When Buggy's eyes opened, the world was quiet. Too quiet.
He blinked once, then twice, the light of morning cutting through the torn sailcloth overhead. His head throbbed like a drum, and every breath felt like inhaling broken glass.
For a few seconds, everything was blurry: the deck, the mast, and the horizon. The last thing he remembered was a blur of pink feathers and pain.
Then the smell hit him: iron and salt. Blood.
He sat up slowly, his neck cracking, his limbs heavy as lead. The ship rocked gently beneath him, the sound of waves a low, cruel lullaby.
And that's when he saw him.
Urouge.
The Mad Monk sat at the edge of the deck, his massive frame hunched over, one arm wrapped tight in blood-stained bandages. The bandages were white once, probably. Now, they were rust red.
The stump was cleanly cut, sealed by strings that had burned the flesh slightly. Whoever had done it, Doflamingo obviously, had made sure the wound wouldn't kill him. But he also made sure it would hurt for a while.
Buggy stared for a long moment. Urouge's once bronze skin was now somewhat pale, almost grey. His eyes were closed, his lips drawn into a thin line.
Still breathing. But weak.
"Urouge…" Buggy's voice came out as a rasp. "What the hell happened? Where's your arm? I think our crook doctor can reattach it... Also, it feels like a circus danced on top of my head."
The monk turned his head slightly, managing a weak smile. "Ah… Captain. You're awake."
Buggy was about to respond, to ask for more details, a proper answer, but something felt off. He glanced down at himself and froze.
His left arm was gone.
Not torn or bleeding, just gone. Smooth, cleanly sliced off at the shoulder, as if by surgical precision.
He flexed his right hand, the one that remained, and could faintly feel the missing limb still. Floating somewhere out there, waiting for his command.
Except, when he tried to move it, to call it back, nothing. No response. It was simply too far away.
Buggy's breath hitched. That meant one thing. Someone had it.
'Who else could it be other than Mr. Strings?
"The feathered fucker…" he muttered under his breath, his teeth gritting. "He took my damn arm, huh?"
Urouge chuckled weakly, coughing mid-laugh. "You noticed faster than I expected. He said to consider it… insurance."
Buggy turned to him sharply. "Insurance? That's a fun word for a power play."
The monk looked at him evenly, despite the pain written across his face. "Said it's something to keep you, or us, in check. He said he'd keep it and store it somewhere safe. Said he didn't want you wandering off or plotting something stupid."
Buggy didn't answer immediately. His gaze drifted upward, to the mast above them.
The Big Top's mast had been repaired, crudely, but enough to stand. And flying from it now was a second Jolly Roger.
The Donquixote Family's symbol, a smiling cross of feathers and mockery, fluttered proudly above Buggy's own.
The sight made his stomach twist.
He felt bile rise in his throat. His own flag, the laughing skull with a red nose, hung lower, its colors dulled by soot and blood.
"He really is trying to outstage our little circus..." Buggy muttered quietly.
Urouge nodded once. "Bastard said it was a reminder. That we're part of his family now."
Buggy sat back down, his hand trembling slightly. For a long while, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the creaking of the ship and the distant cries of the wounded crew below deck.
Finally, Urouge broke the silence.
"I had to accept that offer after all." he said. "'Join his family, or die.' I didn't have much of a choice. You were out cold, and Mohji and Cabaji were half-dead. It was that, or…"
He trailed off, glancing down at his missing arm. "Well, I figured it's better than dying."
Buggy's jaw clenched. "He took your arm too, huh..."
Urouge smiled faintly. "A fair trade, isn't it?"
The clown didn't answer. His one remaining fist tightened, nails digging through his stained glove and into his palm until blood welled up.
Urouge went on, his voice hoarse but steady. "He's tasked us with hunting down the other troublesome Supernovas. Says he'll inform Marine HQ so they won't interfere with us anymore. We'll be free to move around… as his representatives in the first half of the Grand Line."
He turned to look at Buggy, studying his face carefully. "That's the situation, Captain. I did what I had to. But if you think I've made the wrong call, I'll take responsibility. I'll walk away if I have to."
Buggy looked up at him, really looked.
The monk's eyes were clear, despite the pain. There was no shame there. Only conviction. The conviction of a man who had been cornered and made a difficult choice.
Buggy hated that look.
Not because it was wrong, but because it was something he recognized.
He'd seen it before, years ago, in a previous world. They had been his eyes as well at one point, when he chose to swallow up his pride and do as he was told.
"Damn it…" Buggy muttered under his breath. He rubbed the side of his face, trying to think, but his thoughts were a mess of fury and exhaustion.
He felt like a puppet.
A literal clown dancing on someone else's strings.
But as he stared at that second Jolly Roger, something strange happened. The anger didn't consume him. It crystallized instead, sharp and cold.
A plan blossomed at the top of his mind, one that was so insane, but it was a perfect payback for the humiliation.
It was so insane but so fitting that he couldn't help but start to laugh.
At first, it was a dry, tired chuckle. But soon, it grew louder, clearer, manic.
Urouge blinked, confused. "Captain?"
Buggy tilted his head back, laughter ringing across the deck. "Heheheh… That bastard thinks he can tame us? Use us as his errand boys?"
He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye with his remaining hand, still laughing. "Oh, this is rich. He really doesn't know what he's done."
Urouge smiled a bit. "Ah, so you've finally lost it..."
"Lost it?" Buggy grinned wide, eyes glinting. "No, Monk. I've found it."
He stood up, wobbly, but with that old confidence creeping back into his posture. "He thinks he's holding the strings. That he's the puppeteer. But what he doesn't realize…"
He spread his fingers, flexing the phantom limb that Doflamingo had taken. "...is that clowns don't dance for free. And he'll have a steep price to pay~"
Urouge blinked, half in disbelief, half in amusement. "You're serious."
Buggy turned toward him, grin unwavering. "Dead serious. Let him think we're his subordinates. Even better, let the marines think that too. Oh, how funny~"
He leaned closer, voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "And while we're under his protection, we'll get stronger... Till we reach Sabaody. My mind's already made plans for the circus act that'll ensue there -all sponsored by none other than good ol' Doffy~"
For a moment, Urouge just stared. Then, slowly, a grin of his own crept across his face.
"Hmph. You really are insane, Captain."
"Of course I am," Buggy said proudly. "I'm a clown."
Urouge chuckled, the sound rough but genuine. "Then I suppose we're in agreement. A few months of training, and we'll pay that bastard back for this."
Buggy nodded. "Exactly, we clearly need to get stronger. It ain't like we've been slacking; we just got the rug pulled from right under us."
He turned his gaze to the sea, his eyes reflecting the sunlight like twin sparks of mischief. "Besides… we've got a reputation to rebuild. Can't let the world think Captain Buggy bows to anyone."
The monk leaned back against the mast, closing his eyes. "You're still ridiculous."
"And you're still bleeding all over my deck," Buggy shot back. "Try not to die before we hit the next island. I'm not good at eulogies."
That earned a laugh from the monk, weak but real.
The two sat in silence for a while longer, listening to the sound of waves lapping against the hull.
Up above, the twin flags fluttered in the breeze, one of a smiling clown, the other of a cruel grin wreathed in feathers.
Two jokes. One world apart.
Buggy watched them sway together and smirked. "Go ahead, Doffy. Laugh like a dirty hyena and rejoice in crushing and ordering a newbie in paradise..."
He clenched his remaining fist, the faint hum of Haki flickering around his knuckles.
"Soon enough, you'll regret ever attaching these strings~."
And with that, the clown captain looked out to sea, his grin sharper than ever, the grin of a man who had fallen, been humiliated, and still found a way to turn it into a performance.
The curtains had closed on one act, and the circus was forced to eat a loss. But the next act? That would be the comeback show.