What you are (hopefully) about to read (you poor person) is the result of many late nights. I have no time during the day to work on it, so I spent about 15 minutes each night writing it so if seems a bit off (or just plain sucks) I apologize.

Also, I do not know much about marine ranks, so I may come back later and change it if I deem it necessary.

'blah blah blah' thoughts

blah blah blah thoughts

(consistent, aren't I?)

Disclaimer: sarcastically since I can draw, be creative, and write in Japanese (or any language) worth a damn, you must have mistaken me for Eiichiro Oda. Silly you.

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Sanji gave an inward sign of relief as he lowered his feet onto the broad walkway at the top of the wall. Seeing no sentries posted, he smirked. Either I'm incredibly lucky or they're completely stupid. What's the point of a wall if you don't guard it? Even pirates can climb a ladder.

The only lighting came from the city below him, but it was just enough to illuminate the wall top for him to locate a stairwell leading into the city. With cat-like stealth, he stalked towards the stairs, barely daring to believe how smoothly this operation was going.

He got two steps before the first blow came his way.

He heard a boot scuff the ground and instinctually ducked. The attacker had put so much force behind his punch that he could not stop the momentum thus he found himself stupidly whirling around. Taking advantage of his assailant's plight, Sanji quickly threw a kick to the guy's face, slamming him into the wall and knocking him out.

Thought this was too easy…

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man to his right raise his rifle in firing position and fire. Sanji barely dodged the bullet as he sprinted towards the shooter and disarmed him with a kick.

Just as he did that, another object came his way. Sanji brought his leg up to block the rifle butt intended for his head. Locked in a stalemate with Sanji's leg in the air stopping the weapon from crashing into his face, he was not able to see the other person sneak up behind him, also armed with rifle.

However, he did see stars when the rifle butt struck the back of his head. When the black finally faded, Sanji found himself lying in the middle of what now appeared to be about seven men mercilessly hitting and kicking his prone body.

There's no way I could have not seen this many men. Must have been a trap.

The cook suddenly jumped up and retaliated. In the time it took the men to recover from their shock, Sanji had already disposed of four of their number. The remaining three gathered together and began inching fearfully backwards away from the not-so-harmless pirate.

Just as Sanji shifted his balance for an attack to finish the remaining men off, something sharp pricked the skin over his shoulder blade. He whirled around to see three new men, the middle of which was holding a sort of blowgun. Fearing for the worse, Sanji tried to adjust the angle of his neck so as to better view what felt like a dart. However, this proved to be fruitless as looking at one's upper back was just as easy as licking one's elbow. Sanji only knew of one person who could do either of the said tasks, and he possessed a rubber body. Though he could not view the projectile, Sanji could already feel whatever was coated on the dart make its way into his blood stream.

"Shit."

"Thank goodness you came, Sgt. Red," began one of the three remaining men.

"He was about to finish us—"

"And you call yourselves marines, you lily-livered wretches? Hurry and restrain him. If he gets away, you'll take his place," said the man armed with the blowgun.

'I thought Nami-san said there wasn't a marine base on this island. Or was that Robin-chan…' The cook fought to keep his thoughts straight. Whatever drug coated the dart was certainly potent as he was already starting to feel the effects. His muscles were slow to respond, though it was certainly not a sleep-inducing drug, as his mind remained just as active as it had minutes before.

But they're obviously not trying to kill, so I should have an advantage.

He ducked the rifle butt of the closest man, and saw that he was indeed in marine uniform. 'Strange that I didn't notice it before… probably just the lighting…'

"What are you waiting for? Get him!" cried Sgt. Red spurring the rest of the men into action.

'Can't this guy do anything himself?' he thought rather annoyed. If that damned swordsman ever found out that he was having trouble against a handful of marines, he'd never hear the end of it…

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Fifteen minutes later found Sanji hanging limply between two marines. The drug had slowed him down immensely, and what were only minutes appeared to be hours to the drugged fighter.

He heard approaching footsteps above his harsh breathing and lifted his head to glare at what appeared to be the head marine present.

"You must feel pretty stupid to get caught in such an obvious setup," he said condescendingly. "Thanks to you, we have the bait we need to ensnare the rest of your crew."

Damn.

He was never going to hear the end of this…

"I have a deal for you," continued Sgt. Red, "You can cooperate in bringing known criminals to justice and we'll work out a deal to spare your life…" he paused as if to give the pirate a minute to think it over to which Sanji gave a rude snort, "or you can hang with the rest of them. An honest deal, don't you think? So which is it, you help us and go free, or hinder us and die?"

Sanji dropped his head back to his chest and mumbled a response.

"What's that?" asked the sergeant as he moved his head near the pirate's to better hear his response.

"I said," Sanji threw up with head to collide with Sgt. Red's chin, "'go to hell.'" He kicked both feet off the ground and slammed them into the sergeant's. The two men previously restraining Sanji fell to the ground dragging Sanji down with them.

Sgt. Red spat the blood from his mouth and reached down to grab the pirate by his shirt collar.

"Pirate scum," he whispered savagely as he lifted Sanji up to meet his eyes. For the first time, Sanji noticed the difference in height between them. At eye level, his feet weren't even touching the ground.

"Marine bastard," the cook replied evenly. Smirking at the thought that this guy never seemed to learn, he brought kicked his right foot up hard into Sgt. Red's crotch. The smirk disappeared when he was rewarded by an animalistic roar of pain followed by being flung off the wall.

The breath was forced out of his body when a couple of barrels painfully broke his fall. The last thing he was aware of was a popping sensation in his chest before unconsciousness enveloped him.

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Grrrr…. This was not going where I wanted it. I have no control! However, this is only the beginning so it will get better onceI get into it (gulps) Well, till next time…

Pointless note: My mom actually can lick her elbow. However, that talent, it seems, is not genetic. Still, I come from a family of freaks.