Let's Play a Game

Beep—

Beep—

A shrill whistle suddenly shattered the silence of the deep night.

"There's gunfire! Gunfire on the lower deck!"

"Emergency! Emergency!"

The quiet warship sprang to life as soon as the urgent whistle sounded. Lights on the deckhouse pierced the darkness.

Commodore Brownie, who had been sleeping soundly, silently climbed out of bed and picked up the curved saber beside it. His stern face was full of displeasure.

The officer who had disturbed his sleep turned pale with fright. "Reporting to Your Excellency, Commodore, gunshots came from the prisoner deck."

"Have you found out who fired?"

"Uh... The passage leading below has been blocked, and a lot of weapons have gone missing. This is an emergency, Commodore!"

Brownie fell silent for a moment. Still grouchy from being woken up, he wanted to give his subordinates a thorough dressing-down, but he knew venting wouldn't solve anything.

He stood up solemnly. At nearly two meters tall, he cut an imposing figure.

"Since we don't know who did it, let's start by killing half the scum on the lower deck."

"To honor my precious sleep!"

Brownie had always objected to the whole process of transporting prisoners.

In his view, the best way to deal with these heinous pirates was to execute them on the spot.

"Three seconds to react..." Buggy tapped the air with his fingers, calculating how long it had taken the Marines to respond to the gunshots.

Not bad.

Of course, reacting was one thing. Sending someone to investigate might take another ten minutes or so. After all, he'd left them plenty of presents.

The warship's outer shell was made of steel, but its interior was laid out like that of a large wooden sailing ship. From top to bottom, the main deck was divided into four levels. The second deck housed the Marines' sleeping quarters and living spaces.

The third deck was the cargo hold. Buggy, Arne, and Musa had all been tossed into this area. Perhaps the three of them were too weak to warrant better cells, or perhaps there simply wasn't enough room on the lower deck.

The fourth deck—the bottom deck—was the space between the deck and the bottom of the ship. This was the ship's hold, its most cramped and isolated section.

Most of the prisoners being transported had been confined there.

Buggy walked barefoot across the damp wooden planks. His left shoulder was empty, and he held a pistol in his right hand.

Every so often, he pressed the barrel against his cheek.

The warmth of the gun faded quickly.

His footsteps were unhurried.

Tap—

Tap—

In the enclosed hold, the sound seemed to land right on the prisoners' hearts.

Arne was in a hurry, though.

Damn it, that lunatic had fired three shots. The whole warship knew there was trouble among the prisoners below. How could he not be in a hurry?!

But once he stepped into the lower hold, his posture hunched like a quail's.

The metal cages before them came in all sizes.

The largest stood four or five meters tall, almost reaching the deck. The smaller ones were around two meters high, about the same size as the cage Arne had been in before.

Sparse, cold lights revealed only the prisoners' blurry outlines in their cages, while their shadows stretched long across the floor.

And countless pairs of greedy eyes stared back.

It felt as though he'd suddenly found himself surrounded by a pack of terrifying wolves in the dead of night.

Behind him came hurried footsteps, shouts, and the clatter of weapons being readied... The sounds traveled through several decks before reaching Arne's ears.

A vicious pack of wolves stood before him; a blaze that could burn him alive raged at his back.

Arne's heart was about to leap into his throat.

"Heh-heh..."

At least there was that lunatic's laughter.

To Arne's surprise, it made him feel a little safer.

Once they let all these prisoners out, they'd be able to fight the Marines outside, right?

The prisoners should naturally be on their side, shouldn't they?

"Heh-heh. Looks like a lost little pet's come looking for milk!"

A mocking voice came from somewhere in the darkness.

"If you want milk, you'll have to get on your knees and beg for it!"

"Otherwise, the little pet's going to be taken out and shot!"

"Ha ha ha ha!"

"Little pet, you just open this cage for me and kiss my toes, and I'll help you deal with the Marines behind you."

A two-meter-tall figure called out from the darkness, his teasing voice edged with impatience.

"Don't forget, I'm a pirate with a hundred-million-berry bounty!"

"Ha ha ha! Joseph, who doesn't know how inflated that hundred-million bounty of yours is?"

The moment he finished speaking, the other prisoners gleefully called him out.

Their jeering voices shattered Arne's hopes in an instant.

The ones locked up here were all pirates.

A rare profession, devoted to preying on its own.

"It's over, it's over..."

Arne's lips trembled. If these prisoners wouldn't help, how could the two of them possibly take on the Marines outside?

And as the ones who'd caused this commotion, wouldn't they end up strung from the ship's mast to dry?

"Ah... ah... Lost little pet. That's a pretty good joke—much better than the one I just thought of."

Neither the mocking, malicious stares nor the urgent situation outside seemed to affect Buggy's good mood.

He casually sat down cross-legged.

With his right hand, he fired several shots toward the direction of the loudest voice.

"Too bad. I don't like other people telling better jokes than me."

Buggy's expression barely changed. It was as if he'd shot nothing more than an annoying mosquito.

The prisoners' laughter stopped dead.

A little pet looking for someone to snuggle up to had suddenly pulled out something deadly. That wasn't cute at all.

But weren't these two afraid of the Marines behind them?

If they didn't rely on the prisoners or use their strength, how could they fight the Marines at their backs?!

The prisoners had dared to mock them so brazenly because they were taking advantage of their supposed dependence. They'd heard the gunshots and the Marines assembling, and they'd seen how timid Arne looked.

But now things seemed a little different.

Buggy smiled sweetly, apparently displeased with the mood.

"Why? Why so serious?"

"Why don't we play a game?"

"Hmm... How should we play?"

He rubbed his chin. "How about this: before the Marines get here, we each come up with a name for the others?"

"For example, the man beside me, Arne. I'd call him..."

"Mr. Navigator Candidate of the Batty Cutie Pirates!"

Buggy smacked his lips, and his smile faded. "All right, now it's your turn."

"Think of a name for me."

"Are you not afraid?" a prisoner challenged from the darkness.

"Without us, you're as good as dead!"

"No, no, no." Buggy waved a hand and licked his lips. "Not me. Us."

Buggy pulled a long-barreled gun out of his sack, wiped it down, and took aim at the prisoners, his threat unmistakable.

No matter how high the bounties were on these prisoners, behind bars they were little more than sitting targets.

"Heh-heh-heh..."

"One more thing: the penalty for the game is that whoever comes up with a name last dies first."

"Or, if nobody can think of one, then we all die together."

"Sounds fun, doesn't it?"