The sea was calm. Too calm.
Now, making such a huge scene near the Conomi Islands, a place with a marine base nearby, may not have been the smartest choice in retrospect.
The even worse part? Buggy already knew that the local marines were on Arlong's payroll or at least benefited from his activities.
Buggy leaned against the rail, the wind tugging at his coat as he hummed an off-key circus tune. "Y'know," he said to no one in particular,
"I think the universe's got a weird sense of humor. Blow up one fishman clubhouse, and suddenly everyone's acting like you declared war on the government."
"Technically, Captain," Cabaji said, adjusting his bandana nervously, "we're pirates, so we… did?"
Buggy raised a painted eyebrow. "Details, Cabaji. I deal in drama, not bureaucracy."
They were halfway to Loguetown, the smell of gunpowder still faint on their hull, when the lookout's voice cracked through the breeze. "Ships! Two of 'em! Dead ahead on the horizon!"
Buggy didn't even bother turning. "How big?"
"Uh- bigger than ours. A lot bigger."
Cabaji squinted at the horizon. Two silhouettes rose from the distance, sails white with the symbol of justice stretched wide across them. Cruiser-class battleships, sleek, bristling with cannons, and closing in fast.
Mohji gulped. "Boss, those are Marine Ships! There must be hundreds of them aboard!"
Buggy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You blow up one racist shark, and everyone loses their minds…"
It shouldn't have been a surprise to him.
It seemed that the Marine Base had essentially moved most of its forces to take them out. Buggy's bombardment on the Conomi Islands was treaded as an act of war/terrorism. Which was just plain unfair in the Clown's eyes.
Their ships were also faster than his, which was why they were able to cut them off in such an abrupt manner after only a few days at sea.
The cannons on both ships pivoted in perfect mechanical unison, black mouths yawning wide.
Mohji's voice trembled. "B-boss… we're all out of Buggy Balls. Or cannonballs in general…"
Maybe using them all to take potshots a fried fishman in the middle of the sea was not the best of decisions.
Buggy stared at him. Then, flatly: "Least we still got our balls, Mohji. At least we can say that."
The tamer blinked. "B-Boss, are you suggesting we shoot our-"
"No, you dipshit! I was making a joke!" Buggy snapped. "God, can't even panic properly these days."
A moment later, the first cannon volley screamed through the air.
The cruisers split formation, boxing them in with a smooth efficiency that screamed well-trained. A voice boomed through a loudspeaker across the water.
"Pirate vessel! You are surrounded by the Marine forces of the 77th Division! By order of Headquarters, surrender immediately and prepare to be boarded!"
Buggy raised a hand lazily. "No!" His voice thundered across the ocean, echoing in the distance.
The pause that followed was almost comical.
Then came the first cannonball.
It tore through the air with a banshee's wail, slamming into the sea beside them, spraying the deck with saltwater and debris. More followed, the horizon lit up with muzzle flashes.
The sky turned to thunder.
Buggy didn't even flinch. His arms shot forward, detaching midair, blades gripped in both hands as he intercepted the first few cannonballs mid-flight.
CLANG! THOOM!
Each strike split the projectiles apart, the resulting explosions bursting harmlessly above the ship as his separated limbs zipped back into place.
The crew gawked. "He's- he's slicing the cannonballs?!"
Buggy smirked, twirling the knife between his fingers. "When you're immune to being cut, you learn to appreciate the art."
Another barrage. Buggy leapt high, body splitting apart midair in a spiral of motion. His limbs became a storm, blades flashing, metal ringing, fragments of flame scattering harmlessly across the deck. Every strike deflected or diverted.
But they were outnumbered. Outgunned. And very quickly, even Buggy realized what he'd rather not admit.
"This isn't sustainable," he muttered, ducking as another volley crashed nearby. "And I'm not dying surrounded by these fashion disasters."
He glanced toward the Marine cruisers in the distance, they were slowly closing in, focusing thier barrage. He gave them a judging gaze, the pristine white coats, the gold-trimmed hats. Then he grinned.
"Alright, change of plans. I'll bring the fight to them!"
"Captain?!" Cabaji shouted. "There are hundreds of Marines on each ship!"
"Perfect audience!" Buggy yelled back. "You guys hold the fort, I'll do a little stage invasion!"
Before anyone could stop him, his body split again, head, arms, and torso all rocketing off toward the nearest Marine cruiser, leaving his legs standing comically on the deck.
"Hey! Come back!" Mohji shouted.
Buggy's disembodied voice echoed through the air. "If I don't come back, tell my hat I loved it!"
The Marines opened fire as soon as they spotted him. Dozens of rifles cracked in unison. He twisted and spun through the barrage, bullets whizzing past, some pinging off metal, one tearing clean through his shoulder.
"AAAH! SON OF A SEADOG!" Buggy yelled, clutching at the wound. "That's it! I'm banning projectiles from all future audiences!"
Still, he didn't stop. His hands grabbed the railing of the Marine ship mid-flight, yanking the rest of his body forward. He landed like a meteor, knives drawn, coat flaring, eyes blazing with manic delight.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the Navy!" he roared. "Your entertainment has arrived!"
The first Marine to rush him got a boot to the throat for his trouble. Buggy whirled, grabbing another by the collar and using him as a shield as bullets tore through the air.
"I must admit, Marine training is impressive! You're multi-purpose~" Buggy laughed, using the man's limp body to block three more shots. "And you're recyclable!"
He kicked another soldier into a stack of powder barrels, letting the poweder spread all over as he continued to struggle.
And in the middle of that, he lit a match with his teeth, and tossed it over his shoulder.
The explosion rocked the deck.
Fire burst through the midsection of the cruiser, swallowing two of the sails and coating the sky in thick black smoke.
Marines screamed, some diving into the water as Buggy danced through the chaos, passing through the hurling bottles of alcohol and flammable oils in every direction.
The air turned into a carnival of destruction.
Buggy was everywhere at once, blades flickering, limbs zipping, laughter echoing through the flames.
Fighting him in such a crowded place was a nightmare, especially since most marines defaulted to using the bayonettes from their weapons, which were innefective.
It all happened to fast for them to realize that Buggy was fully immune to slices.
He slammed a crate of ammunition into the path of a charging officer and kicked it open with a grin.
"Catch!"
The crate detonated. Wood and steel rained down across the burning deck.
A bullet grazed his cheek. Another slammed into his shoulder. Then one into his side. Each hit made him wince, but his grin never faltered.
He kicked open a cabin door, found a medicine chest, and grinned wider. "Oh-ho-ho, jackpot."
Moments later, he was hurling makeshift molotovs made from Marine brandy and linen bandages. Fire spread down into the lower decks as chaos consumed the ship.
"Captain! The fire's spreading!" someone shouted, asking for help from their superiors.
"Good!" Buggy yelled back. "It's called atmosphere!"
As the cruiser tilted, Buggy vaulted onto the mast, sprinted up it like a tightrope walker, and launched himself through the air toward the second Marine ship.
Rifle fire followed him, dozens of shots tearing through the sky. He twisted midair, a bullet nicking his sleeve, another punching into his thigh.
"OH, THAT'S GONNA HURT LATER!" he screamed, spinning through the smoke. "I swear if one of you hits my shoes I'll burn three ships!"
He crashed into the second cruiser's deck with the grace of a drunken meteor. Marines surrounded him immediately.
He grinned through the blood. "Alright boys, second act!"
What followed was madness.
Buggy fought like a hurricane. Every slash through his body passed harmlessly, confusing his opponents as he reformed behind them, stabbing or kicking them into the flames.
When guns came out, he grabbed nearby Marines or splipped thorugh them, scattering his parts among them and using them as human shields again, his movements erratic but purposeful.
At one point, a lieutenant, a tall, square-jawed man with colorfoul eppaulettes and a saber, stepped forward, shouting over the noise.
"Stop this madness, pirate! You're outnumbered and surrounded!"
Buggy looked at him. Then laughed.
"You're not my first critic, sweetheart."
The man lunged. His blade sliced Buggy's head clean off, which only grinned as it spun in the air.
"Nice swing!" Buggy's head quipped. "Form's a little stiff, though!"
The lieutenant froze. That was all the opening Buggy needed. His detached arm whipped forward, dagger in hand, stabbing the officer through the jaw and up into the skull. The man dropped instantly.
Buggy caught his head midair and snapped it back into place with a click. "Curtain closed."
By now, Buggy already knew where the marines held their gun powder, so the process this time was a lot shorter...
The ship rocked violently beneath his feet. Fire was spreading through the powder stores now, explosions bursting from below deck in a chain reaction.
Buggy staggered, clutching his bleeding side. "Alright… fun's fun, but I'm not dying for free."
He whistled sharply, and his scattered limbs began to fly back toward his ship in the distance.
As he rose into the air, bullets whizzed past. One grazed his leg, another cracked against his ribs. He winced, grabbing another fallen Marine and using him like a meat shield mid-flight.
By the time he landed back on his own deck, his coat was scorched, his skin peppered with bullet holes, and blood dripped steadily from half a dozen wounds.
The crew rushed to him instantly.
"Captain! You're alive!" Mohji shouted.
"Define alive, my life juices are painting the deck..." Buggy wheezed, slumping against the mast. Then he laughed, weakly, but genuinely. "Heh. I hate bureaucracy."
Behind them, both Marine cruisers burned bright against the horizon. One had already begun to kill its flames, the other still erupting in small bursts of secondary explosions. The air smelled like smoke and salt and gun oil.
Buggy grinned through blood-stained teeth. "Well… we won that, right?"
Cabaji blinked. "We're fleeing, Captain."
The acrobatic swordsman sweated a bit, there were still hundreds of marines on board of each ship, so putting out the flames was a matter of time in the middle of the sea.
"Same thing."
Buggy pushed himself upright, leaning heavily on the railing as the crew adjusted the sails and the Clown Ship began to pull away from the chaos.
The sound of burning ships faded into the distance. Seagulls circled overhead. For a brief, quiet moment, the sea almost looked peaceful again.
Buggy spat blood over the side and chuckled under his breath. "Note to self: don't blow up property near Marine bases."
He adjusted his hat, still somehow immaculate, and smiled. "But hey… at least it wasn't boring."
The crew laughed, half in relief, half in disbelief, as the clown leaned back, letting the wind carry them away from the flames.
"Someone bring the doctor over dipshits! I have bullets to take outta me and bleedings to stop!"
He barked orders, laughing through the pain, grin still painted wide. The show, as always, went on.