Namor McKenzie In One Piece

The journey through alabasta was long and unrelenting. The heat of the desert never eased, and even Namor found his patience tested as sandstorms occasionally tore through their path. Arlong, unused to such conditions, grumbled incessantly but pressed on. The log pose had guided them straight to a famed city, an oasis in the vast desert of Alabasta.

Rainbase stood as a gleaming jewel in the wasteland, its buildings carved from sandstone and lined with polished metal that caught the sun's rays. The city was lively and bustling, a stark contrast to the dying village they had passed earlier. The grand casino, owned by the infamous Crocodile, loomed over the cityscape, its towering structure a testament to wealth and power.

Namor and Arlong entered through the city gates, their imposing figures immediately drawing attention. Namor's regal aura, his cloak billowing behind him, and the small wings on his ankles made him an oddity. Arlong's sharp teeth, webbed hands, and the fins on his arms marked him as a fishman, a rarity in this part of the world.

The stares came from all directions—some curious, others wary, and a few openly hostile.

"Humans," Arlong muttered under his breath, glaring at a man who quickly looked away. "They can't help but gawk."

Namor walked ahead, ignoring the eyes on them. "Let them look," he said coolly. "They are witnessing greatness."

The two continued through the city, weaving through crowded streets lined with market stalls and vendors. The smells of spices, roasted meats, and fresh bread wafted through the air, making Namor's stomach growl despite himself.

"We need food," Namor declared, his tone making it clear that it wasn't a suggestion.

Arlong grumbled but nodded. "Fine. Let's find something quick."

They turned down a narrow side street, where the noise of the main market faded slightly. Tucked away among the stone buildings was a small, dimly lit tavern. Its wooden sign creaked in the breeze, the words Desert Oasis scrawled in faded paint.

Namor pushed the door open, stepping inside without hesitation. The tavern was modest, with a few scattered tables and a bar lined with mismatched stools. A handful of patrons glanced up as they entered, their eyes lingering on Namor and Arlong before quickly looking away.

Arlong sneered. "More staring. How original."

Namor smirked, striding to an empty table near the back. He sat down, resting his trident against the wall beside him. Arlong joined him reluctantly, his bulk barely fitting into the chair.

A waitress approached cautiously, her eyes darting between the two of them. She was young, with sun-weathered skin and a nervous demeanor.

"W-what can I get you?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"Food," Namor said simply. "Your best dishes. And water."

The waitress nodded quickly and hurried off, clearly eager to put distance between herself and the intimidating pair.

Arlong leaned back in his chair, his sharp teeth glinting as he smirked. "You scared her. Humans are so fragile."

Namor rested his chin on his hand, his white eyes scanning the room. "It is not fear," he said thoughtfully. "It is respect—though poorly masked."

Their food arrived moments later, steaming plates of roasted meat, rice, and flatbread accompanied by pitchers of water. Namor began eating with practiced elegance, while Arlong tore into the food with little regard for manners.

As they ate, Namor's sharp ears caught snippets of conversation from the other patrons. Talk of Crocodile, the leader of Baroque Works, was common, as were murmurs about a rebellion brewing in Alabasta.

"This Crocodile seems to hold considerable power," Namor said, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

Arlong snorted. "A human with power is always dangerous. They crave control over everything they touch."

Namor tilted his head thoughtfully. "Perhaps. But power can be taken, fishman. And those who wield it poorly are unworthy of it."

Arlong's eyes narrowed. "What are you thinking?"

Namor leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Only that this Crocodile may have resources useful to my cause. Perhaps he and I should have a… conversation."

Arlong frowned but said nothing, returning to his meal.

The tavern door creaked open, and a group of rough-looking men entered, their laughter loud and boisterous. They froze when they saw Namor and Arlong, their eyes widening.

"Fishman," one of them muttered, his hand drifting toward the weapon at his side.

Namor's eyes flicked to the group, his expression unreadable. "Is there a problem?" he asked, his voice calm but laced with authority.

The man hesitated, his hand stopping short of his weapon. "N-no, sir," he stammered, his companions nudging him to back down.

Namor's gaze lingered on them for a moment longer before he returned to his food. The men quickly found a table on the opposite side of the room, their earlier bravado replaced by nervous silence.

Arlong chuckled darkly. "See? Humans are cowards."

Namor didn't respond. His mind was already turning, plotting his next move. Rainbase was a city of opportunity, and Namor intended to take full advantage of it.

For now, though, he finished his meal in silence, the weight of his ambitions settling heavily in his mind. Atlantis would rise again, no matter what obstacles stood in his way.

…

Namor and Arlong stood outside the small tavern, the dry desert breeze brushing against their faces. Namor adjusted his cloak casually, his piercing eyes scanning the bustling street ahead. The two had just finished their meal, but neither had paid. To Namor, the concept of paying was beneath him, and Arlong followed his lead without question.

As they stepped onto the road, the tavern's owner came rushing out behind them, his voice shaking with a mix of fear and desperation.

"Hey! You didn't pay for your meal!" he shouted, clutching his apron as he hesitated to approach them directly.

Namor turned slowly, his expression calm but his aura exuding authority. "Do you think a king pays for scraps?" he asked coldly, his voice cutting through the noise of the street.

The man flinched, but before he could respond, another voice interrupted.

"Excuse me," a gruff voice called out. "You're causing quite a scene."

Namor and Arlong turned to see two figures standing a few paces away. The first was a tall man with white hair, wearing a Marine captain's coat draped over his shoulders like a cape. He carried a large jitte, it had a strange white tip. His face was stern, and he exhaled a puff of smoke from the two cigars clenched between his teeth.

Beside him stood a young woman with short black hair and glasses, holding a sword at her side. She looked nervous but determined, her eyes narrowing as she assessed the two strangers.

"Captain Smoker," she said, gesturing toward Arlong. "That's Arlong, the pirate with a 20,000,000 bounty!"

Arlong's face darkened, his sharp teeth bared in a snarl. "So the Marines have a presence here after all," he growled.

Smoker exhaled another puff of smoke, his gaze shifting between Namor and Arlong. "You've got guts showing your face in Rainbase, fishman," he said. "And you—" He gestured at Namor. "You're not on any wanted list, but you don't exactly look innocent either."

Namor smirked, stepping forward. His trident gleamed in the sunlight, and his regal posture made it clear he wasn't intimidated. "I am Namor, King of Atlantis," he declared. "You would do well to remember that name, Marine."

Smoker's brow furrowed. "Atlantis? Never heard of it." He glanced at Tashigi. "Doesn't matter. Arlong is a wanted criminal, and you're with him. That makes you suspicious."

Arlong spat on the ground, his gills flaring. "You Marines are all the same—poking your noses where they don't belong."

Tashigi stepped forward, her hand gripping the hilt of her sword. "You're under arrest, Arlong!"

Namor raised a hand, stopping her in her tracks. "Arrest?" he repeated, his tone mocking. "You think you can arrest me? Or him?"

Smoker's eyes narrowed. "You've got quite the attitude, fishman. But I'm not here to talk." He slammed the tip of his jitte into the ground, and the area around it began to fill with smoke.

Namor tilted his head, intrigued. "Interesting," he murmured.

Arlong growled, his webbed fingers curling into fists. "Let me handle this fool," he said, stepping forward.

Namor held up a hand. "No. I will deal with him. Watch and learn, fishman."

Smoker charged, his jitte raised. Namor met him head-on, his trident moving like a blur. The weapons clashed with a metallic ring, and Smoker's smoke began to swirl around them.

"You're fast," Smoker admitted, his voice calm despite the intensity of the fight. "But don't underestimate me."

Namor smirked, pushing Smoker back with a powerful swing of his trident. "I wouldn't dream of it," he said, his voice dripping with confidence.

Tashigi tried to rush in to assist, but Arlong intercepted her, his sharp teeth gleaming. "Stay out of this, little girl," he sneered, swiping at her with his claws.

Tashigi parried the attack, her sword sparking against Arlong's claws. "I won't let you get away!" she shouted, her determination unwavering.

The street erupted into chaos as the fight raged on. Civilians scattered, and the noise drew more Marines to the scene. Namor and Smoker continued to trade blows, their fight an even match as smoke and water clashed in bursts of power.

Finally, Namor leapt into the air, using the small wings on his ankles to hover above the battlefield. He raised his trident, the sunlight catching its polished surface.

"Enough of this," he said, his voice booming. "I do not have time to waste on petty skirmishes."

He thrust his trident downward, sending a wave of water crashing toward Smoker. The Marine captain dodged, but the sheer force of the attack created a temporary wall between them.

Arlong used the distraction to shove Tashigi back and retreat toward Namor.

"Let's go!" Arlong growled, clearly agitated.

Namor smirked down at Smoker and the other Marines. "You've seen my power. Consider this your warning—cross me again, and I will not be so merciful."

With that, Namor and Arlong disappeared into the chaos, leaving the Marines to regroup. Smoker glared after them, his jaw clenched.

"Namor, huh?" he muttered. "We'll see about that."

Tashigi adjusted her glasses, her eyes narrowing. "They won't get far, Captain. Not while we're here."

As the dust settled, Rainbase returned to its usual bustle, but the memory of the confrontation lingered in the minds of all who had witnessed it. Namor and Arlong had made their mark, and their journey in Alabasta was far from over.

…

As the chaos in Rainbase settled, and Namor and Arlong disappeared into the horizon, a pair of shadowy figures stood perched atop a nearby rooftop, carefully observing the commotion. Their eyes tracked every movement made by the strange man with the trident and his fishman companion.

"Did you see that?" one of them whispered, leaning forward. She was a lithe woman with long, curly hair and a sly grin. She adjusted her large, flower-shaped sunglasses, her gaze narrowing. "That guy with the wings on his ankles… who the hell is he? And did he just take on Captain Smoker like it was nothing?"

Beside her stood a tall man, his face hidden beneath a bandana and a long cloak. He crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. "That wasn't normal," he muttered. "He's not a regular pirate, that's for sure. And he's got Arlong with him."

The woman smirked, her tone dripping with amusement. "Who would've thought that fishman would still be kicking after what happened in the East Blue? Crocodile's not gonna like this."

The man nodded. "They're heading deeper into Alabasta. If they keep going, they might cross paths with the boss sooner rather than later. We need to inform him before they get too close."

The woman sighed, tossing her hair back. "Fine, but I was hoping for a bit more excitement. Watching Smoker get his ass handed to him was fun, though."

She turned and began descending from the rooftop, her partner following closely behind.

"We're not here to have fun," the man reminded her curtly. "Our job is to gather intel, not get involved. Crocodile needs to know about that guy—Namor, was it? If he's a threat, the boss will take care of him."

The woman rolled her eyes but didn't argue. As they disappeared into the shadows of Rainbase, their minds were already calculating the fastest route back to their leader's headquarters in Rain Dinners.

---

Far away, in the luxurious casino known as Rain Dinners, Crocodile lounged in his office, his golden hook gleaming under the soft light. Unaware of the report that was about to reach him, he toyed with a glass of wine, his cold eyes staring at the map of Alabasta on his desk.

But soon, the name Namor would reach his ears, and the wheels of Baroque Works would begin to turn against this new and unknown threat.