Going solo

The loudmouth’s eyes narrowed, his gaze darting between the keyring in the woman’s hand and her confident smirk. A murmur rippled through the group of prisoners, the spark of hope igniting in some while skepticism lingered in others.

“You think you can just stroll outta here, girlie?” the loudmouth sneered, though his tone was laced with unease. “Even if you open the cell, the Fishman guards will be on us before we get two steps.”

The orange-haired thief tilted her head, her smirk widening. “That’s your problem. I’m not looking to free everyone, just myself.” She twirled the keys again, letting the metallic clink echo through the damp cell. “Now, your shirt. Or would you prefer I leave you all to rot here?”

The loudmouth growled under his breath but yanked his shirt over his head, tossing it toward her. The navigator caught it with ease and slipped it on, the oversized fabric draping over her slim frame. As she pulled the shirt down, her large breasts stretched the fabric taut across her chest, emphasizing their size and prominence even in the loose garment. The neckline hung slightly low, revealing a teasing hint of her cleavage. Not content with the fit, she grabbed the excess material at her waist and tied it into a knot, exposing her toned midriff and emphasizing her wide hips and narrow waist. The makeshift crop top accentuated her hourglass figure, drawing the prisoners’ lingering stares even more intensely.

“Thanks,” she said, adjusting the knot with a smug air, clearly aware of the effect she had on the room. Her attention, however, had already turned to the cell door. She stepped toward it, the prisoners’ eyes following her every move.

The older man who had spoken earlier stepped forward, his voice trembling but determined. “You… you can’t leave us here. You’re with the Straw Hats, aren’t you? We're fellow pirates in arms!"

The rogue paused, the key hovering over the lock. For a brief moment, guilt flickered across her face, but she quickly masked it with a steely resolve. “Let me be clear,” she said sharply. “I look out for myself and my crew, not random strangers. Stay put and keep quiet. If you’re lucky, I’ll send help when I’m out. But if you make a scene or follow me, you’ll ruin whatever slim chance you have. Got it?”

Without waiting for a response, she turned the key, the heavy lock clicking open. The cell door creaked as she pushed it ajar, the dim corridor beyond stretching into uncertainty. She glanced back at the prisoners, her expression unreadable.

“Don’t make me regret leaving you here,” she added before slipping through the door, leaving it unlocked and disappearing into the shadows.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

The corridor was damp and poorly lit, the smell of saltwater heavy in the air. The navigator’s bare feet moved soundlessly against the cold stone floor, her mind racing. She didn’t trust the prisoners to stay put for long, especially not with the prospect of freedom so tantalizingly close. But she had no intention of sticking around to see how that played out.

She needed a plan. The New Fishman Pirates were dangerous, and if they were anything like Arlong and his crew, they wouldn’t hesitate to use brute **** to get what they wanted.

On cue, shouting could be heard down the opposite hall as Fishmen and humans began to clash.

Nami touched the collar around her neck, its weight reminding her that she still had a ways to go before she was actually free. Fortunately, her plan seemed to be working so far, as security in her area at the very least was barely present. The floors and walls seemed to be made of some sort of old wood, oddly dry for a location supposedly thousands of meters below the sea.

Further down the dark corridors, a peak out a port window confirmed her suspicions. Outside was completely submerged underwater. Below she could make out a glimpse of what appeared to be an old shantytown, but so long as she had no means of breathing outside, even just leaving seemed out of the option.

Another corner and she could hear a couple of voices laughing. Carefully, she peaked around the wall, seeing two large Fishmen drinking the day around a table. The one closest was blue-skinned with a chubby build, while the other was more muscular with a more pinkish complexion. Both were completely hammered, judging by the color in their faces and their inability to sit upright and their lack of coherent speech.

"I 'm tEllIng YOu!" shouted the pink one, slapping Blue on the back. "The hum... Human had a crab-hand hand for a hand!"

Blue laughed harder, "You're totally wasted! Humans have fingers." He wiggled his fat digits to demonstrate. "Fin. Gers."

It seemed they wouldn't be noticing the human escapee any time soon.

Nami could try taking advantage of their stupor to find a way out.

But was it worth the risk exposing herself to these drunks?