Confusion #41

Observing Mr. Double Six's departure while his henchmen advanced toward us, Blake turned to Law with a playful grin. "Well? What's the plan then, Mr. Strategist?" he inquired, his tone light with anticipation.

Law wasted no time with his response. 

"Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi will handle the minions," he announced with authority. "I'll take care of their boss personally," he added firmly, determination etched in his expression as he readied himself for the imminent confrontation.

Blake nodded in agreement. "And what about me? What's my role in this little drama?" he inquired, gesturing towards himself with a quizzical expression.

"You just stay back and enjoy the show," Law directed, his gaze focused ahead as he dashed toward the castle's interior, his footsteps echoing with purpose. "This isn't a situation that requires the captain's intervention..." 

Blake's expression instantly turned annoyed. "Well, that's no fun... but I guess these guys aren't much of a challenge anyway," Blake muttered to himself, scratching his head as he observed Law dispatching any opposition in his path. 

"Might as well enjoy the spectacle then. Take care, fellas," he added with a grin before propelling himself into the air, leaving Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin to confront the oncoming hordes.

"We're outnumbered by about thirty to three..." Penguin remarked with a confident smirk, cracking his knuckles with assurance. 

"Doesn't seem quite fair... for them," echoed Shachi, his grin mirroring his friend's bravado.

Their attention then turned to Bepo, expecting him to contribute to their banter. Much to their dismay, Bepo was sprawled on the ground, his head dramatically turned to the side, tongue hanging out in between his teeth. 

"Quit playing dead and get to work!" Penguin scolded, shooting a meaningful glance at Shachi. 

Without hesitation, Shachi nodded in agreement, and together they hoisted Bepo up, one grasping his legs, the other his arms, before hurling him at the approaching thugs with a mix of annoyance and exasperation.

"Sorry!" Bepo exclaimed as he was hurled through the air toward the thugs. 

...

As Law and Blake finally reached the castle's throne room, a dilapidated sign above the entrance declared it as such. However, the grandiose title belied the reality within. The spacious chamber resembled more of a junkyard or the chaotic lair of an obsessive hoarder. 

Random objects littered the floor, from brooms to empty bottles, and even pieces of broken furniture. These random pieces of junk shared a common trait: their lack of worth and the fact that no one would miss them should they disappear from anyone's life.

Even the makeshift throne upon which Mr. Double Six perched was a testament to the room's disorder. Pieced together from various odds and ends, it lacked both comfort and regality.

As Law and Blake entered, Mr. Double Six rose to his feet, greeting them with false hospitality. "Welcome to my humble abode! Feel free to take me on together," he announced confidently. "And if you're interested in a tour, just say the word. I'd be delighted to show you around."

Blake shook his head, declining the offer. "This fight is between you and Law," he clarified, gesturing toward Law, who stood with his hand resting on the hilt of his katana. "He believes this isn't a situation that requires my intervention," Blake explained with a casual shrug.

Mr. Double Six appeared rather amused by Law's reaction. "Seems like I'm being underestimated once again... but that's nothing new," he quipped with a chuckle. "Now then, shall we get started, or are you suddenly interested in that tour?" he added, stepping down from the platform that served as his makeshift throne.

Growing impatient, Law began to draw his sword, only to be halted by Blake's hand on his shoulder. 

"A tour of what, exactly? I don't see anything worth a second glance here," Blake remarked, tilting his head in confusion. "Are you stalling for time, perhaps? Hoping your lackeys will come to your rescue?" he queried, fixing Mr. Double Six with a skeptical stare.

Mr. Double Six shook his head slowly. "No, my men won't hold out much longer against your friends," he stated matter-of-factly. "You see, I have a knack for assessing people's strength. I can gauge it with a single glance," he boasted, sporting a confident grin.

Law couldn't hide his surprise and slight offense at these words. "So, you claim to have a handle on our strength, yet you still want to take us on, both at once?" he questioned, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Mr. Double Six nodded as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Whether you face me alone, together, or even wait for your friends to join you..." he trailed off, his tone oozing with certainty. "The result won't change!" he declared with a hint of conviction.

Hearing these words, Blake couldn't contain his laughter. "Bwahahahaha! You're quite the character, you know that?" he exclaimed, his amused demeanor in stark contrast to Law's annoyed expression. 

"You know what? I've changed my mind about that tour. How about showing us around?" he requested, much to Law's confusion and irritation.

"Just what in the--" Law began to protest, but Blake cut him off mid-sentence. 

"Easy there, calm down. You seem to be misunderstanding something," he said with a chuckle. "If you're confident in your ability to take him down, and in Bepo and the others to handle his lackeys, then it shouldn't hurt to wait a little longer," he added, flashing a grin.

Law let out a resigned sigh. "Fine... but just so you know, I don't like this one bit," he grumbled as he sheathed his sword.

"So, you're up for the tour then? Excellent!" Mr. Double Six exclaimed with evident delight, gesturing toward the corner of the throne room. "Right this way, gentlemen," he added, beckoning Blake and Law to follow him.

Blake stifled a laugh at Law's resigned expression. It was clear Law wasn't thrilled about the impromptu tour, but Blake couldn't help but be intrigued by the eccentric gang leader.

Making their way to the corner, Mr. Double Six pointed proudly at a barrel filled with pitchforks and torches. "Here's where I store my pitchforks and torches, all essential items if you ever plan on starting an angry mob!" he declared with a touch of whimsy.

With every word spoken, Law seemed to grow more irritated as he tried and failed to make sense of what Mr. Double Six was saying. The two of them were far from compatible. 

Blake, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow, unable to suppress his amusement. "So, you keep these items handy in case you ever feel like starting an angry mob?" he inquired, his tone a blend of amusement and exasperation.

Mr. Double Six grinned mischievously. "You never know when the opportunity might arise," he replied cryptically. "Now, if you'll kindly follow me, I'll show you my prized bottle collection," he added, leading them to another area of the room with a flourish.

Stopping before a cluttered assortment of wooden crates brimming with an array of bottles, Mr. Double Six continued his tour. "As you can see, there are all sorts of bottles here, each with its own unique shape and color. They would make excellent materials for crafting tinted windows," he explained, gesturing toward the eclectic collection.

"I'm sure there are a couple of rum bottles somewhere in this mess," he mused. "I would pour you some drinks, but alas, I seem to have misplaced my pen," he added with a hint of regret.

Blake furrowed his brow, perplexed. "Why would you need a pen to pour us a drink?" he inquired, his confusion evident.

Mr. Double Six shot Blake a quizzical look. "Well, it's to write your names on the bottles, of course," he replied, his tone trailing off uncertainly. "I can't rightly offer you something with another's name written on it, can I?" he added, sounding even more befuddled than Blake.

Blake scratched his head, trying to unravel the peculiar logic. "So, those bottles belong to someone else? Are you keeping them for someone?" he pressed, seeking clarification.

"No?" Mr. Double Six replied, his uncertainty evident in his tone. "These bottles have my name written on them, so they belong to me," he declared somewhat defiantly. "In other words, you can not drink from these bottles unless the name on them is changed to yours."

"But if they're yours, isn't it okay to just give them to us, even if your name is on them?" Blake asked, his confusion deepening with each exchange. "You do own them, after all," he reasoned. 

Mr. Double Six shook his head. "That's not how it works. You have to have your name on something to truly own it," he explained matter-of-factly.

Blake paused, realizing the futility of the conversation. "Then may I ask why you put your name on everything? Even worthless items?" he inquired, furrowing his brow. "I've just noticed it now, but your name is written on almost everything here, isn't it?" he observed.