Okay, there are a few lines that are in BOLD which I do not own. If you don't recognize them, I'm amazed; I haven't even seen all of the show and I know the song almost by heart! If you don't, please know that I don't own Pokemon or that theme song. Also, there are two rants from Player with SPOILERS from other fandoms. / will indicate where the rants are which have the spoilers. They will be at the beginning and the end of the rants. I also don't own anything by DC Comics (like Young Justice) or anything from Star Wars (which is now owned by Disney).

Since I am still obsessed with Merlin, this story will probably be updated once a week, but some chapters might be later. I've never been the best at juggling multiple fandoms, especially when they're very different from one another. I'll probably be obsessed with Merlin for at least a month but I'm determined to get this story done!

Thanks as always to Vodonn!

I do not own Carmen Sandiego (Netflix). This story is a work of fiction that came from my own horrible brain because I have been searching for Player!whump and haven't found many fics like that.

…...

Player was getting pretty tired of being cuffed.

Unlike the first time Player had been dragged out of the cell, Tigress and Paper Star were not alone. Standing behind them were Le Chevre and El Topo, two more people had never wanted to meet. They weren't as sadistic and cruel as the two young women standing in front of them, but Player wasn't stupid and knew they could be plenty lethal if necessary.

"And here I thought Black Sheep would've told you to always protect the face," Tigress sneered down at Player, gesturing to the bruises decorating his face.

"Big talk for someone who habitually forgets to do just that," Player snapped.

Tigress scowled while her companions sniggered.

"Shut up brat," Tigress sneered, releasing him from his restraints.

Player slumped against the ground, grimacing at the bolt of pain that shot up his leg from his ankle. Sneering up at his captors, he asked, "How exactly am I supposed to walk anywhere?"

Tigress smirked but Paper Star's sadistic grin was far more terrifying.

"Why, that's what the Mole and the Goat are for," Paper Star purred, "but mainly just the Mole."

Le Chevre and El Topo glared at their companions. Le Chevre opened his mouth, but when Paper Star turned her grin on him, he promptly closed it. El Topo trudged over to Player and threw him over his left shoulder like he weighed nothing. Facing away from the four villains rendered his glare ineffective. His parents' faces were both stony and their bodies shook slightly in anger, but Player could see the fear in their eyes.

"Don't worry, we'll take good care of Black Sheep's no-longer-secret-weapon," Player heard Le Chevre jeer.

"You monsters!" Lisa snarled while Martin snapped, "Leave him alone!"

"She's not Black Sheep anymore," Player bit out, ignoring his parents' words. "She's Carmen Sandiego."

"Not for much longer," El Topo said.

Player swallowed as his breathing hitched. By the slight movement of El Topo's shoulders and his quiet chuckles, he'd caught Player's reactions.

Without another word, the four villains stalked out of the cell, leaving behind the cries and curses of his parents.

The group was silent as they walked away from the cell with El Topo and Player bringing up the rear. Player could hear the slight murmurs of Tigress, Paper Star, and Le Chevre with the random comment thrown in from El Topo, but not clearly. His head felt fuzzy and his ears were buzzing, probably from the minor concussion but his rising panic was likely responsible for that too. To help fight off his panic, Player focused on keeping his breathing steady. Player eventually calmed his breathing but it had little effect on the panic roiling in his gut.

I am so screwed, Player thought to himself.

Without warning, Player heard a door open and found himself looking at the back wall of the room from before where he'd gotten the crap beaten out of him.

El Topo lifted him off his shoulder only to slam him down into a metal chair that sat a short distance from the faculty table. Roughly shoving Player against the back of the chair, he gasped in discomfort as his cuffs dug into his wrists. Two thick leather belts, one just below his shoulders and one around his waist, strapped him to the cold metal chair. To his relief, Player's ankles were not bound to the chair's legs, but additional straps just below his knees prevented him from moving.

The VILE faculty were all in their seats at the head table with the four VILE agents casually leaning against the wall to his right.

Guess they're interested in a bit of "fun", Player thought despairingly.

Professor Maelstrom leaned forward with a thin-lipped smile. "One final chance, Player. Feel like telling us anything?"

"Fuck you," Player hissed. Any amusement on Professor Maelstrom's face disappeared. Dr. Bellum stood up and walked towards Player, holding her truth extractor in both hands.

"Let's see what Black Sheep's "secret weapon" really knows," Dr. Bellum snickered and shoved the truth extractor onto Player's head.

The truth extractor didn't hurt but then a dull buzz filled his ears and a bright green light danced in his peripheral sight. For a moment, Player thought the truth extractor wasn't working and almost giggled.

Then came the pain.

First, it was dull, like when you push on a bruise that was almost healed, but that didn't last long. The pain became increasingly sharp, rivaling the sensation of hitting your funny bone, to the sting of cutting yourself with a paring knife. Biting his lip to stop a high pitched whine, Player distantly wondered if his minor concussion was making the truth extractor more painful. Crying out as the pain intensified, swelling up and clouding his mind. Somehow, through the intense pain that felt like his skull was cracking open, a hazy memory drifted forwards.

Devineaux didn't try to stay quiet… instead he rambled and while I hate to take a page out of that idiot's book, it's worth a try, Player thought desperately.

Now Player wouldn't call himself an amazing singer, but he was confident that he was better than Devineaux had been.

"I want to be the very best, like no one ever was-" The words came out strangled but surprisingly well articulated.

"What are you-?" Countess Cleo began, but Player continued.

"To catch them is my real test," Player continued, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the pain and his environment, "to train them is my cause!"

He could faintly hear the occasional snigger from some of the VILE agents who Player assumed recognized what he was singing.

Before Player could sing the next verse, a sharp backhand extracted another cry of pain. Forcing his eyes open, Player noted through the barrage of pain that Dr. Bellum had been joined by Countess Cleo. Both were snarling, but Player was mildly surprised to find that it was Countess Cleo, who was shaking out her hand, who had slapped him. Countess Cleo hadn't been all that interested in participating in the faculty's "fun", but everyone had a breaking point.

Apparently, Pokemon was that for the Countess.

"Where is Carmen Sandiego?" Countess Cleo snapped.

The other faculty members sitting at the table looked on in approval. Player clenched his teeth, but persevered, taking a moment to stretch his jaw before picking up where he'd left off.

"I will travel across the land, searching far and wide," Player continued, smug amusement warring with the pain that wracked his body. "Each Pokemon to understand, the power that's inside!"

Another blow to his right cheek bone prevented Player from singing the chorus to the Pokemon theme song. Distantly, Player was a bit disappointed that he was cut off, this time by Dr. Bellum.

"I'm getting impatient," Dr. Bellum snapped while Countess Cleo huffed and stalked back to her seat.

"And I thought that idiot Devineaux was annoying," Coach Brunt grumbled.

"This one is more stubborn than Agent Devineaux, but I'll admit I'm surprised he hasn't become overwhelmed by the truth extractor yet," Roundabout frowned.

A giddy giggle built up in Player's chest. Player knew the pain was wearing down on him, grinding his pain tolerance to dust. That didn't mean he couldn't make one final stand.

/"Overwhelmed? Try underwhelmed. Or maybe whelmed? Can you be whelmed? Is that even a thing? If you can be overwhelmed and underwhelmed, then shouldn't whelmed be a thing? Like, the neutral version between overwhelmed and underwhelmed? Isn't there a whole thing and ongoing recurring joke-thing that starts in the first episode of season one of Young Justice but continues into season three," Player babbled. "Actually, maybe I shouldn't be thinking about that… Would this count as copyright infringement? I mean, you can't help what you think exactly, but normally you have a mental filter which I currently seem to have lost. Or misplaced. Or something or other. Not sure. Should I give a spoiler alert about this? Actually, do you think Spoiler would care? Nevermind, that's off topic… Like, it doesn't have anything to do with the plot exactly, just Robin/Nightwing/Dick Grayson's habit of murdering the English language. But, like, I guess it would be a spoiler to say that 'Wing's first language wasn't English and that's why he has a hard time with it? I kinda like whelming, and this situation is kinda a disaster; heavy on the dis and low on the aster. That and you guys are not whelmed, not whelmed at all."/

Had it been any other situation, Player would have been monumentally proud at the flummoxed looks he'd garnered from every occupant in the room. The looks quickly morphed into more menacing ones which he was less than thrilled about. He was completely serious about the copyright infringement however. What would DC Comics think? Would they try to sue him if they could?

"Where is Carmen Sandiego?" Professor Maelstrom bellowed.

Player grit his teeth. I won't answer. I won't answer, I won't answer.

Choking out a strangled laugh, he switched topics.

/"Okay, I get it; you don't like Young Justice! What about Star Wars? Huh? C'mon, it's STAR WARS! Well, okay, if you don't like the sequel trilogy, I guess I can let that slide even though your evil… Also, SPOILER ALERT! Am I currently experiencing the real-world version of Order 66? Like it didn't force the clones to tell the truth but it did make them "flesh droids". Kinda? I guess it depends on how you perceive Order 66. Mind-control chips and all that, forcing the clones to turn and kill their jedi - fuck what's the word in Mando'a? Jetii maybe? - who were kinda like family to some of them even though they probably wouldn't admit it. Then again, do the chips force the clones to do things and give them something like amnesia but the only thing left is the brainwashing until the chips are removed? Or are the clones true selves and personalities locked away so that they can only watch what their bodies do and are helpless, trapped inside their own minds? I think the second one is worse, mainly because it reminds me of my situation. Though I think everyone in that universe needs therapy or something. Except Sidious, because he's an asshole who totally deserves to die in the lava on Mustafar or something. Also, the clones are treated horribly! Then you watch Star Wars: The Clone Wars and you become attached to the clones and then you're sad and depressed when the clones die and it's horribly horrible especially when you remember that it's all Palpatine's fault and the whole pointless war would exist if only that fucking son of a bitch-!"/

A cry of agony escaped Player, tears streaming down his cheeks, and preventing him from finishing his rant. Or at least prolonging it. Now, it was too much.

He couldn't take it anymore.

A wave of terror washed over him and then everything went blank. The pain became a dull throb and Player felt like he was out of his own body, observing what was happening but utterly helpless to do anything about it.

"Carmen Sandiego is in San Diego, California, the United States of America," Player answered. His voice lacked any emotion, but the tear tracks continued to run down his sweaty face.

"And where exactly in San Diego is she?" Roundabout asked pointedly.

"The old Carmen Brand Outerwear warehouse," Player replied dutifully.

"That cheeky little..." Roundabout grumbled.

"Why is she there?" Dr. Bellum asked.

"It serves as her homebase."

"Well, I suppose we should congratulate her for finding a new residence. Tell me, Player," Professor Maelstrom sneered his name mockingly, "seeing that the Troll managed to unlock your phone, would she happen to answer it if you called her at any time, whether it is day or night?"

"Yes."

Trapped inside his own mind, Player broke down into screaming sobs.

…..