Ugh, sorry 'bout the lateness. Here it is, all.
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned within. Yah. Just the organization BORED, A Winner Is Two, and the contents of this story.
A Winner Is Two: Where There's Smoke…
Chapter 1
Two if by Sea
He stared at the island growing on the horizon. From here, it looked like a volcano with two half-submerged arms sweeping towards him. "I don't like it," he said, discarding one of his two cigars and lighting a third.
"I know you don't, Commander," Tashigi sighed. "But we are under orders from the base."
"Screw orders," Smoker growled, sitting back in his deck chair. His truncheon dug into his back, and, not wanting to be affected by the Seastone tip, he swung it over his head and rested it on the table. He put his boots up on the metal rod for good measure. "I've had a rotten feeling ever since we passed that guy in the rowboat this morning."
"He said he was a fisherman." Tashigi was distracted, working on some paperwork under the table. It was close enough to her face that she had flipped her red-framed glasses up onto her forehead.
"He was not a fisherman!" Smoker took a deep drag from his cigars, steadying his nerves. "You saw how he was dressed!"
"Maybe everybody from his homeland dresses like that."
"He was miles and miles from land! In a rowboat!"
"Look, just forget about that guy; he really bothered me." Tashigi looked up. "Focus on the task at hand."
"Ugh… why did I ever agree to this?"
"Because if we complete this task, a promotion's all but guaranteed. And you said we'd need to climb in ranks to follow Straw Hat into the New World."
Smoker shut up. She was right, of course; the Marine higher-ups had eagerly pushed him toward this mission to get him out of their hair, but it was supposedly an extraordinarily difficult one, and no other Commodores Smoker knew had been willing to do it. Then again, no other Commodores that Smoker knew of had either a Logia-type Devil Fruit ability, or the kind of drive that he had. Trying to keep himself under control, he satisfied himself with looking at the sky and contemplating. Then, as the cliffsides of the island began to obscure the sky above, he performed some light weight training, noticing the half-submerged cave the ship sailed into. On one cave wall, a steel plate featuring a large green arrow pointing inwards had been installed, and the arrow was marked 'harbor', so it was pretty obvious which way to go. Smoker trusted the helmsman enough not to need micromanagement, and in they sailed.
The cave was tremendous and winding; Smoker's ship was a fairly large Marine battleship, but the sails didn't once brush the ceiling. Electric lighting had been installed in the ceiling and walls; it was dim, but they weren't sailing in darkness. At one point, they came across an iron portcullis, but it was being raised even as it came into view. Smoker spotted a red light next to the rising gate; as soon as it was filly raised, the light turned green. The natural winds in the cavern were at the ship's back, and it wasn't long at all before the cave opened up to an even larger underground cavern.
This had to have been the largest cave Smoker had ever seen, although he had raided a few large pirate coves in his day. A harbor of shining steel, brand-new or close to it, decorated the walls to either side of Smoker, and his crew pulled the ship up alongside one of the docks. In no time at all, they were moored and the crew was beginning to disembark.
"You're Captain Smoker, I presume?!" Smoker looked over to the far end of the harbor, only to see a man wearing some sort of bulky, high-tech armor. He looked distinguished, worldly, and dignified, with grey hair, a matching bushy mustache and beard, and an eyepatch. Behind him were some men in dark suits and sunglasses, milling about the only other ship in the bay (a futuristic-looking submersible, which surprised Smoker – he had only seen a couple of submerging ships in his life, and this one made them look primitive).
"I'm a Commodore these days, but yes, I am," the Navy officer called back. The old man whispered to one of his men, gesturing to Smoker, and to his surprise, the suit drew a pistol and took aim. Smoker only raised an eyebrow before the blast echoed throughout the cavern, a magnum bullet tearing through his head. However, the Commodore's head had dissolved into smoke on impact, and it reformed behind the bullet, now bearing a much angrier expression. "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!" Smoker leapt from the bow of his ship and soared towards the strangers, his entire lower body becoming a smoky cloud. In only three seconds, he had closed most of the hundred feet between them when the old man held up a hand signaling him to stop.
"I apologize, sir," he called out jovially, and Smoker reformed his legs and skidded to a stop, confused. "I knew of your powers beforehand, although not of your recent promotion, and I wanted to ensure you were the real deal. I instructed my man here to pause before firing, so you'd have enough time to react to the bullet. I had no intention of killing you… unless of course you weren't the real Commodore Smoker."
"That's awfully paranoid, but I can't deny there's some logic to it." Smoker heaved a tobacco-laden sigh. "Alright, I've given you my name. Give me yours, and I'll decide whether to shoot you in the head or not."
The man laughed. "I am called Solidus Snake, and I am part of the organization known as BORED. We're the ones who requested the help of you Marines."
"BORED, eh? What does that stand for?"
"We stand for freedom and justice," Solidus replied, pointedly avoiding the question. "You just arrived, I see. Well, so did I, although two of my compatriots are already on the island. Come with me, and I'll fill you in on the details of this service you will be performing for us, while my men assist your crew in disembarking."
Smoker nodded, and turned back to his crew, taking a few steps towards the approaching Tashigi as he called out orders to her. "Tashigi! I'm going to find out what the hell's up. You're in charge until I get back. These goons are going to help us unpack; if anything unusual happens, use this." He tossed her a Baby Den-Den Mushi, a tiny snail attached to a wristwatch, and fastened the other one around his own wrist.
"You distrust me," Solidus noted as Smoker followed him into an elevator.
"You distrusted me so much you shot me to see if I was the real deal."
"I wasn't condemning you for it. Trust is worth more when one needs to work for it, don't you think?"
"I do," Smoker growled, biting down on his cigars. "What's this about?"
Solidus's eye stayed on the elevator lights. "I should start by saying that there is no situation here that requires law enforcement, not in the strictest sense of the term. This is a privately owned island, and there is technically no law here." Smoker's demeanor showed no outward change. "Rather, we made a very generous donation to your administration in order to secure an up-and-coming officer who was to be a particularly talented fighter. The marines, I can see, sent a perfect candidate."
"What's this about, then, that you need a tough marine?"
"We're holding a competition of sorts. A few dozen people are to be stranded on the island to battle to the death. The losers die forgotten, the winner goes free, and all of us BORED members pay him handsomely. The monetary equivalent for your Beris is something in the neighborhood of a billion… from each of us." Smoker's eyes widened visibly this time – that was a ludicrous sum to give away! The world's largest bounty didn't reach a billion Beris! "You're not a contestant, though. You're an Enforcer, hired to help us make sure everything proceeds according to plan. How does that sound?"
"You can eat shit!" Smoker yelled. "I don't care if you're all part of the World Nobles or any other group, you can't just go putting people in battles to the death!"
"Calm yourself, Commodore. I should have mentioned that these contestants are not just average Joes – they're criminals, people who have crossed our organization on occasion. At the very least, they're debt-ridden deadbeats who happen to be very capable at defending themselves."
"Then why give the winner freedom and riches?" The elevator dinged pleasantly and its doors opened; Smoker found himself walking with Solidus into a hallway that gave the impression of elegance, taste, and artfulness. Personally, the marine found it annoying.
"To ensure they fight each other instead of banding together against us, of course. There has to be some incentive for them. As for the money… we plan on broadcasting this tournament to the populace with technology the likes of which you've never seen. We'll make back every penny, plus more." Solidus stopped at a four-way intersection, turning to Smoker. "It should also interest you that we've explored the idea of a tournament before, and the man you're searching for showed some interest in the concept."
"Straw Hat?" Smoker's attention, already on the man, was re-affirmed.
"Yes, Monkey D. Luffy, as well as his first mate. Sadly, that tournament fell through, but I'm confident this one will last in history. I haven't had a chance to see the final roster of contestants yet, but there's a chance he'll show up himself."
Smoker's mind was abuzz. On the one hand, he didn't trust Solidus as far as he could throw the man (which was admittedly pretty far, with the aid of his Moku Moku no Mii), and the entire tournament seemed inherently immoral and wrong. On the other hand, if he went along with this, it would mean a promotion, and possibly the chance to catch Straw Hat right here and now. Besides, if he refused, he could blow his whole naval career and end up taking giant steps backwards from catching the elusive pirate. It was quite a dilemma.
Solidus, after a pause, had begun talking again. "You'd have your own quarters for the duration of the tournament, as well as near-unlimited access to the base and a few outposts designed especially for you and the other Enforcers. We have no need for your crew, but they're welcome to stay in the base as our guests – we have plenty of rations to last us as long as the tournament runs, thanks in part to hydroponic gardens on-site." A dark blur hurtled past them, the breeze left in its wake whipping up Smoker's jacket. He was only barely able to glimpse a figure about four feet tall creating the blur, at once like and unlike a human. "That was one of your compatriots now – Shadow the Hedgehog. You're sharing a bathroom with him, I believe. His great speed, as well as his expertise with various conventional weapons, makes him another invaluable asset to us. A bit anti-social, perhaps, but you deal with some real eccentrics when you're hiring men of talent. Speaking of… ah, Mr. Touchdown!" Smoker turned to realize another man was approaching from behind him and to the left (seemed he was standing in a major waypoint of the complex), and approaching fast, although not necessarily approaching them. Solidus waved the new arrival over, to Smoker's general dissatisfaction. "This is Commodore Smoker; he's another of the Enforcers, and he's just arrived." Smoker got halfway through muttering that he wasn't an Enforcer yet before dismissing it.
Smoker instantly realized Touchdown was sizing him up (as a threat, apparently) and took the opportunity to do so as well. He didn't seem like much – average build, average clothes (well, average by the colorful standards of Smoker's world), gelled-up hair, pale skin. He carried a metal rod on his belt large enough to be the handle for a two-handed sword – a collapsible weapon, no doubt. Smoker, finished with his assessment, looked Travis in the eye and stopped – those were undoubtedly the eyes of a stone cold killer. Smoker had seen emotionless, calculating eyes and scythe-like eyebrows like that precisely once in his life – and that was when he had, in passing, seen Rob Lucci, the government's top CP9 assassin. The one who had been an invincible slayer of armies… until Straw Hat took him down. With that look at his eyes, Smoker had to stop himself from shuddering. This man, initially appearing to him as a young punk, was another such slayer of armies. Finally Travis spoke, and the moment was gone, because only cheap trash talk spilled from his pale, thin lips. "Take a picture, why don't you. What are you Commodore of, anyway? Friends of Lung Cancer?"
Smoker growled. Whatever this guy really was, it didn't give him the right to address him that way. Smoker would probably punch out a superior who talked down to him that way, let alone some twentysomething kid who just happened to be able to fill in a strip mine with corpses. "I can't punch him, can I?"
"I'd rather you two saved your aggression," Solidus muttered impassively. "We've gone to great lengths to obtain the services of each of you for good reason, and it wouldn't do for the tournament to begin with one of you dead and the other wounded." He didn't mention which would be which, and Smoker was both further irritated and intrigued – did they intend all their Enforcers to be at his level? Were they all at the level of a Logia-type user?
Travis rolled his terrifying eyes in his unimpressive sockets. "Yeah, whatever. It's been great meeting Smokey the Bear, boss, but I have to go take care of –"
"Er, Travis, could I have a word with you?" The man who called Travis was a bland-looking man in a suit and glasses, and Smoker could tell immediately something was up with this man as well. The only people who pretended to be that boring were actually very interesting, if you performed a proper background check. A quick glance at Solidus's eyes as he regarded this brown-haired man was enough for Smoker to guess that this was a man of equal rank to him. "Unless I'm interrupting something?"
"Not at all," Solidus assured him, reeking of fake cheerfulness. "I was just watching a healthy rivalry blossom between two of our Enforcers." Smoker didn't know how this Travis Touchdown felt about him, but he felt five parts scorn, one part paranoia towards the younger Enforcer… give or take.
"Well, as long as the 'healthy rivalry' doesn't blossom into 'killing each other'. Speaking of – Travis, would you walk with me?" Smoker raised an eyebrow, but as curious as he was, he doubted he'd get a direct answer on the subject of that segue.
"Sure, why not." Travis turned his back on Smoker and Solidus. "Not like I have anything else I should be doing," he said sarcastically.
"I assure you, we'll be done in ten minutes," Suit and Glasses explained, retreating down yet another winding hallway (Smoker was no longer entirely sure which of them he had come down).
"That was Mr. Ofdensen," Solidus explained brusquely. "He's a colleague of mine at BORED. A great business partner in any sort of venture. So, I assume we can count on your cooperation?" The conversation being abruptly brought home caught Smoker off-guard – he had forgotten for a moment he hadn't agreed already.
"Sure," he said gruffly, shaking Solidus's hand. "Why not?" Solidus's remaining eye narrowed in a slightly unpleasant smile as he returned the handshake.
"Excellent, just excellent. Ofdensen will be happy to iron out the contract with you later today – in the meantime, here's a keycard." Solidus deftly pulled a card from some sort of slot on his armor. It was a blue plastic rectangular affair with rounded corners. One side held a thick black stripe going the long way and some indecipherably tiny print, and the other side was marked 'BORED' in black letters of a thick but simple typeface, accentuated only with an eight-pointed gold star inside the 'O'.
Anybody from America, where Solidus Snake was raised, would have recognized it as like a credit card. Smoker, however, was a Loguetown resident, born and raised, and came from a land where plastic money hadn't been discovered yet (to the joy of all). "What the hell am I supposed to do with this?"
"Ah, right, you wouldn't know how to use one. The black stripe is called a magnetic strip, although it's not much of a magnet. You slide it in and out of the matching slots around the base and any other buildings on the island, and it's automated security clearance. Just make sure to put the magnetic stripe facing the way the machine instructs you two, and you'll be let in." Solidus's face became more intense; in Smoker's professional opinion, he looked like he was trying to pass a gallstone. "Your level of clearance as an Enforcer is quite high. If you lose that card before the tournament is over, it is an emergency, and you will be paid nothing. Understood?"
"I don't plan on losing it," Smoker replied calmly.
"Good. Why don't you try using that card to explore, and get settled?"
"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather check on my crew."
"You're a good leader. Backtrack to the elevators, and use the keycard next to the elevator door to summon one. There's a 'Harbor' button on the elevator's menu inside." There was an unspoken challenge on Solidus's part for Smoker to find the elevator. Refusing to be intimidated, Smoker turned on his heel and marched away. "Not that way." Grumbling, Smoker walked back to Solidus and took the exit to the left of the one he'd originally taken.
---
When Smoker returned to the harbor, he was pleased at least to find the docking process moving smoothly. Solidus's men, Tashigi had explained, were employees or ex-employees (she wasn't totally clear) of a government the two of them had never heard of – but a big one, apparently. At any rate, they were well-disciplined and efficient, and were unloading the ship's supplies with promises to provide the crew with fresh supplies at the tournament's end. Mostly, the Marines were left to do the unloading themselves while the black suits stepped back and gave directions, but it was moving smoothly enough that Smoker gave Tashigi permission to go off and train on her own.
"I'm gonna go find my ride," Smoker muttered. "I think we can trust the soldiers on their own for something like this."
"I agree," Tashigi replied as she set up tatami mats for training. "None of them will ever proceed in the ranks if we don't give them opportunities to stand out."
Smoker grunted his approval towards her as he made his way over to the corner of the cavern that housed the most crates, hoping to find the custom vehicle he had brought there. Five minutes of searching produced nothing – most of the supplies here were construction materials, with non-perishable foods in the next grouping. Then he looked over a stack of crates and saw something that caught his eye – the largest box of all appeared to be heaving up and down. Intrigued, he made his way around, only to find a large blond man in red spandex under the colossal box, apparently using it for weight training. "What are you doing?" Smoker growled.
"Staying in shape," the man groaned. He looked up at Smoker, revealing a black mask covering his eyes and a grinning, middle-aged face. He did another lift of the box over his shoulder – despite the mass of the object, it seemed to be giving the solid bedrock beneath them more strain than it did him. "I have keycard access to two gyms, but none of them have weight settings on their exercise machines high enough for me. So I picked the biggest, heaviest crate I could find here – one minute." Amazingly, he hurled the box a few dozen feet straight into the air, jogged clear of the falling hulk, and caught it in time to soften the fall and let it down gently. "There… now I can talk to you normally."
If that crate's even mostly full, his strength alone would be enough to make him a Commodore like me. "That's pretty impressive," Smoker said, taking a seat on a lone, small crate nearby. "What's in that crate, anyway?"
"A prefabricated cottage, if you'll believe it. I have no idea what BORED would want with one on this island – maybe it's a bonus prize for the tournament winner, or the replica of one. Are you another of the Enforcers?"
"Yeah… yeah I am. Just got here. I'm Commodore Smoker." He at least seems friendly enough.
"You can call me Mr. Incredible." The man offered his hand, and Smoker shook it. It was obvious from the way this man gripped Smoker's hand that he wasn't even using a full percent of his power, but Smoker gripped hard enough to make it clear he had some strength of his own. "So what're you Commodore of?"
"Marines," Smoker grunted, wondering why it wasn't obvious. He was wearing the signature officer's jacket (ornamented with the kanji for justice on his back). Wasn't the World Government, well, worldwide? "I'm looking for a customized vehicle I brought with me, but I haven't seen anything of the sort around here. You know where that might be?"
"Yeah, sure." One meaty arm reached out over Smoker's shoulder and to the right, pointing the way. "The garage section is kind of isolated from the rest of the floor. I know they keep all the vehicles there, and I've seen a few crates around the area too. Yours is probably one of those."
"Thanks. I'll talk to you later, Incredible."
"What was that?!" Tashigi yelled from a distance. "You broke the training set!"
I keep telling her not to scold herself out loud… "Looks like I've got a detour to make," Smoker explained to the confused superhero. He set off in the direction of the shouting and was unpleasantly surprised to find Tashigi had not been talking to herself, but rather to that Touchdown asshole. As he arrived, Travis said something he didn't quite catch, but whatever it was caused her to slap him and then start apologizing. "Is he bothering you, Tashigi?" Smoker asked, taking up a seat on a nearby crate. She blushed, and he went stiff before turning around. Smoker was tempted to say, "Don't you look at me with those crazy eyes," but instead he settled for "Touchdown. Fancy meeting you again so soon."
"You! What are you doing down here?"
"I'm just here to get my ride… and keep an eye on my troops."
"Your troops?! Who, the… aw, don't tell me you're in charge of these Navy goons!"
"Goons?!" Tashigi yelled angrily, eliciting a ghost of a smile from Smoker.
"I see you were just getting acquainted with my second-in-command, Officer Tashigi." Travis seemed surprised; didn't he notice we have the same kanji on the back of our jackets? It then occured to Smoker that Travis, like Mr. Incredible, had only seen him from the front so far. Oh well. "It's probably relevant information for you that she's a surprisingly fierce swordsman who's dedicated her life to retrieving fine swords from amoral bastards who don't deserve them." Like you, I'm sure.
"I was just giving her some friendly advice on technique," Travis snapped. "I'll get out of your hair now."
"I'm going your way," Smoker said calmly, leaping off the crate he had been sitting cross-legged on to land a few steps behind Travis.
When they had left earshot of Tashigi, the assassin grumbled, "Why are you tailing me?"
"You noticed." Smoker chuckled a little, a bit of a wheeze present in his voice. "It's simple – I really don't trust you."
"I'm just doing my job. I wonder, when the chips fall down, which of us will prove loyal."
Smoker's eyes narrowed as he thought about BORED. About Solidus, who greeted him with a bullet to the head and smiled sinisterly. About Ofdensen and his false dullness. About what sort of organization would own an island, profit off of death, build a base to be hard to navigate, or hire somebody like Travis Touchdown. "I don't think you understand – in some cases, loyalty doesn't make you trustworthy."
Finally, they were at the garage. Smoker noted and dismissed the standard four-wheeled vehicles; sure, they were made with more modern-looking parts than his, but his was something special.
Travis, who was trying to make small talk, found his crate first. "So I hear one of the Enforcers is getting paid in jewels, and another's trading his services for a spaceship. Some people, eh?"
I ain't getting paid," Smoker grumbled. "I'm just trying to chase a pirate. Marine Headquarters doesn't want people at my rank going after him, anymore, because he's supposedly so dangerous and because of the territory he's sailing into." He snorted. "Monkey D. Luffy, destroying Enies Lobby! I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen him take down one of the Shichibukai! Anyway, I need to gain rank – and fast – to chase him. HQ sent down a mission to come here as an Enforcer, and there was an implication that a successful return means a promotion, so I came. Hopefully, I'll be a Vice Admiral upon return." By now, Smoker had found the crate marked with the Marine symbol (A stylized blue seagull on a white background) and his name, and was prying at the lid with his truncheon. "But so far, I've met untrustworthy leadership and the others holding my rank in this tournament range from apparently trustworthy to you. And I have to share my bathroom with a spiky black rat wearing just gloves and shoes. I've seen some crazy shit in my life, but that's pretty weird. Luckily, he isn't around much."
Travis had apparently been listening less and less, but at the word "bathroom" he perked up and related a story about killing somebody this morning for attacking him out of the blue. To be frank, Smoker found it pretty hard to believe. "So Ofdensen got some of his old co-workers to dispose of the body. Some disciplinary tactic, huh? Jackpot!" he had just gotten his crate open, apparently bare-handed despite having to wrench out some rather large nails. As soon as he did, he was practically bowled over by a wave of strange pellets that Smoker guessed were for cushioning the vehicle during travel (he was right, impressive considering the World Government's technology did not include styrofoam). "My Schpeltiger!" Smoker watched in mild interest as the borderline-psychotic Enforcer dragged a huge white motorcycle (if you could call it that) from the crate and its pellets and leaned on it with a cocky smirk. "Impressive, huh?"
"It looks like just a glorified scooter," Smoker criticized with a frown. "Big, though, I'll give it that."
"Not just big – powerful." Admiring the vehicle, Travis went into a rant about the vehicle. Instead of listening to the whole thing, Smoker finished prying the door off the box holding his ATV. Meanwhile, Travis rattled off the stats like he was reading from a catalog, including some that seemed dubious. "I'll be plowing down any trees I don't care to go around," he finished.
"That seems unlikely, given how much smaller the front wheel is than the back."
"It's big enough. I used to try it out on the palm trees in town, just to see if it'd work."
Smoker sighed, pulling his own vehicle out with one hand. "Like you, it's about as subtle as a Buster Call." He finished producing a chrome green three-wheeled ATV from his own crate – the one-of-a-kind Moku-Powered Bike, or as Tashigi had affectionately nicknamed it, the Smog Hog. The name caught on, and now all of Smoker's men and even Smoker called it that.
"What's that supposed to mean?!" Travis yelled, perplexed and angry.
Smoker sighed and pointed to his vehicle; it had a front end and seat similar to an old antique motorcycle, strange plugs on the footpads, four exhaust pipes lined up horizontally behind the seat, and two larger back wheels with thick rubber tires. The engine must have been housed in the casing beneath the seat – it couldn't have been very large. The paint job was similar to his hair color. In summary, a much more understated vehicle than Travis's. "This thing has a very measurable top speed of sixty-five kilometers per hour, but it's comfortable, very durable – I didn't have to ship it in pellets, after all – turns well, runs on not only any terrain but across water and up inclines as sharp as seventy degrees, and runs on my own unique powers, so it never runs out of fuel as long as I'm conscious and can't be driven by anybody else."
"And what power would that be?" Travis asked with a sort of standoffish curiosity.
"Raise your voice at me again and I just might show you." The commodore blew a surprisingly large amount of smoke out of his nose, wondering if Travis would get the hint. "Oh… and watch out for the old man behind you."
"What old man?!" Travis turned around and found himself face to face with an elderly, white-bearded man, standing within arm's length of him and leaning in even further. "YAH!" He stumbled back, causing Smoker to chuckle again under his breath. "Hey, I know you. You're Joruus C'Baoth, the guy I'm sharing my bathroom with. If this is about the dead body in the shower… sorry. It was self-defense." Maybe the story was true after all.
The old guy looked scornful, which didn't surprise Smoker until he realized the scorn was only directed at him – he was kind, even subtly brown-nosing towards Travis. "It was an unpleasant shock, I admit, but you struck down that man with ease. He ambushed you in such an underhanded manner, but… you don't have a scratch on you, do you?"
At least Touchdown seems uncomfortable with it, Smoker thought with another chuckle. He leaped onto his vehicle and revved it, producing a cloud of white smoke from the exhaust ports as it drew upon his Moku Moku no Mii power. The revving noise wasn't as loud as the Schpeltiger's, but that suited Smoker just fine. "I'm going out for a ride. You two have fun getting to know each other. Oh, and Touchdown… I've got my eye on you." Seeing a sign pointing the way to the vehicle elevator, Smoker guessed he was supposed to drive to that and headed off that way, not bothering to wait for Travis or that Joruus geezer to respond. This assignment should, at the very least, keep my mind off Straw Hat while I get closer to being able to catch him.
End of Chapter
You'll notice a bunch of scenes that are the same as the ones in my Touchdown entry, but different. Those are from Smoker's point of view this time, and since Smoker and Travis don't always listen to everything the other says, you might not hear the whole conversation if you don't read both.
Sorry to anybody who beats Smoker, but that vehicle (which I don't have a ref for beyond the information in this chapter, because it comes from the Grand Battle and Grand Adventure video games rather than the original anime and manga) is useless for them unless they can copy powers. His truncheon would be perfectly servicable, though, even against him (in fact, it's made with Seastone and is probably one of the best ways on the island to harm or stun him).