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After Hours

Schmidt's Island: Part 3

Previously on After Hours...

Schmidt and Foxy could feel their skin crawl at the sound of the voice. It was thick and oily, and practically dripping with venom. The kind of voice one only hoped to hear in nightmares. But worst of all, they recognized that voice.

"No... no way," Schmidt gasped.

"Can't... it cannae be..." Foxy whispered in horror. As one the two pirates turned to face the other side of the treasure-laden cavern, from where the voice originated.

The man they saw there was a man they both prayed they would never see again.

"...That's... impossible," Mike almost whimpered. "Y-you're..."


"Dead?" The voice seethed hatefully. "Ye wish I be dead. Then ye poor, dead crew could get a li'l revenge, aye?" A chilling laugh sliced through the air and rattled Foxy and Schmidt's bones. "Nay, I don' die so easy, savvy? Between th' two o' ye and me, I needed a li'l revenge of me own. After all, I ain't just going ta fergit th' duo who tried ta burn me alive."

To the horror of the first mate and captain, a dark shape emerged from the shadows and strode through the gold sea toward them with frightening ease. It was as though all the treasure surrounding the figure wasn't hampering it at all. Schmidt prayed desperately that the figure before them was not who they believed him to be, but as the figure drew close he realized that those prayers were for naught.

The man before them was tall and broad, built like a tree. His entire right arm was covered from shoulder to fingertips in thick white bandages, and he was garbed in a light gray tunic and vest with growling bear-shaped epaulets on either shoulder. In the midst of the golden sea, the light almost made the pirate himself appear golden. But it was a dark and muted gold, not the pure, bright gold of treasure. No, this was a menacing gold, the kind that would draw you close... and then end your life without remorse.

But it was the man's face that froze Foxy and Schmidt's blood. It wasn't a particularly frightening face on its own; in fact with its rugged appearance and well-kept black hair, one might even call it handsome. But it was the man's expression that was the truly horrible sight. Those pitch-black eyes, constantly dark even when all the light in the world shone upon them, the razor-sharp teeth that were more fangs than anything else, drawn into a savage visage. There was no humanity in that face.

His name was Darren the Killer, and he'd developed a... reputation of sorts as a slaughterer of his own kind: pirates. Foxy and Schmidt had met him firsthand about a year ago, before either of them had heard the rumors, and it was a dark time in their history. With their guards down, Darren had easily killed a third of the Red Fox's crew before he'd been discovered.

Schmidt could still remember the look upon his captain's face when he'd seen the lifeless carcasses of his crew strung about the ship. That look of utter despair and hatred was something Schmidt hoped he'd never see again.

The ensuing fight was one of the most harrowing that Schmidt had ever been in. As it turned out, Darren was a monster in combat, fighting on even long after he should have by all rights been dead. He'd almost killed both Foxy and Schmidt that day – of course they were no strangers to threats to their lives, but Darren's brutal efficiency was probably the closest that they'd ever been to death. In the end, Foxy tried to end the fight by setting the building on fire, killing all three of them. It was highly unlike him, but Schmidt knew that he was desperate, and he probably would've done the same thing. But Schmidt wasn't the kind of person to lie down and accept death so easily, and he managed to escape with his captain while Darren was left to burn.

That had been a year ago, but the two swore that they would never forget what they had allowed to happen. It was especially hard on Foxy, who loved his crew like his own flesh and blood. Schmidt made sure to keep a careful eye on his captain ever since that day. It was a hard burden to shoulder along with his own, but the knowledge that the monster was dead made it a good deal easier.

Except that he wasn't dead. No, he was here, and perfectly fine. Schmidt couldn't believe it. Rather, he didn't want to. The idea that this-this monster could still walk the earth after all the lives he had stolen was just wrong, even repulsive. And yet that feeling of anger gave Schmidt strength, strength enough to push down his fear for the man before them.

"You got what you deserved!" Schmidt shot back at the man, surprising even himself. Foxy gave him a concerned look, but Schmidt brushed it off. "You... you killed our crew, Darren! They may have just been pirates to you, but to us they were family! To him-" Schmidt gestured to his captain. "-they were family!

"So don't talk to us about revenge! After what you did to us, you don't have that right!"

Darren was quiet for a moment, but to Schmidt's horror he just smiled even wider. "Interestin'. So tha's how ye feel. Well, lemme ask ye somethin.' What makes ye any different?"

Schmidt felt like he'd been slapped in the face. "Wh-what?"

"I don' deny that I be a murderin' psychopath, boy. Hell, I be proud o' it. But ye be fergitten somethin' a wee bit important, boy," Darren leaned in menacingly, his sharp teeth glistening in the treasure's light. "Ye be a pirate too. And I bet ye done a good deal o' killin', jus' like me."

Schmidt opened his mouth to reply, but Darren's words had struck deep. Yes, he had killed people before, probably people who didn't deserve it. Was he really in a position to talk? He didn't want to believe it, but maybe he and Darren really weren't so different. Was there someone out there... who saw him as a monster too?

Suddenly in a blur of motion, Darren whipped forward, bearing a bloodstained cutlass in his left hand. He slashed at Schmidt's throat...

Only for another sword to intercept his just centimeters from Schmidt's neck. It was Captain Foxy's blade, and the captain slowly pushed the rogue pirate away from his first mate, all the while sporting a look of unimaginable hatred in his eyes. Schmidt had never seen his captain so completely furious before, and if he was to be honest it frightened him.

"Ye made a mistake, Killer, when ye spoke to me first mate that way," Foxy growled. "Aye, Mr. Schmidt here be a pirate. And aye, he killed people before, jus' like ye. But I ain't about ta stand here n' let ye compare him ta yerself.

"Cuz I r'member th' first time he had ta kill a man. I saw th' look in 'is eyes after he did th' deed. And I know damn well that he didn' like it a bit." Foxy turned to Schmidt. "'M I right, Mr. Schmidt?"

Schmidt didn't enjoy the way the conversation was going, but he swallowed and forced himself to remember...


It had been almost a year after he'd been inducted into the crew of the Red Fox. The ship was in port for a few days so that the crew could get some much needed rest. Most of them had headed straight to the bar and Schmidt, finding no better option, chose to follow.

After a few hours had gone by Schmidt decided to leave the tavern for a walk – he hadn't drunk anything, he just wished to stretch his legs – when a hulking, very much intoxicated buccaneer had stumbled out of the shadows and into his way. To this day Schmidt wasn't entirely certain about what the man wanted, because all of a sudden he lunged for the young Schmidt and wrestled him to the ground, cuffing him on the mouth when he tried to cry for help.

All of a sudden the man pulled the shattered remnants of a bottle out of his satchel and held it like a dagger just inches from Schmidt's eye. The young privateer was petrified, and rightfully so. He didn't want to die, much less to a barely coherent mess like this! Time seemed to slow down for Schmidt as he reflexively reached for his cutlass. He'd rarely used it before, not wanting to truly harm anyone, but this was a different situation.

Schmidt thrusted the sword forward in panic...

And then...

It was all a blur from there. The next thing Schmidt remembered, some of the other crew members found him curled up on the ground in a puddle of blood that was not his own, trapped in a borderline catatonic state. Foxy wasted no time in trying to coax the young man back into consciousness, coming by his room every day to speak gently to him, to reassure him that he was the victim and that he'd done nothing wrong. Even so, it was almost a month before Schmidt even spoke to anyone. Bringing himself to just touch his sword again took even longer.

No, he was not glad that he'd killed that man, no matter what the circumstances. Even now he still had nightmares about it. He probably always would. And ever since then he tried very, very hard to avoid ever killing anyone ever again.

...Wait, was... was that was Foxy meant?

How he and Darren were different...?

Of course...


Schmidt opened his eyes with a blaze of emotion. There was pain, certainly. But more so there was a steel that wasn't there before. "Yeah... that's right, captain," Schmidt mumbled inaudibly at first, but then he cleared his throat and spoke up just a little louder. "Captain, I understand! And... you're right!"

Foxy grinned broadly, then broke the clash between his and Darren's swords with a kick to the other man's stomach, sending him stumbling for just long enough for the captain to rush to Schmidt's side.

"Ye, alright now, Mr. Schmidt?" The captain checked, and Schmidt nodded. "Aye, tha's good." To Schmidt's surprise, the captain then gently placed his left hand on his shoulder (his right hand was a hook, mind). "Now ye listen ta yer captain, Schmidt. I been watchin' ye from th' minute ye set foot on me ship. I've seen yer ins and yer outs, what makes ya tick and what don't. Ye used ta be nothin' but a swabbie, a real spineless kid. Hell, I even r'member a couple o' people who didn' want ya around. Said ye didn' got what 't took ta be a pirate.

"But I kept ye around, and I watched ye close. And over time ye grew. Stronger, smarter, tougher – ye became a real buccaneer." Foxy chuckled briefly, then continued. "That's part o' why I wanted ya ta be me first mate. If ye could go from a two-bit pickpocket ta a first-rate pirate, then that makes ye somethin' mighty special, Schmidt. And I'm proud ta tell ye that ye haven' let yer captain down since.

"So don' ye ever fergit this, Schmidt. Yer nothin' like Darren. He ain't a pirate 't all, jus' a vile beastie. But ye got a heart, and 'ts a damn good one. I be proud ta call ye me first mate, and me friend."

Schmidt's overjoyed smile warmed the captain's heart. "Aye, captain. Thank you for that," the first mate beamed genuinely.

Foxy nodded and turned back to face the enemy before them, who'd been watching the whole affair with nary a slip in his beastly sneer. "Draw yer cutlass, matey! We got a keelhaulin' ta do!"

"Right!" Schmidt snapped to attention and slipped his blade from its sheathe as Foxy did the same.

"Ah, sweet revenge," Darren sneered. "How long I've awaited... ta taste ye!" In a flash the dread pirate whipped into a ready stance and rushed forward through the golden sea to meet the duo.

Foxy and Schmidt readied their blades...


"Yahhhhh!"

CRASH!

Mike struck the floor pretty hard, bringing the stanchions surrounding Pirate's Cove down with him. The night guard groaned and lay still. Everything hurt too much to move just yet.

Freddy got to him first. "Jesus, Mike! Wha's all th' ruckus here?!"

"Ugh... sorry, Freddy. Kinda slipped." Mike groaned and winced.

"On a dry floor?"

"On the Pirate's Cove stage," Mike corrected the bear. "It's surprisingly slick."

"Oh, for the love of-" Mike heard Bonnie's annoyed voice ring out from nearby as the bunny's glowing eyes came into view. "On the ground again, Mike? Is this gonna be a thing with you, because I'm not about to keep coming by to pick you up."

Mike pulled himself into a sitting position. The pain was subsiding now, fortunately quite quickly. "No, no. I was just hanging with Foxy and I kinda fell out of the stage."

"Playing pirates, I hear?" Chica's voice cut in, completing the trifecta of regular animatronics. "If this is gonna happen a lot, at least give us some warning so we know ahead of time."

"'S your body okay, boy? Do y' need t' take a breather?"

"Guys, it's nothing. Just got my feet twisted around," Mike stood up to stress his point. "I've been hurt worse, trust me. I'm fine."

"Alright, just, uh... be careful, okay?" Chica asked.

"Guys, I'm always careful. Don't worry-"

"No, seriously, Mike. Be careful." The chicken warned Mike ominously, and then wandered off again. Bonnie followed suit shortly after, and Freddy stuck around for a while to make sure the human would be fine before leaving himself. It was confusing to Mike, to say the least. He was nothing if not careful, working here for the past two weeks had guaranteed that. And what was there to be careful about?

Shrugging it off, Mike climbed back into the Cove. The story wasn't over just yet, after all. There was still the big final battle before the Red Fox could haul off all the treasure and make the crew members as kings in their wealth.

It was fun to just play around sometimes, Mike had to conclude.