The night sky shook with thunder as cannonballs ripped through the hull of the Marine escort ship. The deck splintered under the assault; smoke and screams tangled in the cold wind.
"Protect the civilians!" a Marine officer shouted, shoving people behind barricades. "Don't let them board!"
But it was too late.
A crooked mast appeared through the haze, a torn sail painted with a jagged, blood-red clown face flapping violently. A chilling laughter rolled across the waves like a curse.
"Bahahahahahaha…! I love when the screaming starts early."
The Buggy Pirates drew closer, torches flickering, blades glinting. This was not the goofy clown of posters and rumors. Buggy wore black and scarlet, makeup smeared like a war mask, eyes cold and hungry. His smile was too wide. Too sharp. He stood at the bow like a ringmaster of a nightmare circus.
Behind him, his lieutenants moved with lethal precision: Cabaji, rust-stained blade glinting, hollow stare fixed on his prey; Mohji, muscles coiled, his giant lion Richie snarling like a demon in chains.
Buggy raised a hand.
"Fire again. I want them scared before the fun begins."
Another barrage erupted. Marines screamed. The ship buckled under the assault.
Buggy spread his arms theatrically.
"Alright, you two—GO FIND ME THE KEY. And if you have to kill half this ship for it?" His grin sharpened. "Make it a show."
Mohji and Cabaji leapt aboard with vicious precision as pirates swarmed over the railing behind them. The massacre began.
Below deck, civilians were herded together as Marines tried to hold the line. Amid the chaos, a lone barrel rattled violently.
Thump…
Thump-thump…
Then—BOOOOM!
The lid exploded upward. A young man popped out with a massive, yawning stretch.
"Yaaaaaawn… what time is it…?"
The civilians froze, eyes wide.
"W-why was someone… sleeping in a barrel…?" one whispered.
The young man in the orange open shirt scratched his head lazily and smiled.
"Oh, hey, kid! I don't suppose you've seen a nice shiny key anywhere?" The ship rocked violently, and civilians tumbled to the floor. Ace turned as if staring into the distance. "Just my luck… other pirates are here already; better get to work."
He walked out like this was completely normal.
Above deck, the Buggy Pirates tore through the Marines. Cabaji moved like a shadow, blade slicing through barricades. Mohji crushed everything in his path with brute force, Richie roaring behind him. Buggy himself stepped across the deck with cruel leisure, occasionally flicking a severed hand or foot to strike down a fleeing Marine. Not comically. Efficiently. Coldly. The deck was slick with seawater… and blood.
Ace emerged from below just in time to see a wounded Marine about to be finished off. He blinked.
"Oh, that's rude."
He grabbed a broken mop handle and swung it like a baseball bat—cracking the pirate across the face and sending him tumbling unconscious.
The Marine gasped. "You… you saved me…"
"Yeah!" Ace grinned, tipping an invisible hat. "There's good pirates and bad pirates, y'know? I'm one of the good ones."
"W-wait—you're a pirate!?"
Ace waved him off. "No time! Gotta find something shiny!"
He sprinted off.
Ace skidded to a halt in front of an ornate door.
"Captain's quarters… If there's a key anywhere, it's in here."
He shoved it open.
Inside were slaughtered Marines, sprawled like discarded dolls. At the center stood Buggy, twirling a Marine captain's bloody hat. The key dangled from his other hand, flecked with red. Buggy's eyes locked onto Ace, cold and calculating. His men waited behind him, weapons dripping.
"Well, well…" Buggy said, darkly theatrical. "A little stowaway? Or are you one of the rats running loose on my stage?"
"Name's Ace," Ace's eyes scanned the room: "But pirates like you, can call me RedHeart"
Ace shifted, lowering his stance, gripping his sword tightly but controlled.
Buggy raised an eyebrow. "Smarter than the Marines I gutted earlier. Ok, RedHeart, I hate boring fights, so be sure to entertain me."
Ace didn't take the bait. Instead, he stepped lightly onto the scattered glass—testing how it crunched underfoot, masking the smallest sound. He flicked his eyes to the lantern overhead. Buggy followed the glance.
That was Ace's real move.
He kicked a loose floorboard into Cabaji's shin. Cabaji stumbled. Ace lunged past Buggy, reaching for the key. Quick, precise, calculated.
But Buggy didn't flinch.
Ace's blade cut through Buggy's midsection cleanly—and Buggy's torso hovered, detached from expectation.
"What the?" Ace muttered.
"Nice try." Buggy smirked.
Before Ace could pivot, Buggy's arm struck like a snake—clamping around Ace's forearm. Brutal. Relentless.
Ace snarled, jerking, but Buggy's grip was iron. Cabaji recovered, slicing low. Ace rotated, leveraging Buggy's detached arm into Cabaji's strike—SHING! Cabaji's blade cut Buggy's arm off.
Buggy didn't react. Not even a blink. The severed hand crawled across the floor like a spider.
Ace tried to step back—ran straight into Mohji's massive frame. Mohji shoved him forward. Buggy's fist—just the fist—punched Ace across the jaw.
Ace staggered, vision blurring, but stayed upright. Sword raised, ready to angle for Buggy's blind spot—but Buggy's eyes tracked him independently.
"Fast," Buggy said. "But not fast enough."
A foot smashed into Ace's ribs from behind. Ace wheezed, rolling the blow into a one-knee stance. He was hurting. But thinking.
His gaze darted to the window. Buggy noticed.
"No," Buggy said, simply.
Before Ace could move, four limbs pinned him:
A hand around his throat, A knee against his spine, A foot stamping his wrist, while the other hand ripping the sword away.
Ace grunted, twisting, but Buggy's squeeze intensified.
"I like fighters," Buggy said quietly. "But sometimes the strong ones make the best examples."
Buggy's foot stomped Ace's head into the wooden floor. Everything went black.
Ace drifted in and out of consciousness, ribs screaming, head pounding like a storm drum. When the world finally stopped spinning, he realised—predictably—that he was tied to a mast aboard the Buggy Pirates' ship. The ropes bit into his skin with coarse, affectionate cruelty.
The ocean was quiet. Too quiet.
Boots shuffled behind him.
Buggy leaned close, crouching in front of Ace, spinning the key between his fingers like candy. Up close, the metal seemed heavier, older—almost alive.
"You risked your neck for this," Buggy said, voice cold, measuring. "That tells me something."
Ace offered a crooked smile. "You know what they say, mate. Life's boring without a little neck-risking."
Buggy's eyes didn't blink. "This isn't a game. This key… it isn't ordinary. I've heard whispers."
Ace tilted his head, pretending interest. "Oh? Do tell. I do love a good bedtime story."
"This key leads to a treasure," Buggy said, leaning closer. "Not just any loot—cursed blades, Devil Fruits, fortunes that could make even the Warlords wet their trousers."
Ace chuckled softly. "Ah, now we're talking. And here I thought you were just a glorified jester with delusions of grandeur."
Buggy's fingers tightened on the key, metal glinting ominously. "There's a problem. I don't know where the chest is."
Then his eyes sharpened. "But you do."
Buggy paced slowly, lantern light bouncing off the key. "You fought for this. You tracked the Marines. Snuck aboard my ship. Meaning you're after the same treasure."
Ace remained playful, voice dripping steel. "I like to think of myself as… opportunistically patriotic. You know, keeping things interesting."
Buggy crouched, eyes piercing. "You're going to tell me."
Ace leaned forward, sly grin curling. "I would, really… but secrets are like good rum—best savored, not shared with clowns."
A twitch of cruel amusement flickered across Buggy's face. "You will. Everyone does eventually."
Buggy straightened. "Throw him below deck. Don't kill him yet. Make sure he understands what happens if he lies."
Two pirates grabbed Ace. Instinct kicked in—he twisted, ducked, one fist grazed an attacker—but another slammed into his gut. He stumbled, vision blurring, but the smirk never wavered.
As they hauled him below, Buggy's voice cut through the darkness.
"And Redheart…?"
Ace forced himself to look back.
Buggy held the key to the moonlight. "I'll find that chest. With your help… or your screams."
Ace winked, lips curling into that maddening, confident smirk. "Well, Bugsy, I do hope you're ready to do a lot of screaming."
Buggy's grin was thin, terrifying. "When I unlock it… the treasure won't just make me stronger. It'll make me unstoppable."
The hatch slammed shut. Darkness swallowed Ace.
He lay on the cold floor, breathing steadily, mind racing. Buggy had the key. The crew. The advantage.
But only Ace knew the truth. Only Ace held the map to his chest.
And he had no intention of handing it over. Not to anyone.
He shifted, letting the ropes cut just enough to sting, muttering with a grin that only a mad pirate could muster:
"Damn… it's just my first day..."