Chapter Text
Thirst.
His throat burned with thirst.
He cracked open bleary eyes and shuffled toward the edge of the boat, squinting agains the equator's sun. Nothing but water around them, for miles and miles. There wasn't even a breeze to ruffle his hair, not that it would do any good with the sails hanging loose and ragged. He wrinkled his nose at the stench of the latest rotting crew-mate, and grumbled as he attempted to hurl the corpse overboard, trying not to puke and waste precious body fluid.
He sat there, gazing at the seawater. Then he went and grabbed a wooden bucket, tied the rope to a handle, lowered it into the water, and hauled it up. He knelt and pressed his face into the water, opening his mouth and pretending, pretending that he was drinking. But the salty taste was too much and he spat it out and mopped himself with what was left of his shirt.
That marked the last sailor. He was alone on this ship, stuck in the middle of the ocean, dying of thirst, with not a single drop to drink.
“So this is my fate for shooting that little birdie?” he asked the waves. "I promised him I no longer sought to laugh while watching the world burn.”
He licked his cracked lips. “But all that’s left is to laugh while watching the world drown.”
Just then, he heard a noise. He scrambled to his feet and ran to the bow. A trail of foam, stretching out in a 'V' was heading toward the ship, at a speed faster than any craft he had seen in a long time.
"Fiddlesticks. Is that a shark? It's heading right for me."
Splash.
He squeezed his eyes shut and tumbled to the ground, drenched in water. He opened them again and scrambled to his feet, trying not to slip on the wooden decking, looking over the bow again for the shark? orca? but the waters against the boat were calm.
Then the hair prickled against the back of his neck.
He turned around. He was hallucinating. He was definitely hallucinating.
Before him stood a woman. Her skin was grey, her lips black, her long dark hair coated in green algae. The left side of her face was scarred, and a red lens covered her left eye. She wore a corset and a tattered jacket paired with a seaweed skirt over a thick black bodysuit, and long boots and gloves over her hands and feet.
A gold medallion graced her neck. There was some kind of symbol on it, but he couldn't make out what. Her headgear looked familiar, but he was too distracted by the gleaming trident in her hand.
He swallowed, trying to stave off his terror. He lifted an arm, and gestured to the deck, still littered with corpses and vomit. "These fine folks never mentioned Davy Jones was a woman."
"I'm not always a woman," came the reply.
"My mistake," he said. His eyes flickered to her trident. "An Atlantean, then?"
Her face hardened. "Do not count me among their number."
He raised his arms. "No worries. I shan't expect an update on Project Albatross, then."
At mention of that phrase, her face twisted into a fury he had never seen on a woman's face before—no, not seen on any face before.
"Without you, there would be no Project Albatross," she snarled.
She stalked toward him, and he backed up and bumped into the railing. He dared a peek into the ocean, but froze as he saw something writhing beneath the surface. Snakes? Tentacles?
"Unlike these sailors, Fate has dealt you into my hand," she continued. "And unlike Davy Jones, your soul will not fly to the heavens as I take your body into his locker.”
She raised her arms, and at this, all the dead sailors climbed to their feet and began crewing the ship, unravelling the ropes and stretching the sails. Huge arms, of some squid-like sea-beast slid up the boat and began dragging it down into the ocean.
"No, please, send me back! I can fix this," he pleaded.
She walked forward and seized him by the neck and hoisted him aloft, and he felt the thirst from his throat spread all about his body.
She dumped him on the ground, and he gasped for air, struggling to breathe. She twitched her fingers, and two of the reanimated crew-members staggered forward and fastened a manacle around his neck, attaching him to the ship.
The only thing he could make out was the bat symbol on her medallion.
“You are going to fix this," she said. "But you're taking the long way round."
The water tumbled over the sides of the ship as it began to sink beneath the waves. He looked up and peered at the ears on either side of her cowl.
"Batsie?"
