Disclaimer: All the characters herein, with the exception of some random extras, are the intellectual property of Eiichiro Oda and all the companies involved with publishing and production of the One Piece manga and anime. I just twisted 'em a bit.
Spoilers/Warnings: This story will eventually encompass the entire first season of the anime, which is up to about halfway through volume 11 of the manga, just so you know. This is an AU, so many things have been changed/altered/warped to suit my needs. Also, there is some language and violence.
Pairing: None. However, I like subtext, so you can probably find hints of just about anything, if you look for it.
Dedication: To the OP at the fanforall at LJ, for requesting a cowboy AU and spawning this in my brain. Many thanks to Dandy Wonderous for beta-ing.
A/N: Name order for all characters has been westernized. Don't like it? Tough cookies! I do not claim to be an expert on anything involving gun fighting, the old west, or the cavalry. I did some very basic research for some of this, but I probably got lots of stuff wrong. Humor me!
Part 13- Back and Forth
"So," Luffy asked, turning his attention to Sanji, who had walked up behind him, "you fellas got any weapons?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Sanji snorted. "This is the frontier. We get all sorts at the the Baratie. Of course we have weapons!"
Luffy followed the blond chef back inside and through a door that led to the sleeping quarters for the cooks. Several of the restaurant employees could be seen arming themselves. One man was strapping on a holster with a revolver he had removed from an iron box under his bed. Another was loading a shot gun from a trunk at the foot of his own bunk.
Sanji slid a long dark case out from under his bed. It contained a rifle that had clearly been cared for meticulously. Luffy gave his own well-worn, hand-me-down gun a sheepish look.
"Come on, now," Sanji spun the younger man around and gave him a push toward the door, "we've got to help the old man with the preparations."
When they reenetered the dining room, Zeff was standing in the middle of the wreckage, a hand on his chin and a thoughtful expression on his face.
"That blasted window's going to be a problem," Sanji mused. "It's a gaping weak point in our defenses."
"I know that," Zeff growled. "I didn't design this place to be a fort, after all. This room is for eating, not fighting."
"Perhaps we could board it over again," one cook suggested as he helped several others pile the debris that had once been tables and chairs.
"No," Zeff answered shortly. "It works both ways. They can see and shoot in, but we can also see and shoot out. Bring some of those tables over here and make a barricade a short ways back from the window." When no one moved immediately, the head chef raised his voice further. "Move it men, time waits for no man!"
"Listen to that," Sanji snorted. "You'd think he was back in the army..."
"Was Zeff in the war?" Luffy asked, curiosity piqued. "Is that how he lost his leg?" Zeff's artificial leg wasn't terribly obvious, as he kept it well covered by loose fitting slacks and the slightly shorter foot was covered by a shoe. He walked rather stiffly on the right side, but that could be attributed to many things. Luffy had been around many soldiers who had lost limbs, so it was relatively easy for him to spot.
"Yes, he was in the war, for a while. No," there was a warning to let it be in Sanji's tone, "that's not how he lost his leg."
"Oh." Luffy might not catch on quickly all the time, but this time he got it. Emotions had always been easier for him to read than solely verbal cues.
Preparations continued at a rather frantic pace. The angle of the light slowly changed, a silent but constant reminder of the approaching sunset deadline.
When the sound of a whinnying horse broke the relative stillness, every man was armed and behind cover in record time. Luffy, Sanji, and Zeff included, the group in the restaurant numbered only seven. A derisive laugh drifted in from outside.
"So, old man," Krieg sneered, "you're still here! How many fools did you manage to keep around to help you?"
"Enough," Zeff answered calmly as he pulled back the hammer on his pistol. "How many of your men are going to be worth anything in a fight, if you were so desperate for supplies earlier?"
"I don't think so." Krieg's voice carried clearly through the empty window frame and over the makeshift barriers. From the way the sound changed, it was clear that the outlaw was walking back and forth in front of the restaurant. Probably scouting out their defenses. "You won't get me to give away information that easily. I've got quite a few surprises in store for you, though. Just you wait..."
"Don Krieg," Sanji's eyes narrowed as he recognized Gin's voice, "we don't have to fight them. Ask for the supplies, then we can leave."
"Gin," all humor was now gone from Krieg's voice, "I'm not having this discussion again. Question me just once more, and I'll put you down myself."
"Yes, sir."
"He does have a point, though," Krieg addressed the small group in the restaurant once more. "Where are the supplies I asked for earlier?"
Zeff had gathered together some bread and fruit in an old flour sack during the preparations. He heaved the bag over the barrier. It sailed through the window, bounced once on the porch, then skidded to halt in the dust.
"Can't say whether or not that's enough," Zeff didn't even attempt to mask the scorn in his response, "seeing as you won't tell me how many you need to feed."
"Thank you," Krieg replied, tone anything but sincere. "It's really unfortunate you refused to comply with my other demands."
His voice was now coming directly through the window. One of the cooks couldn't stand the tension any longer. He popped up over his cover and fired a shot at Krieg. There was a vaguely metallic sound, and Krieg stumbled backward slightly. The group in the restaurant all peered out at the outlaw in curiosity. Had he been hit?
"That wasn't very nice," Krieg observed with a frown. "Even with this metal plate I'm wearing, that's probably going to leave a bruise. Now it's my turn."
They all heard something bounce once on the floor and then roll toward their barricades. The object was a seemingly harmless ball-shaped piece of metal. Zeff, however, recognized the weapon for what it was.
"Stay down," he ordered his men. "It's a grenade!"
Almost as soon as the words had left his lips, there was an explosion that sent metal fragments flying in all directions. A few of the pieces managed to find their way through the hastily constructed defenses, leaving behind ugly, jagged cuts on uncovered flesh.
"It's your move again, old man." Krieg's voice was once more dripping with scornful glee. "Make it easier on yourself and surrender."
"No thank you," Zeff grumbled, watching one of his employees tear a tablecloth into bandage strips. "I'm afraid that won't ever be an option. I'd be willing to face off with you, though. Man to man."
"I don't mind a good brawl," Krieg chuckled, "but I prefer to fight from a distance. There are so many interesting options for weapons. Besides, what fun is there in beating a crippled old man?"
The cooks gasped. Sanji looked from the now seething Zeff to the window and back. This back and forth sort of fight wasn't going to get them anywhere fast. He carefully propped his rifle against the small wall of rubble and stood. He ignored the frantic gestures and protests of the others.
"I'll fight in his place. If you don't want to get your hands dirty, send in Gin."
"You don't have to do this, Sanji," Zeff said flatly. His tone neither pled with the younger man to change his mind nor encouraged his challenge.
"Oh, but I do," Sanji sighed, mostly to himself.
Krieg simply laughed.
"You're either very confident or very stupid," the outlaw scoffed. "I guess there's only one way to determine that. Gin!"
"Yes, sir?"
"Oblige this boy, won't you?"
Sanji stepped around his barricade and moved closer to the open window frame. He scanned the area in front of the restaurant, spotting Krieg, Gin, and at least three other readily visible men. Gin made his way toward the restaurant. Sanji made no move to leave the shelter of the building, so Gin stepped through the window. Sanji knew a close quarters fight was his best chance, and he was a slightly more difficult target for the other outlaws if he stayed inside.
"I'm sorry it had to end this way, Sanji." Gin looked genuinely saddened by the situation.
"Not as sorry as you're going to be," Sanji shrugged, performing a few quick leg stretches.
"At least this way I can make sure your death is quick," Gin told him sincerely. "You don't know Don Krieg like I do. He's toying with you all, like a cat with mice. It's only going to get worse from here."
"We can handle anything he throws at us," Sanji countered. "Now, are you going to fight me or just stand there all day?"
Gin took a swing at him without warning, and Sanji barely managed to dodge the blow. Perhaps this wasn't going to go as smoothly as he'd hoped...
Luffy watched everything, expression grim. It sounded like it was going to be difficult to get close enough to take down Krieg. His eyes flitted to Zeff. One way or another, he was going to help the old man defeat this enemy. After all, he needed to catch up with the others in his gang.
End Notes:
Remember my basic research? I like to share. If you're not easily bored, some of the following might be interesting:
Prosthetics were in regular use during this time period, so I figured I'd give Zeff an artificial leg instead of his peg. Incidentally, this also makes for an interesting image search! Yes, the loss of the leg will be discussed in the next part.
It was not unheard of to have some kind of at least semi-bullet-proof clothing. The idea is a lot older than I originally thought! In this case, Krieg is simply wearing a metal chest plate under his shirt. Heavy and a bit cumbersome, but probably pretty decent protection. The cook should have gone for a head shot...
Grenades during this period were chiefly explosives designed to fragment and propel said fragments into a large number of targets. Not highly explosive like modern ones, but still nasty.