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Doflamingo pushed to his feet on Minion Island and seethed. He brushed the snow that had fallen on top of him away and held the remains of his glasses in his hand. He clenched his fist and shattered them completely. How dare they. How dare they. Those ignorant scum stood against him? Raised their hands and struck him down. Humiliated him. How dare they.
He turned when he heard the crunching of snow behind him and saw Trebol wobbling slightly as he stood up. Diamante was still down, his hand bleeding freely from the two stumps the little Monkey had left behind in place of his fingers. Doflamingo couldn’t spot them in the snow; they must have been buried.
He wondered how long they’d all been here, defeated and unconscious and vulnerable. Too long, he was sure. Any time spent in such disgrace was too long for someone of his stature.
Trebol opened his mouth, but Doflamingo cut him off with a simple glare, smile absent. “Carry him,” he said, words clipped despite his attempt to feign normality. “We’re heading back. Now.” Trebol nodded, ever his obedient servant, even if he had allowed himself to be defeated so easily. He’d have to make up for that, Doflamingo decided. They both would.
Diamante especially. Doflamingo would have to decide on a sufficient punishment for the disgrace of losing to such a small, weak child. Perhaps he would simply kill him, if Diamante couldn’t grovel and beg for mercy properly. Doflamingo was a generous man, after all, and a benevolent leader. He wasn’t above the occasional showing of leniency, when it was earned.
Doflamingo forced his lips to stretch into a smile and began walking back toward their ship, empty-handed. He had clearly underestimated the little Monkey—but how could he have been expected to know the brat had such powerful allies? Red-Haired Shanks and his crew. He’d known they’d spent time in the East Blue recently, but there had been no reason to imagine they’d even crossed the Monkey’s path. He still couldn’t quite grasp that they’d come here and stood against him for that insolent brat’s sake. And he’d over estimated his brother and Law. Impudent, the whole lot of them. His little brother, Rosinante, whom he’d magnanimously welcomed back into the fold because he was family. Law, who had come to him, asking to serve him, to be a weapon Doflamingo could wield as he wished. They’d betrayed him, completely and utterly.
It was unacceptable. Unforgivable. Doflamingo would send them all to hell himself, if that was what it took. He wouldn’t just send someone else to do away with them. He wanted to watch the life drain out of their eyes himself. He wanted to feel their blood on his hands and he wanted to see each of their faces as they watched each other die.
Doflamingo laughed quietly to himself, and it was almost loud in the silence of the forest. Only the crunching of their footsteps sounded over it.
He stared up at the sky above them, the strings of his Bird Cage no longer obscuring it—it had surely broken apart when he was rendered unconscious. The thought occurred that the rest of the Family may have assumed his defeat, may even dare to be worrying at the moment. The gall of such a presumption may him twitch. Doflamingo wished Garp’s brat was still here, if only so he could kick him around some. Perhaps throw him against the hearty trunks of the trees they were moving past. Doflamingo had never met anyone quite so infuriating and brazen, and also so satisfying to fight. To demean and subdue. Such impertinent fervor demanded to be squashed and checked. He had been looking forward to putting the boy in his place himself.
He couldn’t lay all the blame at the feet of his little brother, he realized. Rosi was a sweet child who had worshiped Doflamingo properly in their youth and served him well in adulthood. He would never have turned against him on his own. And Law, of course. Law who hated every living thing and obeyed Doflamingo blindly. He would never stoop to protecting one of Doflamingo’s enemies. Not without influence, without corruption.
Doflamingo’s smile grew as the truth of the matter became clear to him. All of the blame lay at the feet of the little Monkey. He had turned his brother against him. He had taken Law away and cracked his hatred and anger. He had cheated and lured the Red-Haired Pirates to Minion Island to undermine Doflamingo and attempt to humiliate him.
He had corrupted them. The D brought the storm and hindered the plans of Doflamingo, of the Gods.
Monkey D. Luffy was a heretic of the highest order, had spat in the face of his betters and unabashedly spoken and acted against him. The filthy pest had even dirtied the God’s Tongue by daring to speak it with his lowly mouth.
It would only be justice when Doflamingo sought his revenge. He looked forward to it.
When they reached the village they’d left the others in—the few who had been brought along, anyhow—they greeted him with a relief in their eyes that irked him. The way they looked between him and Trebol for any trace of the fruit they’d come here for irked him too. He decided to let it go, for now. He had no intention of bringing up the fruit, their hostage, or the mutineers that had been taken from them here. Not until he had them all back within his grasp.
Doflamingo smiled. Yes, nothing else would do, even if he had to put it off. The three of them would be stuck fast to the likes of Red-Haired Shanks or Garp himself for some time, Doflamingo was sure, but he could wait. First he would gain power. He would steal the title of Warlord from under Garp's nose—or rather, from over his head—and reclaim the land the Donquixote's once ruled. Then he would hunt down and torture the little Monkey like the dog he was. He would destroy everything and everyone the boy cared for, would burn his island to the ground, and then he would kill him while Law and Rosi watched. They would come back into the fold, if they atoned properly, and he would kill them too if they did not. Doflamingo was sure they would, though. Without the little Monkey around, they had no reason to oppose him. They would grovel and beg and bleed for forgiveness, and Doflamingo would grant it.
Monkey D. Luffy would be dead, and all of the upheaval he’d brought with him would be buried and forgotten.
Doflamingo could hardly wait. He was looking forward to seeing the boy again.