Chapter Text
It was a late morning when the Odyssey docked in the San Dimas harbour. Up on the quarterdeck, a young pirate was hopping up and down around the captain and his second in command - giddy with excitement.
“Please! Please let me go on shore. I promise I’ll be safe.”
His father, Captain Grant Wilson, was hesitant, hands still resting on the steering wheel. He chewed at his lip and looked to his husband beside him who offered a sympathetic smile.
“Grant, as long as he doesn’t stray past the town square it should be fine, right? I mean we’re just stopping for some supplies.” He suggested, smiling amicably at his son.
Linc quickly nodded, already slinging his satchel across his shoulder. By his side, he checked if his family compass was still attached to the leather, and was happy to find the familiar cold metal under his touch.
He looked at the island before him, luscious greenery and tall trees filled each empty space. It seemed to be teeming with life, and he wanted to dig his feet into it and breathe it in. Behind him, his father must’ve noticed his eagerness and sighed.
“Fine-”
“Yes!”
“-But.” Grant wagged a finger, “You have to be back before the afternoon and absolutely no going past the town square. We’ll meet you back at the Odyssey.”
The teen grinned and gave a big hug to both of his fathers before leaving the boat and running down the harbour to the village. He searched around, desperate for anyone to talk to who wasn’t his dad or his dad’s friends. In the faint distance, he spotted twelve children playing soccer with a pig-skin ball.
Jogging up, he ran into the crowd and swiftly joined the game. The kids were a bit surprised, but after he manoeuvred the ball out from one of the teens, it turned to excitement. It came naturally to him, he’d spend hours playing alone on the ship but here he felt alive. He felt like part of a team. They played for a little while until finally he scored a goal, his team cheering. But, one voice broke through.
“Boo! That was such a lame move!”
Linc turned around and spotted a girl sitting in a dark corner of a building, a knife glinting between her fingers before being tucked into her jacket.
“What?”
“You play like a wuss. Are you scared the ball’s gonna bite you or something?” Linc looked around to see if she meant someone else, but she was looking right at him. “Get some grit! Otherwise you’re just boring.”
“Do you have a problem with me or something?”
The girl stood up out of the shadows and Linc could finally get a good look at her. She was quite tall and lanky, so only a bit shorter than him. Several piercings glittered across her ears, her face obscured instead by a choppy fringe. The rest of her hair was tied up into two small buns, some of the strands brushing against a tattered black hood around her neck. She wore baggy, dark clothes that were clearly meant to obscure her when she wasn't yelling at strangers. Worst of all she wore a horrible scowl, currently being directed at him.
“Sure. Yeah, I can pick a fight with you.” Her hand moved towards her coat pocket, where she’d stashed her dagger away before. Linc paled, then stuttered as he tried to walk away.
“Woah, woah what? No, no, I didn’t mean it like a fight! I just thought you were being rude-”
“Oh! He thinks I’m ‘rude’ does he?” Her scowl twisted into a grin as she approached, and Linc’s back hit the wall of a wooden shack. Linc glanced over to the soccer players but they had moved away, the game moving further along the dusty path.
“Not rude! Anything but rude.”
The girl got so close, one hand pinning him to the wall and the other threateningly held in a fist over his cheek. Her eyes were piercing, a dark pool of black that reflected his own terrified face.
Then, the moment of tension was gone as she leaned back and cackled.
“Oh my god you really ARE a wuss! I wasn’t gonna kick the shit out of you, you’d probably just cry home to your parents.”
Linc’s face burned with embarrassment as he shoved her away. “You’re so weird.”
“Get used to it, the whole island’s weird.” Her voice was mocking, but without leaving a moment for Linc to reply, she slid behind the shack and ran away. Footprints in the dust was all that was left of her.
Linc brushed himself off and fixed his shirt a bit. To be safe, he checked through his satchel, and started to panic. Digging through, he couldn't find his compass. His breathing quickened. It was a family heirloom, Grant would kill him if he lost it. He knelt down and did a more thorough search. Still nothing, except his fingers brushed a piece of paper resting at the bottom. He pulled it out.
‘You’ve been robbed by SCARY Marlowe’
The writing was almost chicken-scratch, the words jagged and thick with ink. At least the culprit was clear now. Annoyed, he shoved the scrap of paper back into his satchel. He knew that wouldn't be the last time he'd see that girl, but he'd give her hell when he did.