Crying like he was unbecoming of someone that carried around a sword. That was the hypocritical thought that ran through the mind of the young Stalin named Fidel D. Marx. From where he was he could see the tears stream so carelessly down the face of the Fishman, but that wasn't his original spot. He had gotten there a while ago. But, before we speak on how he got to his current spot we will will delve into what he did some time prior.

It was sunny and he'd just awaken, in a dumpster, after a long night of drunkin' merry making. He'd look up from his spot the sun was beaming down hard, barely blocked by the thing  above him. Things hung, such a clothing to dry, and other things you'd see in a slum like this. Everything was really clumped pup together it didn't make any sense, but Fidel didn't care. He had actually gotten some good sleep, albeit it being in a dumpster. How he ended up like this was by jumping or being tossed out of the window above, he couldn't remember which. How or why he was like this didn't matter what so ever though, as today was a new day. He had no plans but plans always seemed to just come it way anyway. Quickly, Fidel would crawl out of the dumpster. Since he didn't roll around last night he wasn't completely covered in whatever waste was within there. But, that didn't stop him from smelling something awful.

"Lord, have mercy. I smell like shit." Fidel would say out-loud as he'd take a whiff of himself and make a face seconds after. He went weeks some times without washing himself, as you don't always have time, but he needed to get clean asap. The smell of himself would being too much of a distraction for him. So, the journey to find some source of water and maybe some soap had begun. Since he was within Water 7 a watery wonderland even within the slums finding areas of water would be no problem. But, soap was a beast in itself. Fidel would walk around the back alley of the slums, as that is where he always ended up. Peering into the open, broken, or closed windows that he could reach. Soap was something he barely used as you don't need it all the time. Well, that was what Fidel thought. Good ol' water and a tough scrub down would be enough to clean clothes and skill alike. Only when it called for it, like today, would soap even be on the young stalin's mind.

'Ooooo, yeah. That is the good stuff.' Was the thought within the head of Fidel as he had snagged himself from soap. The bottle was foreign to him. Well, all words were as he was one of many delinquents that couldn't read. So, he didn't know that the stuff he just grabbed was usually used to clean animals. The bubbles he saw on top of the dark bottle was enough to make him snag it. At this moment it was forty-five minutes before the current timeline.

Finding a source of water was quick and easy, unlike the search for soap. It only took around twenty minutes to find a old canal. Quickly, but keeping track on his surroundings Fidel stripped naked. What he would wash first was his clothing, using his hands  to scrub it clean with the soap. Doing it till all he smell was the weird smelling soap, which was a upgrade from the dumpster smell. He'd then lay them on the ground so the sun could warm them up and would then proceed to wash himself. He kept all his sense up not to protect himself but his clothing. He didn't want anyone to steal his amazing attire and try to rock his style. A total of twenty minutes would pass and Fidel, naked, would sit with his feet in the canal as he waited for his clothes to dry. Growing every impatient he'd pick a article of clothing up at a time and run back and forth, to dry them himself. Only being able to wait ten minutes before doing this. Over and over again he did this till his clothing was dry enough for him.

Fidel did find it strange that he was well not bothered by his actions. Well, if that would be the case. He had tried to do acts like this, acting freely, a lot and always had to deal with someone's mouth. But, that wasn't the case today at all. It seemed as if no one wanted to be around. It wasn't like Fidel was a menacing person, he actually was not at all when like this. The reason that he wasn't bothered though was because no one wanted to deal with someone they thought was crazy. Him being naked and then running around to dry his clothing was too much for even those of the slums. You didn't have to be menacing for people to want to avoid being around you.  

A total of thirteen minutes would pass before his confusion would be halted by a loud screaming. In that time he had dried his  clothing and was just walk back in forth pondering what it was he was going to do next. Curiosity filled his mind as he would try his best to locate the source of the screaming. He'd hear it once more after running for a good two minutes. Finally, he'd leap from a alleyway and see  crowd of people, no more than ten, heading in the direction Fidel wanted to go. All of these people were dirty and wore rag tag clothing. Either old or fat was also a common similarity among them. As Fidel was moving past them he'd heard a loud boom, and many people jerked back. Whatever happened Fidel missed the sight, which kinda of sucked. Fidel though wouldn't stop moving to the front of the group where he'd spot the crying Fish guy.

Fidel didn't know the situation other than what was before his eyes. Within the middle of a twenty meter back street sat a Fishamn crying. Just a few feet away from him stood a well dressed man with a big nose that stood over what seemed to be a burning corpse. Fidel was a total of two meters away from them. Further down, behind the kneeling man, were more Men who dressed in similar attire as the Big Nose Man. This street was rag tag just like these people around. Littered with many alleyways and cuts that could be taken at a moment notice. The buildings all seemed uninhabitable from their outer appearance. The slums really were a shit whole.

"Oi, why you crying like that?" Is the only thing Fidel could think of saying. As the sight of the guy's weakness pained him greatly. Not in a way that he felt sorry for the guy. But, in a way that he got a little angry at such a big guy looking like a damn baby. His blunt question could get him in hot water so he was ready to act in ways he saw fit for any situation that could come his way. As the only time you should cry is when you yourself are facing death in the face.

If the crying man wouldn’t say anything or acknowledge Fidel in anyway Fidel would feel some type of way and rush over and snag the mans sword, sheath and all. Why he did this was because the guy disrespected his blade. Crying like this by a guy that said just cruel things about a corpse. The guy and corpse was less than a meter from the crybaby. But, when he spot ever one heard and felt his harsh words. And if hearing him was a teach and not possible. His actions of kicking the corpse twice already irritated Fidel. You only mock the dead when they truly deserved it, and still that was rare. If it did come to taking the sword the killing intent with Fidel would push out at the crying man when held start his rush.

Fidel was so close to just snagging the blade of the crying man. But, the guy would snap out of his baby ways and speak. Which caused all actions Fidel was to take to end. He did though stand before the Fishman, but there was no bloodlust or killing intent. As if there were the blade would’ve already been within the hands of Fidel. And the Crying creature would not be talking as he did so. Due to the nature of the killing intent Fidel had planned on using. Fidel would listen to everything the guy had to say and would wait till he was finished to speak himself. As it was rude to interrupt others unless they spoke nothing but bullshit. Then, it was only right to put a end to the nonsense they’d spout.

"Shit, I have nothing else to do. And maybe I’ll be able to get some nice beli beli from all of this. But if I’m to do this with you. We go right now while the fire is hit within us. Wait, that sounded wroooong. But, I do not take it back. So are we off...ugh...what is your name?"

Fidel spoke a considerable amount at a time  but wanted to get what he had to say out quickly. As too many words could lead to the down fall of the one speaking them. Even as you speak you were at risk of being attacked or worse. So, Fidel always kept his senses up and was ready for anything. You could say he was nervous but this was the only way he acted around strangers. As to be in guard around your true nakama was something you didn’t do. Fidel did hope that the man agreed to the stipulation he had given. If that couldn’t be agreed upon then the actions of Fidel would be all the same as if the Man did not acknowledge him. But, once the blade was within his head he'd remove it from it's sheath and lash out at the arm of the fool who wasted his time. A wild one he was and rightful so, as that was his nature. A true pirate at heart but could be seen like one of those things that grant wishes. Well, that is how he saw himself. Even though there was more to him he liked to keep the most of his character hidden and the persona he was most accustomed to put in the open.

He didn’t wonder how they’d figure out where all this slave business; or whatever the hell all of this was would be taking place and how the hell they’d find it. But he felt, well if the stipulation was met, that this guy would somehow figure it all out. He seemed like the type that could do something like that. But, the guy also seemed like if he was stuck in a jam his emotions would take offer too much and cause him to fail.

"I am Fidel....the rest of my name doesn't really matter." Fidel would say. He didn't have a problem with any race within this world, and never will. But, the little thing the guy did with his tongue was weird and disgusting. Fidel was one that took pleasure and beating up people that deserved it but this guy might be one that took it too far. And this would be prove once combat between the enemy would begin. The amount of blood that squirted ever where was a bit much, for Fidel's taste. Those guys clearly were outmatched so killing him could've been done without such bloodshed.

"Oi! Leave at least one alive if you are going to go at them like that." Fidel would say. He had followed Dai to the alleyway and stayed there as Dai pretend to be drunk. Fidel never though of doing something like that, but would try it one day. Maybe not being drunk but maybe in some other way to catch the enemy off guard. After speaking Fidel would begin to walk out from the cover he was within. Looking up and down the street to make sure no more enemies were coming into the vicinity. None where to he would focus on the group here. They had different weapons between each other. Katana, Cleaver, Rifle, Hatchet, Spear, and Pistol.

'He took out the one with the Cleaver and the one with a Rifle.' Fidel would think to himself as he kept his two meter distance from them. He would not step in at this moment, but leave them to Dai. He wasn't being a dick but though he didn't like how Dai killed the first to it was best to let him get his anger out now. Get all the recklessness he implemented into his fighting style at this moment and deal with those he seemed to despise. Fidel would though step in only if the guy needed help. Hopefully he would leave one alive like Fidel would suggest so they could gather information.

The Blade that Dai used was something else. It reminded him of the blade his teacher once used, though shorter. The memories of the black blade still in the mind of Fidel. He didn't know what happened to it, nor where it was. But maybe one day he'd be able to find it and show it proper respect. Hopefully by the time Fidel was done thinking Dai would have finished taking care of them and leaving one alive. If that would happen Fidel would speak and walk over to Dai. "What plans to you really have when you meet the head of these guys?" Would be what Fidel would say as he'd pick up one of the weapons, the Katana, that was dropped by one of the beaten Men. If they weren't beaten in some type of way and Dai still fought Fidel wouldn't have moved and said what he had said.

The pistol would be stopped before it slid into the alleyway. Fidel firmly planting his right foot on the weapon. He didn’t apply enough pressure to like break it or even cause it to malfunction later on. A perfectly good weapon. Just like all the others that that Dai would dismantle. Honestly, Fudelhad dealt with a lot of bloodshed within his life so watching the fight wasn’t a problem. It was the utter disrespect for the weaponry here today. Fidel gets that if you just wanted to disarm people that’d be the best option but that wasn’t the case. Only two people were currently alive after the ordeal with Dai. He just decided to destroy what someone crafted just for the pleasure. After it was all said and done. Dai wanted Fidel to interrogate the one with a broken nose, but Fidel wouldn’t. Dai had already spoken to someone or maybe the one he spoke to and allowed to live was the one with a broken nose.

What Fidel would go do is get the rifle and strap it over his back since it had one. And next he’d go over to the hatchet and Cleaver, since they weren’t damaged. Finally, the broken Katan would be grabbed. Fidel hadn’t had any weapons when he’d come here, so him grabbing things shouldn’t be weird. Going into a place that new they were coming was bad. A ambush was already going to be waiting for them.

Fidel would wait for the guy or guys to run away before speaking. His eyes on Dai as he spoke, he here and there he glanced to his sides. He had the pistol, katana, and rifle all strapped to him in someway. The pistol was the only exception as it was place within his pants waist. The hatchet was in Fidel’s left whilst the cleaver was within his right. He didn’t plan to attack Dai, at this moment. He didn’t know when the enemy would return as they didn’t know how far the place they were heading to was.

“Don’t take offense. But, you fight reckless. If you go up against someone with exceptional skill you’ll die. So be more careful.” Fidel would tell Dai. He spoke not to put the guy down. But to make sure he didn’t get himself killed in their next fight. If he did somehow die though Fidel wouldn’t lose any sleep over it.

'Is he fucking serious?' Fidel was shocked that the guy wouldn't strike when the iron was hot. The guy had left to warn them and they could come right in tow before they could get everything prepared. But no the guy wanted to wait a couple hours before going, which was weak in the mind of Fidel. He had gotten himself pumped for no reason at all, and he would not help that stupid Fish. He'd remove all the weapons he put on himself and instead of going to the place himself he'd head to the Sea Train station. He wasn't about to do this. Fidel would not forget having his time wasted.

[exit]