SCENE I: The Deck of "The Prince of Cats."
(The ship slices through rough Atlantic waters under a dense, foggy sky. GERTRUDE stands by the railing, testing her green earth-magic by levitating sea foam. OPHELIA hovers slightly above the wooden floorboards, adjusting the dimensional navigation tracking on Missiletainn .)

GERTRUDE
The captain said we are heading straight for London, Ophelia. But the atmosphere on this vessel feels incredibly volatile. The crew keeps hissing at us, and the sails smell vaguely of catnip.

OPHELIA
(Her voice humming with celestial static)
Do not let your guard down, Gertrude. This ship was a forced spawn in our traversal path. I sense a major script-hijack incoming.

(Suddenly, a shadow drops from the mainmast. Enter TYBALT, the Prince of Cats. He is dressed in tight black leather, sporting a pencil mustache, and twirling a razor-sharp rapier with malicious intent.)

TYBALT
Halt, trespassing maidens! You sail upon the private transport of the Capulet Vanguard! I am Tybalt, the most flawless fencer in Verona, and I do not tolerate low-tier hitchhikers on my grind!

OPHELIA
(Yawning, not even looking up from her book)
Tybalt ? You are a Level 15 mini-boss from a completely different tragedy. Move aside, or I will turn your leather outfit into actual ash.

TYBALT
(Hissing fiercely, stepping into a frame-perfect fencing stance)
A plague on both your houses! Witness the feline agility of a true fencer! En Garde!

[Alarum. Tybalt lunges with maximum velocity, executing a rapid triple-strike. OPHELIA casually lifts two fingers, casting a minor Celestial Deflection . Tybalt’s rapier hits the invisible shield, vibrates violently, and flies out of his hand, embedding itself deep into the ship's mast. Tybalt stumbles backward, staring at his empty hands in complete disbelief.]

TYBALT
My frame data... it was completely bypassed! My weapon was uninstalled!

SCENE II: The Boarding of the Black Pearl.
(Before Ophelia can finish him, a loud explosion rocks the hull. Wood splinters fly everywhere. Out of the dense fog, another ship rams them sideways. A grappling hook swings across, and swinging wildly on a rope comes CAPTAIN JACK SPARROW . He lands on the deck, stumbling immediately, smelling heavily of rum.)

JACK SPARROW
(Flailing his arms, squinting heavily at everyone)
Stop right there! You have officially face-to-faced the legendary... Captain... Jack... Sparrow! I am here to commandeer this highly aesthetic vessel for pirate purposes. Wait... why is that book glowing? Is it shiny? Can I eat it?

TYBALT
(Retrieving his rapier from the mast, furious)
Another interloper! Men, attck ! Turn this pirate into fish bait!

[A chaotic multi-way melee breaks out. Tybalt’s Capulet guards scramble across the deck, clashing swords with Jack Sparrow's skeleton crew. Jack is clumsily dodging sword swipes by ducking behind wine barrels and tripping over his own boots.]

OPHELIA
(Rubbing her temples in deep frustration)
Enough! I am trying to save Hamlet from an ancient Greek philosopher, and I am currently being delayed by a Shakespearean cat-man and a Disney crossover! Gertrude, clean the field!

GERTRUDE
(Stepping forward, her green earth-aura flaring as she taps into the primal magic of the ocean floor below)
With pleasure, dear. "Curandera’s Tide: The Global Reset!"

[Gertrude slams her glowing green fists into the wooden deck. A massive, localized tidal wave rises straight out of the ocean, crashing directly over the deck of The Prince of Cats. The rushing water selectively targets Tybalt and his crew, sweeping them completely off the ship and washing them away into the stormy sea in a synchronized splash.]

SCENE III: The Ruined Docks.
(The sheer force of Gertrude's wave fractures the hull. The ship groans, splintering as it careens through the fog. CAPTAIN JACK SPARROW is already sitting in a tiny, comical rowboat drifting away from the wreckage, waving his tricorn hat.)

JACK SPARROW
(Shouting from the distance)
You will always remember this as the day you almost... drowned Captain Jack Sparrow! Good luck with your book magic, ladies! Cheerio!

(Jack swiftly rows away into the fog, disappearing instantly.)

OPHELIA
(Lifting Gertrude as the ship undergoes a violent crash, grinding against a muddy shoreline with a thunderous crunch)
Brace for impact!

[The ship completely wrecks on the shore, the mast snapping in half. The fog slowly clears. OPHELIA and GERTRUDE stand up amidst the wooden debris, brushing sand off their raiment. They look up to see a large, rusted iron road sign sticking out of the mud.)

GERTRUDE
(Squinting through her spectacles at the writing on the sign)
Well, we aren't in Egypt, Ophelia. Look at that.

(The camera pans to the sign, which reads in bold, gothic letters: "LONDON: 50 MILES" )

OPHELIA
(Slamming Missiletainn closed with an irritated thud)
Socrates is manipulating the fast-travel nodes. We are in the wrong country entirely.