Fontaine Nekton doesn't know just how much trouble she's getting herself into when the eyes of Smiling Finn the pirate draw her into the deep.

This was going to be dangerous.

Behind them, Mom stood by in the Rover, in case the mission went too badly wrong.

Before them lay a stretching expanse of sodden wooden planks upon which dozens of people spoke in hushed tones, doing shady business deals.

It was the floating black market.

Dismounting the jet ski to survey the dingy, dark and foul-smelling makeshift market in the middle of the sea with thinly veiled disgust, Fontaine muttered, "sheesh, do these guys never clean this place?"

The planks were covered in seaweed and mould, scattered with waste from the stalls that lined the boardwalk, selling everything from fish to drugs to precious metals.

It was a cold evening in late autumn, the only sound being the wind rushing across the waves and the humming undercurrent of crooked criminals doing dodgy deals.

The stars hung softly overhead but Fontaine didn't feel at ease one bit. This was pirate territory.

"Just stay close," her father warned them, "Both of you. And remember what I told you."

The two siblings nodded and without another word all three set off down the market to the vendor they sought.

Her dad and younger brother Ant walked ahead of her, their footsteps light on the decking. Dad tightly clutched his copy of the scrolls they had recovered 2 weeks ago from a seafloor ship wreckage in the East Pacific.

He had been rapt since, spending every waking minute (and those he was meant to be asleep in) poring over the old cryptic messages and mysteries written in another language on surprisingly undamaged parchment. Fontaine had asked what was so special about them, but her father had been frustratingly vague about the whole ordeal.

They were the Nekton family, famed for living through exciting ocean exploration adventures.

But, in reality, her mother was a marine biologist and her father had specialised in anthropology of ancient civilisations, so there were more nerdy conversations than rick-rolling adventures on the submarine.

In fact, this trip was the most exciting thing that had happened in weeks.

Yet Fontaine knew it wasn't going to be fun for anyone if things went wrong. She kept her wits about her, eyes darting everywhere as she stalked down the rotting wooden planks of the so-called 'floating' black market.

"Are you sure this is where we'll get information about the scrolls?" Fontaine whispered to her father, "Doesn't it seem a little... I don't know, advanced for these guys?" she asked, upon observing a man at a tuna stall try to behead a fish with a spoon.

Hiding a quizzical expression, she looked up at her father, whose eyes were hard with a vigilance she'd never seen before today.

"We talked about this Fontaine," he replied lowly, "don't trust anyone here, no matter what your preconceptions might be. These are dangerous people."

She looked around as shadows moved across the floor, feeling a shiver in her spine as the wind blew relentlessly through her clothes.

The family wore their civilian outfits today, her in cargo pants and a dark tee under her bomber jacket, but she felt underdressed regardless of the weather, as countless eyes turned their way and whispers floated around the marketplace. They were incontestably not meant to be here.

Nonetheless, whatever her feelings about the situation, the only thing her annoying younger brother, Ant (despite her own fears and parents' respectable status in their fields of work and academia) seemed to be a specialist in was being a pain in the ass.

Even now, he skipped carelessly along in his bright orange jacket, the wind whipping his hair in every direction.

He was 14 already but had spent 90% of his life under the sea, much longer than her who had grown up on the mainland.

Maybe the water stopped his brain from developing properly, thought Fontaine amusedly.

They had both been instructed solemnly by their father to keep a low profile in this place: any attention was always bad news.

But there was little she could do to subdue the walking embodiment of chaos that was her younger sibling.

Fontaine sighed, tucking her own short brown locks behind her ear, leaving only the trademark pink strand hanging over her right eye.

As Ant stared unabashedly at everything on display, uttering "wows" and "oohs!" at every gadget on sale, Fontaine caught sight of two figures standing under an unlit area between stalls.

No one in this place screamed "friendly" but these men had a more chilling vibe altogether. Even the customers seemed to avoid this area. It lay quiet as the three Nektons neared the pair.

One was short and stocky, the other taller and considerably leaner. Both had dark hair that matched black swim suits embellished with streaks of red.

Engaged in subdued conversation, they stood at their stall, wiping down some weapons, not even bothering to hide the array of knives, guns and other things from view in case land authorities turned up.

A bad feeling swept over Fontaine as she approached, angling her body slightly away in an attempt to be unnoticeable.

Just as the three Nektons walked by, an earring, it seemed, glinted under the light of the moon and their faces came properly into view.

The logo on their clothes also became clearer, the red and black crest standing out to Fontaine as she stared at it, trying to recall why it looked so familiar.

One of the men, the younger one, looked up as she walks closer. Their eyes met for a split second before Fontaine darted hers the other way, not wanting a confrontation as her father had requested earlier.

Ant, on the other hand, does not seem to get this memo.

Spotting something he likes, Fontaine heard a small gasp as her impulsive and uncontrollable younger brother stopped at the men's stall.

He stares with wide eyes at some shiny new scuba equipment, thoughtlessly placing a hand on the (clearly stolen) goods.

Its design is state of the art, Fontaine recognises, but none of that matters as a high-pitched yelp falls from Ant's lips.

My God, that idiot couldn't just keep a low profile, could he? Fontaine thought.

She looked up to see her younger brother rubbing at his wrist.

"Ow! What was that for?" he complained, as the taller man watched on with a dangerous glint in his eyes. A scary smile played on his ruddy lips.

"No touching the displays, little boy," the older man stepped forward.

"But- but he hit me!" her brother gabbed on. The younger man in question raised an eyebrow at Ant's tone, a smirk growing on his face. A rasping laugh bubbled from his senior's lungs.

"Well, well," the stockier and balding man flashed a toothy (or maybe not so much) grin which reveals 3 missing and 2 gold front teeth. He probes at the Nektons amusedly, "haven't we caught a mouthy one here?"

The younger one's smile changes into something more sinister as he eyes up the family logo that adorns Ant's jacket pocket.

The sight itself spurs Fontaine into action and before either party can say another word, she sweeps in, putting an arm around Ant's neck and dragging him away.

"Shut up and come on, before you start a fight here," Fontaine mutters, desperately trying to drag Ant away from a full-on brawl before they can get what they need from this place.

"But he hit me!" her brother whines, propelled away from the stall of stolen items with a push from his older sister.

Fontaine offers no apologies nor any confrontational arguments to any party and turns to follow her sibling.

Then, all of a sudden, she feels a rough hand seize her wrist in a startlingly tight grasp.

A deep and clear voice resounds beside her ears, the tone a distinct warning.

"We don't take kindly to people who interfere in our business."

The young man's voice paired with the flashing warmth at her wrist culminates in a spark of agitation that runs through Fontaine like electricity.

She wants to knock him out cold for even laying a hand on her brother, no matter how irresponsible the boy might be.

Spinning around, she glares at him in anger, eyes as fierce and steady as his voice had been.

Who does he think he is?

Their eyes are locked in challenge.

His are unexpectedly blue, even in the dark night, and stare daggers at her as she glowers right back at him.

His cheekbone boasts a smooth white scar that seems to almost glow under the moonlight dimly illuminating this stretch of the market.

Dark eyebrows frame his dangerous face, narrowing as she refuses to back down.

His jawline (annoyingly defined she seems to notice) clenches as Fontaine also feels herself getting angrier.

She wants to deck the stupid man right in his stupid face.

She feels herself losing control of her temper.

Be rational, she tries to reason, we're here for the scrolls.

Forcing herself to take an internal breath, she jerks her hand out of his grasp.

And before she can do anything rash, she whirls around and sprints to catch up with her family.

.........

Both siblings draw alongside their father who, true to form, had not heard a word of the exchange as he walked ahead, distracted by the precious piece of paper in his hands.

The winds were harsh and unforgiving as the trio walked down to find the shadiest, most dubious and crooked vendor in the whole illegal establishment.

Dolos. Their father had warned them about this man and his tactics.

But to be fair, Fontaine was already on high alert from the moment she had stepped off the jet ski onto this place.

Either side of the walkway were men and women, their intimidating faces bedecked with tattoos and piercings covering the hard expressions they wore.

The trio pass by without incident, but their appearances had obviously caught the attention of the vendors and customers alike.

It wasn't often you'd see children in this place, especially not Nekton children. The atmosphere was stifling and Fontaine knew they were unwelcome. But she also knew they had to get this done.

As they neared the end of the winding market, the ferocious sea coming back into view ahead of them, Fontaine's father stopped in front of a yellowing wooden shack whose door had a 'KEEP OUT' sign nailed crookedly to it.

He shot a warning look to his children briefly and then turned back to knock three times.

Before he had even reached the third rap of his knuckles, the door cracked open and a small man with a monkey-like face peeked through.

"What do you want?" he snapped, in a raspy, accented, yet simultaneously high-pitched, voice.

"Hello, Dolos," her father replied, "it's been a while."

The man paused, looking up at the source of the voice before recognition lit up his eyes. "Ah, William Nekton! Hmmm... Long-time no see, eh? What are you doing here?" a sly smile crept onto the strange monkey-man's lips, his face visible only due to a lantern that hangs beside the door.

"I need your services for some information. Can we come in?"

The businessman raised his eyebrows, then realised they were not alone.

His eyes narrowed, a scowl twisting his face as he looked out at the two children that stood on his doorstep.

Ant waved comically at him.

"No brats allowed inside," he spat contemptuously, pointing to their father from behind the door, "only you may enter and get your business needs met... for a price of course."

Their dad only sighed, nodding as he turns to his teenagers once again.

"Listen kids," he murmurs, "I want you both to stay out here. Look out for one another and keep an eye out for anything strange. Dolos is known for his dubious ploys and may decide to stop at nothing until he get what he wants." He pats Ant's head. "I won't be long."

"Are you sure you don't want us in there?" Ant asked hopefully, wanting to be a part of the action.

"I'm depending on you both to stay here," their father reiterated firmly. They nod.

He turned and entered the door of the small shack, behind which the siblings only catch a glimpse of a room stocked full of different artefacts and trinkets, before the door slammed and they were left alone in a cold, dark market full of criminals.

Ant sighed sadly. "I can't believe we came all this way just to wait outside! I so wanted to see all the treasures inside Dolos' place," he whines.

Fontaine sighed, rubbing the back of her neck as she leans her head back against the sodden wooden wall. She knew how much of a sucker he was for shiny new toys, but the boy was really getting on her nerves today.

Shifting towards her brother, she reached out to lightly smack the back of his head.

"Ow!" he yells out, rubbing his head, "What is it with everyone and hitting me today?"

"I can't believe you'd be so dumb," Fontaine berated, arms crossed, "you had to go and touch those thieves' things even after the long lecture Dad gave us about being careful in this place!"

"Hmph!" he crossed his arms too, turning away theatrically, "yeah, well... you're no fun!" he retorted, sticking out his tongue.

Fontaine rolled her eyes at his obnoxious pedanticism and continues looking out into the market as they wait for their father.

It's dark out, but the place is spotted with small lanterns hanging over shops. Her attention piqued as she spots a vendor selling some rare spices she had wanted to try in her latest baking session but hadn't been able to get her hands on.

What's the price on those juniper berries, she wonders, struggling on tiptoes to see the over the dealer's shoulder.

So engrossed in thinking about how yummy her next batch of cookies will be, she almost doesn't notice the face staring at her from a stall behind. Fontaine starts as her eyes meet with those of a skin-headed man.

She looks away quickly, feeling a sense of unease. Her brows furrow, but when she looks back there a few seconds later, the stall is empty.

There is no one there. She scans the rest of the area to see if she can find him again and nearly jumps when she sees another shorter man staring at her and her brother from only a few metres away.

She moves her gaze away again, going to discreetly nudge her brother. "Ant..." she uttered quietly.

"What do you want, Fontaine?" he snapped, still embroiled in his anger from earlier, "you don't get to talk to me and I don't wanna talk to you, especially not after how you insulted me today, I mean you didn't even stand up for me when they were-"

"Ant!" Fontaine hissed, more forcefully.

"What?" he retorts, turning to look at her. Upon seeing her expression, he shut up instantly.

"Don't look now," his sister muttered, lips barely moving, "but I think there are people watching us."

"Really?" he leapt up to look directly at where she was looking.

Fontaine face-palmed at his lack of tact.

When she glanced back, neither of the mysterious figures were anywhere to be seen.

Right as she's wondering if she hallucinated them, a dull thump resounds from behind the shack where they stand waiting.

"Ant..." the siblings looked at each other instinctively, "something's wrong."

And that's when five men came into view, each brandishing weapons and walking directly towards them.

"Oh pooh," says Ant.