Chapter 2: Nightmare

Prison is hell. The prompt for this chapter was Nightmare.

"Here's the forms for requisitioning cannonfire repairs." A folder was placed on the corner of his desk. He grunted an acknowledgement, focusing on his current briefing. Damn Supernovas in the New World going wild. Would only be a matter of time until Mugiwara reappeared to really spice things up.

"And here's the briefing on the Reverie that will be happening in a few months." Another folder onto his desk. God he hoped they wouldn't have escort duty for a bunch of nobles. He had better shit to do.

"The roster list that Vice Admiral Vergo wants for our next patrol." More papers on the pile. He looked up from his briefing to give Tashigi a look, only to grimace at the stack she was holding. "Sorry Sir," she gave him an apologetic look before adding more onto his desk.

"Transferred here to take out pirates, not to be buried under paperwork," he grunted. He'd sort out the actually important crap later and dump the rest in the trash.

"Yeah…the weather looks nice for a spar too," Tashigi glanced out his office window at the open sky, a seagull flying by.

"Good idea," he said, sweeping his hand towards the folders conveniently placed to fall into the trashcan below his desk. Tashigi's smaller hand slapped down with metric tons of force.

"We have to do those Sir," she puffed out her cheeks, staring him down through glasses precariously balanced on her nose. He drummed his fingers on the pile, staring back. She wasn't going to give an inch. The New World had certainly given her a backbone, making her nearly as straight edged as Hina when it came to paperwork of all things.

"We? Your signature isn't the one they want," he grunted.

"I know, but I'll separate out all the stuff you don't need Sir," she smiled at him and he rolled his eyes, taking his hand off the folders. Tashigi pulled out the chair in front of his desk, and promptly spilled all the remaining papers she was holding across his desk. He closed his eyes and shook his head. She stuttered an apology and began gathering them all back up only to drop her glasses in the process.

With a sigh, he picked them up and held them out to her. Their fingers brushed when she took them from his hand, giving him a sheepish smile before her eyes widened, and the smell of burning wood clogged his throat.

Her glasses were cracked, a bruise on her cheek, the lifeboats splashing into the ocean. She could say she was just following orders, that might protect her if she lived. She had to live. Her life was too high a price to pay for his decision.

His hand on her shoulder, her brown eyes going wide, mouth opening in shock as he threw her over the railing. A cannonball slamming into the burning deck behind him-

"Come get your gourmet kibble!" a voice cackled. Smoker cracked his eye open from the corner of his cage. Slop was dumped into the tray by the door. The sun streamed down, hot already. Just like yesterday, and the day before. And the day before that. The fucking pirate smiled down at him, waiting to watch him eat and taunt him. His one meal of the day in this hellhole.

"Heard you might be coming up the roster, I'll miss you Vice Admiral," the shitty rat bastard grinned at him as he approached. He said that often. No narrative tension, no extra details. Still, the grain of truth to it unsettled Smoker. If it was his day to be picked… then he had to keep up his strength. That would be his one chance to escape, or die trying.

He ignored the bastard as much as he could, using his hands to scrape the foul tasting rice and potatoes puree into his mouth, the overflow getting stuck in his beard. "Captain Blackbeard will be bringing in a few more prizes, buddy boy. I'll make sure to room you with the pick of the bunch, how's that sound?" Smoker glanced up from his "food" at the idiot underling, his hide weathered by the sun, teeth missing, nose crooked under a stupid hat and red and yellow striped shirt.

Sharing his cage, eight paces across and 6 paces from front to back was not ideal. None of this was ideal. If he had known he would survive the Buster Call on his ship, he would have played things differently.

If he had known that the Navy would then sell him to the Blackbeard Pirates after, he would have made sure to drown.

"See ya later Vice Admiral," the pirate, Shithead No.1, smirked and walked away. The other captive devil fruit users lay about in their cages, too tired to do anything else. Smoker ran a hand over the seastone around his neck and narrowed his eyes before settling back into his corner, returning to thoughts of better times.

Notes:

So! Smoker's alive and in trouble! Dun dun duuuun!