That's right, I love One Piece so much I'm going to write two stories for it at once. Obviously, this one will not be about Pirates. Not about Marines, either, since Hurricane pretty much has that side done perfectly. No, this one will be about a group of people I feel are somewhat shortchanged in the One Piece world: bounty hunters.
Think about it. There are hundreds, probably thousands of pirate crews out there that are nowhere near as genial as the Straw Hats. And the Navy has already proven itself to be completely incompetent at dealing with them. I think a group of bounty hunters would fit in quite nicely.
Suffice to say this will be somewhat different than a story about a pirate crew, but I think I'll be able to keep that One Piece spirit. Well, without further ado...
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In this world of ours, there are sea-faring criminals known as pirates. Travelling from island to island on ships that fly the Jolly Roger, they steal, pillage, and even kill to their hearts content. Opposing them are the Marines, the Law of the ocean. But even they cannot be everywhere. Cooperating with them are Bounty Hunters, who hunt down and capture Pirates to acquire the Bounties put out for them by the Marines. However, there are many strong Pirates in the world, and when compared with them, most Bounty Hunters are quite weak.
However, as with any rule, there are exceptions...this group is one of them.
Bounty Seven
Prologue: Seven Wayward Souls
"BATTEN DOWN THE HATCHES, MEN!"
Onboard a navy ship, a red faced marine captain barked orders to his crew as they scurried around the ship, fighting a battle to keep the ship from capsizing. The captain cursed to himself, the words lost to the wind as he wiped sweat from his brow. "Dammit, we were so close to the base, and we run into a storm. It just figures."
He turned to the ship's navigator, raising his voice to be heard above the storm. "You. What's the reading on the eternal pose? We're still on course, aren't we?" The navigator held up his wrist to show the compass attached to it. Inside the small glass orb, the magnetic point was faced directly ahead, the same distance the ship was moving in.
"As you can see sir, we are still on the path marked by the eternal pose. However, with this storm cutting away at our visibility, it will be impossible to tell the docks back at home from the rocks at the cliff face - until we've run aground at either."
The scene of what the former would be like popped into the captain's head, and he quickly waved it away. "So?" he demanded, "What do we do?" His navigator shrugged. "Hope we get lucky, I guess. Maybe if we pray, a beacon will shine down from the sky and guide our way."
The captain would have hit him, but he didn't want to risk breaking the eternal pose. He settled for giving him a dirty look and then walking back to bark more orders at his other men.
On the port side of the ship, a seaman was tugging on a rope while blinking furiously to get the sea water out of his eyes. At one point he happened to glance out at the sea to the left of the boat. He stopped, then blinked some more. That must have been his eyes playing tricks on him. But...no, it was still there. A short distance away from the boat stood an outcropping of rocks that jutted out from the ocean. Standing at it's peak was a large figure, unmoved by the wind and rain.
Although the storm made it too dark to see, it was clear the figure was much larger than a normal human. One with giantism, perhaps? As he watched, the figure lifted up one of it's arms towards it's head, and then made some sort of motion. The figure's eyes then lit up with two funnels of bright light, cutting away at the darkness. With the direction the figure was facing, the area in front of the ship was illuminated.
The beams were strong enough that they revealed the nearby island, the marine base and it's dock - and the rocky cliff next to it, which the ship was currently heading toward. The ship's navigator looked around in wonder. "What...where is that light coming from?" Brushing past him, the captain shrugged. "Who the hell cares!? MEN, MOVE THE SHIP BEFORE WE GET CRUSHED!"
On top of the rocks, the shadowed figure watched as the ship turned away from the cliff and gradually sailed into the base's dock. It nodded. "Mission Accomplished. Now Returning To Base." Turning, it walked off into the storm, vanishing into the wind and rain.
0
High in the sky, the sun shone down mercilessly on the small town. It was a real scorcher today, and to most people around the town that was known as Monday. Followed by Tuesday, Wednesday…you get the picture.
"Come on, put it all in the sack! I ain't got all day here!"
The bartender obliged. It was surprising how cooperative you could be with a gun in your face. "New in town, are you son?" he commented as he dropped the bills in, watching the crook wipe off his forehead for the fifth time. It was better than watching his armpits, at least.
"Yeah," the large man said happily, waving his gun to and fro, "but don't worry, I won't be staying long. This place might be a bit more of a ghost town, though: don't mind, do ya?" He laughed.
With the cash register empty, the bartender went back to buffing glasses. "Really now? Most of the visitors we get end up staying a fair bit. Might be surprised when you see what we have to offer."
The gunman snorted. "Like what?" But this…wasn't how it was supposed to go, was it? It wasn't just the bartender – nobody cared. He hadn't even interrupted the card game. He almost felt like flipping a table over or two, but the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up, and they'd never turned him wrong before. Snatching up the sack, he was out the door and into the dusty street before he heard it.
The sound of a harmonica, and hoofbeats.
Slowly he turned, and the sight he saw drove his heart into his throat and any dreams of being a rough and tumble criminal from his mind. He turned and ran, and almost got to the end of the street.
Inside the bartender nodded. "Get the usual from the back, will you Missie? That was a bit faster than usual, so I expect he's worked up a sweat."
0
The explosion shook the room of the captain's cabin, sending wood down onto the floor. As the lights flickered, the captain looked up nervously as he bit at his nails. "Dammit...we just got into the Grand Line, and already we've run into someone like this? We should never have left West Blue!" Another explosion came, along with several shouts of pain from his crew. He switched to the nails on his other hand. "My bounty is only fifteen million...I thought people like this were supposed to ignore small fries like me?"
Another explosion came, this one closer. From down the hallway came scrambling footsteps before the door was flung open and his first mate flung himself inside, closing the door behind him. He then leaned against it, breathing hard. "So..." ventured the captain, "did we win?" His subordinate shot him a look of venom. "I don't know, captain, does it sound like we won?"
"W-well, the explosions have stopped, haven't...they..." The captain's words trailed off as a sound came from down the hallway: light, skipping footsteps, coming toward the room. Quickly the first mate reached over and locked the door, motioning for the captain to be quiet. He slowly nodded, sinking into his chair.
As the two waited, standing perfectly still and with bated breath, the footsteps came down the hall. As they came near the door, they stopped. Both captain and first mate drew in their breath. Then they continued on, turning around the corner. The two men breathed sighs of relief, but stayed still. If the bounty hunter thought they weren't on the ship, perhaps they would leave.
The first mate was about to relax, when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. In the room, hovering in the air next to the left wall, which made up part of the hallway's corner, was a small, pinkish orb of light, slowly rotating. As he watched, it first turned towards him, and then his captain.
"Found you!" chirped a cheerful female voice from the other side of the wall. At that moment, the entire wall was blown into pieces, pieces of wood flying everywhere. As the debris settled, the object of their fear stepped in and waved. "Hello there." Instantly, the captain snatched his pistol from its holster and fired. One flash of light later, and he hit the ground, smoke rising up off his body.
"Oh me, oh my~." Their attacker opened her hand and the bullet dropped to the floor. She quickly nudged it away with her foot. "That was mean of you. Do I really look like someone who deserves being shot at?" As she mused, the first mate began to sidle towards the door. The girl made a motion, and the part of the wall next to the man's head blew apart. "Uh uh," the girl said, wagging her finger. "Don't try to move, 'kay?"
"What..." The first mate held up his hands. "what do you want from me? I don't even have a bounty!"
"Bounty?" The girl's voice took on a confused tone. "Good for you if you have one, but I don't really care about that. Hm...maybe that's why your friends attacked little old me? But I guess it doesn't matter."
As the girl continued speaking, her voice grew more serious. "The reason I'm here is to return some things to their proper owners. You and your friends stole them from the people of this village, isn't that right? That wasn't very nice. I don't really like things like that happening on my island, so maybe you could just give it back?" She took a step closer.
A bead of sweat ran down the first mate's face. "At...at the end of the hallway, take a left and go down the stairs. We keep the spoils in the first room on the right."
The girl smiled. "Thanks!" Turning, she skipped back out the hole, but stopped at the orb of light, which was still floating in the air. Raising her hand, she prodded it in the side. "But it wouldn't be fair if the captain got out spotless, would it?" she then left the room, while the orb leisurely moved across the room towards the first mate.
Once the girl was gone, the first mate's face changed to a sneer. "Stupid girl, you think I'll be frightened by this?"
He marched across the room, bringing his hand around to brush the orb out of his path. Out in the hall, the girl smiled as she heard the explosion. "Oh me, oh my~," she giggled, "gets them every time."
0
It was a dark, foggy night, enough that those descriptions were actually worth something for once in this damn city. That worked just fine for him. In his experience the fog here had never been thick enough to cut with a knife, but it could keep you from seeing someone until you walked right into them. Other way around, too.
Some sixth sense or whatever had spooked the pipsqueak; he kept glancing behind him as he went. How good was his vision in weather like this? He'd lived here a while. If it came to a chase, the little worm might give him the slip. It had taken this long to find out where he was staying right now, and the boss wanted this done soon. Even here people were starting to take notice of the pipsqueak's work.
If he was spooked, though, he had an idea. The thug stepped forward, letting his boot land heavily on the street. His prey stopped, whirled around and noticed him. He smiled slightly, and let his gaze flicker over the pipsqueak's shoulder. The kid whirled around, saw nothing - and still bolted off to the side, into an open alleyway. Idiot.
Walking quickly over to the alley, he looked inside. There was a dumpster, the walls of buildings, and nothing else. Not even a fire escape.
"For someone who works with words for a living, you're not very bright, are you?" he called. "You'd probably have been face-down in in the lake your first week trying this shit if it weren't for him. But he can't help you now, we made sure of that. Come on out, and I'll make it quick."
Nothing. He sighed, stepping forward. "Seriously? You did all this to take the Boss down, and now you're hiding?"
"Hiding?" a gruff voice came from the shadows behind him. "He doesn't need to hide from you."
The man's hand went to his gun, but with a click another lined up against the back of his skull. "Is this what he thinks makes a good tail? Give me a break."
"You were halfway across town! How'd you-"
"I'm faster than I look." The gun went off, and one of the man's kneecaps exploded into pain. "Faster than you now, too."
A boot to the back helped him down to the ground. As he lay there with a red haze around his eyes, he heard two voices retreat.
"How many times has this been now, kid? Six, seven?"
"Uh, five. Sorry."
"Huh. If you say so, you're the brains of this arrangement. And I told you: you got nothing to apologize for. Only rats like that do."
0
In a small but peaceful village in the Grand Line, a man walked down the street. He was dressed in a well tailored black suit, wore black sunglasses, and carried a briefcase in one hand. The way he walked suggested he had a meeting, but he seemed not in any great hurry. As he walked through the village, people who were in his path quickly moved to the other ends of the road. They acted like it was merely a coincedence, but he could tell. Of course, he would never do to them what they thought he would. But he didn't tell them that.
His destination was a house set away from the rest of the village, which was noticeably larger and well furnished than any other house in the village. Given his exact profession, this was not surprising. Walking up the slight hill that sloped upward towards his residence, the man opened the gate, stepped through, and stopped there. He looked around. Sniffed once. Frowned. Then he was at the door, unlocking it and stepping inside.
Once inside, he looked around the foyer. He frowned again. Walking over to the wall, he adjusted a painting that was askew. He then looked around again, and sighed. Stepping a door, he was now in the kitchen. Going to the table, he put his briefcase down. Opening the fridge, he retrieved a bottle of brandy. Withdrawing a glass from the cubboard, he poured himself a glass of the alchohol, then quickly downed it. He flicked his eyes to the kitchen door.
A small object came through the opening, clattering to a halt at his feet; a small coin, but not a piece of Beri. The man frowned, turned and clicked open his briefcase. Inside were two custom designed pistols with a holster, and a katana. Taking them out, he strapped the pistols to his waist and grabbed the katana. He then looked out into the foyer again.
Standing there next to the stairs was a figure, indistinguishable because of the shadow cast by the stairs. One thing was visible, however; the figure's yellow eyes. The man in black frowned again. He popped his neck a few times, and steadied his muscles, and prepared his reflexes. He then charged out the door toward the figure, katana in hand.
Seconds later the house was filled with the sounds of combat.
0
"I suggest that you give yourself up. They may go easier on you."
In the dark of the night, two people ran, dashing and leaping about on rooftops, gutters, streetlamps, and anything else that could support their weight. By comparing the first shadow's movements - frantic, and perhaps slightly desperate - to the second's calm, graceful ones, it was obvious that the second was pursuing the first. The shadow that had spoken moved their head to the side as a shuriken came sailing back in response.
"Very well, if that is what you want." the pursuer watched as the person they were chasing leaped off the building's edge, the height they reached suggesting years of training. The pursuer mimicked the movement, not faltering as their pursuee threw more projectiles at them. Nearly none of them would come close to hitting, them not being able to aim properly in midair. For the few that would, the chaser twisted their body around in midair, landing smoothly on the railing of the next roof. However, because of this dodge the person they were pursuing had gained a few feet.
Rather than moving, the pursuer instead moved their hands in a series of signs. Finishing, they did a forward leap off the railing. At that moment, the wind suddenly picked up, hard, catching the chaser's body in mid-leap and propelling her forward. Upon landing, she began running again, now much closer to her target. Seeing this, they began to make signs of their own. Suddenly, the person's body multiplied, becoming three, each of which went in a different direction.
"Hm." an almost insulted snort came from the pursuer's throat. Stepping up to where the three had split up, she easily caught sight of their retreating forms. With a flick of her wrist, three kunai appeared in her hand. Calmly, she performed another set of hand signs, and then threw them. In midair, three separate gusts of wind caught the weapons, sending them towards the three people.
Two of them made no attempt to dodge, taking the kunai in the back and exploding into smoke. The remaining one threw a kunai of its own, deflecting the missile. The chaser nodded, continuing the pursuit
Landing smoothly on a balcony railing, the pursuee swung himself down, and then attempted to jump to the building across. Sadly, while he was in the air the wind picked up around him, flinging him down onto the ground. He let out a cry of pain as his ankle twisted on impact. Not willing to give himself, he got to his feet and limped towards an alleyway nearby.
A bola attached to a rope sailed out and wrapped itself around his legs, tripping him. He looked ready to crawl when a foot came down on the back of his dead, pushing his face into the dirt. "I gave you a chance to surrender, and now look at you," a cold female voice addressed him, "face down in the dirt. Did you really think you could escape from me, a Hunter Shinobi?"
The man muttered something quietly. The woman frowned as her prey's body suddenly grew, becoming something that couldn't be human. "Using that here, in these circumstances…this will not be viewed kindly, you understand?"
A snarl came in response. She prepared herself.
A short while later, but longer than she would have liked, her prey hit the ground, back to normal. She stared down at him, mood not improved by this. "You would do anything but go back there, wouldn't you? I do not think I will ever understand why."
Grimly, she set about preparations to send him to her masters.
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Six people. Each of them completely different. Under ordinary circumstances, none of them would ever meet. However, there exists a person, a very special one, who will bring them all together? Who is this person? You will soon see.
The next morning, on that same island...
In the morning, the ferry did indeed come, serving as a vessel those who did not own a boat, transporting them to the next island over for business, pleasure, or otherwise. Stamping the ticket of a young couple and taking it, the ticket man stepped aside politely so they could board. He looked out at the dock. "Look's like that's it." he muttered. He began to motion to the crew to pull up the gangplank, when he saw that that wasn't true at all: there was one more.
Walking out of the ticket office was a young man, who looked to be in his late teens. He had a short, brown, and perfectly combed head of hair. He wore leather gloves on his hands, and brown dress shoes on his feet. Perched on his ears was a pair sunglasses, obscuring his eyes. He wore a brown jacket over a plain white shirt, and simple brown pants. He held a dufflebag in one hand, holding it as though it were an atache case. His walking stance looked very confident, and self-assured. Walking up to the ticket man, he held out his ticket.
Though caught off guard a moment, he still reached for his stamper, which he'd put away. "Cutting it kinda close, aren't you kid? We were just about to leave."
The youth simply adjusted his shades and said nothing. Becoming slightly uncomfortable, the ticket man searched for the stamper faster, so he could get stamp the young man's ticket and have done his job. The youth watched this, growing increasingly annoyed.
Finally, he sighed and pointed to the man's hand. "Alright. That stamper you use uses ink, correct?" His voice had a slight accent to it that the man couldn't quite place. "There's a spot of it on your right hand. I can tell from that that you're right handed. I can then predict that your stamper is inside..." He pointed at the man's uniform. "Your left pocket. It would be inconvenient to use your right hand to put it inside your right pocket."
The man checked, and it was indeed there. "It is there...how'd you know that, kid?"
The youth shrugged. "An educated guess, that's all." he held out his ticket, and watched as it was stamped and taken. Hefting his dufflebag, he walked towards the rooms for passengers, then stopped. "And by the way, I'm not a kid. Please don't call me that again."
Despite himself, the ticket man shivered slightly. "Y-yes, sir. I'll make sure not to." He watched as the youth disappeared into the ship. "Why do I get all the weird ones?" he looked at the name on the young man's ticket. "...Siegfried? What kind of name is that?" he muttered. Taking out his ticket book, he put the new arrival inside. "Wait a minute..." It appeared as though a new ticket had been added to the book. "The hell? I was sure there were only...aw, who gives a damn?"
He sighed. "It's gonna be one of those trips, I just know it."
To be continued...
Next time, on Bounty Seven...
Noblewoman: Pirates, here? How dreadful!
Captain: We're not trained to deal with this kind of thing...
Siegfried: Why do you do things like this? What's the point?
Bounty Hunter, Part 1
Siegfried: Your next words will be...
Just to warn you, this might be a little different from most other One Piece stories on here, in case it wasn't clear.
Terms and Attacks:
O Wazamono: Meaning, "Great Grade Sword", the O Wazamono are 21 Swords considered to be masterpieces of craftmanship. No two are the same, and owning one is considered a great sign of honor among swordsman.
Shinobi: A group of mysterious, masked individuals who seek to rid the world of criminals. They do this by hiring themselves out to Pirates, Marines or others, working for them in exchange for monetary compensation. Shinobi possess special training that others do not, and having one on your side is a great advantage, in battle or otherwise.
Until next time...see ya.