THE MISADVENTURES OF THE ROVING RASCALS

CHAPTER ONE

White. There was nothing. Just a white background stretching out on all four sides and an eerie silence. He looked strangely at the place, blaming it on the rum he had reportedly drunk earlier in the evening, to be more precise, at a celebration of victory over the East India Trading Company and its now deceased leader, Cutler Beckett. He, whose name was Jack Sparrow, sorry, Captain Jack Sparrow, stood strangely in that lonely white place, at first believing it to be the domain of Davy Jones, but it was very different.

At that moment, someone appeared and Jack rolled his eyes knowing that it was the person that: number 1, he suspected the most and number 2, the one he least expected to see in that white place: the cunning and feared Captain Hector Barbossa, with his elegant pirate attire and his wide-brimmed hat with dark ostrich feathers, alluding to his vanity. And to top it all off, on Barbossa's shoulder was a little capuchin monkey named Jack. The strangest thing is that neither of them knew why they were in such a strange place.

Jack Sparrow squinted at the bright white void surrounding him. "This ain't rum," he muttered, running a hand over his chin. "Or maybe too much rum…"

He turned around, half-expecting to see something—anything—familiar. But nothing. Just more nothingness. He shrugged. "Alright then, where's the rum?"

And that's when he heard it. The familiar tap-tap-tap of boots, followed by an ominous cackle. Out of the whiteness strode none other than Captain Hector Barbossa, wearing his usual pompous grin and wide-brimmed hat, adorned with those ridiculous dark feathers. Perched on his shoulder was the ever-judgmental little monkey, Jack.

"Barbossa." Jack Sparrow gave a half-hearted wave. "Should've known. If there's a confusing, incomprehensible place to be, you'd show up."

Barbossa sneered. "Sparrow. Fancy meetin' you in this… peculiar place." He glanced around, eyes narrowing. "What mischief have ye dragged me into now?"

"Me?" Jack raised an eyebrow and stumbled a little, straightening his vest as if that would make him look more dignified. "I'm not even sure I'm awake, mate. Last thing I remember is—well, let's be honest, I don't remember much. But I'm fairly certain it involved rum, a ship, and—was there a cannonball? No, a pineapple. Yes, a pineapple."

Barbossa rolled his eyes. "Leave it to you to dream up somethin' nonsensical. Though I must admit, this place isn't quite Davy Jones' Locker… no smell of the sea, no cursed souls, just…" He gestured to the vast nothingness around them. "White."

The monkey on Barbossa's shoulder let out a screech and bared its teeth.

"Even your monkey doesn't like it," Jack smirked. "But seeing you here—now that, that makes perfect sense. After all, you've always had a knack for showin' up when least wanted."

Barbossa chuckled darkly. "Aye, and it seems we're both stuck in this abyss together." He reached up to pat his hat, as if making sure it was still perfectly in place. "I suppose you've got a cunning plan to get us out?"

Jack looked thoughtful for a second, then snapped his fingers. "Ah! I know what this is. It's one of those dream things. Like that one time I dreamt I was surrounded by giant crabs. They were very polite, though."

Barbossa's smirk deepened. "Dream? If this were your dream, Sparrow, I'd be dead by now and you'd have a ship made of gold, sailing a sea of rum."

"Precisely!" Jack exclaimed, nodding as if he'd solved the mystery. "And yet… here we are, still stuck in this dreadful place. So, it's obviously not *my* dream."

Barbossa's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Maybe it's mine, and this is the moment where I finally leave ye to rot."

Jack winced slightly, but then grinned. "You wouldn't do that to an old friend, would you?"

"Friend?" Barbossa scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself, Sparrow. You're more like a thorn in my side that refuses to be plucked."

"Well," Jack spread his arms wide, gesturing to the white expanse. "Looks like we're stuck together in this—what did you call it?—peculiar place."

There was a beat of silence before Barbossa broke it with a low chuckle. "Typical Sparrow luck."

"Ah," Jack said with a cheeky grin, "but as luck would have it, I'm quite good at finding my way out of tight spots. This… this is nothing compared to being marooned on an island. Twice. With nothing but a bottle of rum."

Barbossa smirked. "And what's your grand plan, then?"

Jack raised a finger. "One word: improvisation."

The monkey screeched again, as if in agreement, or perhaps disapproval—it was hard to tell. Barbossa, though, merely shook his head. "If this is your idea of a plan, Sparrow, I'd rather take my chances with Davy Jones."

Jack smiled, tapping his compass. "Now, now, Barbossa, let's not be hasty. We'll figure it out. But first things first—find the rum. Everything else will fall into place after that."

While Jack and Barbossa were mid-argument, voices rising over the absurdity of their situation, a sudden rustling sound echoed through the white expanse. Both pirates paused and turned, their bickering momentarily forgotten.

From the endless whiteness, a young woman in an elegant Regency dress appeared, her dark hair styled in tight curls. She looked completely bewildered, clutching her skirts as she stepped forward cautiously. Her wide eyes scanned the area, taking in the two scruffy pirates with a mix of confusion and horror.

"What in heaven's name…?" the young woman muttered to herself, frowning deeply.

Jack leaned closer to Barbossa, whispering, "Now *this* is interesting. A lady, by the looks of it, but dressed a little out of time, wouldn't you say?"

Barbossa grunted, folding his arms. "An odd sight, indeed. Perhaps she's lost—like us."

"Or perhaps," Jack grinned, taking a step toward her, "this is all part of *her* dream."

The young woman, now noticing the two strange men before her, straightened up, her face flushed with indignation. "Excuse me, but where am I? And who, might I ask, are you two?"

Jack flashed his most charming smile, bowing dramatically. "Captain Jack Sparrow, at your service. And this fine gentleman," he pointed lazily at Barbossa, "is Captain Hector Barbossa. Though, he's hardly a gentleman, as you'll come to learn."

The woman raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "I see. Well, Captain… *Sparrow, what is the meaning of this? I was in my room, just now, and then—" she gestured around, her frustration evident—"this. And I can assure you, this is not a dream."

Barbossa, leaning on his sword, raised an eyebrow. "Not a dream, ye say? Then what are ye doin' here, lass?"

The woman's frown deepened. "That's exactly what I'm trying to figure out. I was—" she hesitated, biting her lip, clearly upset. "I was in the middle of an argument with my best friend Penelope Featherington, over some… distasteful gossip she wrote about me. I was *in my room*."

Jack nodded sympathetically, leaning toward her in a conspiratorial manner. "Ah, yes, gossip can be quite the bother, can't it? Though, I've found rum helps. A lot."

Eloise Bridgerton, for that was indeed who she was, looked at him incredulously. "Rum? You think rum is the solution to being slandered by your best friend in public?"

Jack straightened up, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Well, it's a start. Then you can work your way up to duels, or maybe some well-placed bribery."

Eloise scoffed, crossing her arms. "I should have expected such nonsense from a man dressed like—like *that*."

Barbossa, watching the exchange with mild amusement, chimed in, "She's got ye pegged, Sparrow. Clearly, the lass has some sense."

Jack ignored Barbossa, waving a hand dismissively. "Now, now, no need for insults, love. We're all in the same strange predicament, are we not? One moment you're somewhere familiar, the next you're in this… place of eternal blandness, with no explanation."

Eloise took a deep breath, regaining her composure. "Yes, but *why* are we here? And why am I stuck with *you two*?" She gave Barbossa and Jack an unimpressed once-over.

Barbossa chuckled. "An excellent question, Miss Bridgerton. Perhaps we're part of some grand, cosmic joke. Or maybe it's that Penelope friend of yours, settin' ye up in a rather odd way."

Eloise's eyes narrowed. "I highly doubt that. Though, knowing Penelope, I wouldn't put anything past her these days. But if this is meant to be some kind of punishment, then I would rather it didn't involve *pirates*."

Jack flashed a grin, tipping his hat. "Ah, but you see, you're in good company. Pirates are excellent problem solvers. We find treasure, fight curses, and, on occasion, escape certain death. A lady like yourself could certainly benefit from our expertise."

"I'd rather take my chances," Eloise retorted, her voice sharp. "Besides, I don't need anyone to solve my problems. Least of all, pirates."

Barbossa snickered, clearly enjoying her spirit. "Aye, ye've got fire in ye, lass. But fire or not, we're still stuck in this here void. Seems we've got no choice but to tolerate each other."

Eloise rolled her eyes. "Wonderful. Just what I needed. Stuck in the middle of nowhere with two bickering pirates."

Jack shrugged. "Could be worse. At least there's no giant kraken lurking about. Yet." He glanced around warily.

Eloise sighed, rubbing her temples. "What did I do to deserve this?" she muttered under her breath.

"Possibly something involving gossip," Jack offered cheerfully. Eloise shot him a withering look, and he raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, no more gossip talk."

Barbossa, however, smiled knowingly. "But ye've got secrets, lass, haven't ye? Secrets worth writin' about?"

Eloise narrowed her eyes at him. "And what of it? You pirates surely have more skeletons in your closets than anyone."

"Ah, but we wear our sins proudly," Barbossa said with a smirk. "It's those who hide theirs that end up here."

Jack chuckled. "Maybe that's the lesson in all this. Everyone's got secrets, love. Some more entertaining than others."

Eloise let out an exasperated groan. "I didn't ask to learn any lessons, especially not from the likes of you!"

Jack simply winked. "Well, life's full of surprises."

As Eloise, Jack, and Barbossa stood in their peculiar void, another rustling sound echoed through the whiteness. This time, two more figures emerged from the blankness, each distinctly different from the other.

The first was a striking young woman around Eloise's age, with long, dark red hair cascading down her back. She was slim and beautiful, with sharp brown eyes that took in her surroundings quickly, her posture confident. Her clothes were unfamiliar to Eloise, clearly from a different time. She wore a military green jacket over a black top and pants, a style that looked as if it belonged to a much later century.

Next to her was a tall, imposing woman with a stern expression. She appeared to be in her early thirties, her black hair pulled into a severe bun. She was dressed in a high-necked black dress with long sleeves, her posture elegant and almost forbidding. Her brown eyes were sharp and observant, with an air of authority that immediately set her apart from the others.

The redhead blinked, looking around with a puzzled frown. "Okay, this definitely isn't Cackle's. Did I mess up that teleportation spell again?"

The stern woman next to her gave a disapproving look. "Mary Cortez, you most certainly did. This is not where we were supposed to end up."

Jack tilted his head, intrigued. "Now this is getting interesting." He stepped forward, giving a dramatic bow. "Captain Jack Sparrow, at your service. And who might you two fine witches be?"

Eloise's eyes widened. "Witches?" she repeated incredulously, glancing between the newcomers. "What are witches doing here?"

The redhead, Mary, raised an eyebrow. "What else would we be doing? Trying to get back to Cackle's Academy, obviously." She looked at Jack, ignoring his bow with a smirk. "And you're a pirate. I suppose this is one of those magical mix-up things."

Barbossa grunted from behind Jack, looking Marisela and the other woman up and down. "Witches, ye say? Now we're really in a spot of bother."

The woman in black, Constance Hardbroom, stepped forward, her sharp gaze falling on Barbossa. "A spot of bother, indeed. Thanks to Mary's incompetence, we are clearly not where we intended to be." She cast a cold glance at Mary, who rolled her eyes in response.

Mary crossed her arms. "Alright, alright, I get it, Doña Ogrum. I messed up. But hey, it could be worse." She glanced around at the strange company they found themselves in, her eyes lingering on Eloise, who still looked bewildered by the situation. "At least we've got some… interesting company."

Eloise, regaining her composure, looked between Marisela and Constance. "You're… witches. Real witches?"

Constance raised an eyebrow, her tone icy. "Yes, and I presume you are not. From your attire, I take it you belong to a different time?"

Eloise lifted her chin slightly, unwilling to show fear in front of the stern woman. "I'm from the Regency period, thank you very much. And you—" she gestured to Mary's outfit—"clearly are not."

Mary laughed. "Nope! Late 1990s for me. I like the grunge look. Practical and stylish."

Jack interjected, looking between them. "Well, well, this just got far more entertaining. We've got pirates, witches, and a proper lady all in one place. And no one knows why."

Constance's gaze narrowed on Jack. "And I suppose you, Captain Sparrow, believe you are the solution to this problem?"

Jack flashed his trademark grin. "I usually am. Or, at the very least, I get us out of situations that are—how shall we say—*inconvenient*."

Mary glanced at Eloise, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "And you? You look like you're more used to afternoon tea and polite conversation. How'd you end up here?"

Eloise bristled slightly but kept her voice composed. "I was in my room, dealing with a personal matter, when I suddenly found myself in this… this void." She glanced at Jack and Barbossa. "And then I encountered *them*."

Constance sighed, clearly unimpressed by the situation. "It seems we've all been pulled here, against our will and possibly out of time." She gave Mary a stern look. "Once again, your recklessness has consequences."

Mary shrugged, grinning. "I'm not complaining. This is kinda fun."

Eloise frowned. "Fun? This is hardly fun."

Mary's grin only widened. "It could be worse. We could be facing down a dark wizard or a dragon. At least these two pirates seem more… harmless."

Jack chuckled, placing a hand over his heart. "Harmless? I'll have you know I'm quite the dangerous fellow."

Barbossa muttered under his breath, "Incompetent is more like it."

Constance shot them both a withering look. "Enough of this nonsense. We need to figure out how to return to our respective times."

Eloise sighed, exasperated. "Finally, someone with sense."

Mary grinned at Eloise. "Don't worry, princess. Doña Ogrum's got it under control." She glanced over at Constance. "Right?"

Constance straightened, her air of authority only growing. "Indeed. But first, we must determine where we are—and why we're all here."

Jack raised a hand. "I've got a theory. We're all here because… fate. Or magic. Or possibly a very powerful rum-induced hallucination."

Barbossa shook his head. "This is far beyond rum, Sparrow."

Eloise turned to Constance. "Can you get us out of here?"

Constance gave a curt nod. "I will certainly try. But magic such as this is… unusual." She glanced at Mary. "Perhaps some assistance from a certain someone who caused this mess?"

Mary smirked, stepping forward with a flick of her wrist. "Alright, alright. Let's see what we can do. But I make no promises."

As the witches began to focus, Jack leaned over to Barbossa, whispering, "I've got a feeling this is going to be quite the show."

Barbossa grunted in agreement. "And we'd best be ready when things go wrong, as they usually do."

Despite their best efforts, no amount of magical detection, spells, or incantations from Constance or Marisela revealed any reason for their strange imprisonment in the endless white void. No doors, no windows, and certainly no answers. Eloise, frustrated, paced back and forth while Jack and Barbossa bickered intermittently, though both pirates kept a wary eye on the two witches.

"We're getting nowhere," Eloise finally said, exasperated. "This place just… goes on forever!"

Constance remained calm, her eyes narrowing slightly. "There is a reason we're here. Magic doesn't simply *misfire* like this without a cause."

Marisela glanced around, waving her wand in lazy circles. "Maybe it's a test? Or some kind of trap?"

Barbossa snorted. "If it's a trap, it's a dull one."

Jack, still hopeful despite the growing frustration, spun in a slow circle, peering out into the whiteness. "Perhaps we just need to… walk in a particular direction. I've found that walking in circles sometimes brings unexpected outcomes."

Eloise gave him a flat look. "Walking in circles is exactly what we're *not* doing."

Suddenly, faint but distinct footsteps echoed through the whiteness, stopping their conversation dead. They all turned toward the sound, each one on edge. The footsteps grew louder, closer, until a figure emerged from the void, her silhouette slowly taking form.

Jack's eyes widened, and a knowing smirk crept across his face. "Well, well, well. If it isn't someone we all know and love."

Barbossa tensed, gripping the hilt of his sword. "Calypso," he growled under his breath, though her appearance was not that of her true form. No, she was in the guise of Tia Dalma, the enigmatic and mysterious witch they had dealt with in the past.

Eloise, Mary, and Constance exchanged confused glances. The three of them did not recognize the woman who now stood before them, her dark, flowing robes trailing on the endless white floor. Her eyes were bright, filled with secrets, her smile knowing. Beads and shells adorned her hair, and her presence brought with it an air of both danger and mystery.

Eloise frowned. "Who is she?"

"Calypso," Jack said, stepping forward with a swagger, "or, Tia Dalma, as she prefers to be known when she's feeling… less divine."

Mary raised an eyebrow. "Divine? As in a goddess?"

Constance, ever the skeptic, watched Tia Dalma with an intense gaze. "A goddess, you say?"

Tia Dalma's lips curled into a mischievous smile, her thick accent coating her words. "Ah, Jack Sparrow. Always wit' da right words, but never quite da truth. And Hector Barbossa… still afraid of me?"

Barbossa's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond.

Eloise looked back at Jack, her confusion deepening. "You're saying she's a goddess?"

Jack shrugged. "The goddess of the sea, storms, and chaos. And yet here she is, walking around like a mere mortal." He tipped his hat toward Tia Dalma. "What brings you to this fine, endless void, love?"

Tia Dalma's gaze swept over them all, her smile growing as if she found their confusion amusing. "Ah, you are all lost. Dis place, it has no beginning, no end. An' yet, here you are, drawn to it by forces you cannot understand."

Mary crossed her arms, skeptical. "So, are you saying you brought us here? Because, frankly, I'm not a fan of this weird limbo."

Tia Dalma chuckled softly, a sound like the rolling of distant waves. "I did not bring you here, little witch. Dis place, it exists outside of what you know. Beyond time, beyond da rules you cling to. But I… I can feel it. Somethin' powerful holds dis place together."

Constance stepped forward, her eyes narrowing. "What is the purpose of this place? Why are we here?"

Tia Dalma's gaze met hers, the power behind her eyes almost palpable. "De purpose? Dat, I cannot say. But you are all tied to it in some way. Each of you, a piece of a puzzle, brought here by forces beyond even me."

Jack, ever the opportunist, leaned in. "So, you don't know how to get out either, then?"

Tia Dalma smiled slyly. "Dere is always a way out, Jack Sparrow. Da question is whether you are ready to pay de price."

Eloise, growing increasingly impatient, stepped forward. "We're not interested in paying prices or playing games. We need answers. How do we leave?"

Tia Dalma's eyes softened as she studied Eloise. "So full of fire, little one. But dis is not somethin' you can fight wit' words or wit'. You must understand, dis place… it holds you all here for a reason."

Mary groaned, throwing her hands up. "Great. More riddles. Why can't we just get a straight answer, cabrona?"

Jack flashed a grin. "Oh, but where's the fun in that?"

Constance, ever practical, took a step closer to Tia Dalma, her tone commanding. "If you can't provide a way out, then what is it you do know?"

Tia Dalma's smile faded, her tone becoming more serious. "What I know is dis: you are not da only ones here. Dere are others, scattered across dis blankness. And soon, you will need to find dem."

Barbossa's eyes narrowed. "Others?"

Tia Dalma nodded, stepping back into the whiteness. "Yes, others. An' when you find dem, you will understand why you are here. But be warned… not all of dem will be friends."

With that, she began to fade into the void, her voice lingering as her form dissolved. "Find da others, or be lost forever…"

Jack watched her disappear, scratching his chin. "Well, that's not ominous at all."

Eloise huffed, crossing her arms. "So now we have to wander around looking for people we don't know in a place that doesn't make sense?"

Mary shook her head. "Classic magical trap. Just when you think you've hit the bottom, someone throws you a curveball."

Constance's eyes were still focused on where Tia Dalma had disappeared. "We need to stay alert. If there are others here, then this may be more dangerous than it seems."

Barbossa grunted. "More dangerous? We're already stuck in an eternal white nothingness. How much worse can it get?"

Jack grinned, already starting to walk in the direction Tia Dalma had indicated. "Oh, I've got a feeling we're about to find out, mate."

As soon as Tia Dalma's figure vanished, the white void around them suddenly shimmered, like a ripple in water, and then disappeared altogether. In its place, nothing but open sky.

For a split second, there was silence.

And then, they were falling.

Jack Sparrow's signature scream filled the air first. "Bloody hell! We're falling!"

Barbossa cursed loudly, wind rushing past them. "I swear, Sparrow, if I die 'cause ye dragged me into this—!"

But Jack wasn't listening. Instead, he grabbed Barbossa by his coat as if the older pirate could serve as a makeshift parachute. "Hold still, mate! You'll break my fall nicely!"

Meanwhile, Mary—who, despite her bravado, wasn't fond of heights—did the same to Barbossa, clinging to his coat with a desperate grip. "I'm not dying today! No way! Not in Mexico!" she shouted, even though the smell of Barbossa's apples and rum hit her like a hammer. "Ay no... Why does this pirate smell like a cantina?"

Eloise, eyes wide and screaming, latched onto Mary's waist. "This is not how I imagined dying! Do something!"

"I'm trying not to puke first!" Mary shot back, eyes squeezed shut.

Constance, ever composed even in moments of sheer terror, grabbed hold of Barbossa's other arm. Unlike Mary, however, the scent of green apples and rum didn't nauseate her. In fact, it made her blush. "This… is hardly appropriate," she muttered under her breath, cheeks tinged pink. But she held on firmly, knowing that practicality outweighed propriety at this moment.

"Stop smelling me like some lovestruck lass, Hardbroom!" Barbossa barked, sensing her embarrassment even amidst the chaos.

Suddenly, their speed began to slow. The howling wind softened, and they found themselves floating downwards gently, like feathers caught in a breeze. Jack peeked open an eye. "Well, would you look at that? Not dying after all."

The five of them hovered for a few moments before gravity returned, unceremoniously dropping them onto a dirt road with a collective *thud*.

Mary groaned, pushing herself up from the ground. "Ay, Dios… that was the worst teleportation spell I've ever experienced." She dusted off her clothes, then looked up at the road signs in front of them. Her eyes widened. "Oh no way. I *know* this road."

Eloise, still lying on the ground, groaned. "I sincerely hope it leads to somewhere less horrifying than where we just were."

Mary pointed at the sign. "Look! 'Mexico City, 500 meters.' And Puebla, 2 kilometers. Estamos en México!"

Jack, brushing dirt off his coat, tilted his head. "Mexico City? Never been. Any good taverns?"

Barbossa stretched, wincing from the fall. "With our luck, we'll end up in a tavern filled with curses and angry locals."

Mary stood, excitement overriding her earlier nausea. "No, no, no, this is good! We're back in my time! Well, sort of. But I know exactly where we are!"

Constance, ever the pragmatist, looked at the sign with a raised brow. "And how, exactly, does knowing the location help us get back to where we're supposed to be?"

Mary grinned. "Trust me, Doña Ogrum, you haven't lived until you've had tacos in Puebla."

Jack's eyes lit up. "Tacos, you say? What are these 'tacos'? Sounds delicious."

Mary nodded eagerly. "Oh, they're the best! Trust me, after almost falling to our deaths, we deserve some."

Eloise, looking puzzled, got to her feet. "Tacos? What on earth are tacos?"

Mary laughed. "You'll find out, Bridgerton. And once you do, you'll forget all about your dainty tea sandwiches."

Barbossa grunted, looking up and down the road. "Well, while you're all dreaming of food, anyone think it's wise to figure out how we got here in the first place? And more importantly, how we get back?"

Jack waved a hand. "Details, details, Barbossa. We'll figure that out after tacos. Priorities, mate."

Mary clapped her hands. "Exactly! And in Mexico, food is always the top priority."

Constance sighed but couldn't help a small smile. "If we must, then let's get it over with. But I refuse to eat anything questionable."

Mary grinned, grabbing Constance's arm. "Don't worry, I'll guide you through it! First stop, the best tacos in Mexico. Then we'll figure out how to deal with this whole time-space chaos."

As they began walking down the road, Jack turned to Barbossa with a mischievous grin. "What do you say, mate? A drink or two in Mexico? Maybe we'll finally get a break from the madness."

Barbossa huffed. "I doubt it."

Eloise shook her head, still confused but intrigued. "Tacos… pirates… witches… What in heaven's name has my life become?"

Mary laughed, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "Welcome to Mexico, Eloise. Get ready for the ride of your life."