Chapter Text
The sky over Karai Bari was choked with thick black smoke and the constant, deafening boom of Marine cannons. Warships were closing in from both sides of the island, trying to trap the Cross Guild in a corner.
Down at the main port, Crocodile was already a whirlwind of sand, tearing through the front lines and drying up Marines until they looked like shriveled raisins. He didn't look tired or worried, only bored.
A huge slash of blue light suddenly cut a Marine ship completely in half. A moment later, Mihawk appeared right next to Crocodile. His golden eyes were sharp and full of annoyance as he looked at the flaming wreckage.
"This is the third attack in only a month," Mihawk said, his voice calm but cold.
Crocodile took a long drag of his cigar, letting the smoke out slowly. A few bullets flew right through his chest, his sand moving around them as if it was alive. "Sables." He flicked his hand, sending a sharp blade of sand to wipe out a group of Marines who dared getting too close.
"What? Growing old already?" Crocodile asked with a dry smirk. "This is child’s play. Even the clown could fight these weaklings as they are. They’re simply wasting manpower with each ship they send to us."
"Exactly," Mihawk replied.
Crocodile stopped moving and looked at the swordsman. He looked thoughtful for a second. If the Marines knew they couldn't win, why did they keep coming? What was the point?
"Someone is obsessed with us," Crocodile muttered, "or they are planning something more than a simple fight."
"Where is Buggy?" Mihawk asked. His voice was hard. No matter how Buggy got the title, he was an Emperor. A useful one, for now. His head was worth more berry than either of theirs.
Just as he asked, a very familiar, high-pitched scream drowned out the sound of the cannons. It sounded more like a seagull being stepped on.
"GYAAAAH! WHY ME?!!! I JUST COMMISSIONED THIS COAT!!!"
Both men sighed at the same time in mutual understanding, looking tired of it all.
Mihawk’s hand on his sword actually flinched. He closed his eyes for a long second, his jaw tightening as if the sound was more painful than a cannonball to the chest. Forget what he said before about him being useful...
Crocodile didn't even look toward the noise. He just pinched the bridge of his nose, his cigar dangling precariously from his lips.
"There he is... Our mighty disappointment of an Emperor," Crocodile grumbled, his voice dripping with pure exhaustion.
"Disappointment means that there was something to be expected, which it is not the case here..." Mihawk muttered, looking like he deeply regretted letting the jester live to be their scapegoat.
Crocodile rolled his eyes as he started to turn back into sand to rejoin the fight. "Whatever. Don't worry about the clown. If nothing else, luck is always on his side. It's the only thing inside his head anyway."
---
On the other side of the beach, Buggy was a mess of red, white, and blue. His body parts were flying everywhere as he dodged a heil of bullets.
"Go bother someone else!" Buggy yelled. His head was floating six feet above his body so he could see the ships better. "Of all the flashy islands in the world, why mine?! It’s a conspiracy! They’re just jealous of how great I am!"
"Captain! Watch out!" Mohji yelled from the distance, ducking behind a rock.
"I KNOW! I HAVE EYES, DON'T I?!" Buggy snarled back.
Despite his theatrical screaming and the way he looked like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, Buggy was actually doing a good job holding the beach. His body separated to avoid the attacks, and his floating hands held four knives each. He moved fast, cutting down a dozen Marines who were trying to run toward the main tent.
He didn't fight like a normal person. He made it look like a panicked, improvised comedy act where every time a Marine tried to hit him, they ended up face-planting on the sand.
"How dare you?! Coming for the head of an Emperor!"
Buggy laughed, though the sound was a bit high-pitched. He sent one hand flying out to snatch a lit fuse from a cannon, snuffed it with his thumb, and snapped the hand back to his wrist.
"You want my head? Fine! TAKE IT!"
He literally threw his head at a large Marine while screaming at the top of his lungs. The officer froze, totally confused by the loud flying head. While the man was distracted, Buggy’s feet kicked him hard in the face. Buggy reattached his head with a pop and laughed loudly.
"Ha! Another flashy victory for the Great Buggy—AAHHH!"
His victory shout turned into a cry of pain as something sharp poked his neck. He felt a weird, tingling feeling under his skin immediately after.
His hand quickly reached for his neck, pulling out a... A dart?
"Wait, what is—?"
Buggy’s eyes went wide. Suddenly, the world started to look blurry and his eyelids felt heavier.
"Uh oh," Buggy whispered. His hand clenched the dart tightly, and his legs felt like they were turning into jelly.
He looked around frantically, his vision swimming as he tried to spot Crocodile’s sandstorm or the flash of Mihawk’s blade. He needed backup, and he needed it now!
"Mohji!" he croaked, spinning around to where he had last seen his second-in-command. He stumbled over his own feet, his legs tangling like wet noodles. "Damn it... where is that guy when I actually need him?" His voice slurred, his tongue feeling fat and funny.
The loud bangs of the cannons and the shouts of the Marines began to fade, turning into a dull hum. It felt like he was looking through a dark, narrow tunnel that was slowly closing in. Buggy tried to take one more step, but his boots felt like they were made of lead.
The beach tilted sharply, and the ground seemed to rise up to meet him. His balance snapped, his knees gave out, and as the world finally went black, his last thought was a very loud, very sincere: "Fuck."