#evil stan

Happy crimas!

The bartender blinks at you with a patient expression, but remains silent. You try to hold in an impatient sigh as you say "and get me... whatever your favorite is."

"Of course," he says, plucking your credit device out of your hand and bustling over to the register. You find yourself tapping your foot and do everything you can in order to avoid looking at your chronometer- you still need the information, and don't want to risk alienating the one who can get it for you.

He comes back a few minutes later with your device and a drink, an unappetizing-looking brown liquid with little glowing blue spots in it. "Thanks," you say, but don't pick it up. "So... Piranha Pines?"

The bartender scans the room for a bit, then his face brightens. "The guy alone over in the corner," he points with one of his hands. "I'd watch out though- he can get real weird when he's not sober."

You give the bartender a frosty smile. "I can handle it." You nod to him, then indicate the drink. "Treat yourself," you tell him, then stride towards the corner.

To your dismay, the famed Piranha Pines, Feared Hunter of Fords, is passed out in the corner booth, face down on his folded arms on the table, surrounded by what looks like empty bottles of cosmic sand. You look around, then pick up a cocktail menu and poke him sharply a couple times on the arm.

"Wha-" he chokes and lifts his head to see what was bothering him.

He seems to be human, but his long, brown, matted beard tangled with his his equally unkempt brown hair makes it difficult to see his face. One eye is covered with a black eye patch, sporting a golden angular version of a fish with an open mouth and a triangle. The other eye looks at you blearily. A mouth appears in the beard, "Jus' keep the drinks comin, honey, y'know I'm good for it," He begins to put his head down again, but you quickly slap the cocktail menu under his chin to prevent it.

"I'm here to hire you," you say, not even bothering to hide your disgust. "Although I'm starting to have second thoughts."

His eyebrows raise, then he lazily slides into an upright position. "People don' hire me, toots," he slurs. "I work for one guy, doin' one thing." He looks you up and down, and a drunken smile crosses his face. "But if you're interested in being hired..."

"Ugh," you say, making a face in revulsion, and he laughs. But you press on. "You hunt Fords. We need a Ford to be hunted. This one has already evaded three of our bounty hunters, and if we don't catch him soon-"

Piranha waves a hand. "I already toldja," he says, sounding slightly annoyed. "I only work for one guy, and no one else-"

"Yes. We know. Bill Cipher wants all Fords dead. We want this particular Ford dead. We have a mutual goal- it shouldn't be a problem."

Piranha looks at you, still with the bleary gaze. "Y'keep sayin' "we", but I only... only see one of ya..."

"'We' meaning The Company," you say primly. "We hired Ford to help us develop several technologies for us, but he has stolen some highly sensitive prototypes and we know he plans to use them for his own gain."

Piranha snorts. "Sounds like 'im. But so what? You guys only make one zillion instead of two zillion?" He chuckles to himself as he picks up an empty bottle of cosmic sands and tries to down it.

"The technology he stole has the potential to destroy entire dimensions," you say.

There's a loud clunk as Piranha throws down the empty bottle, clearly disappointed. "That sounds like a you problem," he says. "Now either get me another bottle or leave me alone so I can-"

And then his expression changes.

"Hey, wait," he says, his smile suddenly too wide, his drunken gaze suddenly sharp. "Did you say destroy entire dimensions?"

You are unsettled by the change but keep your ground. "Yes." you answer steadily.

The smile somehow grows bigger, and you swear his visible eye seems as if it's glowing yellow. "That's kinda interesting. Hey Fish, you can go ahead and take the job. We'll talk about it later."

"I'm sorry?" you say, but before he can answer, you watch Piranha suddenly go boneless, hitting his head on the table.

Then he whips his head up and shakes it. "Looks like the boss wants me to work with you," he says. "There gonna be any money in it?"

"Uh, yes, we are prepared to pay you the bounty we have been offering," you say, trying to keep cool even though you are thoroughly freaked out.

"Great," he answers, still slurring slightly. "Now whyn't you get those guys to come help me outta here."

"What guys?" you ask casually.

"Those guys you had waiting in the wings to save you if something didn't go right," he says. Then he looks up at you, a smirk somehow showing through his beard. "I might be drunk, but I ain't stupid,"

You swallow, then nod to the four security guards you had indeed brought with you, and they helped Piranha stumble out of the booth, leading him to the transport. You follow them, even more on edge than you were when you first came to the bar.

This might be more dangerous than you thought.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The next day you've put your fear away, deciding there must have been some sort of illicit substance in the air of the bar, causing you to be more frightened than usual. But you've acquired the Piranha, he said he'd work with you, and the two of you were leaving to find your Ford and the stolen technology as soon as Piranha sobered up. Everything was going to be fine.

You are feeling pretty proud of yourself for calming down as you put the last item in your travel bag, but all the calm goes out the window when you hear footsteps behind you, and you quickly whirl around, ready for the attack.

But what you see makes your jaw drop.

Piranha Pines stands there in a black leather jacket, white shirt, and dark pants and boots. His posture is different than from last night; instead of being hunched over, he's standing up straight, muscles you didn't notice last night straining his shirt. His beard is completely gone and his hair is cut to a perfectly roguish shoulder length. But what really is killing you is his gaze. It's no longer half focused and bitter, but now full of confidence and mischief, making your heart beat slightly faster.

"So they say you're comin' with me," he drawls, leaning against the doorframe and once more looking you up and down. "Can't say I mind, even though I usually work alone."

You smirk at him, hoping he doesn't notice the effect he's having on you. "You think we'd trust you to go alone? Someone has to keep an eye on you to make sure you don't end up passed out on cosmic sand again."

He chuckles softly to himself. "Nah, that's only between jobs." He frowns slightly. "I get... thoughts... or memories, or... whatever... that don't make sense, an' I gotta push 'em out somehow," he says, shrugging. Then he flashes you a toothy grin. "Don't need that when I'm on a hunt."

"Good," you say, trying hard to focus on the task and not just stare at the man in front of you. You instead grab your bag. "Shall we?"

"Happy to follow you, sweetness," he says, and cracks his knuckles. "Let's go."

This absolutely was going to be more dangerous than you thought, and in more ways than one.

~*~*~*~*~