They moved at night.
Munna's crew was among the first groups Gerrard sent out, because Munna had volunteered in the way a man volunteers when he knows declining means death. The desert air cooled, but not enough to be comfortable. Nanohana's fires glowed behind them like a dying sun, and ahead the dunes rose in rippling waves that promised exhaustion.
And at the center of this marching column, like a king too important to use his legs, was Munna's palanquin.
It was carried by Pintel and Ragetti.
Because of course it was.
The palanquin looked stolen from a noble's caravan—wooden frame, cloth canopy, little brass ornaments that jingled with every step. It should have been elegant.
Instead it bobbed like a drunk camel, because Pintel and Ragetti were dragging it with the coordination of two men who'd learned teamwork by punching each other.
Munna sat inside with his rifle across his lap, trying very hard to look like a warlord and not a man being transported by two chained idiots.
Every few minutes his head poked out.
"Mind your steps," Munna snapped. "It's bumpy."
Pintel's jaw clenched. "Aye, sir."
Ragetti smiled sweetly. "We'll try not to spill you, sir."
Munna narrowed his eyes. "That sounded like a threat."
"It's respect," Ragetti said quickly. "Pirate respect."
Munna ducked back inside.
Pintel muttered, low, "If he says bumpy one more time, I'm going to make him bumpy."
Ragetti muttered back, "If you make him bumpy, Baro will make you dead."
Pintel grumbled something obscene.
They marched. Sand scraped boots. Pirates whispered. Somewhere in the column, someone started humming a tune that sounded like it belonged in a tavern, not a siege.
Then the shout came.
"GUARDS!"
Pintel and Ragetti froze.
The palanquin tilted.
Munna's head popped out. "What?"
Pintel and Ragetti dropped the palanquin by instinct.
Munna hit the floor of it with a thud and unleashed a curse that sounded like it had been personally handcrafted.
"YOU—" Munna's voice rose. "WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT—"
A spear whipped out of the dark and slammed into the sand where Munna's head had been a heartbeat earlier.
Munna's eyes widened into perfect circles.
He yelped, pulled his head back inside the palanquin, and slammed the little cloth flap shut like it was a door against death.
Outside, chaos erupted.
The "desert" moved.
What Pintel had assumed were low dunes and harmless shadows were men—guards—buried in sand, cloaks and scarves masking them. They surged up like angry spirits and immediately crashed into the pirate column with spears, curved swords, and disciplined fury.
Pirates shouted.
Gunfire cracked.
Someone screamed "AMBUSH!" as if that wasn't obvious from the spears.
Baro raised his rifle and fired, dropping a guard mid-lunge. Another guard tried to stab Baro, and Baro ducked, rolled, and fired again.
Pintel yanked his chain, dragging Ragetti with him as they scrambled for balance.
Ragetti shouted, "WHY DO WE KEEP GETTING AMBUSHED WHEN WE'RE THE ONES AMBUSHING PEOPLE?!"
Pintel didn't answer because he was busy swinging his spike at the nearest guard. The guard blocked with a sword, steel ringing. Pintel's spike slid down the blade and slammed into the guard's wrist. The guard howled.
Ragetti punched the guard in the ribs so hard the guard folded.
Then Ragetti flinched, because the chain tugged again—Pintel had moved.
"Stop dragging me like I'm luggage!" Ragetti shouted.
Pintel swung at another guard. "Then stop being heavy!"
"HEAVY?" Ragetti looked offended. "You're the one built like a barrel!"
A spear came for Ragetti's head. Ragetti ducked and punched the spear shaft, snapping it.
He grinned. "That's what you get."
Pintel used his devil fruit power, slowing a charging guard. The guard's body moved like he was trapped in syrup, spear inching forward agonizingly.
Pintel smirked. "Look at you. Like Ragetti thinking."
The slowed guard's eyes widened in helpless rage.
A pirate behind them fired and the slowed guard jerked, a bullet taking him in the shoulder. The guard fell.
Pintel's smirk vanished. "Oi—watch where you shoot!"
The pirate shrugged. "He was slow."
Pintel cursed. "That's my thing!"
From inside the palanquin, Munna shouted, muffled, "Are you two defending me or arguing?!"
Ragetti looked at the palanquin. "We're multitasking!"
Another spear hit the palanquin frame, lodging just exactly where Mumma's crotch was supposed to be half a second earlier. It had even tore through the cloth, narrowly avoiding the skin. Mumma's heart could be heard from miles away.
"THOSE FUCKING BASTARDS! TRYING TO STOP ME FROM HAVING CHILDREN! I WILL SHOW THEM-"
He popped his head out again, rifle aimed.
He fired once.
The shot hit a guard's scarf, ripping fabric and doing no real damage.
Munna yelped, ducked, then peeked again—just as a spear zipped past his nose.
"Maybe I am fine being single and without children."
Munna's eyes crossed briefly.
He retreated fully inside.
Then a voice from within, furious and high-pitched, bellowed, "GET ME OUT OF HERE!"
Pintel and Ragetti looked at each other.
Pintel said, "We could leave him."
Ragetti nodded. "We absolutely could."
Pintel glanced toward the dunes. "We could run."
Ragetti's eyes glittered. "We absolutely should."
They took one step—only for a pirate to stumble into their path, bleeding and swinging wildly. Pintel had to smack the pirate aside just to avoid getting stabbed by accident.
Then a guard charged directly at Ragetti. Ragetti threw a punch, but the guard ducked and slammed the butt of his spear into Ragetti's chest. Ragetti staggered back.
Pintel grabbed Ragetti's collar and yanked him upright. "Focus!"
Ragetti coughed. "I am focused! I'm focused on leaving!"
Inside the palanquin, Munna roared, "If you abandon me, I'll kill you myself!"
Pintel's face tightened. "He'd do it too."
Ragetti groaned. "I hate responsible decisions."
Gunfire cracked again. Sand kicked up around them. Pirates and guards tangled everywhere, figures collapsing, rising, screaming, swearing.
Pintel looked at the palanquin. Ragetti looked at the palanquin.
They both sighed the same sigh.
They grabbed the palanquin poles.
"Lift!" Pintel barked.
Ragetti lifted. "If my arms fall off, I'm feeding them to you."
They ran.
The palanquin jolted, swayed violently, nearly flipped.
Munna screamed from inside, "STRAIGHT! STRAIGHT!"
Pintel shouted back, "I'M TRYING!"
Ragetti yelled, "YOU'RE THE ONE MAKING IT CROOKED!"
They sprinted through the chaos, sand spraying behind their feet. A guard lunged at them, spear aimed at Pintel's ribs. Pintel slowed the guard mid-strike, the spear crawling forward uselessly.
Ragetti punched the guard's jaw. The guard's head snapped sideways like a toy.
They kept moving.
Behind them, Baro spotted them escaping with Munna's palanquin.
Baro hesitated.
He looked back at the fight—his comrades locked in violent struggle, guards pressing hard.
Then he looked at the direction Munna was fleeing.
Baro swore. "Fuck it."
He turned and ran after his captain.
And the night swallowed them—four fools, one palanquin, and a trail of chaos dragging behind like a torn cloak.