Chapter Text
"I should tell him..." Gently tapping his phone's side, Shalnark found himself perplexed by his hesitation.
"Auugghh!" Shalnark let out a loud sigh, feeling burdened by others' emotions. Walking all over Phink's feelings was easy when he was still in denial. However, ever since that brute confided in him a few years ago, that dreadful thought has been creeping in.
"What if I told you I have a lead, but don't get your hopes up." That sounded objective enough, and yet, perhaps it was because he knew Phinks all too well. He's an impulsive idiot who gets his hopes up and then crashes when it leads nowhere.
Still, this has been the best lead he had since...
Shalnark shook his head; his hesitance wasn't a weakness. If Phinks got his hopes up and mopes, he'd pester Shal for weeks. He had to keep this information to himself until there was more certainty.
Shal opened up a notes app on his phone, writing down the interaction he had just a mere moment ago. Who would have thought the lead he had found would walk right to his doorstep.
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One could describe the building of his workplace as suffocating. It can be challenging to find, as its only entrance exists between the alleyways of two buildings. As obsolete as it sounds, it serves a purpose. To deter random small-time thugs from stumbling across the place. Shalnark had built a name for himself under the pseudonym Black Voice. Also known as Meteor Cove's most prolific intel broker.
Who would have thought that after spending all those years investigating and searching for a ghost, those skills became his day job? Actually, he would have guessed it. It was the most logical decision, after all.
Being an intel broker has been intriguing, to say the least. Secretly being involved in many worldwide scandals, usually missing persons cases. The number of times he chuckled when a client brought up familiar names such as Ging Freecss or Pariston Hill. He'd ponder to himself, "What on earth did those two do to get all of these people involved?"
Truly, Shalnark enjoyed his job, almost to the point where he could forget about the ghosts that haunted his childhood. Almost.
Today was like every other day; it was dead silent until someone knocked on his door.
"Come in." Shalnark hollered, fixing his tie as his gaze stayed glued to the computer screen.
As the door opened, "Um... Hello," said a young woman. However, based on the footsteps, there was another. Shalnark stood up to see where the other figure was, only to be surprised that he had to look so far down.
Based on the outfit, he'd guess that these two were pirates. The young woman wore a black blouse and a washed-out dark blue tattered skirt. Her leather corset sat nicely around her waist, but what was the most noticeable thing about her outfit. How obsolete it was. She was dressed as if she mimicked what a pirate would look like in a children's cartoon. While some pirates around these parts still appreciate the theatrics, it was wild to witness in the modern day.
The man next to her was barely any different. The first thing Shalnark noticed was exceptionally short in stature he was. His messy, long, grayish hair covered most of his face with only a hint of eye popping out. He wore a light blue tunic with gray striped pants. Putting the whole fit together with a brown sash resting on his hips. It was comical how cartoonish these two appear to be.
Sarcastically, Shalnark lightly applauded them before welcoming his new clients, "So, let me guess. You two are pirates?" It was difficult to hide the snark in his voice.
"Yes. We are." The woman blinked, confused about why the man clapped.
"So, what are a couple of pirates doing here?" He shrugged, best not to piss them off, if they were telling the truth.
"We're looking for..." She paused, then turned towards the man. "What was it again?" Shalnark was taken off guard, momentarily. Did she seriously forget why she came here?
The man spoke up; his voice was rather airy. "We are looking for the intel broker, Black Voice."
Shalnark smiled, "You are staring right at him."
"Ah, really? You look different than I expected." She tilted her head.
"What did you think I'd look like?" Shal chuckled.
"Umm... More intimidating, I guess." She shrugged.
"Well, you got me there." As he chuckled, his facade never changed. Shal had perfected his cherub-like demeanor, a smile as empty as flowery words. People who could see past it always likened it to something more demonic.
"So, let's cut the small talk. Assuming you have the money, what kind of information are you looking for?" Shalnark sat back down and gestured for the two clients to do the same. Both of them obliged, though the woman seemed to be distracted by her surroundings. One would assume she was simply an airhead, but her gaze suggested something more analytical.
The small man spoke up, assuming to take the lead in the conversation, "We're looking for information on behalf of our captain. We've heard a rumor that the Black Voice is an intel broker that originated in Meteor Cove. Is that true?"
Shalnark usually avoided answering questions about himself for safety; however, that fact was well-known across the city. He nodded, "Yeah, I lived here all my life. Why is that important?"
"The information we seek involves an event that may or may not have happened here, in Meteor Cove."
Shalnark couldn't help but chuckle, "Aren't you being vague? However, you did come to the right person. How long ago was this event?"
"Fifteen years ago."
Shalnark's finger flinched; only for a brief moment did his expression falter. Forcing a smile, his gaze became intrigued by the direction of the conversation. "Fifteen years ago, you say? Hmmm... I recall that time quite well. So, what happened fifteen years ago?"
The man paused, perhaps noticing Shal's previous reaction. Nonetheless, he responded, "We're looking for any information on human or cryptid body collectors that might have been active fifteen years ago."
His heart sank to the bottom of his stomach when he uttered the words cryptid body collectors. The lingering desire was to break out of character, to bring up his long-lost childhood friends. Instead, he clasped his hands together, shifting his elbows onto the desk. Leaning forward, with a gaze so direct, he spoke, "When you say cryptids, are you referring to the myth that surrounds Meteor Cove?"
"Myth?" The woman perked up, blinking a few times.
"It's interesting that you brought up fifteen years ago because there was allegedly an incident involving sirens." Carefully, he watched their reactions. Their body shifted into a tense state. If his theory is correct, this might be his sole opportunity to uncover what happened to Chrollo and the other children.
"Allegedly?" The man repeated, showing signs of distrust towards Shal.
"Well, it's a complicated situation. There's a man who regularly hangs out at The Velvet Vine, a pub near the shore. He has some wild stories, but his most interesting one involves an encounter with sirens fifteen years ago." Internally chuckling, how strange was it to talk about himself in the third person.
"Something about siren kids and something bad happening to one of them. With his track record, he should be at the pub tonight." It was a gambled risk; truthfully, he didn't know if anything bad had happened. However, with the information he gathered from this interaction, it sounded like someone in that friend group had perished. If that were the case, their disappearance made sense.
"Siren kids..." They repeated his words. Looking at each other, as if checking if they were on the same page before responding.
"What's this man's name?" He asked.
"Well, he goes by many names." Not a lie, however, he couldn't shake the feeling that Chrollo was still alive and out there. That if Chrollo was connected to them, he was choosing to avoid him. "However, the best way to describe his appearance is a handsome blonde man. He also has a tendency to wear bright clothes, like lavender or teal."
The pirates both nodded, handing him a wallet filled with jenny, though something told him that his wallet didn't belong to either of them. "Thank you. If we need more information, we'll be back."
Shalnark perked up, still holding back his curiosity. "Hey, if you don't mind me asking, what is the name of your Captain?"
The short man turned around. "Sorry, he forbade us from revealing personal information."
"I see..." Waiting until they had left, Shal leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.
"This is... really happening... right?"
He thought to himself, "So five siren kids started to hang out on the shores of Meteor Cove. One or more may have been caught by a cryptid collector. If there were any survivors, the rest must have fled back to the sea, which would explain their disappearance. If they are looking for clues, that means they are back for revenge and not..."
He paused, fully knowing how selfish he sounded. Of course, they would prioritize finding the collector over rekindling the old flame between them. However, it still hurt. If Chrollo was still out there, he should have come looking for him.
Shal shook his head. "Enough of those thoughts." He exclaimed to himself. Rising from the chair, he patted his suit. "I should get dressed for my pub date tonight."
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