Don Karnage did not know what to expect after that jump. He imagined it would be like falling into something, through something. He had no idea how far he had even fallen, for it felt instantaneous that his feet had struck ground, like instead of jumping into a dark, swirling maelstrom of infinite darkness he had merely jumped once up and down on the same level floor.
But he was not in the same place. He shuddered hard, not being able to help it. It looked like something out of a comic book or something imagined from a radio show like Space Riders; it looked like he had been flung far into the fringes of outer space. It seemed like he should be gasping for air, but he didn't need to. And what the holy frijoles was he standing on, anyway? Some sort of asteroid?
It was like a flat chunk of ground, a tiny island in a vast darkness. There were many others around him just like it, floating in nothing. To one side, there was something that looked like a moon, but bigger and closer than the only moon he ever knew. He could see its surface in extraordinary detail, an vast, ashen wasteland.
Before him, at a distance, was a column of erupting shadow, crackling and cracking like electricity, and lowly roaring like a powerful gust ― these were the only sounds that existed in this dark expanse, outside the voice of his own thoughts. At the top of the pillar, the maelstrom twisted, the very one he had jumped through. And at the bottom of the column― he saw her. She was on and island much like his, only much larger, with several islands between them. She had Bloodfang raised above her head, its blade pointing straight up (up?! Which way was up anyway?!); and from the sword emanated the intense dark power blasting through the maelstrom.
He could get to her by jumping across these islands… they made a path like stepping stones. But if he missed a jump… he knew a thing or two about gravity, or at least he thought he did, but even gravity made no sense here. All he expected was that gravity went down. What was down..?
He holstered his sword, crawled to the edge of the island and peered below. There was something ― "something" indeed ― far deep in the void-like expanse, something unimaginably massive that formed a dark, nebulous cloud. A hideous, shifting blob of a face. It was watching him. Now he knew what Flynn and the boy were talking about. Falling into it, he reasoned, was probably bad. As in the baddest bad of all badditiy.
"Some piccolo you got yourself into," he muttered to himself.
During the meeting on Pirate Island with Flynn and that museum-lady, he may have constantly sighed bordely, rolled his eyes and outwardly appeared that he was only hearing blah blah blah from their annoying-to-look-at faces, but he had listened to everything. He listened to all those somethings about gems called soulstones and those Viking-persons. He listened to the boy and to Flynn when they talked about the things they had seen and felt in this place. He was listening when it was said these people had their immortality revoked on the other side of the big, swirling hole, and he could also add up a few things for himself ― such as how he knew he could survive jumping in here to begin with. When Sterling jumped in, he thought it to be the last of her, but as she had obviously survived the trip in, he knew he could, too. Well… "knew," as in strongly hoped to the point of convincing himself. But it did work. He was in, and he was alive.
And lastly, he also strongly hoped to the point of convincing himself ― that is, he knew ― if he could find her in here, he could take her down. She was destroying the world from inside this place, but if she truly had lost her immortality now, that made them igual Pascual.
Not that he was looking forward to any of this. Now far beyond the point of no return, the realization that he would never leave this horrid existence was terrifying. He knew that before he jumped in, but now it was really starting to sink in. The fear would have seized him frozen if not for a certain impossible courage. He wasn't here for himself, and he kept that in mind. He kept it in mind as he shifted to a kneeling position, just like he was when he embraced the boy.
And the boy was there, embracing him just as he had. He flickered like a mirage.
'You bring in what you take with you,' so Karnage remembered. Yes, he had paid attention to that part, too. Taking this with him wasn't so bad… but he had so much more than that going through his mind at the moment...
'DROP HIM!' It was his own voice bellowing in the void. He started. Above him loomed the triangular prow of the Iron Vulture. A small figure fell from it, screaming. Green sweater, brown fur ―
"No!" hollered Karnage. He lunged for the boy, all the way to the edge of the island, but his hand swiped through like he was grabbing a ghost. The boy's scream filled the void and faded as he plummeted into oblivion.
Karnage smacked himself. 'No! come to your sensitories! What's done is done. You have to fix this, now. For him. AFTER you deal with the witch… THEN go ahead and lose your mind. Oh, my poor, poor brilliant mind! I miss it already.'
Determined, he sprung from the island and onto another, along the way forgetting not to down at the evil cosmic visage that made his fur strand straight on end. He landed on his knees with his heart thrumming fearfully.
That fear ― something triggered a memory in his head, and it suddenly manifested around him. He was no longer on some floating chunk ― he was home. Where he grew up. The market street. He was getting pelted by rocks. The tough kids had caught up with him, taunting and tormenting him. He shielded himself with his arms, screamed, ran… the vision shifted and he stumbled to the ground. It was a shoddy wooden floor that would always give his feet splinters, and they hurt, too. He had gotten so many splinters from that damn floor. He heard it creak under him, the way it always did when someone walked on it. The room was dimly lit by that old gas lantern. His father had come home with a terrible temper, and because of it Mama was quietly weeping in the other room. He could not sleep; he had an audacious idea to sneak out of his room and get a break from the sounds of another miserable night ― the floor gave him away. His father towered over him. He felt so small, and he was scared stiff. He remembered what would happen next, and that it would hurt a lot worse than the splinters. It was so real, like experiencing a vivid nightmare ― easy to momentarily forget that a nightmare was all it was, but he came to his senses, and before his father could strike, he struck first. The vision disappeared, leaving only that pale, rocky island floating in nothing.
He felt aggressive and invigorated now, and he jumped to the next island, this time not looking down. It felt like the first time he leapt from his tri-wing to jump upon a flying, cargo-laden plane. In mid-leap a squadron of CT-37s roared around him, onward to plunder. This was more like it! If you're going to get haunted by your memories, might as well get haunted by the good ones.
But he could not control it. This place, however it did it, plucked the most random things from his storming thoughts. Like how swimming in cold water saps the warmth from your body, so this place was doing to his mind. Upon the next island, the vision was not as detailed… he was focusing, eyeing the fox and her sword. He was close, one more jump. But a vision materialized nonetheless, mixed in with the rocky ground of the island and the dark expanse around it. He was among his crew, all of them, gathered together and celebrating. He recognized it all immediately, the day they had gathered in the Iron Vulture's bridge for the first time. He had just stolen it, his crowning achievement! Their bodies were like flickering statues, and notwithstanding the urgency of the task on hand, he could not help but stop and stare at them. He scanned their gleeful, menacing faces ― now in hindsight knowing how hollow their loyalty was. They would all turn on him at some point or another. Some forgivable, some not, none forgettable. All of these faces would turn on him. Every. Single ―
'So. You are with me from now on.' It was his own voice he heard behind him. He turned around. He was in his cabin, and before him was his beloved, full-length mirror (he was going to miss that, too). And the boy on whose neck he had just tied a red scarf around. The perfect little piratey touch to get the whelp to look less like a street rat and more of a proper protege, so he thought at the time, and he still thought so. But the way the boy looked up at him in the mirror's reflection, amazed and astonished to be brought into the fold, to belong, now there a face with loyalty. The kind of loyalty that would have followed him to the ends of the earth… the kind of loyalty that, in fact, did just that.
Last jump. He drew his cutlass and glowered at Sterling. She saw him coming, and smirked. The column of shadow erupting from the sword ceased as she lowered it.
"I'm pleasantly surprised, Captain!" she greeted. "We never did get a chance at a proper partin', now did we." Bloodfang's blade was flashed with a flourish, clearly indicating what she considered a proper parting. Karnage duly recalled how heavy that sword was, but she still wielded it as if it were feather light. Maybe things weren't so igual Pascual after all, he thought apprehensively. But he was going to find out, one way or another.
"Interestin' place, ain't it," she said, jerking her head to the looming gray planet. "T'was a world just like ours, I reckon, full of life, brilliant minds, wondrous civilizations. 'Til someone opened the door, that is. Someone like me, no doubt, who 'ad it with the jape of life only bringin' cruel, cold misery upon itself. They opened the door and let the Dark in. It picked the world clean, sucked the marrow from it, and swallowed its ravaged husk. Now here 'tis, beautiful. There's a thousand more just like it, I've seen 'em here. I've walked 'em. I've felt delightful echoes of fear and 'opelessness blowin' like a gentle spring breeze. How I couldn't wait for the world I know to taste the same. But can ye feel it? It's still starvin' for more. It needs me, and I, it. I will open the door. And the Dark will feast again."
"In that case, I am so sorry to have to spoil its appetite."
"Ye think yer little prick of a knife is any match for my magnificent Bloodfang? I've clipped me toenails with larger blades."
Karnage glanced at his cutlass, regarding it versus the imposing size of the other weapon. His face screwed up. "Is not the size that counts. Is how you use it!"
She eyed him up and down, and bowed welcomingly. "Then come use it, luv."
"Or, you could just stop this nincompoopery, you know."
Her persistent smirk melted away. "Sorry. Can't."
Karnage approached her slowly, step by cautious step, his cutlass held up defensively with both hands around the hilt. At any second he suspected she might pull some magic trick. She, meanwhile, was quickly impatient and struck out first. In a burst of sparks, Bloodfang struck his cutlass right where the blade met the hilt, and it made his arms feel like something just exploded. He staggered backwards, and she came at him with a thirst for blood. She was smaller than him, but Bloodfang gave her the reach advantage. The blades clashed again and again, steel ringing out. Karnage was on the defensive, blocking and jumping back evasively, unable to get a slash in edgewise. This was not what he was used to. He thought he knew a thing or two about the art of sword fighting, but do you know how often anyone actually crossed swords with him? Never, because no one carried swords. Swords were his thing, and that arrangement with the world had worked out really well thus far. But now not only was someone crossing blades with him, but someone who knew what she was doing. This was not good!
After a series of blocked swings, Sterling carried the momentum of one downward slash into a spin, twisting back around with a horizontal chop that would have relieved Karnage of his head. Karnage, yelping, ducked and rolled away, and at the end of the roll he sprung on his legs to get some distance away from her.
He used that distance to break out of panic mode for at least a moment, and re-assumed a fresh defensive stance. Oh, he wanted to go on the attack, but one bad move and she was going to carve him up. He had to figure something out, and quickly. He was panting, heart pounding; this was a fight for his life. Hardly the first time.
He heard sounds of outright brawling; gunfire, pistols blasting. Men shouting. A scene from years ago materialized, surrounding him. A warehouse on fire, flames blazing and roaring. He was a teenager when this happened. How exactly he got tangled up in this heist and found himself in a bloodbath between two rival gangs was a memory buried and blurred, but the fire, the gunshots, the screams, choking down the fear and focusing on that he will survive no matter what ― that part he had carried with him.
Sterling stood in a mirage of fire, looking around at the burning warehouse.
"You… you can see it, too?"
"No secrets 'ere, luv. Thoughts, memories, feelings," her blue eyes rolled up derisively at that last word. "Things we the livin' bring into this glorious emptiness, just sucks 'em right out of us, don't it. But I've 'ad more practice at it. 'Ere, try one of mine."
The warehouse disappeared, overtaken by another scene that exploded into view from where Sterling stood. Karnage jolted as he suddenly realized Blackmane was standing right next to him ― and more pirates from that bygone century. He was on the deck of Blackmane's ship. He could even hear the timbers creaking as the frigate rocked in the waves. The pirates, even Blackmane's hard, menacing face, wore wincing expressions. Then he saw what they were looking at. A victim, no doubt a captain of a captured ship, chained to a mast ― that is, what was left of him. Too weak to scream anymore, the poor bastard was still alive, despite how much of him was missing.
"A taste of me 'andiwork," bragged Sterling, sauntering around the mast as if proudly presenting a work of art. "A little knife, a pair of tongs... fancy what ye can do with such simple tools." She slashed Bloodfang around with a flourish. "Imagine what I'll do to ye with this one."
She ran at him; he dodged out of her way, and she missed her slash wide. In a blink she swung for him again, another miss. Karnage wasn't even trying to block this time, he was keeping his feet moving and leaping out of her way, intently watching her every move.
"Bloody 'ell, just die already!" she seethed. With an angry, powerful slash that would have sliced him apart from shoulder to hip, he dodged again, and she lost her balance. This was what he was waiting for. He lunged and swung his cutlass up, no time to aim at anywhere in particular, just at her ― the swords clashed loudly, as she managed to block with Bloodfang's golden hiltguard, but the block wasn't entirely successful. She yelped and jumped backward, clasping her left hand around her right at it held the lowered sword. She glared at him with a burning hate, sucking air through her teeth.
Karnage realized he had hurt her, got her on the thumb ― and the golden hilt guard of Bloodfang was marked where he struck it. He also realized she wasn't transforming into anything that could eat him alive, or doing anything else magical. Because she couldn't, or else she would have by now. The Pacuals were igual after all. She was vulnerable here, as was the magic sword. He grinned at this; he could beat her. In light of all this, might as well do a little trash talking while we're at it, yes-no?
"Tsk, oh! That looks like it stings, sister! Come here, why don't you. I kiss it and make it better." For a little icing on that cake, he smacked his lips and blew her a smooch.
Spittle blew through Sterling's gritted teeth, her face quivering with rage. She charged, but this time delayed attacking until Karnage dodged, which he did, but she anticipated it and lunged at him mid-dodge with a vicious slash. By a sheer amount of what he would never admit to what luck, Karnage's cutlass blocked the slash, but Bloodfang had cut through his blade. The rattling impact of the blow made him fall flat on his tail. He held his cutlass up to his eyes, realizing it was now just a hilt and a nub of a blade ― and also realizing, with perhaps a little regret over that "kiss it" remark, Sterling was standing over him, and if he knew anything about how to read a face, her's was full of insane fury and relishing his impending butchering. She raised Bloodfang over her head, her tongue sliding over her teeth.
He stared up at her. Afraid as he was of imminent death, he would not give her the satisfaction of flinching. The hardest thing he had ever done wasn't diving into his place; it was jumping in while expecting to not make it out alive. Impossible courage. 'I tried, boy. Don't forget, I tried...'
'Aw, forget about them, Lil' Britches. From now on, yer with me!'
The words resounded in the darkness. Another memory extracted in the Dark. But the voice! It was… Baloo's? Karrnage only knew they certainly weren't words from his memory. Even Sterling glanced up bemusedly as she hoisted Bloodfang for a mortal blow, evidently, the invasive voice wasn't from any of her experiences, either. It was from someone else.
Kit came running from behind Sterling and jumped on her back, wrestling her by the neck and shoulders. "Leave 'im alone, creep-lady!"
Karnage, utterly shocked, took no time to think about what the boy was doing here. He just jumped to his feet, and jumped on Sterling. While she was trying to fight Kit off her back, Karnage grabbed her sword-wielding arm and put her wrist in a vice-like grip. With the boy's help, they wrangled her to the ground, though in her rageful struggling she would not let go of Bloodfang. Not until Karnage sank his teeth into her hand…. then she finally let go, howling.
With one hand Karnage wrenched Bloodfang away from her, and with the other wrenched away the boy.
Knowing how incredibly heavy the sword was from the last time he held it, he was very surprised that it was now featherweight for him. This place changed everything to who-knows-what extent. But forget about that surprise. He had another surprise on his hands that was making him furious.
"What do you think you are doing!" he yelled at the kid.
"I don't know!" frowned Kit. "I… I just knew you needed help, okay? And I was right, wasn't I?"
"I told you no following me!" In seething features in both his face and voice, there was no question that he was anything less than absolutely and radiantly pissed at the boy showing up. "Now how do you get out of here?!"
Kit flashed back an angry face of his own. "Well how do you get out of here? Huh? Just adios muchachos, and that's it? How about no way, Jose?"
"Oh bugger, none of us are gettin' out of 'ere, ye gits," said Sterling, standing up and shaking the pain from her bite-marked hand. "Ah, isn't this lovely, the two of ye with yer feelin's, all carin' for each other like it meant a damn. It's enough to make me wanna puke out me guts."
Karnage brandished Bloodfang threateningly, pulling Kit behind him. "Is over, girl. Give it up."
"She's scared," said Kit disdainfully, glowering at her. "Her giant monster? You stopped it, and made it freeze. She knows she's in trouble now."
"Stopped? 'Ardly think so, lad. Just a wee bit of distraction, is all it is. I'll 'ave me sword back. Then the only distraction I'll 'ave will be peelin' yer skin off yer bones afore I set upon the rest of our wretched existence." The edge of her mouth ticked into a snarl. A vision materialized around her, one she didn't want to share and was obviously making her uneasy. It was a dark, dingy alley in the bowels of Olde Victoria. A vile group of thugs surrounded a small victim. There was a piercing scream from a little girl.
Kit looked away from the scene, as Sterling closed her eyes in concentration to make it go away. But for Kit it triggered one of his own, that appeared around him. It was an urban alley, strewn with trash. Small feet ran through a puddle, an unseen child breathed hard and terrified, followed by larger, harder footfalls; a drunken fiend, a vague, shadowy body, materialized like a painting being brushed in black, long arms reaching, chasing after the child, laughing deviantly, 'C'mere, kid!'
Karnage started and slashed at the shadow, but it went away only when Kit raised his head to meet Sterling's gaze. "So what, you think you're the only one who's had it tough?" With a sniff, he stepped in front of Karnage, chest puffed. "Yeah, so life stinks sometimes. Sometimes a lot, and it's not fair who gets it worse than others. And it gets scary, and lonely, and you get hurt, then you don't think those parts are ever gonna end. But they can, and they do. There's awful people, but not everyone! Some of 'em, you gotta give a chance. Maybe even more than once. 'Cause it gets better when you do."
Karnage placed his hand on the boy's shoulder and squeezed, while also lowering Bloodfang's blade in front of Kit, proactively. He cocked his brow at Sterling, like saying, 'What do you think of that?'
"Oh, lad! When ye put it like that, I feel..." Sterling planted her hand over her heart dramatically. "... like I really am gonna puke out me guts. I judge the world and find it unworthy. Life is an insufferable accident."
"And you're just crazy," sneered Kit.
"Like a fox," Sterling chortled, unsmiling. From her boot, she pulled out a tarnished silver dagger, making her intent clear. For show she balanced the end of the hilt on her finger, flipped it over her shoulder and caught it behind her back, then brandished it with a menacing grimace.
Karnage shook his head at her, knowing now that even though he held the advantage, she would fight until one of them was dead. He gave Kit this warming of what he was likely going to have to do, "Boy… I might have to get… serious."
Kit looked up at him, then at her ― with venomous loathing for all she had done ― then back at the captain. "I say kick her ass."
Karnage flinched at that. Well! So much for the boy's softivity. And his Disney-approved dialogue.
Sterling crouched and ran, dagger flashing. Karange's hand was forced. He gripped Bloodfang like a baseball bat, over his shoulder, and just as the fox within reach, he swung ―
she was too quick. And it wasn't Don Karnage she was going for.
She slid to a stop, on one knee, at a distance from the captain. She had the crook of her elbow around Kit's mouth, the other hand held her dagger against his throat. "Surrender the sword, Captain Karnage, or in three seconds I'll be 'anded ye this bastard's tonsils. See what yer feelin's do for 'im then."
Karnage was still caught in the shock of that happening so quickly when Sterling shouted, "Three!"
Kit's eyes flashed with fear at him.
"Two-oo," sang Sterling.
"N-no, wait!" stammered Karnage. "Is not him you―"
"One!"
"You would just kill him anyway!" blurted Karnage. Sterling hesitated, as that apparently was not a response she anticipated, nor was seeing Karnage back away from her with Bloodfang, while also picking up the hilt of his broken sword. His eyes were fixated on Kit, not her.
"Ye seem to think I'm japin'," she said. Kit squirmed as a droplet of blood trickled on the dagger's blade.
"No. But is not you that has the hostage here, you looney-bin lady." When it was mentioned Don Karnage had been paying attention during that meeting on Pirate Island, he really was. He paid attention to everything, in his head making his own conjectures, drawing his own conclusions. And one thing he took away about this cursed power brought into the world ― the connection. Sterling was only part of it.
He backed away almost to the edge of that desolate, floating island. There, he held up Bloodfang as if presenting it to her, then with a powerful thrust given with all his weight, he plunged the blade firmly in the ground, now eyeing the opaque red stone on its bottom end. Then, he raised the hilt of his cutlass, gripping it with a tight fist. It was now a set of makeshift brass knuckles.
Sterling seemed to know exactly what he had in mind, and it made her shift uncomfortably, though not letting go of squirming Kit. "The soulstone's indestructible!" she called out.
Snoring, Karnage jerked his head to the maelstrom above. "Out there, maybe. In he-ere, let's see." He hammered down on the stone with all its might. The brass hiltguard dented, and the stone clacked.
And cracked.
The stone, seemingly inert until then, hissed and lit up like fire where the crack incurred.
"No!" Sterling shouted desperately.
Karnage hammered it again. Another clack, louder than the first. Another hissing crack.
Sterling relinquished Kit and charged furiously, her dagger pointed downward in her fist. Karnage held the hilt up again as if he was going to deliver another blow to the soulstone, but waited… waited…
She leapt at him, aiming to plunge her dagger into his chest. He feigned a strike, but deftly dodged with a half-spin, kicking her in the shin and taking her legs from under her. She tumbled hard, yelping, and rolled halfway off the edge, her arms catching her just in time. From under her dangling feet, a cosmic groan thundered; the nebulous visage of the Dark had opened its galactic maw.
Don Karnage grinned hideously at her with all his sharp teeth bared. He wanted her to see this. He wanted her to know it was him who did it. Crying out, he slammed his hiltgaurd once again into the soulstone.
It shattered. An explosion like a shockwave flashed brightly. A storm of dark phantoms erupted from out of nowhere, wailing and hissing, their round, red eyes blazing. They twisted around the island like a tornado, and above, the maelstrom flashed with lightning, spinning with blurring speed. It was shrinking.
Jack Sterling gazed upon the fate of her ambitions with an empty, blank stare. She surrendered her grip on the edge, and fell into oblivion.
"Captain!" Kit called out, his voice barely audible in the churning, chaotic cacophony of the phantoms. "What's happening?!"
"How in the bejeeping blue blazers do you think I know!" Karnage shouted back.
All of those small, floating islands around them started circling under the shrinking maelstrom, as if caught in a vortex. Kit and Karnage both eyed it, noticing how the islands moved under and over each other, not in a horizontal orbit, but up and down like a chaotic merry-go-round. Each of them seemed to come into jumping distance with at least one other. All the way to the top.
"You thinking what I'm thinking?" asked Kit.
"Less thinking! More doing!"
Karnage grabbed Kit and unceremoniously threw him onto a passing island above them, then made a running leap to catch the edge of it himself. Kit pulled his arm to help him up. The phantoms blew around them like storming gusts. The next opportunity came by ― Kit made this jump himself, thanks, leaping across a chasm ― he made the mistake of looking down. The nebulous visage below them was now much, much larger ― much closer. It was coming for them.
"Ignore it!" shouted Karnage. "No time! Move!"
Another leap, so far so good, so it seemed for a moment. But hope was not on their side. As Kit looked up at the closest island swirling under the shrinking maelstrom, he realized it was too low to make the portal, even if they got there in time. "C-captain," he said dreadfully, "we're not gonna…"
"You're going to try, you blasted bear!" yelled Karnage.
Another leap. Under them, the hideous visage loomed gigantic, its maw opened to lengths as far as could be seen. It was a black hole come to swallow them, immensely larger than the dead planet next to them.
One more leap and they were at the island circling closest under the maelstrom. At the rate it was shrinking, they had not one more minute. But the boy was right, Karnage realized. Unless they grew fifteen feet tall, there was no way they were going to jump into it.
"What are we gonna do?" Kit asked fretfully, his arms around the captain's waist.
Karnage looked up, looked down at Kit, and gulped. He remembered he didn't think he was going to make it out of here to begin with. Impossible courage. He embraced Kit tight and quickly, one last adios, and Kit, to his complete surprise, suddenly got hoisted by the hem and collar of his sweater. Karnage spun him around ― imagine an Olympic hammer throw but with a yelping kid instead ― and threw him upward.
Bullseye. The boy went through.
By his own distinctive instinct, Karnage cackled gloatingly over the nice shot. The cackle faded as he realized that there was nobody there to do the same to him.
The black hole had overtaken the dead planet, bringing it to shadow. Darkness of the most complete blackness enveloped the space-like expanse as the galactic maw closed over him. The maelstrom cracked and flickered, shrinking… perhaps ten seconds left, so he thought.
Nine… eight… seven…
He recalled, and rather sadly, per his earlier plan, that it was okay to lose his mind now.
"AAAAAUUUUGGGHHHH!"
"Avast! Captain Karnage!" a voice called down to him. It was coming from the maelstrom. Flynn dropped down from it, his hand clasped to Gibber's, who's hand was clasped to Ratchet's, and Ratchet's to someone else's outside the dwindling portal. "By thunder! Give me your hand! Quickly!"
Karnage did, clasping Flynn's hand with both of his.
"PULL!" shouted Flynn. "Pull!" repeated Ratchet. Gibber had muttered something in between, presumably "Pull."
Don Karnage did not know where the ground came from, but it was there, and he was on it. What wasn't there was a demonic titan looming in the sky, or a magic portal swirling anywhere in sight. What was there was a bunch of disheveled sky pirates, and a protege leaping on him.
"Eh heh," was all he could utter before rolling limply on his back with Kit on top of him. They were in the crater left of Skaal the Undying's chamber.
"It's… it's all gone?" asked Ratchet, looking at the sky.
"Aye. It's gone," panted Flynn. "I daresay, we just saved the world, mateys."
"You did it," said Kit quietly, squeezing the captain.
Karnage lifted his head, sitting up on his elbows, looking down at him. "We did it, boy." His eyebrows knitted for a moment, and he laid his head down again, contemplating. "But mostly me. In fact, almost all me. H'okay, fine, I did it."
"Yeah, this is great 'n' all," said Hal, "but maybe we oughta git while the gittin's good?"
Karnage's arm shot upward, finger pointed. "Yes! Yes! Onward to my Iron Vulture!"
The crew muttered in agreement, and started filing out the bone-laden tunnel out of the chamber.
"Uh, captain?" asked Kit, noticing Karnage seemed to be stuck lying on the ground with his arm and pointed finger stiffly extended. The captain was scowling at the sky. "Some-one get me up."
Mad Dog and Dumptruck each took an arm. Like picking up a long two-by-four and standing it on its end, so they got their exhausted captain to his feet. He staggered forward from there.
Their feet traipsed over a horde of bones, many skeletons bearing piratical attire. Kit even spied that one ring that the captain almost took from that skeletal hand back on Cabo Diablo. Same ring, on the same dead hand. The crew walked on quietly through the dark warrens; for all of them, this trail of death was a sobering realization of just how close whey were to being bones themselves, what would have happened if they were a second too late and this horde had caught up to them. Kit slowed to a stop, surveying the gruesome sight. So many people.
"We did what we could," Karnage told him, nudging him along. "Sometimes, you can only look ahead. Not back. You can do that, no?"
Kit nodded.
Their feet splashed through the flooded entrance of the warrens; in the river before them yet floated the Iron Vulture. The saying about a sight for sore eyes did not do it justice. Sirens and alarms blared in the distance. They probably weren't going to have long before more of Crownland's defensive forces arrived, so they made some haste climbing out of the riverbank and onto the adjoining docks. They spied a barge tied to a pier and claimed it for themselves.
"Move it, move it, and move it!" ordered the captain. "Kindly keep your keisters in fast motion before the kicking starts!" He and Kit were the last to board… everyone present and accounted for… except Flynn, who remained on the pier.
"Wait, you're not comin' with?" asked Kit.
Flynn looked at Karnage, received a hard glare, then averted his gaze with a dismal expression. "No, lad. I think this is where we part, for the best."
"What? Why?"
"Let it go, boy," grumbled the captain.
"Aye, and let's face it, I don't belong." Flynn turned to the muddy street. There were yet bones strewn about that hadn't made it as far as the others. He sighed heavily. "For a time, we were called the Pirates of Cabo Diablo, thought ourselves kings of the world. Now look at us. The worst jape is, among all of us, look who's the only one left standing. Among these bones are my shipmates, my dearest friends. The pirate life is not the same without them."
"But, what will you do, then?" asked Kit.
"Bo-oy…"
"I don't know, rightly. I've only ever been a pirate."
"Well then, you might as well come with us," said Kit. "Ya know, until you figure it out, maybe?"
"Or he has made up his mind," Karnage strongly suggested.
"Look, I know the captain," said Kit. "He might act like he's holding a grudge, but if he really didn't want you to stick around, he'd just come out and say it."
"Oh, is that so?" said the captain-who-was-(apparently)-known, incensed. "Then let me perfecto-ly clear, I ― ow!"
Kit had used something similar to sleight-of-hand, but in this case it was sleight-of-heel, on Karnage's pinky toe. "See? He can't bring it himself to say it." While facing Flynn he cast a stern, sidelong glance at the captain. "'Cause he knows you know you're stuff and you'd be a huge asset."
"You perhaps got half that word right," huffed Karnage.
"And," Kit added through gritted teeth, "He knows you saved our lives and we couldn't have won if you weren't on our team."
Gibber muttered something in the captain's ear.
"I know we are short on the handedness, so what!" Karnage crossed his arms, huffing, and purposefully avoiding the glare he was getting from the boy. He shifted on his feet and grumbled, at length shrugging. "I am supposing… we could use someone… to keep the floors clean. The pots scrubbed."
Flynn blinked, his face slowly showing astonishment. "Truly? You'd give this old pirate a chance?"
"Don't even get me started on the baños," said Karnage, eying him shrewdly.
"I don't know what to say," said Flynn.
Karnage had several suggestions: "Farewell? Arrivederci? Bon voyage?"
Flynn stepped onto the barge. "I accept! I hereby swear my fealty."
"Well. Whoopie-doo," muttered the captain.
