Season 1, Episode 7: Here
Ye Be Pirates
Part 6 of 8
Emerald had had enough. Of this stupid ship, of all these annoying Pirates
Of The Caribbean wannabes, of the fact that she had been stuck with Carter
on enough missions to last her for a good long while.
Chaos had basically run amok upon the vessel,
and, above, waving in the gentle breeze, the flag of the Jolly Twitches mocked
them and reminded her just how moronic all of this truly was. Everyone was fighting everybody. She couldn't tell where Jay had gotten to,
but he could take care of himself. As
for the current bane of her existence, she'd hear him yelling or screaming,
wailing, making some kind of loud noise that would inform her that the
so-called Golden Boy needed her help.
And these other idiots – FANS and whatever group
it was that had created the Kraken to begin with – well, they were asking for
it. Especially the one who’d decided her
ass was perfect for grabbing.
"Oh, FUCK this shit." She immediately grabbed a bayonet off another
pirate, turned, and shot him, before stabbing the one who’d grabbed her in the first
place. He attempted to dodge the
incoming blade and failed, as it stabbed his eye. Blood spurted out as he shrieked in pain; his
hands flew to his now-wounded eye and flailed around, while he kept shrieking.
She'd just go around and kill anyone who wasn't
Nick or AJ. Hell, they're all the
enemy anyway, and it's too damn crazy to attempt capturing anyone who ain't
that midget leader from FANS, she mused silently.
Who needed a plan?
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Nick was scanning the area, shoving aside anyone
who got in his way. He didn't care about
the random pirates or minions scattered about the deck of the ship. No, he wanted someone specific this time. Jay had said he would go after the
leader. Nick had someone else in mind. He knew Drums would be here.
And there he was, up within the crow’s nest of
the ship. Nick needed to get there,
now. He eyed his options. Climbing.
Not the quickest route for him.
That was when a wide grin appeared.
Nick Carter definitely had an idea.
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It was Donnie who saw that idea put into
action. He noticed a blonde agent,
obviously not with FANS or the Kraken pirates, messing with the cannons. He was stuffing something in, likely a cannon
ball... but with a rope attached. How...
odd. The agent then held on to the
other end, while aiming the cannon towards the crow’s nest, where one of their
own oversaw the chaos below. It was then
that he recognized the man as the infamous Agent Carter, of Himitsu Takana. The fuse was lit, and, within seconds, Carter
was launched into the air, along with the cannon ball, in the direction of the
crow's nest.
"He's insane!" Donnie heard a female
voice yell. He agreed silently.
Once close enough to one of the rigging yards,
Nick let go of the rope and gripped the wooden pole tightly, swinging himself
up on top. It was synchronized so
perfectly. Yet the action itself was so
random. It baffled Donnie. “Do you think he plans it all out… or just
makes it up as he goes along?”
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Nick caught his breath as he walked along the
pole towards where his enemy stood.
Drums turned and faced him with an almost neutral face. Nick caught the look of surprise before it
vanished. As he stared at him, Drums
climbed out of the nest and walked to meet him, the red, robotic light of his
eye blinking relentlessly. Idly, Nick
wondered if he was tempting fate by keeping his balance like this, despite his
natural clumsiness.
"Knew you'd try get up on this, dawg."
Nick just shrugged. "What can I say? I have this whole love for keeping the world
safe. You should know how that is – you
used to have it too."
That was what triggered the first swing of the
blade, as it was quickly unsheathed by the former HimTak agent. Drums lunged, as Nick fumbled, before swiftly
pulling out his own saber to block his next attack. He reminded himself not to look down. Nick had never been a fan of heights, oddly
enough; he hated planes, which wasn't common in his career field. Drums knew that, too, so he had to be
careful.
"That man be dead and gone, yo.”
"He doesn't have to be!" Nick tried; he
knew it was useless. Yet, out of respect
for their old bond, he had to try one last time, even in spite of JC's own
demise.
"Yes,
it do gotta be like that! Yo, Nick, you’re da one who popped a cap in his
ass! Justin's dead!"
The jab was fierce from Drums this time, causing
Nick to stumble back. He struggled to
keep his footing. The other man was on a
deadly offensive; Nick kept having to back away as the swords clashed against
each other in battle. The two dueled on,
back and forth, as the boat swayed beneath them. The whole affair felt sadly familiar to Nick.
It reminded him of earlier days, back
when they would spar in one of the many training rooms of HimTak.
"Come at me, Kaos! Dawg, you gots ta be quicker!"
"Drums, we all know we aren't gonna
swordfight much. My skills are with my Berettas...
and with my ladies."
"Ya nevah know."
"Eh, you'll be there to help me out then,
aight?"
It felt ironic, crossing blades with the same man
who had helped hone his skills. Their
sabers met strike for strike. Each knew
the other's moves too well, able to read each other at a moment's glance to see
what the other was planning to do next. Their
sword dance went on amid the rigging, a precarious string of maneuvers along
the wooden beam, as the weapons clanged and clashed loudly in the air. One wrong step, and either of them could
plunge some two hundred feet to his death.
"This is fucking pointless, dude," Nick
muttered, not meaning to say it aloud.
Drums's sword dove towards Nick, and, with
seconds to spare, he met it with his own, struggling to keep the former agent's
away from its intended target. The
swords glimmered with the light of the fading sun above. Justin raised his sole remaining brow at him
in silent question. The swords wavered,
the strength of each man almost equal, neither quite able to overcome the
other.
"You and I both know we aren't going to
settle this in a swordfight."
Before Nick could actually continue, before Drums
could even think and respond, a shriek pierced the air. It caught the attention of both men, and their
eyes shifted downward, where another “pirate” was being stabbed in the eye by
none other than Emerald Ecstasy. Nick
was trying really hard not to snicker a bit at the scene below. Not at the man's injury; more at how smug the
woman looked as she did it… and how she then rushed to shoot, slice, and dice
any who came into her path.
Drums, however, was far from amused.
"Yo, you fucking tryin ta gank me, dawg?! Tryin to hate by doin’ it again?!"
It took Nick only seconds to realize what seeing
that would do to him. An almost symbolic
recreation of the injury that had destroyed his life. Every time he thought of it, it stung, more
than Nick would ever say to anyone. And
he thought about it more than anybody at HimTak would guess, including
He couldn't wallow in guilt, however, because his
opponent swung the sword dangerously close to his head. It set Nick off balance, forcing him to turn a
stumble into an awkward somersault that almost looked like he’d done it on
purpose, to those who didn't know any better. While in the air, he swung his sword at Drums.
He just wanted all this to end. He wanted to move on. He wanted to end all the chaos he’d caused
since that fateful mission. He wanted to
forget. None of that could happen till
everything between the two men was finished. That meant capture or death for one of them.
That didn't happen.
And still, his mark wasn't completely missed.
It did hit flesh. His blade was one of the very best, made of Japanese
steel. A customized Hattori Hanzo sword,
made exclusively for Himitsu Takana back in its days in
That “almost anything” included bone. It slid easily through Drums’s sword hand,
sliced right on through as if it hadn't been of flesh and bone; it cut in like
it was simply butter. Blood sprayed
immediately at both Nick and Drums, as Nick reached wildly for the cordage of
the sails to keep himself from falling.
Clutching tightly to the ropes, he watched as the severed limb plummeted
carelessly to the depths of the ocean below.
Nick looked up, wide-eyed, at Drums, startled by
what he had just done. "MY
HAND!" was the scream of agony with which he was met. Drums was in too much pain to do more, and
Nick was in shock. He hadn't meant to
disfigure Drums again. He’d missed
the mark, again. Mutilated the
man, again.
For a second, he was distracted, as the noise of
helicopters roaring through the air caught the attention of everyone on the
boat. All fighting ceased on both
vessels.
Great. They
had even more company.
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Jay was still defending himself against the slashing blade
of Dr. Rough when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed what appeared to be
a human hand fly through the air, trailing flecks of blood behind it like the
tail of a shooting star. Above the
shouts and clang of swords on the decks below, he could have sworn he heard a plop as it dropped into the sea.
“Did you just see that?” he asked, steeling his own sword
against Dr. Rough’s.
“See what?” sneered his nemesis.
“It looked like somebody’s hand. It fell from the sky and landed in the water
over there.” With his own free hand, he
pointed over the deck rail.
Dr. Rough frowned, perplexed. Their eyes met, and without a word, they both
lowered their swords and raced to the rail, pushing each other out of the way
in their quest to look for the appendage.
It didn’t occur to either to stab the other while his back was turned.
“There!” cried Rough, pointing, and Jay looked down and
grimaced at the sight of the ghostly hand bobbing in the blood-tinged
waves. As realization dawned, they both
looked up, craning their necks to see who had lost a hand. A sudden jolt rocked Jay’s stomach. Nick.
Nick was up there, clinging to the rigging of the ship, with Drums.
All of a sudden, his attention turned to the skies, as he
noticed a small fleet of helicopters swooping down from the clouds. His eyes narrowed, trying to make out their
insignia. Next to him, he heard Dr. Rough’s
low intake of breath.
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±
Emerald didn’t see the helicopters. After watching Nick manage to blast himself
into the rigging of the FANS ship to take on Drums, she had done a little rope
swinging of her own – and planned to do a little blasting, too. She would never admit it, but 00Carter and
their last mission together – two things she’d hated (and, in the case of
Carter, still did) – had inspired her.
While the pirates ran amok aboard The Jolly Twitches, the
Kraken was surprisingly deserted, leaving Emerald to poke around in the cargo
hold, unseen. She made quick work of her
task, gathering materials from the eclectic bounty of booty the pirates had
pillaged from the cruise ships.
Electronics, which she disassembled, laying out batteries and wires
across the floor. A handsome,
old-fashioned alarm clock that ticked out the time. A large section of pipe, which must have been
recovered from the wreckage of one of the sinking vessels. A tube of ping-pong balls. A couple of pool toys. A sewing kit.
She even plundered some supplies from the pirates
themselves. A toolbox. A few lifebuoys. A keg of gunpowder. A fuse from one of the cannons. These she set aside, while she got to work
assembling her creation. She filled the pipe
with gunpowder, inserting the end of the fuse before capping off the ends. She hooked the lifebuoys together and rigged
the pipe inside. She attached wires,
connected batteries. She set the alarm
clock.
When she’d added the pool toys – a couple of child’s
floaties and a long, foam noodle – she sat back to admire her handiwork. Cocking her head to the side, she decided
something was missing. It didn’t yet
give the visual effect she’d hoped for.
That was when she stripped off her green dress and started
tearing it to pieces, still oblivious of the helicopters circling outside.
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A smile spread like lava across Dr. Rough’s face when he
saw the helicopters. He hesitated only
a second, long enough to decide he was not about to risk being captured at the
last minute, and then tipped his large hat to Jay. “Farewell!” he announced, as he flipped
headfirst over the rail and dove into the sea.
When he surfaced, shaking saltwater from his eyes, he could
just make out Jay’s stunned expression above the rail of The Jolly
Twitches. “What do you think you’re
doing?” Jay yelled down to him. “You’re
insane, you know that?!”
Dr. Rough laughed bitterly. “I’m not
insane!” he shouted from the water. “I’m
a genius!”
“Maybe, but you’re also fucking nuts, dude! You know that’s why HimTak turned you down,
don’t you? You failed the psych
exam! Now I see why!”
Jay turned and walked away from the rail, leaving Dr. Rough
treading the waves, screaming, “I am not insane! The mundane minds at Himitsu Takana couldn’t
possibly understand the inner workings of a brain like mine! You’re looking at a mastermind! A mastermind they could have had as one of
their own! But no! No, they missed out! Now they shall know their mistake in
rejecting me! You don’t want me as your
enemy, Agent McLean!”
But AJ McLean was already out of hearing range of his rantings. Furious, Dr. Rough snatched his waterlogged
hat from the sea’s grasp and jammed the dripping thing onto his head. He reached both arms above his head, kicking
feverishly beneath the surface of the water, and waved to signal the
approaching helicopters.
As the one nearest descended, he could make out the purple
letters emblazoned on the side. F.A.N.S. “Forgotten agents need status,” he murmured,
shivering in the water as he watched a small hatch in the chopper’s black
exterior open.
A long, rope ladder dropped when the helicopter was in
range of him, and Dr. Rough swam to reach it.
As soon as he had hoisted himself up onto the bottom rung, he dug deep
into the pockets of his soggy breeches and retrieved a small whistle. This he blew, emanating a shrill pitch, as he
was lifted out of the sea.
The chopper moved into position itself over The Jolly
Twitches. Dr. Rough ignored the
surprised shouts from the Kraken’s crew and the cheers from his own as he clung
to the ladder, hovering a few feet above deck.
His hopeful eyes found the captain’s quarters and watched until he saw
what he’d been waiting for: the lithe
body of his ferret, scrambling through one of the portholes.
“Come, Twitches!” he called, tooting his whistle once more,
and watched Dr. Twitches scamper across the ship’s deck towards him, dodging
feet and fallen bodies. “Jump, my
darling!” And Dr. Twitches took a flying
leap, soaring through the air like a missile, aiming for the ladder. Dr. Rough caught him by his harness and
pulled him to the safety of his shoulder, winding the leash around his arm
again. “There, there,” Dr. Rough cooed,
kissing the top of the ferret’s head as he felt the ladder begin to
ascend. “Daddy’s got you now.”
He began to climb the ladder. He could still hear the boom of cannonfire,
the clatter of swords, and the shooting of guns from the decks below, and he
prayed that his faithful minions could hold off their enemies long enough to
allow him a safe escape.
When he finally reached the top of the ladder, unscathed, a
hand reached down to pull him up into the helicopter. “Just in the nick of time, Fatone,” Dr. Rough
panted breathlessly, setting Dr. Twitches safely down on the floor of the
cabin.
“We received a page from Drums, saying that HimTak was here,
and the numbers were more than anticipated.
MJ and I thought you might need some backup!” shouted Joey above the
roar of the rotors.
Dr. Rough smiled briefly at the rockhopper penguin strapped
into the co-pilot’s seat. The penguin
turned and winked, raising its wing in greeting. It was wearing a headset.
Joey fit Dr. Rough with a headset of his own so they could
hear each other without shouting. He
thought of Drums, watching the battle from the crow’s nest. Though he hated to admit defeat, Dr. Rough
knew his right-hand agent had been wise to call for a rescue crew when he
had. There was no telling how he would
have escaped otherwise, with his ship overrun with HimTak agents, including
that menace 00Carter and dear old AJ himself.
He gazed down at the crow’s next, intending to command Joey
to fetch Drums next, and blinked in surprise when he saw that it was
empty. “Where’s Drums??” he asked.
“I don’t see him,” Joey’s voice crackled through Dr.
Rough’s headset. They both squinted down
at the ship, searching for the red gleam of Drums’s eye. “There,” Joey said suddenly, pointing. “There he is.”
Dr. Rough followed his finger. He gasped softly when he spotted Drums,
clinging to one of the masts with one hand, his knees hooked around the wooden
beam. His right arm dangled limply in
the air, and Dr. Rough’s eyes widened when he saw that it ended in a bleeding
stump.
“He’s still alive,” he murmured, as he watched Drums
struggle to hang on.
They circled the mast and dropped the ladder again, and Dr.
Rough himself climbed back down it to rescue his most prized agent.
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