Writer's Month Day 18: Free
Fandom: Carmen Sandiego (Netflix)
Word Count: 2,730 (just dawned on me to include this, lol)
Summary: Carmen and Player have some time to themselves before meeting up with the others, and Player has a fit of inspiration for a fun way to spend it. After all, a park lawn presently being watered by sprinklers is basically an open invitation.
Author's Note: Someone in this fandom (not sure who) formed the headcanon that Player takes a gap year when he turns 18 and travels the world with Carmen; this fic makes use of that. Happy readng!
âSo:â Player didnât look up from his phone as he walked, tapping and swiping through windows with practiced speed. âShadowsan should get here later this evening, and Ivy and Zach tomorrow. Their ACME job just wrapped up in Seoul, so theyâre good to hit an early flight first thing. Provided the plane leaves as scheduled, they should touch down sometime around ten-thirty, we all swing by the hotel to drop their stuff off, and then we should be good to get started on some sightseeing. Sound good?â
Merry lines crinkled around Carmenâs eyes as she looked over at Player, walking alongside her. He used the same clipped efficiency she remembered from the briefings that flowed through her comms before countless capers back when they were taking down VILE, and hearing it again caused something warm and comfortable to stir in her chest.
Was this what nostalgia felt like?
At the verbal nudge, Carmen blinked back to the mostly-empty park they were walking through and met his questioning look with a grin. âPerfect. Itâs almost like youâve done this before.â
âWho, me?â Player blinked up at her- heâd grown taller since she first saw him in-person, but she still had a good two or three inches on him- with obviously feigned innocence. âAn expert in booking flights and scheduling rendezvous? What do I look like, some kind of tech genius to an incurable globetrotter who still canât figure out how to book her own airline tickets?â
Carmen chuckled. âSomething like that. And hey,â his footsteps broke out of their steady rhythm as she nudged him playfully with her shoulder. âIâm getting there. I booked our tickets to Osaka myself, didnât I? And the train tickets to Matsumoto?â
He answered with an impressively flat look.
âOkay,â she amended. âMostly by myself.â Because no matter that she was the one operating the touchpad and clicking the appropriate buttons, the feat would have been impossible without Player perched next to her in the hotel, coaching her through each screen and patiently pointing out where to click.
âThatâs more like it. But hey, a few more cities, and youâll be a pro. Maybe not as good as me, of course...â
Carmen huffed a laugh.âI can live with that. You said weâve got time before meeting up with Shadowsan?â
Back down to the phone Player dove, pulling up and scrolling through windows with a speed Carmenâs eyes never could keep up with. âJust checking for any delays or traffic slow-downs...â he muttered as Carmen, at the rapid pattering of a jogger coming up behind them, took ahold of his elbow and steered him onto the grass (theyâd already nearly been bowled over by her twice and what kind of master thief nearly had the same accident three times?).
âAbout half an hour.â Player slid the phone back into his pocket, matching his stride to hers as they stepped back onto the pavement.
Carmen hummed thoughtfully. Not much time, relatively speaking, but after a couple of months traveling together, theyâd gotten remarkably good at making the most of even the briefest length of time. âWe can work with that. Anything you want to-â
A sharp hissing sound cut her off. They both stopped and looked towards sprawling emerald-green lawn the path bordered, where an army of sprinkler heads had just popped out of the ground and were busily filling the air with misty plumes of droplets, sprayed out in wide, sweeping arcs over the grass. Player whipped towards Carmen, grinning wide, eyes alight with a sudden idea.
Carmen tilted her head in confusion, brow arched in incomprehension. They were just sprinklers, nothing to get excited about.
âItâs a hot day,â he said in a leading tone, nodding towards the lawn. âWant to cool off a bit?â
....He couldnât be serious.
Her confusion must have showed (not that it would have made a difference if it didnât; sheâd never cease to be amazed by just how well he could read her), because now he was looking at her with disbelief. âDonât tell me youâve never ran through sprinklers?â
âUh...no?â Carmen looked over his shoulder at the grass being subjected to a localized rain shower, brows furrowed. Run *through* them? Was this a Canadian thing?
âSeriously?â Player looked at her quizzically. âNo one, like, ever set up sprinklers to water the Academy lawns?â
She shrugged flippantly. âNever needed to. It rained a lot.â
âArtificial turf. She said she gave up on grass a long time ago.â Because apparently, grass did not mix with dozens of kids stampeding over it day in and day out for a decade plus.
âUh-huh...â Player nodded slowly, letting her answer sink in. The second it did a grin burst across his face, impossibly wide and bright enough to cause Carmen to fight a squint. âThen this is perfect! I can finally show you something cool!â
The uncomprehending brow was arched higher. âNiagra Falls doesnât count?â Because from where she stood, thousands of gallons of water rushing over a cataract was definitely a more impressive sight than urban lawn care.
âThatâs different.â Player waved a hand, brushing aside one of the natural wonders of the world like it was as pedestrian as a rain puddle. âThis is a summertime tradition. Every kid does it at least once. You *have* to. Itâs the rule.â
A smirk answered him. âEven if I got hung up on rules-â (they both knew she still didnât), âIâm pretty sure they donât apply here. Iâm twenty-two.â
Player shrugged, unbothered by the technicality that was age. âSo? Better late than never.â He crossed his arms and looked at her archly. âDonât tell me the great Carmen Sandiego is afraid of getting a little wet?â
Carmen huffed through her nose. âOf course not.â
âItâs just...â she chewed her lip, rolling her eyes upwards, away from his quietly expectant face to search the cloudless sky for words, then shrugged lamely. âIâm just not used to doing âkid stuff?ââ A pathetic answer, she knew, especially since she knew Player knew what an average day at the orphanage looked like for her, but playing tag with the kids in her momâs yard or even Marco Polo with Zach and Ivy at a hotel pool (an old mainstay during their travels, one sheâd never tired of and was frankly looking forward to once they finished sightseeing tomorrow and returned to the hotel; now that Player was here, they were going to try teams) just felt...different from what Player was proposing.
She supposed VILE was to blame for her hesitation, at least partway. She *was not* a part of them, but their old lessons were still a part of her, from protecting the face to perfecting the featherlight touch that was a master of stealthâs perennial pride to more delicate lessons in criminal comportment, memories tinted with the posh, perfumed scent of Cleoâs classroom. A professional thief, per the haughty echo that still rang in the back of her thoughts, always carried themselves with dignity while out in the field, a mantle of aloofness that precluded any unsavory questions from passers-by being an indispensable part of any outfit. Accordingly, when sheâd taken up her own mission of bringing VILE to its knees, her modus operandi had, by habit, included the attitude of abstaining from any public displays of spectacle.
So, yes, VILE had a hand in her hesitation, but...not fully. Part of her sensed that even if she had grown up as her father intended, ignorant of them and away from their clutches, sheâd still be wearing the mantle, albeit out of nature. She just...wasnât that sort of person, she supposed, to spontaneously run through sprinklers in a public park, saving those indulgences in âkid stuffâ for more private venues; a mirror of sorts to how Zach and Ivy never did share her enjoyment of high-class galas (both far preferring the street fair fundraisers they frequented back in San Diego which, she could admit, held their own charms).
Playerâs expression softened as he listened between the lines. âI get it, Red, but look around.â She obediently did, scanning the park in all of a second. The day, even as it slid towards evening, was too hot for most people to brave the outdoors, and the only person in sight that same laser-focused jogger who had eyes only for the pavement speeding under her Reeboks.
Player followed Carmenâs gaze as she tracked the woman and, in answer to her knotting brows: âI doubt sheâd notice.â
Carmen didn't. True, the woman had proven to have commendable tunnel vision, but two definitely-not-kids running through sprinklers making a spectacle would likely be the exact sort of occurrence that would *force* her to take notice of her surroundings.
Hence her opinion remained unchanged: no way
But when she looked back at Player with a disagreement on her lips he was holding out a hand, hopeful, eager. âPlease, Red? Itâs fun...â
She supposed she should be embarrassed at how little it took for her to capitulate to puppy-dog-eyes and an enticing sing-song, but, well, what else could she do when such a request came from her best friend? And, well, when she looked at the sprinklers, still chkk chkk chkk-ing away, the sound oddly enticing, she couldnât ignore the fact that a part of her really did want to.
She offered one final rebuttal, but the smirk curving the words robbed it of any purpose beyond their old, familiar banter. âI doubt getting soaking wet in your clothes is fun.â
The second she set her hand in his, he tightened his grip and bolted onto the lawn, darting through the jets of water and dragging her after him. Droplets laughed against her skin, splashing and tickling her with a cool so sudden she gasped. Then the laughter was seeping into her, causing a light, tripping feeling to bubble up in her chest. Ahead of her, Player tugged left, taking Carmen in a zig zag path, not missing a jet of water, laughing loud as she shrieked at each spray they crashed through, the giddy, wheeling sensation in her chest at last spilling over into a rush, wild and without reserve, of girlish giggles.
The sound spurring him on, Player banked sharp to a right, heading for a sprinkler head whose fan shaped plume was arcing high, unfurling straight into the air. A wild light blazed in Carmen's eyes as she saw his intention, and she summoned a burst of speed so she was no longer being dragged behind him, but running alongside, then ahead, strides long and pounding as she gathered herself and leaped through the spray, elegant and unfettered to cause the roe envy. She kept her speed as she landed, heading for the next jet to the soundtrack of Player racing not terribly far behind, whooping in a way she hadnât heard before and cheering with abandon as she flew, arms spread out wide behind her, through spray after joyous spray, a wilding set free.
Crud, she would always be amazed at how good it felt to just play, no constraining rules or machinations for victory; no confining chessboard or suits of diamonds or spades to pen you in; just her and Player running through sprinklers, getting absolutely soaked for the fun of it. It was exhilarating in a way the capers never had been.
âThere!â Player, bangs dripping into his eyes, laughed when they at last came to a stop on the far side of the lawn. âTold you it was fun!â
Carmen pushed a tendril behind her ear. âYeah,â she panted, grinning wide, a lightness somersaulting joyously in her chest. Really, it was more than fun; she couldnât explain how, but the sensation of racing through the jets coupled with the feel of her decidedly damp shirt clinging to her skin was oddly freeing, unlatching a door inside her she hadnât realized had been shut and loosing all manner of coltish, frolicsome impulses she never knew were hidden inside her. She grinned slyly over at Player. âBut you know what would be more fun?â Not giving him time to answer, she tapped him on the head. âTag!â
âWha-â he blinked after her as she bolted through the sprinklers again, fleet as the wind and completely heedless of the jets, shouting, over her shoulder, âYouâre it!â
For a moment he stared, wondering how in the world Carmen, whoâd needed an explanation for âSimon saysâ when her mom asked her to lead the littler kids in a game, knew what âtagâ was (the possibility of Shadowsan teaching her back on the Island both did and did not make sense), then threw off contemplation in favor of, with a cry of âLa Femme Rogue!â that would have had Zach and Ivy in stitches and Julia trying very hard not to be, taking off after Carmen.
âYou will not escape this time!â
Such a bold statement very nearly came true as his quarry nearly doubled over laughing as she stumbled to a stop, hands wrapped around her middle (crud, that was a terrible impression).
âAh ha! She has a weakness!â
âNot fair!â Carmen panted as she straightened and resumed running, albeit with a smaller gap between pursuant and pursuer than before.
âAllâs fair in- WHOA!â
Proving that even in imitation she held the advantage over her old adversary, Carmen pivoted on a dime so Playerâs reaching hand armed with âTag!â completely missed its mark and, being propelled by its ownerâs momentum, proceeded to cause said owner to topple towards the ground. Player hastily tried to correct his balance, slow his fall, and regain footing in the slick grass, but ultimately his efforts proved futile, seeing him faceplant heavily- Thud! -on the ground.
A candle attacked by a bucket of water was doused slower than the sprightly mood that had glistened over the lawn.
âPlayer!â Carmen darted to kneel by her friend, breathing heavily but otherwise motionless. She moved to grasp his shoulder to shake, then thought better of it, leaving her hand hovering uncertainly in midair. âPlayer, I am so sorry, are- can you-â Crud, she much, *much* preferred being the unconscious one. âCan you even hear me?!?â
Carmen breathed out a sigh of relief (small relief, he could still be concussed or paralyzed or a dozen other grim possibilities). âPlayer, thank goodness, are you hurt or-â
âMâfine, Red. Just...â
She bent closer as he trailed off to hear better, completely missing how one of his hands was scuttling towards a sprinkler jet.
Grasping the head, Player shoved his thumb over the jet so it sprayed directly at Carmen.
âAUGH!!!â She fell back, spluttering and trying (uselessly) to shield her face from the spray with her hands as Player leapt to his feet, front smeared with mud and grass but eyes wild with fun. âThat doesnât count!â she managed once the water was back on its normal trajectory. âYou didnât tag me!â
âEh,â Player shrugged, unrepentant. âA technicality. Besides, I thought you didnât get hung up on rules?â
âFair point,â Carmen, after some deliberation, conceded with a slow, thoughtful nod. She stood, idly brushing some blades of grass from her thighs. âAnd since weâre playing that way...â
She glanced up at Player, and he gulped, catching the way the sun snagged on the mischievous glint in Carmenâs eyes. âUh oh.â
âIâll give you a head start.â
On her next circuit, the impossible happened and the jogger paused, running in place as she watched the pair frolicking in the sprinklers, the earlier game of Tag having devolved into a tickle fight. A smile blossomed across her face and she turned to a man who had just materialized beside her, also watching the pair. âNice to see young people enjoying themselves.â
âYes.â The man nodded his concurrence, the years melting from his weathered face at an especially wild peal from the girl as the boy attacked an unusually ticklish spot on her ribs (no regrets on divulging that secret to him, that was certain). âIt most certainly is.â
And none, Shadowsan thought with a grin as the jogger moved on and he turned back the way he came, letting Carmen and Player have this moment to themselves, the laughter frolicking at his heels lifting the corners of his mouth, deserve it more.
