Category: Alternate Universe

POV: Carmen Sandiego

Requested by: N/A, author idea

****I made Zack the cook instead of the sailing master for some reason but let's just roll with it. If you need help understanding the pirate slang and terms, just ask.

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July 24, 1758

The Hispaniola Basin, Caribbean Islands

"Turn Starboard Zachary! Keep her steady, now!" Captain Sandiego shouted through the roar of the typhoon that billowed towards them. Zachary was the only person she could make out through the briny mist that had settled around their ship. And her sailing masters were nowhere to be seen.

"I'm trying, Cap'n!" The tall, lanky boy shouted. "I'm a cook! Not a sailor!" The only thing identifiable of her Cook was a tussle of fiery red that was barely recognizable through the relentless rounds of rain.

"You're a sailor either way, Zachary! Just do your best and Mulligan, Ruba, or Miguel will take over!"

"Avast! Look here you bunch of sea slugs!" She screamed at the crew. "Get out here cowards! Batten down the hatches!!"

Here they were, caught in the midst of one of the greatest storms that she---a sea-dweller herself---had ever seen, all whilst arriving vastly understaffed due to a recent collision with one of their enemies.

Never had the Captain ever longed for land so much, for the steady-solid feeling of stable ground beneath her feet with gritty sand making its way into the soles of her boots. The ship rocked side to side, sending her green-tinged sailors to the edges of the vessel, hurling into the sea.

"What are you waiting for? An invitation? GET TO IT!"

Miniature daggers hailed from an ominous gray sky, the raging deluge pelting her ship and soaking through her red coat. Darker, blacker clouds began to crawl around the storm in spirals, billowing from the west. The setting sun had been completely smothered by the storm as an unforgiving gale began to collect. It ripped across the placid waters, sending the smooth surface of the ocean into upheaval as it darkened with the appearance of clouds. The sea was not one to give in as the storm assailed the once serene oceans with turbulent, uncompromising winds. The tame waters morphed into mountains of angry upsurges rising towards the storm clouds before crashing back into the sea.

Just when her vision began to adjust under the dark screen, a blaze of white light illuminated the world, rendering her blind. For a moment, the captain contemplated if the flash was heaven signaling her coming end. She could've sworn there was an angel behind the clouds. Her parent's outstretched hands reached out, tempting her.

The lightning strike receded, and the black seas and sky returned to the Captain's frame of vision.

It wasn't her time yet.

The waves rose to unimaginable heights, dwarfing the ship. They nearly engulfed the red lady and sent her off to sleep in the sea bed below.

There was no mercy delivered from sky nor sea. Choppy, white-tipped waves lathered the deck, threatening to swallow them whole. The winds picked up, ramming against the ship without any sign of dwindling.

She gulped, wincing at the granules of salt that slipped down her tongue and into her throat, and prayed to any god that might've existed beyond the skies that threatened to overturn her ship to take pity in their plight.

The Captain raised her spyglass, shielding it's tip from the rain. In the near distance, the black hull of the Pride of Vile struggled against the storm, still fighting to reach the Red Lady.

CRASH!!! An explosion on the rim of her ship knocked her into her senses. "NO ONE TOUCHES MY SHIP YOU MAGGOTS!" She hollered against the storm.

To her luck, The cannon ball had struck the edge of her ship deck rather than the hull or the masts. The small fire that sparked was quickly quieted by the rain.

"Ivy! To Port!" She motioned to where their enemy was. "Fire on their hull!" She tossed the rammer to her best gunner. A freckled arm reached out, catching the long stick. The woman motioned to the powder monkeys that were huddling below deck. A scrawny boy, no older than fourteen, came forward, the sickly yellow pallor of his skin hinting at scurvy. The redhead positioned the cannon, aiming at the Pride of Vile, the powder monkey inserting the gun powder and patting it in with the rammer. The captain leapt down below deck and set up a second cannon, another powder monkey scrambling to assist her.

Ivy turned to her and nodded, the blue swath of cloth that she tied her hair back with, stuck to her skin. "Ready! Aim! On my signal, . . .FIRE in the hole!!" The two women lit the fuses and ducked away in the nick of time as the cannonball ricocheted toward the Pride of Vile.

A distant bang let them know one of them had made their mark. Despite the thundering downpour, a blaze erupted on the side of the ship, signaling a breach of the hull.

Cheers erupted from the powder monkeys and the Captain smiled at her Gunner. Ivy called the rest of the gun crew to take over the cannon work as they prepared the second round of fire.

The captain noticed her cook struggling to maintain control of the ship. She dashed forward, shoving him out of the way and taking over steering. Even her years of experience were tested with the twists and turns of the violent sea.

The vast crystal oceans of the Carribean had been the Captain's home for all her life. She was used to the never-ending clashes between sky and sea, used to fighting for both her crew's and her own life. To this day she awoke, drenched in a cold sweat, her heart beating a thousand times per minute with the howls of her friends' cries as the sea pulled them overboard echoing in her ears. She would sit, rocking her body, all whilst muttering reassurances that it was not real, not real.

Only her nightmares were almost always depictions of reality, and if her life was a twisted dream, this was one of the worst ones yet.

A colossal wave surged before them, towering over the red lady and her crew.

"Lookout!! Everyone below deck!" She screamed, joining her crew in the compact room below. Her warning was not enough, as three sailors were swept clean off the deck like flies swatted away with a slipper.

The monster wave relented, and the crew emerged from below the deck, panicked screams echoing back and forth between them.

A distinct voice silenced everyone. "Quiet, fools! Man Overboard!"

The shadow rushed forward with a spare fishing net, tossing it to the captain. The crew restored themselves to their previous positions, and anyone left without an absolutely necessary job assisted in heaving the fishing net back into the vessel. Entangled within the net was Nathaniel, a chocolate skinned sailor with dark dreads cascading to the middle of his back and full lips that were now tinged blue. The burly man shivered, and the captain covered him with a tarp. "The others?" She shouted as a deafening boom of thunder added to the chaos.

Nathaniel shook his head, shivering. "I tried to save 'em, Cap'n, but they weren't strong enough swimmers." Two trails of water slipped down his cheeks, and somehow, she doubted they were from the sea.

"Who was it?" She asked quietly, anger boiling within her bloodstream.

"Lisabett and Speedy." He answered, his voice wavering. "They went under. Cap'n. There ain't nothin we can do for 'em now."

She grinded her teeth together, her fists twitching at the sides of her body.

Cilla, Speedy's older sister, jammed her cutlass between the wooden panels of the deck, screaming.

The captain seethed silently, sick of all of the casualties her crew suffered from the Pride of Vile. Silently, and swore revenge for what might've been the hundredth time.

Cilla began to sob, shaking her head over and over, her translucent skin turning red. "No. No no no no no!" The Captain watched her with concern, afraid of what she was about to do. She turned around, as if to take one last glance at the ship before dashing forward to the rail, hoisting herself on top of it and preparing to throw herself into the vast sea.

"Priscilla!" Nathaniel screamed.

The captain leaped forward, grabbing onto Cilla's midsection as she screamed and struggled against her hold. "Cilla, no! NO!"

The scrawny girl screamed hysterically, raking her fingernails across the captain's face and exposed arms. She ordered her to let her go, to put her down, to let her be. Her orders turned to screams which turned to wails that then turned into pleads. The captain set her down next to Nathaniel, awkwardly covering her with part of his tarp.

She sighed, knowing that in Priscilla's place, she would have acted no better. "Cilla, We will avenge them. We'll do it, I promise."

The captain tried to make words out of the girl's incoherent sobs. "B-b-but he's g-g-gone. S-s-s-sp-speedy's g-gone. H-he's g-gone. H-he's th-the o-o-o-only f-family I-I've g-got. F-f-f--S-speed-y."

"Do you think he'd want you to do that to yourself over him? How do you think he'd feel?"

"H-h-he w-wouldn't l-l-like it. H-he'd b-be m-mad."

"I know it's hard, Cilla. But you have to keep on living. If not for yourself, then for Speedy. Of course he'd want his only sister to survive. If you want 'im to rest well, wherever he is now, you've got to tunnel through."

The girl nodded, huddling against Nathaniel under the tarp.

The captain turned around to speak with the crew. "We've lost family, my friends. And we will get revenge. But in order to do so, we've got to make it out of this h e l l of a storm first! Back to your positions!"

She turned to one of the powder monkeys lingering away from the crew. "You there, lass! Peggy! Take Nath and Cilla below deck. See to it they get a real blanket."

The little girl nodded, leading the two below deck.

The captain returned to the wheel, relieving it from Mulligan.

The gales of the storm were on the verge of overpowering her, and she momentarily lost control of the ship to the uncompromising sea. Her nostrils flared, as she summoned every ounce of strength within her body to turn, turn the wheel. The vessel veered right, narrowly missing the second round of attacks from the Pride of Vile.

One of the ship's red masts could withstand the strain no longer, creaking forward before crashing upon the deck, nearly reaching the stern of the ship.

"Look yonder!!" A voice rang out. "The mast!" The crew dove to the sides of the red lady as the wooden mast stopped short halfway down, the thick sail breaking free and descended over them.

"Oi! Take care of the sail, will you!" She called to any crew members standing idly. She steered the ship forward, through the murky black waters and away from their enemies. "And hoist the mast nice and straight again, ya here?"

"ZACHARY! Unless you'd like us to feed the fishies, get over here!!"

"Ay, Cap'n!" The cook called, running over.

"Keep her steady, lad. Mulligan, Ruba, and Miguel are settin' the sail steady again. It's up to you. Don't let the tides take her, I beg ya. I'll climb the nest to see if there's a way out."

"B-but the lightning! The nest'll be the first to get hit!"

"Yeah? Well unless you'd like us to end a dead man, we've got to make it out of this storm."

The redhead nodded, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles as he struggled to keep the lady steady.

The captain leapt over the bannister, charging to the masts of the ship. "Move aside you sacks of bilge water! Get Fatima to sew the tarp back on nice and tight. And get to work hoisting the mast back up! We won't put up much of a fight without it!"

She didn't wait for the choruses of 'yes cap'n' that she knew were sure to follow, sprinting instead towards the crow's nest. She stopped for a moment to check on the gunning crew.

"Ivy! Tell me you've sunk those bilge rats off the face of this earth?" She asked, daring to let hope slither into her voice.

The redhead shook her head. "I'm afraid not cap'n. We landed a couple hits but lost The pride of Vile in the chaos. The sea might've taken 'em, but they're crew is twice ours and their ship, twice as strong. If we're still bobbin' above them wicked waves, I'll tell ya they are, too."

She sighed, continuing to the Crow's nest, seizing the remainder of the rope ladder, and scurrying up the hand and footholds into the top.

The captain removed her spyglass from within her coat, wiping away the small drips of condensation that lingered on the lens, shielding it from the moist droplets that fell from the sky and leapt from the sea.

She turned it in all directions, searching, searching for any exit and not finding any. She imagined, for a moment. That the cyclone had spread to all corners of the globe, enveloping the earth inside a dark, stormy void of thunderstorms and tsunamis.

"Sandiego, get down from there! The next wave'll swallow ya!"

The Captain turned to see the only person aboard whom she allowed to contradict her, The shadow, waving his fist threateningly.

"Steady yourself, you old salt. I'll be fine." The wind seemed to finally wear off at the rope ladder, as it snapped off and fell into a pathetic lump onto the deck.

The captain rolled her eyes. "Guess I'll add that to the list of repairs."

Left without a means of climbing, she gripped the pole by wrapping her legs around it despite the throbbing pain in her muscles. "Aha!" She could make out the faintest glimmer of a clear sky ahead.

"You have a death wish. Don't you?" He hollered at her whilst adjusting the rigging of the ship that controlled the sails and masts.

"Not exactly. A survival instinct." The captain plucked her cutlass from it's container and made a mark where the ropes were attached before sliding down the mast and leaping down onto the deck. Her landing would've been graceful had her surface of contact been still.

"You'll never make it to thirty, girl." The shadow said with a sigh.

"If you can manage it, surely I'll figure it out. I saw open waters. Organize the crew taking the riggings."

The captain returned to the rudder. Standing at the head, she addressed the crew. "Ahoy! Listen here, crew. There be open waters to the port side! We've all got to work together to get the lady out of here! Any one of you slacks, you'll end up shark bait. Savvy?"

The sailors responded, raising their fists and shouting. "Alright, buckos!! Prepare the masts! Hoist the sails! Load the cannons! We sail to port side!"

"Ay, Cap'n!"

"Onward!" A chorus of cheers escaped the men and women as they raised their cutlasses, cursing the raging sky and maneuvering the ship with—-not against, but with—-the currents of the sea.

The pounding rain morphed into sleet, and the wind bashed into the keel, as if further motivated to pull the Red Lady into the undertow now that they'd discovered a way out.

The Lady tore through the waves, making headway against all odds. The waves swelled to seismic proportions, looming before them, writhing and twisting like a monster only seen within the confines of Davy Jones's Locker. Lightning ripped through the storm's black barricade, as if there was an expense of brilliant white light behind the darkness that was aching to break through.

Four times, to the captain's count, they were thrown off course, the fury of winds impairing their escape. Four times they survived the waves as they extended upwards into gargantuan curtains prepared to plummet upon them. Four times they escaped narrowly with their lives, losing a powder monkey to the angry seas amidst the chaos.

Still, they propelled forward, utilizing every ounce of speed the old vessel was able to muster. The booms of thunder turned into echoes as they sped away from the epicenter of the typhoon. The ink black swirls that had obscured their vision turned into a sullen Gray, occasionally flashing a hot silver when a streak of white broke through the sky. The sea gradually began to relent, her cobalt waves skimming along the sides of the ship as it cut through the waters. A swarm of white foam swamped the murky oceans. A reflection of the gray sky that was distorted as the vessel continued forward.

Finally, the Red Lady transcended the storm, emerging into the cloud filled, violet canvas that was the evening sky. The smallest sliver of a yellow sun could be made out along the orange horizon, disappearing as glimmers of silver began to dot the sky. Polaris the north star was to their left, blazing at the tip of the constellation Ursa Minor, what old sailors before her had called the little bear.

"Where to, now Cap'n?" Mulligan asked.

She set her cutlass within it's hold, eyeing the sky. The remnants of the sunset indicated west. Polaris provided north. Santa Juana was

She smiled at her crew. "To get revenge, of course." A series of rallying cries rang out from the crowd.

Mulligan moved forward. "Are you sure it's a good time, Cap'n? We were already short ten. Now thirteen. They've got well over a hundred men in their ranks and outnumber us two to one."

"Patience, Mate. I've got a plan. I think we should take a short visit back to the Carribean, no? A visit home would do us well."

She turned to the other sailors aboard. "We sail South! To Santa Juana!" At the mention of home, the tired, sea-sick, scurvy filled lot that had somehow led the Red Lady through the storm cheered.

Back to the island, then, she thought.

The captain turned to the storm clouds, her expression turning dark. I will find you, she promised to the pride of Vile. I will find you, and I will k i l l you.

Taking a deep breath, she turned to the rudder. "Crew! Set sail away from Polaris. Mulligan, take over steering for now. The Shadow and I will chart a course."

"For now, Full speed ahead!"