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Schmidt's Island: Part 2

“What the hell are you two doing?” Bonnie uttered as he leered through the curtains of Pirate's Cove. He wasn't particularly fond of Foxy – in fact he kind of disliked him – but he and Mike had been kicking up quite the ruckus over the past half hour, so his own personal feelings would have to be put on hold for the time being.

The rabbit wasn't quite sure what to expect, but he was definitely surprised to see the night guard and the robotic fox standing on the bow of Foxy's fake pirate ship. The fox, much to Bonnie's alarm, had his very dangerous hook arm slung around the youth's shoulders and his normal arm held out as if to beckon to something grand upon the horizon. Neither one of the two even glanced at Bonnie, apparently completely engrossed in whatever they'd been doing.

Bonnie groaned. “I said, what are you-?”

“Oh, we heard you!” Mike laughed, almost disturbingly cheerful. “We're just having a little fun, Bonnie! No need to worry!”

“Aye, rabbit matey!” Foxy concurred, swinging his arm around in his usual grandiose manner. “Me and me first mate Mr. Schmidt here be on a grand ol' adventure to th' Bleeding Isle fer gold and glory! A tale fer the ages that no wee lubber dare forget!”

Mike nodded. “Wanna join in? I think we've got room for another crew member.”

The sheer number of things Bonnie found absolutely wrong with the whole scenario was so staggering that he actually had to duck out of the cove to collect his thoughts. Mike? Really? And Foxy? Playing pirate? How old was Mike anyway? Twenty? Older? Twenty year-olds didn't play pirate, Bonnie knew that much.

And of all people Mike could've done it with, did it really have to be Foxy? Bonnie knew he wasn't always the easiest person to get along with – Chica was more than willing to point that out – but he wasn't ashamed at all to admit that he liked Mike. He didn't want Mike hanging out with someone as dangerous as Foxy. Lord knew they didn't need another incident... No, no, Bonnie knew better than to think about that, and he quickly moved it out of his processor. For a moment he considered stepping in and getting Mike to leave, but thought better of it. He knew Mike and Foxy trusted each other; it would be a waste of time.

So instead he wandered off, issuing a silent prayer for Mike's well-being.

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“Captain, duck!” Schmidt yelled, whipping around and hurling his scimitar across the cavern chamber. Instantly Captain Foxy fell to the ground, allowing the scimitar to soar over his head and embed itself in the ribcage of the skeleton he'd been fighting. The animated creature of bone let out a bloodcurdling shriek as it disintegrated into dust. The captain took the opportunity of the reprieve to dust off his jacket as his first mate jogged up to join him.

“Are you alright, captain?” Schmidt asked, concerned. “Those skeletons went down fighting.”

Captain Foxy shook his head. “Nay, I be fine, Mr. Schmidt,” he replied, although Schmidt could clearly see him wince in pain. Schmidt didn't see any blood, so it must have been an internal wound. “What about ye? Ye did a right bit o' fightin' also. Let yer cap'n check on yer health.”

“Well, I took a pretty rough cut to the arm,” Schmidt admitted, moving his left shoulder toward his captain to show a cut on his upper arm. It wasn't too deep, but it looked like it hurt badly, and Foxy winced at the sight of his prized first mate injured, even a little.

“Hold out yer arm, matey,” Foxy ordered, unclipping his cape from the latch on his neck cuff and swiftly ripping off a strip. Like a well-oiled machine the captain wrapped the strip around Schmidt's wound and tightened it. “Still hurtin'?” The first mate made a 'so-so' gesture with his hand, and Foxy leaned back and nodded. “Aye, good. Stick t' yer right arm, then. 'S yer bett'r arm anyway.”

“Of course, captain,” Schmidt nodded obediently.

“And stick close t' me 'till we be done here,” the captain stared down at his first mate with almost frightening intensity. “I lost plenty o' good men already, I ain't losin' ye.”

And with that, Foxy strode deeper into the cave, his first mate following obediently all the way.

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In the back of his mind, Schmidt offhandedly tallied all of the obstacles that he and the others had overcome to reach this point. During the month-long voyage alone there had been the storms, the rival pirate crews, the kraken (Schmidt prayed once again over his lost comrades), and the long, cold nights spent lying in the cramped underbelly of the Red Fox, and the less he thought about that, the better.

The Bleeding Isle itself was no better. Apparently the aforementioned 'blood' turned out to be a strange natural acid that dyed the waters around the isle dark red, hence the name. It nearly ate through the hull of the ship before they were finally able to dock in a safe location. But the damage had been done, and it had required every man the ship had (minus Foxy and Schmidt himself, of course) to stay behind and repair the ship, and hopefully scout out a safe route away from the island.

So only Captain Foxy and Mr. Schmidt had been able to enter the cavern that would hopefully lead to the legendary treasure, and after countless diabolical traps and strokes with death, they had at last reached their goal.

And it was worth it. Oh, God, was it worth it.

The heart of the cavern was enormous, large enough to fit a small fleet of ships with ease. And it was filled to the brim with treasure. It was like a small lake in its size, and deep enough in parts that the captain and his first mate would sink up to their waists in gold and jewels. Schmidt couldn't even begin to calculate the trove's true value, just trying made his head ache fiercely. It would be more than enough, though. With all of the treasure in that chamber, every single man aboard the Red Fox would be rich beyond measure. It was the kind of fate a pirate could only dream of, but here he was, and it was real.

“This... this be a right helluva somethin', aye Schmidt?” Captain Foxy whispered. He was every bit as stunned as Schmidt had been. Turning to look at the captain, Schmidt could almost see the light reflecting off the gold and into Foxy's eyes. It was a beauty beyond compare.

“...It is, captain,” Schmidt nodded. “And it's ours. It's all ours.”

“I see ye be the type ta jump ta conclusions a wee bit ta early.”

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...”