and they spoke of cash and promotions, so that is what he cared for. The man walked briskly toward Gil's desk while pulling at his overalls. Over these was a tailored suit and on his face he incubated a small furry creature that you could classify as facial hair if you were generous. He placed his palm on Gil's desk and leaned over it, overly asserting himself into the fishman's personal space. Maybe this is what the four and a half foot director called a 'tough front'. "The Kingpin has been asking about your progress. Tell me you have something." The request came out a little more needy then assertive, and the namedrop was all too noticeable.

Gil paused for a few seconds and puckered his lips in a thoughtful expression, only to watch a few spots of perspiration form on Peck's brow before putting him out of his misery. "Yes, I have just recently succeeded in a new and improved product that I believe his kingpinlyness will value." Gil produced a scalpel and a vial and raised his left knee. He quickly slashed a clean cut into his thigh with the scalpel, much to the horror of the witness. Gil 'accidentally' flicked a few drops of blood onto Peck's face with a flourish of the scalpel before cracking the stopper on the vial. He then poured the mixture onto his leg wound.

Slowly, the bleeding stopped. And when he wiped away the excess, there wouldn't be much more than a scar between the green scales. "This is a new and improved formula of the d. Ansgameoli that I have previously developed. What I used just then was the prototype, but here is the finished product." Gil produced another vial with a slightly different tint to the goopy mixture. He handed it to Peck who had eyes like saucers. "The original d. Ansgameoli was valued at fifteen million beli. I believe that this, much more effective version, would be worth more, don't you-" "Holy smokes! HA!" Peck grabbed the vial and placed it tenderly in his jacket pocket. "I told them that our project would bare fruit!" He grinned ear to ear with more relief than anything else. The stout man had come a long way from the humble store owner that Gil had met him as. Gil had used him as a contact, but Peck had managed to ride the success of their deal all the way to the personal table of Ursa himself. It seemed as though those blessings of success also brought with it the burden of keeping up appearances. Gil wondered what else he had managed to achieve in these past months. He had a hunch that Peck's name was still hanging by the threads of Gilbard's products.

"This- er, what was it called?" "H. Ansgameoli." "This H. Ansgameoli will do just fine! Make some more of this for me as soon as possible. I'll make sure this fetches a good price! Oh and uh, you'll get your money later." It was good to know that his payment was an afterthought. Gil nodded. This was good enough. Peck was smart enough not to shortchange the fishman. And his motivation to climb the ladder would ensure that the product was thoroughly marketed. Really, Peck's willingness to believe in the product was useful in that he would accept it from Gil without skepticism, even without any detail into what it was. Even if this behaviour was born from Peck's inability to prepare himself for a future where this deal fell through.

Gilbard nodded and shooed the man as he continued to blabber back up the steps so that he could return to his solitary lair. Really, the H. Ansgameoli had been ready for at least a month now. But Gil wouldn't receive anything in return for completing it early. Peck wouldn't be satisfied with that and would keep asking for more. So lately, Gil had been delivering the minimum to keep him happy while using the premesis and resources for his own research.

One more deep sigh would conclude his thoughts on his business partner. But something the man had said as he was leaving had managed to stick out to him. "Man, it seems like we are causing quite the stir in this district. Our advances have helped us shed our reliance on the Good Doctor and his medicines to facilitate our jobs..." Naturally, the 4th district would be big customers of the medical district. From what he could gather, his involvement with the 4th had increased their standings (to what degree, he was skeptical of) in the larger ecosystem of Baltigo. Gil wasn't one to consider these power dynamics much, but this revelation made him realise that even his activity here could have wide reaching consequences.

He sat there and pondered. Maybe something could be done to take advantage of this...

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