Jack Sparrow and Pintel followed Enoy through streets that grew quieter the farther they walked.
The noise of the port—shouting dockhands, gulls, drunken laughter—slowly bled away, replaced by measured footsteps, guarded corners, and men who stood too still to be anything other than armed. Buildings grew taller, wider, heavier.
Jack walked with his usual loose swagger, rum bottle appearing and disappearing from his coat like a magic trick he refused to explain. Pintel, on the other hand, craned his neck at everything, eyes darting, imagination working overtime.
"So," Jack said casually, "what's your name, then?"
The lackey stiffened. "Enoy."
Jack snorted so hard he nearly spilled his rum. "Enoy?"
"Yes."
Jack wiped his mouth. "What sort of name is that?"
Enoy glared. "My mother gave it to me."
Jack nodded sagely. "Well, at least it's better than Pintel."
"Hey," Pintel protested.
Jack patted his shoulder. "See? Still hurts."
Enoy quickened his pace.
Jack leaned closer. "Tell me about your boss."
Enoy's posture straightened immediately. "Capone Bege is not a man you joke about."
"Excellent," Jack said. "I joke exclusively about men like that."
Enoy ignored him. "Boss Bege runs this island. Trade. Protection. Smuggling. Politics. He's untouchable."
Jack raised a brow. "Does he have a disease which spreads upon touch?"
Enoy turned, eyes sharp. "No, he has a Devil Fruit. Turns him into a living fortress. Cannons. Walls. Guns. Men. All inside him."
Jack paused mid-step. "…That's deeply unsettling."
"You can't fight him," Enoy continued. "You can't threaten him. You follow rules, or you die."
Jack nodded solemnly. "Ah. Rules. I'm famously good with those."
They stopped before a massive stone building with iron doors thick enough to stop a Sea King having a bad day. A man in guard uniform stood at the entrance, arms crossed, eyes cold.
Enoy gestured. "These are the men Boss called for."
The guard looked Jack up and down—tall, tanned, rum in hand—then at Pintel, who looked like something a child might draw after a nightmare.
"You refrain from violence," the guard said flatly. "Or you die."
Jack nodded enthusiastically. "I don't want to die."
The guard seemed satisfied and opened the door.
Inside, Capone Bege sat behind a heavy desk, fingers interlaced, expression calm and measured. He was broad-shouldered, dark-haired, cleanly dressed, with sharp eyes that weighed everything they landed on.
Bege smiled politely.
Jack immediately produced rum and took a long sip.
Enoy froze.
Pintel bit his lip so hard he almost drew blood trying not to laugh.
Bege's smile faltered—just for a fraction of a second—then reset itself.
"Boss," Enoy said hurriedly, "this is Captain Jack Sparrow. The one with sixty million berry bounty."
Bege gestured smoothly. "Sit."
Jack did not hesitate. He sat.
Pintel moved to sit as well.
"Only leaders," Enoy snapped.
Pintel blinked. "What?"
Jack waved him back. "It's fine. Stand tall. Loom."
Pintel loomed.
Jack leaned back in his chair. "So. You wanted to meet me. I'm quite busy, you know. Very famous." He glanced at Enoy. "Apparently."
Bege folded his hands. "I have a task for you."
Jack tilted his head. "A job? From a mafia boss? For a pirate?"
"Yes."
Jack squinted. "What do I get?"
"Money."
Jack leaned forward instantly. "Now we're speaking the same language."
Bege's eye twitched.
"My rival, the Happo Navy," Bege continued, "have placed a hit on me."
Jack nodded. "Flattering."
"A sniper has taken the job."
Jack frowned. "How much?"
Enoy inhaled sharply.
Bege's voice hardened. "The money is not important."
Jack shook his head. "Incorrect. Money is always important. You get women, meat, rum, power—"
"I have power," Bege snapped.
Jack paused. "…Women? No? Then more rum."
Bege closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, his patience was visibly thinning.
"The sniper," Bege said, slowly, "is one of the best marksmen in West Blue. His name is Van Augur."
Jack squeezed his temples. "Nope."
"…No?" Bege echoed.
"Nope. Rings no bells. Gun guy?"
"Yes."
"Tall?"
"Yes."
"Shoots from far away?"
"…Yes."
"Ah," Jack said, satisfied. "That narrows it down."
Bege exhaled. "Bring him to me. Alive."
Jack tapped the desk. "Price?"
"Five million berries."
Jack leaned back, unimpressed.
Bege's lips curled. "One million advance."
Jack's hand shot out. "Deal."
They shook hands. The start of a new relationship.
Bege gestured. "Enoy will brief you."
Jack stood. "Pleasure doing business."
As they turned to leave, Jack glanced back. "By the way."
Bege looked up.
Jack smiled. "You should really work on your patience."
Bege watched him go, expression unreadable—then slowly smiled.