Loguetown Marine Branch Prison
The Buggy Pirates had been rotting in their cell for a full day, sharing the cramped space with other small-time criminals who lacked even the notoriety to warrant bounty posters. Each prisoner was weaker than the last—hardly the caliber of scum worthy of Impel Down's attention.
Mohji gently stroked the mane of his lion companion, Richie, who had been cowering in the corner ever since their capture. The once-proud beast now trembled at shadows, his appetite reduced to nervous nibbling. The encounter with Captain Smoker had shattered whatever courage the animal possessed.
"Captain," Mohji whispered, "when are we getting out of here? Richie's barely holding it together."
Cabaji sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor, his prized unicycle confiscated along with the rest of their equipment. His fingers drummed restlessly against his knees as he surveyed their surroundings. "Anyone else notice how quiet it's gotten? Where are all the guards?"
The swordsman's observation was astute—the usual patrol rotations had dwindled to almost nothing over the past few hours. The rhythmic footsteps that had echoed through the corridors earlier had faded to an eerie silence.
"I'm starving," Alvida complained, her newly svelte figure unable to diminish her legendary appetite. The Sube Sube no Mi had transformed her appearance, but her need for constant sustenance remained unchanged. "Damn Marines don't know how to feed a lady properly."
The other crew members looked expectantly toward their captain, seeking reassurance from the man who'd led them through countless adventures. But Buggy the Clown could barely lift his head from where he slumped against the wall, his colorful appearance dulled by exhaustion.
Seastone shackles encircled his wrists and ankles like lead weights, while a matching collar pressed against his throat. Though not pure seastone, the restraints were more than enough to drain a small-time Devil Fruit user like himself. Every movement felt like swimming through thick molasses.
"Don't worry, men," Buggy forced out through gritted teeth, his voice carrying none of its usual bombast. "This little trinket can't hold the great Captain Buggy. I'll get us out of here soon enough."
Damn you, Shanks, he thought bitterly. If you hadn't made me eat that cursed fruit, I'd still be able to swim. And damn whoever's behind that Sky Screen—they've ruined everything.
The irony wasn't lost on him. His entire pirate career had been built on staying under the radar, using his Devil Fruit powers to bully weaker crews while avoiding anyone who might pose a real threat. He couldn't even use basic Haki, for crying out loud. The Grand Line would chew him up and spit him out faster than a Sea King with indigestion.
Now, thanks to the Sky Screen's revelations, every Marine in the world knew his face and expected him to be some kind of legendary threat. His plans of quietly treasure hunting had gone up in smoke.
"You're right, Captain," Mohji said with forced optimism. "The prison's practically empty. This might be our chance."
Buggy's bound hand slowly worked its way toward his wild blue hair, fingers fumbling until they found what he was looking for—a thin wire he'd managed to conceal during his arrest. With considerable effort, he tossed it toward his animal tamer.
"Mohji, put those lock-picking skills to use. And remember..." Buggy's eyes glinted with their old cunning despite his weakened state. "We're not just breaking ourselves out. Every criminal in this place is potential crew material."
Mohji caught the wire with a grin that split his face. "Leave it to me, Captain!"
The lock was older than some of the prisoners, its mechanism worn from years of use. Within five minutes, Mohji had the cell door swinging open with a satisfying creak.
"Too easy!" he laughed, flexing his fingers. "I'm wasted on the East Blue!"
The sound of their escape immediately drew attention from the other cells. Desperate voices called out from every direction:
"Hey, over here! I used to navigate for the Creek Pirates!"
"I can fight! Please, I'll do anything!"
"Don't leave me behind—I know where Captain Kuro buried his treasure!"
Mohji ignored the pleading and focused on freeing his crewmates first. The regular crew members wore standard iron shackles that yielded to his ministrations within minutes. But when he reached Buggy and Alvida, his confidence evaporated.
"Captain, I can't do anything about seastone," Mohji admitted, sweat beading on his forehead from the effort. "We need to find the keys."
"Forget about me for now," Buggy wheezed, though the words cost him considerable effort. "Free everyone else first. Every warm body in this place can serve under my flag."
Quantity over quality, he thought pragmatically. If nothing else, they can catch bullets for us.
Following orders, Mohji went from cell to cell like a man possessed. The prison erupted into chaos as more and more criminals found themselves free, though still trapped within the building itself. They armed themselves with whatever they could find—mop handles, broken chair legs, anything that might serve as a weapon against the inevitable Marine response.
Within an hour, Mohji had liberated every prisoner except those bound by seastone. The newly freed criminals looked to Buggy with a mixture of hope and desperation, seeing him as their ticket to freedom.
"Captain!" Mohji called from his position at the small observation window. "You're not going to believe this, but... there's nobody out there. No guards, no patrols—not even a single warship in the harbor."
The animal tamer's voice carried a note of disbelief that infected the other prisoners. In all their years of piracy, none had ever heard of Marines abandoning their own base.
"They're afraid of Lord Buggy!" one of the freed criminals shouted, and the cry was taken up by the others. "The great Captain Buggy scared them away!"
Despite his weakened condition, Buggy felt a surge of dark satisfaction. Let them believe what they wanted—fear was as good a weapon as any.
The Sky Screen made me look so powerful that even the Marines are running scared, he mused. If only it were actually true.
But their celebration was short-lived.
"Wait!" Mohji's voice cracked with sudden alarm. "Ships in the harbor—multiple warships! They're coming back!"
The euphoria in the prison died instantly, replaced by the cold grip of terror. Every eye turned toward Buggy, seeking guidance from the man they'd pinned their hopes on.
Buggy fought to keep his voice steady despite the seastone's debilitating effects. "Stay calm, you idiots. They don't know we've escaped yet. We hit them fast and hard while they're not expecting it."
And pray to whatever gods are listening that I can get these shackles off before they realize what's happening.
"I'll step in when necessary," he added, the lie rolling off his tongue with practiced ease.
But even as he spoke, Buggy's enhanced hearing picked up something that made his blood run cold—the measured footsteps of disciplined soldiers, the crisp orders being barked in voices that carried the authority of Marine Headquarters.
These weren't the local East Blue peacekeepers they'd been dealing with. These were the real deal—elite Marines led by someone with enough rank to make Captain Smoker look like a rookie.
Admiral Sakaski, Buggy realized with growing horror. The man who believes absolute justice means absolute destruction.