Whatever reaction to the stranger's frankly absurd threat that Nezumi might have expected from the old woman, what actually happened was the least likely to happen.
"No! Leave my beautiful Vera alone!" she shrieked. She sounded so much like a distraught grandmother that Nezumi almost bought it, but surely she was putting on an act? There was no way…
"Oh no, you don't," the stranger tightened his grip on the painting, his blade pressing against the canvas such that you could see the strain even in this gloom.
Granny Rags went as rigid as a board. Nezumi hadn't seen whatever treachery the stranger had, but she must have been up to something if she reacted to his second threat that way.
However, that only left more questions in his mind. Did the old hag really care so much about the painting? He supposed it could be a sentimental thing, although he couldn't understand why anyone would place their own life at risk for sentiment. One can always acquire more things, if only you survive to do so.
Nezumi heard the faintest sound of metal on metal just to his right. He almost let out a yelp of fright, so focused he was on the stand off, but thankfully years of marine training had done him good in many ways, such as keeping his cool under stress.
The old woman's back was turned to him, her attention completely captured by the stranger, so he hazarded a glance to the sound's source.
There stood the stranger, lockpick in hand as he worked at his restraints.
The sight flooded him with hope and relief. As soon as his limbs were free, they could sneak out of this foul place right under the mad woman's nose!
But then… what was to stop her from capturing him again? It had been so easy for her the first time; she hadn't even been all that close by, almost two city blocks away and underground to boot.
Without an easy way off this wretched rock, he would be vulnerable! The Lord Regent wouldn't help him, that's for damned sure, and the less said about begging the Straw Hats for help the better.
He would need to rely on the stranger, then. Whatever had brought the man down here in the first place, Nezumi didn't need to know. All he cared about was if he could protect him.
Why was it taking so long for him to pick one damned lock?! There are three more to go, you know!
…
Something was off about these locks. Daud wasn't a master locksmith or anything, but he'd encounter a fair few much more complicated locks in his time. He'd even gotten through a few of Sokolov's commissioned designs.
By comparison, these were just heavy, but simply padlocks. He'd seen the kind before, locking up the gates to factories or warehouses. They aren't meant to keep out experienced thieves (or assassins, in his case), they were just there to prevent opportunists from walking in and stealing anything that isn't nailed down.
They served well in that function, but not this well.
Knowing that something was wrong, but not what exactly, Daud ran through a series of quick checks on himself.
First, he confirmed that he likely wasn't poisoned. Then he made sure he wasn't high and/or hallucinating. His tests weren't fool proof, since his own judgment could be impaired, but he was trained well enough to push past such things and see clearly, so he trusted his observations.
With those out of the way, he had to assume there was a reason outside of himself that was causing the issue.
Had the locks been modified, perhaps? If he'd been approaching them the wrong way, that would explain his lack of success.
"Toss the key over, Rags. The one to the chains around that man," his original demanded.
It was a risk to reveal his true motive, but he couldn't give the witch any more time to plot against him.
"Certainly, dearie," he read her lips. Granny Rags looked nothing like the kindly grandmother she had been pretending to be now. Her expression had grown cold and emotionless, revealing a hint of the monster that lay beneath her aging skin.
Slowly, she reached into one of her pockets and produced a key.
"Toss it over," Daud ordered.
She did, as Daud stretched out his sword hand to catch it, she let out a musical hum that he heard loud and clear in spite of his ear plugs.
He tensed, but his body was still firmly within his own control. She spoke again, "Now let's see who is at the mercy of who."
Daud heard nothing, thanks to his ear plugs, but the rumble beneath his feet told a story he could not ignore.
He hurled the painting away from the exit and his target as he charged towards the latter with the key in hand.
…
Nezumi watched in horror as the mad woman transformed before his eyes. He'd seen a number of zoan type devil fruit users before, but none were so monstrous as Rags' hybrid rat form.
She rushed after the painting that the stranger threw aside, but he was hardly concerned about her at the moment.
An orchestra of squeaks and shrieks filled the foul air as an untold number of rodents swarmed in their direction. So great were their numbers that the ground quaked with their combined movement.
"Hurry up!" Nezumi shouted at the stranger. The stranger worked as quickly as he could, which was quicker than Nezumi had any hope of matching, but even then it was not fast enough for his liking.
The first of the horde began to spill into the cistern right as the stranger finished freeing his limbs. The second stranger stuffed something waxy in his ears and silenced the world, before hoisted him over his shoulder.
Nezumi tried to protest, "I can run on my own- wait, why are you taking us towards the rats?!"
If the stranger replied, or could even hear him, he didn't know. His course did not deviate regardless.
Nezumi screamed and wriggled in spite of himself. He wasn't sure if death at the hands of the mad woman or the rats would be worse, and he didn't want to find out!
The stranger tossed something into the burgeoning hoard and there was a flash of light and heat. Nezumi had to shut his eyes, but he knew what happened next as he felt flames burn at his hands and feet. The stranger had plunged them straight into his own weapon as it still burned!
…
Daud was glad that he brought his incendiary grenades with him, even as the flames licked at his legs and body. It had been far more effective against the rats than it was against himself.
He did not have an unlimited number, however, and the swarm was still growing. He'd need to find a path with fewer rats, and the only way to do that was to get further away from where they'd been called to gather.
Another flash of fire and light burned a hole through the throng and allowed him to pass further out of reach of the witch.
With any luck, the little rats would be the only ones he had to deal with.