Chapter Text
“No,” is the first thing out of his mouth, once his crew dredge up two water-logged brats, neither of whom is particularly quiet when muttering ‘you can’t ask an Emperor for help-’ or ‘but he used to be with Gold Roger’s crew-’ which. Just. Are NOT things Buggy wants to hear in general, let alone a few weeks after waking up to find himself thirteen years back in time. “Uh-uh, mm-mm, no, no and a hard Nope, toss ‘em back, I’m not dealing with anybody else who’s tied up in this flashy Maelstrom bullshit!”
Blue-hair and Blondie stare, startled. A couple of Buggy’s guys move like they’re actually gonna do it, pick up the twerps and toss them back overboard to a little boat that looks like it got torn up on the nearby shoals. At least until the taller one shouts “Wait! You’re in danger!”
“Not from you I’m not.”
“You will be from the marines!” Augh, now everyone’s stopped, clearly Buggy needs to put the fear of the Blues back into his freaks- “It’s not just pirates who’ve come back in time, there were marines in that storm too! And they aren’t going to ignore a potential threat until it becomes truly dangerous!”
Letting out a deep, irritated huff, Buggy stomps forward so he can lean directly in the brat’s face. “Let’s get one thing clear, squirt, I! Am already dangerous.”
“You are,” the kid agrees. He’s remarkably composed, all things considered. “But you’re also a captain with a single ship, right now. No fleet or allies to back you up. And the marines will hunt you down to make sure that doesn’t change. Or...” Okay Buggy will admit, that’s a decent bit of showmanship, trailing off until he’s got everyone leaning in closer. “You help us out, and my friend here, also a marine, can help you avoid them.”
“WHAT!” Oho, Blondie looks downright insulted. “I will do nothing of the sort, you can’t- OW!”
Blue-hair doesn’t so much as look as his ‘friend’, or remove his heel from the other kid’s toe. “Sounds like a fair deal to me, don’t you think?”
Buggy snorts, folding his arms. “Yeah, right. And what exactly does ‘helping you out’ entail, hm? Probably gonna be way more trouble than it’s worth-”
“We need to catch up with Red-Haired Shanks.”
“-oh. Oh HELL no, I’m not gonna have anything else to do with that bastard!” Nevermind that something stressed and antsy in Buggy’s soul eased when that photo hit the papers, of Shanks leaping up out of a marine ship’s ruins, two arms, two kids held close, one of them definitely the pint-sized Firefist Ace, still alive and way more likely to stay that way judging by how deadly serious Shanks looked.
He’s got it covered.
Doesn’t need Buggy’s help.
(Probably didn’t even think to ask, the flashy fucker.)
So no, Buggy is not inclined to chase down Shanks wherever he’s headed with Roger’s actual son, and probably that Strawhat brat too, especially not with a little wannabe marine on his ship-
Wait.
“Hold on,” Buggy says, squinting at Blondie and his pained grimace. “If you’re supposed to be a marine, the hell do you want to go after Shanks for?”
“I don’t,” the kid snarls, taking a step away from Blue-hair as soon as he wrenches his foot free. “I need to find Koby, except he isn’t on his fucking island anymore, which means going to stupid Strawhat and asking for help.”
Oh. Ohhhh shit. Buggy’s mind is abruptly swamped with a vision the likes of which could make any two-bit pirate wet their pants. ‘Koby the Hero’ is a name he knows. ‘Koby’ is associated with fucking GARP, and even if that monster ISN’T in a position to go after his pirate grandsons, there is no goddamn way he won’t tear the East Blue apart looking for a missing pipsqueak he trained up from cadet to captain.
Shit shit and triple shit.
Now the Perfectly Reasonable thing to do would be dump this pair of brats and go find a nice deep hole to hide in until Garp’s rampage is done, but, that would mean giving up any possible influence on the situation and potentially becoming another casualty of the Fist regardless. So. Potentially smarter option would be to find Koby himself, and THEN drop the brats off somewhere, with a nice strong den-den mushi to call their boss for a direct pick-up, no rampaging required.
“Alright, alright FINE,” Buggy groans, waving towards the brats with one hand and rubbing at his face with the other. “Somebody throw these two in a storage locker or something, and then we’ll start looking for the Baby Hero before anything ELSE can happen!”
Blondie protests, because of course he does, but Buggy doesn’t bother to listen as he heads for the ship’s maproom to start planning this new annoying hunt.