Smoker sat in the seastone cage, his back pressed against the bars.
He could feel the Seastone draining him—stealing his strength with every passing second.
The cage made him feel powerless, like each moment inside it sapped more of his energy.
Outside, the sounds of fighting filled the air.
Shouts rang out. Mr. 1's blades slashed through the air. Someone screamed in pain. A blast shook the ground nearby.
Smoker tightened his jaw and glared at the bars.
He had already tried everything he could think of. He tried turning into smoke, but the Seastone stopped him from using his powers.
He had swung his jitte against the bars again and again, but they didn't even bend.
Now he was trying new ideas—creative ones.
He used the tip of his jitte to hook a rock lying outside the cage, hoping to pull it closer. The rock moved slightly, but not enough to grab.
He pushed his boot through the bottom of the cage and dug into the sand, hoping to loosen the base. The sand shifted, but the cage didn't budge.
He grabbed the bars and pulled as hard as he could. When that failed, he even bit one of the bars in frustration.
Nothing worked.
He leaned back against the cage, breathing hard, head tilted back.
"There has to be a way," he muttered.
The sounds of battle continued around him. His team was still out there, still fighting without him. He had never felt so useless.
Then he heard a new sound.
Heavy footsteps in the sand.
Smoker opened his eyes and turned his head.
Walking toward him was a large tortoise—calm, and old looking. It wore a tiny cowboy hat on its head.
The tortoise stopped right in front of the cage.
Then it made a strange noise, like a forceful cough.
"Gnrk!"
It jerked its head forward, as if trying to spit something out.
PFFTH!
A bunch of glossy papers burst from its mouth and scattered across the sand.
Smoker blinked. He reached through the bars and picked up one sheet.
It was a photo.
His eyebrows rose. "Is this Robin in a swimsuit? What the hell?"
He grabbed another one. This one showed Robin stretching her long legs out while holding a book.
Another photo fluttered down—Robin again, posing in front of a mirror.
Smoker stared, stunned.
The old tortoise panicked. With a swift jerk of its head, it swallowed the photos back up, squeaking in embarrassment.
"Oi," Smoker said deadpan. "Are you collecting these or printing them?"
The tortoise looked away, clearly embarassed.
Smoker narrowed his eyes and examined its hat and shell. Something about it felt familiar.
"Wait a second. That hat, I've seen that before."
He squinted, then raised his eyebrows. "No way. You're Banchi, aren't you? Robin's old pet from her Baroque Works days."
The tortoise nodded proudly, as if pleased to be recognized.
Smoker snorted. "Figures. No wonder she would ditch you in Alabasta."
Banchi looked briefly offended, then coughed again—this time harder.
Clink.
A shiny metal key fell onto the sand.
Smoker blinked.
"You're kidding me."
He reached through the bars and picked up the key. The tortoise looked up at him sheepishly.
Smoker sighed. "Robin told you to give me this?"
The tortoise nodded again.
Smoker smiled as he slipped the key into the lock.
Click.
The cage door creaked open.
"She is a strange woman," he murmured. "She works for Crocodile, commits horrible acts in Alabasta, but she doesn't want him to get the 'treasure' either."
Not far away, the Baroque Works agents turned in surprise.
Mr. 1 narrowed his eyes. "That cage is open."
Mr. 2 spun dramatically, jaw dropping. "How did he get out?! That was real Seastone!"
Miss Doublefinger bit her nails. "This is bad."
Smoker's team saw their captain standing again. Some of them cheered weakly. Others gasped, too exhausted to speak.
Tashigi was covered in cuts, leaning on her sword to stay upright.
When she saw smoke rising in the air, her eyes widened.
"Captain Smoker," she whispered.
"Captain!" she called out. "Thank goodness you're free—please help us defeat these—"
Before she could finish, another voice cut in.
"Captain Smoker!!"
It was Vivi, running toward him with tear stains on her face. Karoo limped behind her, feathers ruffled and bloody.
"Crocodile has gone to the royal palace!" she cried. "My father is still in the throne room—please save him!"
Smoker looked at her.
"King Cobra is still in the palace?" he asked. "Surely he must have hidden after all the commotion."
"No," Vivi said, voice shaking. "He never leaves the castle."
"Crocodile will kill him. I know he will! He's after the secret treasure."
Tashigi watched Vivi plead and pursed her lips. She wanted Smoker to help them against Baroque Works, but she couldn't be selfish.
She stood shakily, still bleeding from her thigh.
"Captain Smoker, please help Vivi," she said. "You're the only one who can reach the palace in time."
"We can hold off Baroque Works a little longer," she added. "But if Crocodile gets what he wants and kills King Cobra—"
"—then this country is doomed," Vivi finished.
Smoker looked at them both. He saw the fear in Vivi's eyes and the pain on Tashigi's face.
Then he glanced at Gem and Mikita. They were still standing, although they were injured and outnumbered.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
'My crew's outmatched, but they can survive a while. But if Crocodile kills King Cobra and takes their 'treasure' under my jurisdiction, I'm in deep shit.'
He looked at his crew one last time. Then thick smoke surged around him.
"I'll stop Crocodile first," he said. "Then I'll come back for you guys, just hold on for bit."
"And don't die."
With that, thick smoke blasted from his feet. He shot into the air like a rocket.
Smoker flew across sand dunes, empty villages, and long dried riverbeds. A smoke trail followed him.
He quickly reached his destination: the royal palace of Alabasta.
Smoker narrowed his eyes.
CRASH!
And burst through a palace window and landed on the marble floor.
He stood, scanning the hallway.
It was silent, no guards, no alarms. He walked forward and saw a guard slumped against the wall.
His body was dried and shriveled, like something had drained all moisture from him. His mouth was frozen in a silent scream.
Smoker understood the lack of alarm.
He passed another guard. Then another.
All dead.
No sign of battle or blood. Just bodies drained of water.
He reached a large door and pushed it open.
It creaked loudly.
Inside was the throne room.
At the far end, on the royal throne, sat King Cobra.
He was slumped forward, eyes closed, robes stained with blood.
At his feet lay Pell and Chaka—Alabasta's strongest protectors.
They weren't moving either.
Their bodies were pale and dry, like mummies.
Wind blew through the broken window.
Smoker looked from the king, to the fallen guardians.
No sign of Crocodile.
He was too late. Crocodile was already gone.
Smoker clenched his fists.
"Shit," he muttered. "How many more have to die before I catch that bastard?"