Notes: Well this is my first attempt at writing something more than a one shot. I don't own One Piece, Eiichiro Oda does. I'm just borrowing his characters for a bit.

---

There was a very good reason why Smoker, after all of his years of service in the Marines, held such a low rank. It didn't matter to him much, as long as he could get his job done. According to headquarters, there were three types of marines. There were the big guns, the ones with immense power - usually devil fruit users - who could not only use that power to serve, but were also adept at following orders. Then there were the average masses; good men and women who moved up through the ranks in an orderly fashion. And then there were men like Smoker. Believers in true justice. And to the higher ups, this was nothing but a euphemism for trouble.

Smoker didn't care. Internal Marine politics was something that bored him, frankly. As long as they let him do his job with a reasonable amount of space he couldn't really care less about a title. That mentality had worked for years. It also worked out well from headquarters' point of view, they couldn't deny his merits. Or his power. Eating a devil fruit could get one far in life. And maybe even a little closer to death.

---

"History?" The boy swallowed deep in his throat.

"I searched for it my whole life."

The moon peeked through the small window casting hints of reflection on the bars of the cell. The man inside was mostly hidden in the shadow,though a sort of light seemed to surround him, finding its way into his heavy words. He couldn't have been comfortable with those iron shackles encircling his wrists and ankles, and chains keeping him firmly against the wall.A smile never left his face.

"If this is so important, then why are you telling me?"

The man gave a husky laugh.

"You wanted to talk to me, right boy? I'm at the end of my life. I have nothing to hide."

The boy swallowed again, his mouth sucked dry from the very presence of the prisoner.

"You wouldn't understand it anyway."

"How do you know that?"

"Come a little closer."

The boy was not afraid, though he probably should have been. Taking a step forward, he leaned his face in between two of the bars, letting the man get a good look.

"There's something in your eyes that I don't see every day."

"W...what is it?"

"Honesty. You'll grow into a good man. What's your name?"

"S...smoker." He choked the word out, his name felt small and insignificant.

Especially in front of the man who carried the weight of the name Gold Roger.

---

"Tashigi." Smoker said from his seat at the head of the ship. The air was surprisingly cool for being so near Arabasta. Log pose locked in place. Headquarters didn't send an eternal one.

"Yes, Sir?" She was soon standing at the seat beside him, waiting for him to give a slight nod for her to take a seat.

They weren't the most formal of Marines, but she seemed to keep a few more habits of formality than he ever did.

He gave the nod and she sat beside him, back straight.

"Relax a bit. The next island is at least a week away."

She exhaled into the breeze that pushed her hair back, her eyes not leaving the sea in front of her.

"I wonder if they want us to be stalled."

"I believe we can catch up to them, Sir." She wanted to remain positive knowing full well why an eternal pose hadn't been sent to assist them. They were probably sour with his back talk and refusal to accept the promotion...maybe even still a little miffed that he had left his post in Loguetown without notice.

She looked at her Captain out of the corner of her eye, he looked strong and solid. He always looked that way, even when she sensed he wasn't feeling it.

What was it about the Straw Hats that made them so impossible to defeat. She'd seen it with her own eyes, but it was one thing to see and another to believe. And she'd let them get away, when they were right there in her reach.

A week to the next island. Nothing to do but enjoy the ride.

---

Smoker was 18 when he ate the devil fruit. Within the same year he picked up his cigar habit when one of the local boys gave him one as a congratulations for being accepted into the Marines. It was probably no coincidence that he took to them immediately.

It was also no coincidence that he started out as a 1st Lieutenant and was a Captain by the end of the first year. They liked to move the devil fruit users up the ranks quickly to always have a wealth of backup, should they need any replacements in the much higher ranks. The pool was steadily growing.

His father was especially proud of his accomplishments. It was expected for a man of this family to be a Marine, and a respected one at that. He was long since retired, but still walked with a rigid step and was known to salute out of sheer force of habit.

Even at 18, lines settled on Smoker's face making him appear much older. Something about watching the Pirate King executed with a grin struck across his face made a 12 year old boy grow up quickly. He remembered the wave that passed over the crowd from that small execution platform; he could almost see it stretching across the four seas and all over the world. In just that one instant, everything changed.

It was at 20 when he caught his first big time pirate: the first mate of a relatively well known Captain. 25 million bounty, nothing to sneeze at, especially at the time. He caught the pirate very close to the North Blue border and called headquarters to see where they wanted him sent. He learned something about the Government that he didn't know before that day. Something he wasn't sure how to feel about.

He knew of the Seven Armed Seas. He thought it was dirty to be forming alliances with the enemy, but it was a tactic to defeat this age of pirates from the inside out. And the more powerful they became, the more the Government wanted control. It made sense. He didn't know much of how it worked, but he was asked to let the first mate escape for the same reasons he'd been shot up the promotion line.

His captain showed potential and they wanted to let him grow. It made Smoker want to rip the embroidered "Justice" from the back of his jacket.

So this was the game. To let pirates do as they want as long as they were good at it. And screw the collateral damage, that's not important to the Government. He wondered if the motto should be "Power" instead.

And that's when he got on the line and spoke very calmly to his Commander to voice his feelings on the incident. As calmly as one can spew obscenities, anyway.

He was stationed in East Blue, the weakest of all the oceans, where they could be fairly sure no huge forces would arise. He could catch the little annoyances before they got to the Grand Line and wasted anyone's time there.

He started smoking a second cigar that day.

---

Smoker was wrong about the week. It only took five days to arrive at the island with the strong wind behind them.

They called the town Westport because it was directly West of a particularly troublesome part of the Grand Line. An area where the magnetic forces wereespecially strong and would cause one's log pose to point straight up in the air. Because of this, marines were equipped with an eternal pose that pointed straight to Westport, it was quite a detour from the path that an average sailor would take. The town had become a bit of a notorious marine hangout. It was far enough in the Grand Line where a sailor started to feel weary, maybe a little homesick, and definitely in the mood for a good, strong drink. To aid in it's notoriety, a log pose only took 24 hours to set there. Just enough time to hit the bars, get some sleep and get the hell out.

Bars and inns lined the main street along with the most unprofessional looking marines that no one would speak of once they set sail. They docked aroundten in the evening when, as they say, the night was young.

Tashigi couldn't help but notice that Smoker was the only one left on board after all of the others had filed out. Elbows on his knees and face directly in his palms.

There were bound to be higher officers here. Maybe even ones who knew that he was acting outside of his orders. The last thing he was in the mood for was some kind of query about this. It had really been a long enough couple of weeks.

"Are you going to wait here on the ship, Sir?" She asked.

"Dammit, Tashigi. I'm not in hiding, here."

"Of course not, Sir."

"Let's go." He said through a long exhale.

He shifted and pulled his jacket up around his neck, looking more like he'd rather just pull his head all the way inside. Tashigi may have found it a little silly, but she wanted to do the same.

There was a bar for everyone here. Quiet hole-in-the-wall types, ones with heavy smoke in the air and loud, blaring music. Alittle further down the strip of road could be found a few of the more colorful types with silhouettes of women hanging on the signs outside.

Tashigi excused herself to take a walk just outside of the small town. The area was heavy with trees, but she was sure she could find some kind of clearing that would provide enough space to get a little exercise and practice her techniques. A luxury that one didn't have at sea.

Smoker sat himself down at one of the quieter dives and found a dark corner where he could pull on some rum and watch the people come and go. He was about mid drink when he settled into the atmosphere enough to lean slightly in his chair and take a deep breath.

The sound of a faint explosion somewhere outside of the island was enough to straighten him up again.

And somewhere on the edge of town, a lone pirate was wondering how in the hell he ended up there.