Caution Advised
This thread may include adult content including violence, strong language or nudity, readers' discretion is advised.


Queen of Crime
Color #
When Carmen entered VILE’s mess hall, a superintendent came to her. Maple Landon worked the night shift here. She was one of Vincent Fumigalli’s hired team of engineers, but she found higher calling in the kitchen. Naturally a night owl, she liked the lowkey environment of serving midnight eats instead of dealing with the mealtime rush. It also gave her time to spend on video calls with her sister in Australia.

“It’s been a while,” Maple’s smile pushed into her warm green eyes, “would you like the usual scrambled eggs?”

“No thank you,” Carmen replied softly, a sudden sense of familiarity let her mirror the woman’s smile. She then hinted to Neb’s back as cheese piled onto a plate, “What is she having?”

“Tacos,” Maple nodded, “would you like that? Soft shell, tomato sauce, roasted chicken?”

The thief agreed, “Yes please, I’ll be right over there.”

Walking up to Neb, Carmen’s eyes momentarily followed hers across the hall before settling back down.

“Hello,” in the serenity, she greeted, “May I sit here?”


The VILEiest VILE to ever VILE a VILE
Known Aliases
Nebuchadnezzar (Neb) Ullyss (formerly Kid Kidman), Kitty, Seryy Pripyat
Color #
The smaller woman’s gaze had lingered on the exact wrong end of the room a few seconds too long, allowing the sneaker-clad master thief to appear in front of her unnoticed.

Jesus mother of-, what are you doing here?!” Neb started as her taco jumped out of her hand, then caught herself. “Wait... Of course you would be here. This is your base,” she ended, mortified.

Awkward seconds followed as she scrambled to regain her bearings, then recalled Carmen’s original question and nodded. “I’m sorry, I... just wasn’t expecting to see you,” she said in apology, praying that the emotion behind that statement was hidden from view.

A politely receptive expression displayed at Neb’s series of reactions. That gesture was endearing to her, and Carmen smiled kindly.

“I doubt many expect me anywhere,” the thief replied, sat down and crossed her legs, “Flag picked me up, in fact; from Abu Dhabi. We landed a few hours… ago…”

The gray knit headwear was rather distracting, and Carmen paused. She studied the woman’s expressive eyes and the scars that marked her face. Despite their cause, these lines formed a look signature to Neb, and the observer drew a fond conclusion that she could not imagine seeing this face without them.

“May I remove your hat?” She wanted a better view of her shy audience.

Neb stiffened at the mention of Flag and she quickly averted her eyes. So that’s where he was. ...They were together. “Oh,” she said quietly. Then Carmen’s second question landed and she cringed inwardly.

“I, uh…”

She couldn’t say no; she owed this woman too much, but she couldn’t help but recall when ACME’s director had removed something similar. “Yeah.”

With thankful affirmation, Carmen lifted the mess of knit from strands of short pallid hair. This gave her time to evaluate that singular ‘oh’ and the slight chill surrounding it. She had sent Neb to train under Flag, what transpired?

“A heist ended with you injured,” she opened, “How are you now?”

Neb’s cheeks burned as what remained of her brittle, thinning hair was revealed, and she kept her eyes on her food. “It’s not too bad,” she said as she tested her arm. “It’s still stiff and hurts a bit, but I can do most things with it now.”

The small woman paused, then added softly. “Thank you for my treatment.”

Carmen focused on Neb’s restrained movements, and after she listened, lifted a hand to feel the arm for herself. Her lips curved receptively in response to the expression of gratitude, but she remained in thought. For measure, another few weeks under care may be needed.

For a few minutes she didn’t say anything more, uncertain what to do. This was not expected. None of this was expected, and she struggled to keep her distance, but the urge to connect with her long lost ally was strong.

“So…. How are you?”

The follow-up question triggered a raise of brows. Indeed, how was she? Was she well, since Kamchatka, was she still recovering from something long triggered, or was she simply in undecided limbo?

Carmen respired a long silent breath as she touched Neb’s wrist absently. “I’m better today,” she concluded. “In my latest activities report, you cancelled your upcoming checkups.” She recalled what she saw while reviewing documents enroute to Stone Harbour.


The physical contact startled her, having been so long denied it, and Neb momentarily lost her train of thought. Then she swore inwardly. She’d wanted to keep those checkups open and then simply not show, but in Carmen’s absence the odds of anyone checking them were close to nil, and she felt she owed her fellow healers some courtesy.

That had come back to bite her.

“I….” she replied almost soundlessly. “...did something stupid, and now I have to hide. .”

She looked up at Carmen with a regretful smile. “Thank you for everything you’ve given me. You’ve saved my life over and over again. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, but I’m glad I did, so I could properly thank you and say goodbye.”

Turning her head at a slight angle, the thief listened with empathy. If anyone knew about errors and escape…

Maple arrived to deliver the tacos and VILE’s leader nodded to her with thanks. After that brief distraction, she leaned forward.

Neb’s tone was revealing. She was grateful in part, fearful in part, but overall cornered into believing that her options were constricted. Carmen knew this was a turning point, that neither Neb nor herself would be blameless if the healer was left to her own defenses.

“Alright,” a compassionate acknowledgement preceded her next words, “Precisely whom are you hiding from?”

Neb bit her lip hard as her heart sped up and she half focused her gaze at a nearby chair leg. She wanted to end the conversation and get on with her evacuation, but at the last possible moment the only person she could fully entrust her secrets to had materialized before her. It was too much to resist.

“What do you do…" she began, "When you find you’ve become attached to the worst possible person for you?”

The ‘worst possible person for you’ scale was difficult to establish, but despite, more than a few identities materialized in Carmen’s head. Of course she detached from anyone whose bond to her felt taxing, but she enjoyed affinity in general.

“What is this about?” The thief inquired promptly, “Who are you attached to?”

Neb’s face flushed bright red, and she tugged nervously at her collar to release the heat building up under her coat.

“I don’t want to get anyone in trouble," she mumbled at the table, "especially not him. He needs this place. You’re the only person he seems to like. I don’t want to take that away from him...”

Sweat began to drip down the side of her neck and she finally unzipped her coat, revealing more of her accumulated damage. “It’s just, he’s my blind spot. I can’t have that going on.”

Lightly, she breathes, “I can’t tell you what you must do, because I don’t know the entire story.” Carmen stood to help Neb remove her coat, “I also don’t know how you’ll survive out there.”

“What I can offer you…,” she glanced at the scars as she pulled the windbreaker off and took a seat in the adjacent chair, “is a listening ear, and some form of protection.”

A brief pause cut her thoughts, as if her words once belonged to someone else.

“If you need anything, come to me,” this statement was definitive, “but I can’t help you from yourself, so remember to share.”

Neb felt tears sting at the corners of her eyes. She’d had this dream before, but it had always proven to be just that. The master thief generally resisted close companionship, something made clear to the girl by how VILE’s structure had changed from the centralized community she’d grown up in, to a loose, transient alliance it was now.

Carmen's offer didn't make sense to her in that light, but she had little choice. Her boss was right. Without steady access to healthcare, the girl's gamble would probably fail. She stared at the woman across from her, a ghost suddenly so close, so real. Neb reached out to confirm, but stopped short, uncertain where the boundary lay between them.

“ sure you’re okay with that?” she asked, her voice wavering between hope and fear.

A glint in the leader’s eyes preceded her signature self-congratulatory smile. Catching Neb’s reach in her palm, she quickly placed another hand to enclose it.

“I hope you’re not questioning me,” she spoke with mocked seriousness, and then continued, “I’ll be in the observation deck tomorrow morning, meet me there.”

She didn’t remember moving, but when reality reached Neb again she found herself in Carmen’s arms. Silent tears of gratitude stained the woman’s signature coat. She had wished for a moment like this, and maybe after so many years of holding herself up, it was time to try to trust again. "I'll be there," her promise was clear.

[This post was co-written with @Carmen]
Last edited:


Known Aliases
Boss (situational)
Color #
ACME HQ, San Francisco, CA

Accolade’s 21st floor had one of the best views in San Francisco—that perfect height between the city’s towers and its iconic rooftops. Chase Devineaux arrived from an early flight, landing in ACME’s Airfield and shuttled his way to the main compound. He wanted the day off and maybe a slow afternoon catching up on sleep, but a member of the Board was coincidentally in town and wanted to meet him as soon as humanly possible.

Pacing to his office, Devineaux didn’t notice San Francisco's sweeping skylines or spectacular golden sunrise, but he did nod to Board Secretary Gunther Metzger, who coincidentally sneezed. The trumpeting noise surprised Renee, Chase’s trusty assistant. She dropped her reports and wasn’t able to warn him before he opened the door.

Standing behind the director’s desk with an iced tumbler in hand was former political lawyer and ACME’s current CEO, Barbara Rosen. When he entered, she put the glass down.

“Why were you in Siberia?” Rosen’s deep piercing tone delivered a loaded question.

I was on vacation,” Chase gave a rehearsed reply then took an opposite seat. They’ve been through similar sessions before—she’d ask the questions, he’d answer casually, then she’d shoot him with something he should have disclosed or known, but didn’t.

Rosen said nothing and took a seat in the director’s usual Herman Miller.

Devineaux narrowed his eyes.

An uncomfortable pause stretched until the employee opened his mouth.

“I need you to go back there,” Rosen interrupted, “One of our sister ‘espionage’ organizations is missing a spy.”

And what makes you think this has something to do with me?

She looked grim, Chase thought, but not the sort of lowered glare that came from being ACME’s top decision-maker. It was more as if she was trying to say as little as possible.

“His last transmission had pictures of you,” her words were carved from granite, “a black car, a red car, and--”

Right,” Devineaux nodded, “I get it.

He was going back to Siberia.

Barbara Rosen lifted her glass and twisted her wrist to stir the ice within. This was her agreement.

Is that all?” Chase took her empty glass and placed it on a side table. This was, after all, still his office.

The older woman shrugged effortlessly and stood up to leave, “Do something with that beard.”


Known Aliases
Boss (situational)
Color #
An hour later…

Give me some good news, Renee,” Chase Devineaux sat in his office chair while Renee Grovesnor handed him closed case files that needed his signature.

“Mrs. Rosen did say she won’t negotiate with the kidnappers in a memo to the board,” natural curiosity prevailed, “so why would she have you go back to Siberia?”

Official and unofficial,” Chase answered, “two different sorts of negotiations… two different sorts of repercussions.

“Well…,” the assistant sat down in a guest chair and stared at him blinkless for a moment.

You have something in mind?” he picked up his pen, pausing it mid-air.

“You told me to run that voice recording, from Lake Baikal?”

Chase nodded.

“It doesn’t have a specific match from our databases…”


“But,” Renee pulled her chair closer, “I remember very few people ever calling you Mr. Devineaux, that way. So I thought I’d check the old files from Venice, and Kamchatka, when we did that joint operations?”

It’s not Carmen Sandiego,” Devineaux interrupted, “don’t waste your time.

“It’s not,” she replied affirmatively, “the voice belongs to a VILE associate with the alias Patty Larceny.”

Chase considered the possibility of Patty joining an environmentalist group and leaned back into his chair. “Christ,” he chuckled lightly, “is this all I’m dealing with?

“I suggest you send someone else to handle this situation,” Renee proffered, “Clearly, it’s soft negotiations and your time is better spent on the Lopé National Park issue in Gabon.”

No, it’s fine,” a shrug later, Chase was back to signing papers, “I’m going to close this thing with Larceny and wrap up the spy’s release. I was there, should be me.

The woman smiled and gandered through her boss’s timetable.

Her Imagination,” she spoke the name of Chase’s boat, “You have people resealing her deck midweek should I reschedule?”

Keep it,” he insisted, “I’ll be back by then.


Color #
The floor of the Mamba was not carpeted, but it did have a nice, corrugated rubber runway that Flag could see stretch out into infinity from his vantage point. It was a good choice in flooring for an amphibious vessel.

Rolling onto his back, he noted the ceiling was smooth in comparison, but also textured. He had no mental comment on this and he pulled his feet from the chair he had abandoned in his slumber. Sitting up he pondered on the events that lead him to this state.

He had left the museum with Carmen, boarded this behemoth of a mobile base, and together they sat to wait out the trip in the company of the submersibles crew. She had work to oversee and had pulled out a tablet, while the fact that he had been awake for 48 or more hours had finally caught up with him.

Surprisingly, he slept well. For the first time in a long while, he subconsciously acknowledged that there was no chance that his rest would be disrupted. He was safe, even if uncomfortable. Snoozing half-on/half-off a chair had not been the best of ideas.

Shedding the coat of his now stolen suit and unbuttoning the constricting top buttons on his shirt, he left the segmented machine and entered the islands subterranean level. This was the work home of VILE's scientists - whom he didn't know, but had some appreciation for. It was also a bit of a maze to exit and he had gotten lost a few times before making it to the surface.

Flag found himself on a familiar boardwalk and oriented himself on it so as to arrive at the theater central to the islands secret crime organization. He paused briefly at a small wrought iron table positioned under a street lamp and cracked a rare smile at a memory it brought. Before he could remember that night in detail, he caught wind of the fact that he was not alone in the light of the early morning.

Acton Roux

Color #
[Co-post: Acton/Flag]

The doctor had left his laboratory, locking its large doors with an iron clad bolt. Each early morning he would take the side alley from his workshop past the back of the theater until he reached another small road that took him to the living quarters and his apartment. Yet today, with heightened activity from the incoming MAMBA, much of the staff were busy preparing to impress the Indomitable Carmen Sandiego. The alleys were cluttered with boxes heading to and from VILE's newest flying machine.

So it was that Dr Acton Roux took a different turn and spotted Flag upon the boardwalk. The observed curiously paused at a street lamp. Acton suddenly recalled something he read as part of his study into this man after Kamchatka. Thus, as Flag turned to his direction, the masked doctor ducked as if expecting an attack.

When nothing happened, he smoothed out his sleeves and nodded sheepishly, "I... thought you wielded lightning," under his muffled masked, he made a nervous chuckle, "good morning, you have returned, no?"

Flag found himself surprised by the man's surprise and had leaned back a little in reaction. He then settled in kind before raising an eyebrow at the doctor's first question. Instead of answering it, however, he moved on to address the second. "I seem to have. It looks like Stone Harbor."

After a moment of silence the Sivoan nodded a brief "thank you for your help a few weeks back" and stepped forward to continue his trek to the theater.

Acton Roux stood still for some moments before he decided it was quite all right to follow his superior officer. Even though the atmosphere in VILE has no true ranking, the Frenchman by habit was keen to keep himself from overstepping bounds.

Walking in shuffling feet next to the suited man, he made a comment, "Were you at a ball?" Parties were rare, the last he recalled VILE members speaking of was one in Venice, some Blue Moons ago.

"Auction." He glanced at the doctor. "It was in a museum."

"A oui," the masked muttered, but then he became curious very quickly, "With..." he paused to wonder why he was so curious but it was too late to change his question, "...The Lady?"

A softness added itself to Flag’s normally neutral expression before dissolving into faint concern. "Yeah."

Acton took many seconds to read Flag's reaction. Then it occurred to him that he had spoken a few too many words, and then remained silent for too long. "Yes... oui," he added softly.


Joe Kerr

VILE Trickster
Known Aliases
Joey, Joseph,
Color #
[Co-post between Joe Kerr, Flag, and Acton]

Joseph walked awkwardly up to the duo; he hadn’t meant to eavesdrop but he had heard a familiar french accent and decided to investigate. He had just turned the corner when he had come upon the good doctor and the silver-haired enigma in the dying throes of their conversation.

“Ahem, good morning gentlemen. Sorry to interrupt.”

“Doctor,” he turned to address Roux with a smile, “always good to see you. Thank you again for treating Neb. I trust you’ve been well?”

“Oui, that was my pleasure,” the doctor returned Joe's happy greeting. The respectable jester was an astounding chemist as well, and all feelings are mutual, “I have been good, it is nice to see you also.”

He did give an acknowledgement from behind his mask, but he remained quiet for the duration.

Turning to Flag, his smile faded slightly as he nodded more in respect than amiability. “Flag.”
For a brief moment, some unspoken conversation seemed to occur as Joseph looked up into the Sivoan’s eyes silently and respectfully, without challenge or anger.

“How is she?”

To that question, Acton tensed involuntarily. (to be added only if it makes the sense)

This question again. Flag greeted Joe with a nod before pausing to consider which "she" the jester meant. The last that he had seen the man, he was on the verge of fighting with him in the hospital room of a female cohort on the mend. However, that had been several weeks ago and the jester had more of a chance to visit her since he himself had left the island. This suggested that he meant their leader, whom he had returned to the island with the previous evening.

Guessing was preposterous. The answer to both possible references was the same and he repeated the words he had uttered to a certain detective years ago. "She's fine."

“She always is, somehow. Though with how close she plays her cards, you have to wonder sometimes…”

Mr Kerr was right, the masked doctor considered, her resourcefulness gave her strength, but she was often opaque and difficult to read.

"She has yet to complete her mid-year check-up," Acton spoke up without prelude. In the seconds that ticked after, Dr Roux wondered if the 'she' on his mind was the same 'she' in the minds of his peers. "I mean to say Carmen," he decided to clarify, "Carmen's medical files have not been updated since last year."



Queen of Crime
Color #
"Are you in charge of that, Acton?" With the North Wind, her voice glided down before her footsteps. Carmen woke approximately forty-five minutes ago, slightly later than she had hoped. With both hands in their respective coat pockets, her brisk pace slowed as the thief approached her comrades.

First, she greeted the masked man. "Last I checked, you were not,” her voice softened and she politely nodded, “but I appreciate the sentiment."

With Joe Kerr, she leaned in to kiss his left cheek and then his right, "I hope you're well, Mr Kerr, we need to catch up."

For the last man was a casually stated "Hello," as she scrutinized him slightly and then smiled without reservation, "I take it that you haven't showered since we landed?"


Color #
The concern from the doctor was odd enough, but the commentary from their topic of conversation made it easy for Flag to return her grin. He shrugged at her inquiry. "Heading there now."

Joe Kerr

VILE Trickster
Known Aliases
Joey, Joseph,
Color #
[Cowritten between Joe Kerr, Carmen, and Flag]

Interacting with Carmen never stopped being surreal for Joseph. Here was a woman so mysterious that she was considered by many to be merely a myth; those outside of VILE that did know of her thought her to be cold, emotionless, calculating, unapproachable. It was only within the hallowed sanctum of VILE’s corridors that a select few would be graced with the privilege of seeing her without her icy mask, albeit sometimes for only a brief few moments;

It always intrigued the jester how Carmen could be cold and businesslike one moment and yet the next, should she choose to, be one of the warmest and most caring people he had ever met. Case in point, her greetings were tailored to each individual; she cared enough to know how each member of her team thought and functioned, and took the time to convey the appropriate amount of concern required in each case.

Smiling warmly, he addressed his favourite and only employer.
“It’s always a pleasure to see you Carmen, and I would be delighted to catch up with you. Maybe over a nice English Breakfast? However, if you would excuse me for just a moment, I do have something I need to briefly discuss with Flag first.”

“Of course,” Carmen nodded in agreement.

Turning to Flag, Joe’s warm smile switched into a more serious expression as he gestured to a room off to the side.
“Flag, may I have a word with you in private?”

Flag's own smile faded as he acknowledge the jester's request and nodded. "Fine, but hold on." Before departing he returned his attention to Carmen "Where shall I find you after this?"



Queen of Crime
Color #
[Co-Post: Carmen/Acton]

To Flag’s question, she answered, “Come see me at the clock tower when you’re done. Both of you.”

Stepping diagonally towards the masked Frenchman, she placed her hands back into her pockets as if ready to march.

“Walk with me, Acton,” she led the way in a pair of white Converse with short, untied laces, “and keep up, please.”

Acton looked at his leader, then back to Flag and Joe, then again back to his leader. She was already many steps away, and he scurried to catch up to her quick pace. How a woman may walk so fast with untied laces is a mystery.

Carmen slowed down slightly to let the doctor close the gap between them, and then she tilted her head to glance at him with a smile.

“Good, you’re keeping up,” she jested.

Dr Roux chuckled under his mask and tried not to huff too loudly, “Oui, but you slowed down for me.”

Carmen walked a breath slower, and then exhaled a mist into the cold air. “Give me honesty, Acton,” she spoke while looking straight ahead; pink clouds rose over a glittering gold ocean, “When was the last time you spoke to Adrianna?”

Acton Roux froze, and fumbled for the right words. He had not known he dreaded this question until seconds before it was asked. It was not because he valued his innocence, no. It was because he did not know Contessa Adrianna Covrenzi well enough to disprove his own involvement in anything that she did.

His silence may have spoken guilt in volumes, but the forgiving thief understood his plight. As they neared the clock tower, she decided to ease his mind.

“I received a call,” she began the tale in a slightly sombre tone, “It was Patty.”

The doctor turned sharply to his boss, but she her eyes remained straight ahead.

“She wanted to talk, something about Adrianna, but I was… busy.” Carmen walked up the steps towards the tower’s hall and elevator, “I told her I’d call her back, but I didn’t, not until the next day.”

The elevator opened as she approached, and once the door closed, she exhaled again.

“She never picked up, I called again, she cancelled,” here, she turned to the doctor, “And then I lost her.”

Acton felt this was a moment not fitting for a mask, so he reached up to remove the covering.

Carmen placed a hand over his to stop him. She appreciated the gesture, but she wasn’t interested in consolation.

“So I wanted to ask,” she continued, “for clarity, if you were still in contact with Adrianna Covrenzi.”

“No,” Acton Roux confessed. It was truth, he had not seen either the Contessa or Patty for some time, “I am sorry.”

Joe Kerr

VILE Trickster
Known Aliases
Joey, Joseph,
Color #
[Co-Written: Joe Kerr/Flag]

Once he was sure they were out of ear range of anyone else, Joseph turned to address Flag in what he hoped came across as an earnest, none-too-demanding demeanor.

“Look Flag, I know we don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things, and frankly, I’ll admit, I don’t really trust you. But,” Joseph paused to look up into his eyes. “I need a favour.”

The Sivoan had been pushing the conversation through the mess hall and into a side corridor, on his way to the set of ‘green rooms’ to follow through on his new apparent promise to their employer, but the man's request gave him pause. This was a weird day.

Without saying anything more, he gestured for the jester to speak.

Nodding, Joseph continued.
“This favour, it concerns our mutual friend, Neb. I take it you are aware of her plans regarding the object of our last heist?”

Joseph had the good grace to wince as he said that last part, recalling that the less than stellar ending to their last adventure had been the cause of some considerable angst for all three of them.

Flag crossed his arms, quirking a brow as he did so. "She told me a little."

The jester let out a sigh before continuing. “I don’t really agree with her course of action, but we both know there’s no changing her mind once she’s set on something. ”

Pausing to let out a small smile at a memory of Neb, Joseph huffed before continuing.

“But, as much as I don’t endorse her choice, I don’t want her to have to go through it alone. She won’t admit it but she needs someone to there to pull her back if she is becoming too reckless; she’ll need someone to support her, to advise her regarding this stuff; someone who can protect her if things go horribly wrong. Someone,”

A huff of a laugh escaped Flag and he shook his head before starting them back down the corridor. The girl already had access to his same resources on this planet and, frankly, they were lacking a thing or two. It was likely she wouldn't succeed without them, which meant that Joe would probably get his ultimate wish. Despite this, her quest was more intriguing to the sorcerer than it was troubling.

"You're asking me to make sure that she doesn't kill herself in her attempts to make herself immortal? That's..." Flag was stuck somewhere between wanting to laugh and wanting to delve into the math of it all, but the only word he could think of was "interesting."

“Just...please look out for her,” Joseph called back to the retreating figure.

“You’re the only one who can.” he added in a soft, melancholy tone.

Shaking his head, the Jester made his way to the mess hall to grab a quick bite enroute to the observation deck.

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