Summery: strange restaurant

XxxX

Zoro was driving out on the open road in a mindless state. The unending street ahead of him was passing in a blur of reflective lines and cracked asphalt. He was out of focus, in a half dream state. It was so dark out; one AM, or maybe later, he couldn't bring his eyes to leave the hypnotic blur of the passing scenery. He was alone on a country backroad, driving along through a vast field of crops and grass, as if there was nothing else in the world. The landscape was all the same, a blurred image all around him, it-

His thoughts were cut to an abrupt end as his chip went into effect. Everyone had a chip, they were implanted into the brain as soon as a baby was delivered. They were designed to keep the masses happy, or so they were told, the masses. These chips randomly interrupted the thoughts of an individual, making it very difficult sometimes to carry out a train of thought. Thinking was not necessary.

Some people were given special permission to have the intervals lengthened for skillet labor jobs, some even had them removed. The lower tier of citizens was forced to suffer through the full bast of the short intervals. Zoro could almost feel it in his head as it went off, sending jolts into his brain. He had frequent headaches. He couldn't even understand why-

Zoro was on his way forward, proceeding toward his destination. Where he was going, he had no idea. He was given his instructions and then he left. They weren't exactly instructions, but he always got sensations directing his actions and they had yet to steer him wrong. Then again, when hag they ever steered him right? He didn't take much and he all but dropped everything to go. Just keep going, just keep moving, that's all he had to do. That's all he ever did. If he stopped he would be overwhelmed by the weight of everything.

It's not like he had much at home anyway-

His head echoed a dull throbbing of pain, a residual effect of the jolts. Whether physical or psychosomatic he had no idea. His head hurt on most days, but it seemed duller outside the city. There were not as many sounds out here and the air was not so heavy or thick. He'd never been outside the city before, it was not normally permitted although no one had stopped him as he left. Everyone seemed to caught up in their own heads to notice. Maybe they had headaches too. It was not uncommon to see some warn down individual wandering the street, clutching their head. They never lasted long once-

Wherever he was going, it was it was far away. He had been on the road for nearly six hours now, stopping only once to pee in the middle of an empty field. So many fields. It seem that that's was all it was past the circle of industrial buildings surrounding the city, spewing their ash into the sky. It came down heavily, like snow, blanketing the ground in massive heaps that cleaners no longer bothered to clean up. The piles were so high now, far above the top of Zoro's car. It was like driving through a tunnel with no roof-

The stars above twinkles brightly against the blackness of space. So vast was the sky but so full of stars. In the city it was impossible to see the stars. Zoro almost wanted to get out of his car and lay back in a field to watch the stars fade in and out of existence. He wanted to have an eternal light show. But he had to keep moving forward, toward his unknown destination-

His eyes were dropping slightly, he was so tired. That was odd, he usually functioned well on no sleep at all. Being awake was better than facing dreams. Zoro's dreams were dark, empty, and full of dread. He usually only slept three hours a night. He hadn't slept at all the day before his departure. Now he was so sleepy, his eyes could hardly stay open. The monotonous stretch of road only aided in lulling him to sleep. There was no time for that he had to keep-

He had left the crowded, diseased city behind. His small apartment, with its many tenants and strange sounds. Too many people, they were all sick. Breathing stale, corrupt air through broken lungs to propel their wilted bodies. What was the point of it all? Why bother to go on when the sky was gray and the rain burned like acid on the skin. Was there any point at all to keep going, or was it better to just-

There was a light on he horizon, dim but it stood out like a beacon through the darkness. From this distance Zoro couldn't see what it was. He fixed his eyes on it as it drew nearer and nearer.

There had been people in the road past the factories. Some of them walked on foot but most were laying on the ground. It was difficult to judge their physical state when they were all covered in dirt and ash. Zoro had driven right past them, not paying them any mind and leaving it to them to get out of the way. He hadn't hit any, or at least he didn't think he did; it was all a little blurry-

The light was shining out from what appeared to be a restaurant, it's red fluorescents were bright against the dark sky. The red fluorescent lighting Zoro found a strange choice in design, it was not odd on its own, but when he was close enough he could read the words 'All Blue' written in red. Very odd. The place looked nice enough, it appeared to be a vintage diner of some era between the 60s and 80s. What year was it now? Zoro didn't keep track anymore. Years didn't matter when every day was exactly the same as the last. Come to think of it, he couldn't even remember how old he was. He didn't look that old, in his twenties maybe early thirties at most. It wasn't really a big deal but suddenly noticing it shocked him. When was the last time he'd thought about how old he was? Forever, it seemed like but sometimes time was-

This was a strange place for a diner to be sure, it was literally the only thing for miles. There was no way whoever owner it would get many customers.

Interest peaked and sleep looming, Zoro decided to make a stop at the diner if only for a little while. He made the turn into the mostly empty parking lot. Everything felt still as he stopped the car and just sat there for a moment. He didn't know what he was doing; he hadn't for a very long time. There was no reason to dwell on it even if-

Zoro exited the car and made his way toward the building. He didn't bother to lock the vehicle, there was no point. If the car was gone when he returned, it was gone, he would move on.

The air felt dry and clean, but the smell of death was heavy in the air, a familiar smell mixed with a strange openness of the uncovered crops surrounding the place. The temperature itself was just on the border of warm and cold. It felt like summer and night, although Zoro didn't know what month it was. The city was always too hot, even in then winter if felt suffocating. It was a bubble of heat even surrounded by a frozen landscape beyond-

Shoving open the diner doors, Zoro was met by the blinding light of the interior. He blinked, thrown off by having been in the dark for so long. The place had the typical vintage look; chrome stools, checkerboard floor. There was some unknown tune playing softly in the background. Those bright lights made the place shine, all except one in that back that flickered on and off.

The place was nearly empty. He could see the few other patrons sitting at tables far apart and facing away from each other. There were only two of them and one of them got up as Zoro entered, walking slowly out the door back into the night.

Her face was empty, despite her wide smile. She moved like one soon to be doomed. Sucked down into the slow spiral that was death. So many met that particular fate; too many. She was a corpse on her feet.

Zoro had seen many dead bodies in his life. As far back as he could remember they had always been there in the background; a looming presence. In the city, it was sometimes hard to say if a person was dead or alive. There were so many who lay listlessly in the streets that sometimes the street cleaners carried the living away. Those picked up didn't protest, their liveliness had gone from them, almost to the level of this woman's as she passed Zoro by. Hopefully she would find a convent place to die, Zoro hated it when they were difficult in their-

Zoro moved toward the counter, the woman gone from his mind. There was only one man behind the cash register, he wasn't looking at Zoro, he was staring out through a dark window toward the sky and tapping a pen against the counter with a deeply worried expression on his face.

Zoro stood in front of him for a moment, waiting to be noticed but was not. Looking around, Zoro spotted a bell to his left. He tapped the bell lightly and watched as the man behind the counter jolted to attention. Said man turned his head toward Zoro tilting it slightly in question. There was something off about him; his smile was too genuine. It was disconcerting. He was tall and slim, pale skinned with pale hair, his visible eyebrow curled in, his eyes too bright and smile too true. Zoro's immediate reaction was alarm.

"Can I help you?" the strange man asked.

"I would like to see a menu," Zoro said, suddenly unsure of why he had come in at all. He wasn't much a fan of food, it all tasted like sand or sludge in his mouth; a mix of unpleasant texture and taste. The city only provided the same variety of food every day, no variation. Meals were necessary to keep moving, not meant for pleasure. Pleasure led to the endless and unfulfilling search of happiness. Happiness was a foreign idea, not one-

The man grinned and pushed himself back from the counter, coming around to lead Zoro to a booth on the opposite side of the diner from the only other customer, whose face Zoro could still not see.

When he took his seat he was not handed a menu, the man just started at him with the same genuine smile.

"Are you-" Zoro tried to enquire about any menu he could look at, but was immediately interrupted.

"Your meal with be with you momentarily," the blond said, turning on his heals, back behind the counter and through a door where it was assumed there was a kitchen.

Zoro leaned back, not knowing what he was getting himself into. Maybe he should just leave now, before the blond came back, but what was the harm in staying? He didn't know where he was going anyway and if he didn't know where he was going how could he be late? So, he stayed, listening to the light music behind him and looking out at the spray of stars through the window.

As he sat, the other customer stood up and walked toward the exit, he made no move to pay. He stood and walked out, casting only a sparing glance at Zoro, his face with the same empty smile as the woman's had been.

They were empty shells, that was all. And when they met their end, it didn't matter that they had been people once. That force had gone leaving nothing more than dead weight and that Zoro could handle. It wasn't complicated, he didn't have to think. That's why he had the chip, so he couldn't think. Thinking was dangerous. Thinking led to-

The man was gone and Zoro was alone in the diner, the employee man was in the back with the food, but Zoro felt very isolated. He had never felt this sort of emptiness about him. He never felt alone in the city, there were far too many people for that sort of thing. Zoro let his mind fall into blankness as he waited if he tried not to think about anything the jolts didn't feel quite so painful, he expected it.

He felt like he sat in that booth for an eternity before the blond appeared again.

"Your food," the man said, making Zoro jump slightly, much to his embarrassment.

A plate of food was set down in front of him. He didn't recognize its contents, it defiantly wasn't something that was provided by the city's services. It was some sort of patty on a bun with an assortment of sliced foods stacked inside. On the side there were sort of beige-ish yellow sticks. Zoro poked at the food, noticing how the blond man did not leave.

"You don't belong here," the blond said, his crooked smile still resting easily in place.

Zoro looked up in surprise, "What do you mean? I'm just passing through, I don't belong anywhere. What specifically makes me not belong here?"

"You still have fire in you," said the server, making a vague gesture with his hands, "Stop messing with your food and just eat it."

"What do you mean?" Zoro ignored his command to eat the strange food.

"Only people with nothing left make it through here, they are terrible all company. I never get living people in here," the man sighed, "Now, eat your food."

"You must not get much business then," Zoro said, raising one of the sticks to his mouth and taking a bite. It was soft inside and salty outside. He blinked at the oddly pleasant taste.

The blond sighed again, "No one much comes through here, no one ever has anything interesting to say, and no one ever gives me that reaction," he grinned, poking at Zoro's pleasantly shocked face.

"What is this?" Zoro asked, holding up a stick.

"It's a French fry, and that's a hamburger. Well, it's it would be a hamburger, but I don't have any ham. I thought you'd appreciate more this anyway, it's a vegeburger. Not that I suppose you would know the difference, the cities never give you such foods," the blond gave a look of disgust, "You've probably never had a good meal in your life, that's very sad."

"I've never had anything like this," he took a bite of the burger and was delighted at the wonderful taste. It was fresh with a warm taste, unlike anything he'd ever experienced with the city meals that were more rations than anything. The rations were cold and hard, smelling of dust and dehydrated fruit. They were meant to sustain. This new thing on Zoro's plate was something wonderful, it sent a little spark of happiness flutter over Zoro's mind. If only they ate like this back in the city, then maybe things wouldn't be so-

The blond frowned at his customer's sudden shift in emotion, knowing that his chip must have gone off, throwing his train of thought off its tracks.

"Well, dear customer, you seem to be the only one here so what are you doing here?" The strange man sat down across from Zoro.

"I'm going somewhere," Zoro said, hurriedly eating his food.

There was a looming roar off somewhere in the distance. Air moving too fast, rumbling and growing louder.

"Where?" the employee asked, undeterred by the rising sound. The windows rattled and the sound seemed to reverberate through Zoro's chest. It was an airplane, they flew high above the city sometimes, carrying a low whooshing sound, but this one was very low and very loud.

Seconds later the sound passed and Zoro spoke as if nothing had happened, "I don't know where."

"How can you not know?"

"I just suddenly knew I had to go, so I left," the green haired man shrugged.

"You just left?"

"Yes."

"Won't people miss you?"

"I have no one."

"No family or friends?" he leaned forward over the table.

"No."

He sat back again, "What's your name? I'm Sanji."

"Zoro."

Sanji hummed, "What's the city really like, Zoro? I only ever get vague emotions as description from lost souls. They don't have a very good outlook, nothing good to say."

"It's crowded and dark and it smells like death and sulfur," Zoro said half apologetically, sorry he couldn't offer a better picture.

"That sounds terrible," Sanji said, unimpressed, "Why do you live there if it's so bad?"

"I've always lived there. Why is your restaurant themed in red when it's called All Blue?" Zoro pointed out, curious as to the thinking behind the design.

"Because no one notices, you're the first to point it out," Sanji grinned.

Zoro lifted an eyebrow, "That's a strange thing not to notice."

"We live in strange times," Sanji's grin spread wider.

Zoro nodded his agreement.

"What do you do in the city?" asked the strange man.

Zoro was a street cleaner, or rather he had been. He didn't know what he was now, he had left that all behind him. Picking up the bodies hadn't been so bad, he was very strong. The bodies weren't heaving in a physical sense, but Zoro's coworkers all agreed that they were heavy. It was more a psychological phenomenon than anything. Zoro never felt that weight, he-

"How did you start this place?" Zoro asked.

Sanji frowned when Zoro did not answer his question. "You know, I hate those stupid chips, they make it hard to carry out a conversation."

"Don't you have one too?" Everyone was meant to have a chip, or at least most.

"No."

"How?"

"I never had one put in, or else I had it taken out. I was young either way, how should I know?" He moved his shoulders in disinterest, "I can't imagine living with it. It would be like a constant case of hiccups in your brain."

"I've never known any different," Zoro said, his voice with a touch of bitterness.

"You must not have a very complex job then," Sanji miser.

"It's not complex, I just clean the streets."

The smell was the bad part. All those bodies piled up on the truck. They smelled of death and defeat. That was what happened when you gave up. They were piled up and driven off to some unknown place. It wasn't part of Zoro's job to know where they went. He assumed that it was to the factories, but it wasn't his place to assume. It wasn't his place to think-

"What was your childhood like?" Sanji asked as Zoro's brain had another skip.

"No more or less traumatic than anyone else's."

Darting through back alleys and dodging officials until he was caught and put into a factory where he worked himself sick. He had been put to the streets while he was ill. Coughing up a slick red liquid and laying feverish among the dead. It hurt so much. He had been so cold, so-

Zoro's face had pinched in pain then went blank again, so Sanji picked up, "Well, I grew up here. This used to be the Baratie and it was run by my father before me. It's hard work to keep this place going, but I do what I can," he gleamed with pride.

In the distance there was the sound of something heavy and large dropping from a great height, then an explosion. The ground shook with the force of the vibrations and the lights flickered on an off.

Sanji didn't seem particularly bothered, so Zoro assumed that this must not be an unusual thing. Sometimes bombs dropped in the city, collapsing buildings and crushing many people. They aimed mostly for sick areas, sectioned off by the officials. The more casualties the better. So many-

"Why don't you stay here the night, you're hardly in a state to go," Sanji said as Zoro finished his meal.

Zoro hesitated for only a second, "Alright." There wasn't any reason for him to go, he had nothing waiting for him that he knew of.

"If you could help me clean up they would be nice as well." Clean up could be difficult on a one man team.

Zoro nodded. They made their way around the restaurant, cleaning up it's hardly dirty insides. Sanji didn't get many customers so his biggest threat was usually dust, not grime.

With that done, Sanji motioned toward Zoro, "Now, come with me," he led them outside. The smell of death was back in the air, hitting them in a was as they left the building. Sanji grabbed a flashlight and headed around to the back of the restaurant. There was a field of crops stretching across the expanse behind a large garden, Zoro didn't know what kind of plants they were. He was a city boy, the most he knew of plants was of the lichen that sometimes grew over walls and that wasn't much to go on. "We have to go stir the compost." Sanji explained, leading them toward a large basin punctured with many small holes. He flipped up a little hatch and pulled through it left overs from the restaurant, dumping them into the up the basin onto its side by a metal arm that lifted it a good foot or two off the ground. He spun the basin once or twice before he moved back and around to another small building to the side, Zoro following his every step.

It was a small barn, only the size of a small room. Inside the two patrons from the restaurant were waiting. Although both man and woman were awake, there was a sort of fuzzy dullness about them that made Zoro think that Sanji may have put a mild sedative in their food. Zoro himself wasn't feeling any affects of what might be a depressant, a fact for which he couldn't bring himself to care either way. If Sanji had wanted to sedate him it would have been done and Zoro would have been none the wiser, but he hadn't so there was no need to worry.

Sanji handed Zoro a shovel, "I expect you know what to do," he lifted his fine curved eyebrow.

Zoro knew, he took the shovel from the blond. He had done this many times after a drop off of bodies after a long day of work. They had to check that all the bodies were empty before shipping them all, the best thing to do was break the neck. It often took more than one hit, but Zoro was pretty good so sometimes he managed in one.

Together, Sanji and Zoro laid the slumped individuals down onto the ground. They made no move to resist, there were very cooperative and polite; two qualities much appreciated in these trying times.

Zoro took a step bringing down the shovel hard as he hit the woman directly between the vertebrae, severing the connection and killing her, lucky her. Sanji too brought a shovel down on the man in the back of the neck but the kill was not instant, it took three hard swings.

Sanji panted slightly as he lay the shovels aside and looked to Zoro who was staring at the immobile bodies, thinking of the city.

"It's better than what those stupid factories do," Sanji shrugged, as if Zoro was upset with the fate of these people when he was not. Sanji continued, "It's so wasteful to burn the body like that. Reuse is to be preferred."

Zoro nodded in agreement. He had never consciously recycled materials bit the idea made logical sense to him. If Sanji was correct that the factories burned the bodies - something Zoro had also theorized - there seemed no point to it. Then again, what was the point to anything?

The two still living people set about stripping the dead ones of useful materials, bones would be used to make small sharp object when needed, hair was a good way to mend, the meat was used as a fertilizer for the crops. Nothing was wasted, there was something Zoro could appreciate about that.

They headed back inside, Zoro followed Sanji into the back where a small series of rooms made up his humble home. They were both pretty well covered in blood, Zoro more so than Sanji.

"There's a shower through that door," Sanji said motioning to the bathroom a few feet away. Mechanically, Zoro walked in and turned on the water, shutting the door as he went. The water was not particularly warm but it was not freezing cold either. Most days in the city it was ice cold, something that was particularly disastrous during the writer, causing people to avoid bathing for long lengths of time. Diseased spread even more quickly during the winter. Zoro had a fairly good immune system, he didn't usually get sick, but what he did fall ill it was always very bad. There were four times he could remember in his life being sick and each time was nearly the death of-

The blood stuck to his skin a bit, he had to scrub it off but it wasn't especially difficult. He rushed through the shower, shut it off, and wrapped himself in a towel. He dressed quickly, his pants were in fine shape but his shirt was pretty well soaked in blood. He debated putting it back on, but decided against it. So, he walked out shirtless.

Sanji looked up as he walked back into the main room, holding the ruined shirt. He hummed, and went to take it from his hands, but stopped, his hands loosely holding the fabric. His eyes were trained on Zoro's chest, on the long jagged scar that made its home there. His right hand lightly touched the scar tissue, not bothering to ask permission. Zoro tilted his head, wonder what the hell he was doing.

Sanji ran his fingers the length of the scar before saying anything. "Where did you get this?" he asked as his hand met the top of the former wound.

"Street cleaners," he answered simply. He had been sick, laying in the street with the broken as he was unable to work. The street cleaners were coming through. It was normal procedure to pick up the bodies, bring them to a secure location and then double check them, but not every squad did this. The squad that tried to pick up Zoro did not. They slashed him open and picked him up for the cart. The blood gushed and he thought he was going to die, but then began an air raid in a nearby district. The street cleaners were pulled away from work to find shelter. Zoro lay there on a pile of bodies bleeding slowly to death. But he didn't die, he was still alive. He managed to drag himself out of the cart and halfway down the road the street cleaners had come from, even as bombs were being dropped and buildings obliterated. Somehow he found it in I'm to survive-

Sanji did not look satisfied his Zoro's answer, but Zoro didn't remember what question he had answered so that didn't matter much to him. Sanji did not take his hand away from the scar though, he just kept touching it. Zoro, not used to other human contact, was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

"Maybe you set out to find this place," Sanji said, leaning further into Zoro's personal space. He had a very wide and genuine grin on his face.

"Maybe," Zoro said, staring out the window at the open sky, trying half heartedly to distract himself from this strange individual.

"Are you going to leave tomorrow?" Sanji's smile faulted and sputtered out at Zoro's aversion, and Zoro found himself missing its unfamiliar warmth.

"Not if you don't want me to," he said slowly.

"Then don't," the smile was creeping its way back, "the people here are terribly dull and the night always ends with me killing them. I don't have a very active social life; you'd be the most interesting thing in the world." He leaned in a tiny bit further, his eyes glittering.

"Then I'll stay," Zoro decided. He nodded, turing away from the window to look at Sanji. Such an interesting person so far from where he had come. There had never been anyone like him before. He was new and with him Zoro could almost find himself feeling. Feeling what? It was something interesting, warm-

Sanji sighed as the moment was broken by another jolt. "Come on, bed time," he grabbed Zoro's hand, finally taking the ruined shirt, and bringing him into another room. It was a small bedroom with on medium sized bed. Sanji shrugged, "I only have one bed and it's better than sleeping on the floor. We'll both fit," he smiled, throwing the shirt into a bin.

Zoro didn't care, he'd spent more than enough nights out in the street to appreciate a bed when it was available.

Zoro laid down and settled himself for his usual three hours of sleep. The bed was probably softer than any Zoro had ever laid on, it was slightly disorienting to be comfortable. Outside of his sight, there was a rustle of clothes as Sanji changed and stepped into bed beside him. He could feel the blond staring at him, smiling. He was much closer than he should have been, there was room on his side, but Zoro didn't find himself caring much. He let Sanji lay closer than he should as he let his eyelids dip closed. Once he found sleep, the chip would wake him after his scheduled three hours, so he would have to make the best of it. Sanji running a thumb over his cheek probably helped to lull him into the darkness of sleep.

XxxX

A/N: I swear there was a TV episode or book where thoughts got interrupted to halt a train of thought, I just can't remember. Maybe I dreamed it up, I don't know. Oh well.

Edit: Harrison Bergeron! That's the story! Thank you to the guest who recognize it :) I sort of remembered reading it in an 8th grade measure up book but it was all mixed up in my head because I read weird.

Thanks.