Chapter 396: They Tried to Put a Collar on the Wrong Seafood

The man carrying my future collar asked whether I understood simple commands, which was a brave opening from somebody wearing his trousers backward.

Lukas glanced from the pockets facing us to the man’s face. I wanted to tell him not to laugh, but I also wanted to see how much of his lip he could bite before giving in.

I slid onto the market platform with my wing folded. The market host had moved the residents behind the stone wall of the old kitchen, and the arrival ladder remained the only open approach.

Collar Idiot climbed the arrival ladder while his mates stayed on their tied boat, one at the launcher and one holding a net. I watched the net bloke spread it out and wondered whether he’d remembered which end of his pants went first.

[System: Let him finish the sales pitch, mate. I want to know whether you’re house-trained before we invest in accessories.]

Old Mate sat on an imaginary crate beside the market host’s real ones, a beer balanced against his furry stomach. The koala looked comfortable for someone who wouldn’t clean the deck.

*Ask whether the collar comes in red. If he wants to kidnap me, he can make an effort.*

[System: Tell him you’re a rescue, mate. Bites strangers, steals food, piss-poor recall. We might get you a little vest.]

The idiot rattled the collar and made a kissing noise, so I tilted my head as though considering it. Lukas stared at me. I wanted a price before we started ruining the merchandise.

*"Before you embarrass yourself further, how much were you planning to sell me for?"*

He stopped making the noise, then looked me over again. I knew that look from people selling damaged cars, and I was already offended by whatever number he had in mind.

"Talking ones fetch more, so come quietly and you won’t get hurt."

Bollocks Detector caught his lie. I let him reach a little closer anyway, humming softly while I pictured wearing that collar into my own club. Cherry would never let me survive the photographs.

His expression changed when he heard it, though not quickly enough to help. I braced the forward section of my body, drove into his middle, and folded him over the railing with the collar hanging from one hand.

The net bloke hesitated at the noise his friend made. I swung the collar beneath its owner’s nose so he could admire the finish.

Lukas dropped a mooring line through a lower ring and pulled the ladder tight against the platform. Below us, the net man tried to climb and found the rungs pressed firmly against his face.

"Sorry," Lukas told him. "We’re dealing with the first customer."

The launcher operator reached for the deck controls. Lukas moved along the platform to the angle we’d checked before opening the ladder, then dropped the market host’s heavy fish bucket over the exposed firing lever.

It jammed sideways against the guard rail, preventing the lever from traveling. The bucket contained old scales and yesterday’s cleaning water, which spread across the operator with an enthusiasm I respected.

I squeezed Collar Idiot’s wrist until he dropped the collar, then dragged him onto the boards. His other hand came up with a knife, and I jerked aside. So much for being valuable; the cheap cunt was already trying to scratch me.

His blade stuck in the boards, leaving his elbow wonderfully available. I hit it with my tail and asked whether he still wanted to discuss my price.

[System: Throw in free delivery, mate. You’ve already introduced his ribs to the bloody railing.]

*Charge him extra for delivery. I have spent all morning being admired by kidnappers, and somebody owes me for my time.*

The net man finally gave up climbing and reached for a short gun. I could see it in his hand less than three meters below the platform, with a clear space beside my body on the boards.

Mine Now snatched the gun into the space beside me. It hit the boards with a nasty clunk, and I shoved its barrel away from the kitchen before pinning it under a crate. There went my chance to ask the gun bloke how much he’d paid for it.

Lukas climbed down far enough to kick the man’s hand away from a second weapon, then used the collar’s chain to fasten him to the ladder. His complicated legs gave him several ways to remain attached while doing something rude with the others.

The operator abandoned his bucket problem and tried to start the boat. Lukas had already secured its bow to the lower ring, and the sudden thrust pulled it sideways instead of free.

I leaned over the railing and addressed him while he spat fish water out of his mouth.

*"Turn that off, put both hands where we can see them, and stop making your arrest smell worse."*

"You’re not the watch," he said, which was the first accurate thing anybody from his boat had contributed.

*"The watch has rules about what happens next, and I’ve got a bucket that isn’t empty yet."*

He turned off the engine while Lukas looked sadly at the wasted fish water.

Collar Idiot tried getting up behind me. I braced against the boards and pressed him back down, choosing the sore shoulder because apparently he needed help remembering our conversation.

The market host brought rope while Lukas checked the boat. With no fourth crewman aboard, we secured all three, removed their weapons, and radioed the attendant its registration.

He said the patrol was still coming. I asked him to make sure it brought somewhere to put people who smelled like a fishmonger’s drain.

Lukas found a cash pouch beside the control panel. We counted eight hundred credits in front of the market host, recorded it with the captured gear, and left the boat itself tied in place for the watch’s claim check.

*Eight hundred between three blokes who thought they could afford me, and now I am offended on behalf of the entire luxury market.*

[System: Don’t tell them your maintenance costs, mate. They’ll throw you back and ask the market host about adopting a jar of pickles.]

I was considering a second serving of eggs when a cable scraped beneath the boards.

The launcher’s firing lever had been jammed, but a separate winch was still running from its own battery. Out beyond the boat, an earlier harpoon line tightened against the creature’s exposed plate.

The market floor moved under us, and the kitchen wall began pulling away from its frame.