Smoker was a hot-headed man with a strong sense of justice.
When he got angry, he would literally start smoking—and take to the skies.
So, after hearing Wallace's accusations about the Loguetown Navy, Smoker couldn't wait. Using the convenience of his Devil Fruit powers, he soared into the sky and, in a short amount of time, arrived near the Loguetown Naval Base.
He wanted to see with his own eyes whether Wallace's claims were true.
As the highest-ranking naval base in the East Blue, Loguetown's Navy headquarters was quite large and imposing, exuding an air of grandeur.
Under Wallace's guidance, Smoker soon spotted the tall building with a Navy flag fluttering on top.
From half a block away, Smoker quietly descended from the sky, reverted to his physical form, and gently set down the now-dizzy Wallace.
"Cough, cough…"
Being wrapped in a cloud of smoke while flying at high speed was far from a pleasant experience. Wallace coughed for a while before he caught his breath. "Captain Smoker, that's the Loguetown base up ahead!"
"If everything's as usual…"
"You'll know right away what Commander Hammer has been up to just by taking one look."
Smoker didn't reply. He just tightened his grip on the jitte in his hand, full of murderous intent, and began striding toward the Loguetown Naval Base.
Wallace adjusted his disheveled collar and quickly followed close behind.
Smoker's appearance was, in a word, intimidating.
Half-naked, with bulging muscles, silver slicked-back hair like a gang leader, and a never-ending stream of smoke from his oversized cigar. Even though his biker-style leather jacket had the word "Justice" scrawled on the back, it didn't look like a Navy coat at all. Instead, it gave off the vibe of a gangster uniform with a twisted sense of humor.
Nothing about him looked like a good guy.
So, when a towering two-meter-tall man like that, holding a blunt weapon and looking like he wanted to kill someone, walked straight toward the Navy base—it obviously raised alarms.
"Halt!"
The two guards at the gate instantly raised their guns in panic the moment they spotted Smoker.
Smoker stopped and cast a chilling glare at the two guards.
"Y-You…"
One of the guards was so unnerved by Smoker's stare that his scalp went numb. He clutched his flintlock rifle even tighter. "Are you… a pirate?!"
Based on Smoker's appearance, it was the only logical conclusion.
Smoker's expression didn't change. He took a deep drag of his cigar and exhaled a thick smoke ring. Just as he was about to reveal his identity as a headquarters Captain and force his way into the base for a surprise inspection—
"Of course I'm—"
"HAHAHA!"
Before he could even finish saying "not," the guard had already lowered his gun and burst out laughing.
"If you're a pirate, just say so!"
"First time in Loguetown? You look so serious!"
"Huh?"
Smoker froze mid-step, momentarily forgetting to even smoke.
"Don't waste time. Follow me!"
The guard smiled warmly, like a model of Navy-civilian harmony. "The gathering's in the back of the base. The other pirate crews are already there."
"Gathering…?"
Smoker looked even more confused.
"Lucky you!"
The other guard gave Smoker a hearty slap on the arm and said, "Commander Hammer is about to be reassigned. This is your last chance!"
The hand gripping Smoker's jitte tightened abruptly, his knuckles turning white.
"Stay calm," Wallace whispered from the side, reminding him.
Huff—huff—
Smoker took a few deep breaths, barely restraining himself from smashing the guard's head in with one swing.
"Oh, right."
The lead guard turned his head. "What pirate crew are you guys from?"
"Uhh…"
Wallace glanced at the fuming Smoker, smoke practically coming out of his nose, and casually replied, "The White Smoke Pirates."
….
Loguetown Naval Base – Base Commander's Office
The current commanding officer, Marine Headquarters' Commander Hammer, was leisurely enjoying his afternoon tea in his office.
Hammer was already middle-aged, but dressed in a clean, fitted white suit with neatly combed hair, he looked sharp and spirited.
He appeared to be the perfect naval officer—so much so that even the streaks of gray in his sideburns added a sense of calm authority.
A few highbrow literary books lay neatly arranged on his desk.
Commander Hammer sipped his tea and turned the pages of his book, the picture of refinement.
No one looking at him could imagine that this same man was the undisputed tyrant of the Loguetown area.
Nor could anyone guess that while he was sipping tea in silence, a loud, chaotic pirate gathering was underway on the other side of the base—hosted entirely under his direction.
Of course, Hammer never personally showed up.
All the dirty work of dealing with those lowly East Blue pirates was always handled by his trusted aide, Lieutenant Charles.
Staying hidden in the shadows—that was Hammer's first rule in managing Loguetown's "pirate toll booth."
"Only about twenty days left…"
As Hammer stared at the pages in front of him, he couldn't calm his restless thoughts. He murmured to himself:
"The officer from HQ replacing me should be arriving soon. Time to start cleaning up the traces."
A flood of names flashed through his mind—names of subordinates he couldn't fully trust.
His gaze sharpened, filled with ruthlessness and cruelty.
"Captain Smoker?"
Hammer repeated the name to himself.
He had received the transfer orders from Marine HQ and naturally knew what kind of person his replacement was—
A Logia-type fruit user, protégé of Admiral Zephyr, a young man already holding the rank of Captain… Though he had never met Smoker, as a former HQ officer, Hammer had certainly heard the name "White Hunter Smoker."
"Heh."
Hammer let out a cold snort.
To HQ officers, being posted to a branch in the Four Seas—especially to the weakest sea, the East Blue—was basically the same as exile.
Hammer himself had once dreamed of rising to power, but his career had stagnated during his many years as the commander of the Loguetown base.
But Smoker was different. His rank as a Captain clearly didn't match the lowly position of Loguetown base commander. Anyone could see this was just part of his superiors' plan to test and train him.
The more Hammer thought about it, the more he felt a growing resentment toward this stranger he had never met.
"Commander Hammer!"
A panicked subordinate suddenly burst into the office. His voice trembled. "S-Something terrible has happened!"
"What is it?"
Hammer calmly put down his teacup and asked unhurriedly, "Is it some pirate at the gathering causing trouble? Do I need to deal with it myself?"
"No!"
The subordinate's voice trembled even more. "A whole group of marines just landed at the dock. As soon as they got off the ship, they lined up and marched straight toward the base!"
"Marines?!"
Hammer's calm façade finally cracked, a look of uncontrollable panic appearing on his face.
Without an order from higher-ups, marines from other East Blue branches would never visit Loguetown uninvited.
Which meant this group of marines… were most likely his HQ replacement forces.
Still, Hammer clung to a sliver of hope. He asked in a low voice, "Among those marines… is there a tall man in a white suit, wearing a Justice cloak?"
"Uh…"
The subordinate thought for a moment before replying, "None of them were wearing a Justice cloak. But the guy leading them was tall, in a white suit. Thick eyebrows, righteous aura—he looked like a real officer!"
Hammer's expression turned stormy. The Justice cloak was standard attire even for low-ranking officers.
But that thing didn't even have buttons. To wear it in battle without it falling off, you needed a strong sense of "justice"—and enough power to back it up.
So weak officers usually wouldn't dare wear such a flashy outfit into battle, only donning it at ceremonies or gatherings.
Over time, wearing the Justice cloak into battle became a symbol of strength and rank among naval officers.
Still, the absence of the cloak didn't ease Hammer's concerns.
Because that man… was wearing a white suit.
As someone from HQ himself, Hammer knew that all naval officers had custom-tailored suits.
The style wasn't all that different from normal suits, but…
Leading a squad of marines, dressed in white?
That had to be someone from HQ.
"Damn it!"
"Why did HQ's people arrive so quickly?!"
With a sudden outburst, Hammer slammed his palm on his desk, shattering it instantly.
The fine teacup, the elegant books, the sturdy table—all were reduced to rubble under the force of his strike.
"C-Commander?"
The subordinate asked timidly, "Should we… run?"
"Run?"
"The town is swarming with pirates. Even a blind man could tell something shady's going on here!"
"If we run, it's the same as admitting guilt!"
Hammer gritted his teeth. "They've already landed in Loguetown. You think you can outrun a Logia-type user's pursuit?"
"Then what do we do?"
The subordinate was in full panic now.
Silence fell over the office once again. Hammer sank into deep thought.
After a long pause, his twisted expression slowly returned to normal. His voice was colder and calmer than usual:
"Prepare all the cash and treasure. The more, the better."
"Also, bring me the Sea-Prism Stone bullets I've kept in storage."
"And finally, inform Lieutenant Charles—I want to see him."
"Yes, sir!"
The subordinate quickly accepted the order and rushed off.
"So, you're the 'genius Smoker'…"
A glint of resolve flashed in Hammer's eyes.
"Let's see what you're made of."
(End of Chapter)