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crack_van2006-11-09 09:03 pm
nightwalker.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2006-11-09 09:03 pm
Entry tags:
Cold Hard Cash by J. Brooks (PG)
Fandom: MAGNIFICENT SEVEN
Pairing: None. Gen-fic
Author on LJ: n/a
Author Website: BlackRaptor Archive
Why this fic must be read:
Cold Hard Cash is a great Old West fanfic. The focus is on Ezra, with Chris and Buck as supporting cast. The three are called to pick up a gold shipment in a nearby town, only to discover that there isn’t much gold to guard. Ezra decides to do a little poking around and ends up uncovering a huge counterfeiting operation.
If this were a cop show I’d call it a case fic. It’s the guys doing their jobs, dealing with the populace and fixing other people’s messes.
One thing I really enjoy about this story is that it has a believable level of conflict between the main characters. Chris Larabee can be an ornery bastard on a good day, but some fics show him as being an abusive drunkard who beats his men into unconsciousness. J. Brooks doesn’t go to that extreme. Instead she keeps them all in character, and the conflict stems from scenarios that we could easily see happening in the series itself. Ezra’s annoyed at being dragged along, so he spends the entire trip annoying Chris. Chris is frustrated about being dragged all that way for nothing, so he snaps at everyone he sees. Buck… well, he looks at pictures of naked ladies for a while. Not much seems to rile him. ;)
In short, a good story with a nice plot and some terribly amusing dialogue.
The sound of gunshots jolted Chris Larabee back to painful consciousness. On reflex, he lurched his feet and staggered back down the alley, following the glow of torches and lanterns in the street. The light stabbed at his eyes and aggravated the throbbing pain in his head. `What happened?' he wondered vaguely.
He rounded the corner and paused, his addled brain struggling to process the scene before him. A crowd of at least thirty men stood frozen, staring at a man who stood in the middle of the street with a smoking rifle in one hand and a small reinforced canvas sack, about the size of a man's fist, in the other.
"Gentlemen!" Ezra Standish leveled the rifle at the the men crowding into the shattered shop. "That is my associate you are trampling. If you would be good enough to remove your persons from his person? Thank you, most kind. You in the dungarees? That is his solar plexus, not a door mat . . . Marvelous. The rest of you, step away from him as well. Yes, toward me. Closer . . . That's it."
Cold Hard Cash
Pairing: None. Gen-fic
Author on LJ: n/a
Author Website: BlackRaptor Archive
Why this fic must be read:
Cold Hard Cash is a great Old West fanfic. The focus is on Ezra, with Chris and Buck as supporting cast. The three are called to pick up a gold shipment in a nearby town, only to discover that there isn’t much gold to guard. Ezra decides to do a little poking around and ends up uncovering a huge counterfeiting operation.
If this were a cop show I’d call it a case fic. It’s the guys doing their jobs, dealing with the populace and fixing other people’s messes.
One thing I really enjoy about this story is that it has a believable level of conflict between the main characters. Chris Larabee can be an ornery bastard on a good day, but some fics show him as being an abusive drunkard who beats his men into unconsciousness. J. Brooks doesn’t go to that extreme. Instead she keeps them all in character, and the conflict stems from scenarios that we could easily see happening in the series itself. Ezra’s annoyed at being dragged along, so he spends the entire trip annoying Chris. Chris is frustrated about being dragged all that way for nothing, so he snaps at everyone he sees. Buck… well, he looks at pictures of naked ladies for a while. Not much seems to rile him. ;)
In short, a good story with a nice plot and some terribly amusing dialogue.
The sound of gunshots jolted Chris Larabee back to painful consciousness. On reflex, he lurched his feet and staggered back down the alley, following the glow of torches and lanterns in the street. The light stabbed at his eyes and aggravated the throbbing pain in his head. `What happened?' he wondered vaguely.
He rounded the corner and paused, his addled brain struggling to process the scene before him. A crowd of at least thirty men stood frozen, staring at a man who stood in the middle of the street with a smoking rifle in one hand and a small reinforced canvas sack, about the size of a man's fist, in the other.
"Gentlemen!" Ezra Standish leveled the rifle at the the men crowding into the shattered shop. "That is my associate you are trampling. If you would be good enough to remove your persons from his person? Thank you, most kind. You in the dungarees? That is his solar plexus, not a door mat . . . Marvelous. The rest of you, step away from him as well. Yes, toward me. Closer . . . That's it."
Cold Hard Cash