What happens when one crosses Zorro with Marik Ishtar?
Foxy Boxes! HAHAHA
… never mind …

Señor Varela had falsely accused him for being the one responsible for the murder of his wife and their couriers. Nonetheless, Diego wasn't at all angry because of the false accusation, he understood that in a position as that of the señor he'd be unreasonable too.

Both to proof his innocence and because he felt sorry for señor Varela he returned to where the six had been murdered. Like before, they were all still in the place they had been left, nobody daring to come close.

Upon arriving there he once again send Tornado away, scared that the stallion would get caught in the wrong place. Cautiously Zorro thread forward, making his way towards where the six were murdered slowly. For once he was scared. This ruthless murderer was much less predictable than he had thought to begin with and that was reason for worry.

In the dark he tripped. When he turned around to see what it was he had tripped over he saw that it was a fox. He, El Zorro, the fox, had tripped over one of his aliados. The fox was dead. It had not died from the so called curse, but because of scabies Zorro noticed uncomfortable. Tripping over a dead fox in his position seemed rather … ominous.

He made a displeased noise as he crawled to his feet. The threat of this curse was putting them all on edge, especially him who had escaped it so narrowly. It was mere bad luck that he had tripped over the dead fox, nothing else, it could not be a sign. With renewed, although wavering, resolution he continued on his path.

When he was within acceptable distance from the scene he stopped. He waited a few minutes for the moon to come out from behind the clouds, it was too dark to start working as of yet. When ten minutes later the full moon shone down on the scene he gasped. This scene was worse than the previous ones he had seen. If the other soldiers had been parted, these had been diced. Zorro was a bit disgruntled, giving the men the possibility to be buried had seemed like a decent thing to do, though in their current condition there really was nothing left to be buried. A sea of blood was covering the ground and the black carriage standing in the middle of it all seemed like a skeleton. It all came straight from a horror-tale.

On the floor of the carriage lay the señora, her white dress shone in the moonlight. She almost looked like a ghost. Thinking of ghosts in his current situation was a remarkable poor idea and Zorro shrugged the thought off. The señora, unlike the men, was not diced, she had one single slash across her torso. It was indisputably fatal, but was also far gentler than anything this killer had done before. Why? Had perhaps the carriage protected her from further injuries? It was possible.

Regardless of the reason, it was the first little streak of luck that he had with him tonight. Using his lasso he was able to remove her from the murder-scene. He felt bad about having to drag the corpse of a dead woman down from the carriage and over the blood-soaked ground in such a disgraceful manner, but it couldn't be helped, he did not really feel like becoming part of the horrifying scene.

As soon as he had señora Varela in a safe distance he removed the lasso and whistled for Tornado who came at once. He carefully lifted the señora and placed her on Tornado's back. Then, by foot, he removed himself as far away from the spot as possible, he would not take any chances. Then he set of for the pueblo.

Upon arriving in Los Angeles it was early morning. Only a few vaqueros and servants were awake, so he took a dare. He did not move in the shadows, like usual, but simply walked up the plaza, leading Tornado.

The first to notice him was a vaquero. Zorro recognized them as one of the vaqueros who had claimed that there was no way that Zorro could be responsible for the murders. "Señor Zorro", he said surprised, "what are you doing here?"

"Could you please go wake up señor Varela for me", Zorro asked and the vaquero nodded. Within a matter of seconds he had entered the tavern, on the way to awake the man from Spain. Zorro waited patiently, keeping a steady eye on the quartel. He would prefer not to be shot just yet.

A little later the vaquero left the tavern, followed by a half dressed señor Varela. "Zorro!" the señor hissed furiously.

"I feel guilt for what happened to your wife and couriers, señor, even though I am not responsible. I honestly tried to protect your life, not to endanger it." Zorro approached carefully and he saw señor Varela's eyes wander towards the figure on Tornado's back. "The least I can do is assure that you can give her a proper funeral." He lifted the señora of Tornado's back.

"Capitan!" someone yelled, a guard of the quartel has spotted him at last. "Capitan! It is El Zorro!" The gates to the quartel opened and out stormed an unordered legion of lancers lead by sergeant Garcia. They were followed by a still dressing capitan Monastario.

"Shoot him!" the commandante yelled.

"Hold your fire!" señor Varela countered quickly, his anger evident in both his voice and expression. The lancers obeyed. "The first one to fire a single shot will be court martialed, understood?"

"Sí, señor", the sergeant said, a bit relieved. The commandante did not look happy but obliged. "Lower your weapons!"

With quick strides the señor walked forth. Zorro, with his hands full, was no threat to him. With a meter or so between the two left señor Varela stopped and looked first at his dead wife, then he looked the outlaw in the eyes. Then he nodded slowly. "You have sincere eyes, señor Zorro."

Zorro did not flinch. He hoped that his eyes did not only show that he was sincere, but also that he was sorry.

"Tell me", señor Varela said, "if this curse kills so ruthlessly, then how come you were able to get my wife and remain unharmed."

"A lasso, señor", Zorro said, "dead objects are unaffected. I could not do anything for your soldiers." Señor Varela just nodded, neither of the two needed to add that it was due to the fact that they were sliced in such small pieces that it would not be possible to retrieve them with a lasso.

"Gracias", the grief-stricken man said and held out his arms. Zorro carefully handed señora Varela's corpse to her husband. "Amade", he sighed and Zorro pretended not to see the man cry. It was shameful for a man of señor Varela's status to cry, but the outlaw could hardly blame him.

Feeling a bid odd Zorro noted that he had blood on his gloves. He was almost surrounded by soldiers, armed soldiers, but all he could do was look at his gloves. Never before had he had his hands covered in blood, at least not in the same context.

Then, shaking the odd feeling of himself, he turned to Monastario. "Commandante", he said, speaking loud and clear so everyone would hear. "With things as they are you have more important things to focus on than chasing me. I am willing to offer a truce. I will stop ridicule you and your soldiers and help you solve this mystery. In return you stop chasing me or try to reveal my identity while I help you. Then, when this is all over, you can go back to chasing me to your hearts content."

The commandante was shaking with anger. How dared the outlaw make such an offering? "I will not have you shot now, Zorro", he said, his anger present in his voice, "but be assured that the next time me and my lancers come across you we will shoot to kill and feed you to the dogs."

"That's unfortunate", the outlaw whispered as the soldiers retreated. Zorro mouthed his stallion and rode of, disappointed. He had actually hoped the capitan would realize that he could not do this by himself. He would just have to solve this mystery without being seen by the lancers.

Lancers had been placed at the crossroad, redirecting travelers to Los Angeles by a longer route that was well known for its bandits. That was why every traveler was accompanied by two lancers, regardless if they were traveling from or to Los Angeles. The amount of soldiers left in the quartel had thinned dramatically.

Nobody, neither lancers or other people dared to go anywhere near the road. Sometimes Zorro wondered if the commandante had simply given up on solving the problem. Or perhaps he expected that he, the outlaw, would do it. Well, El Zorro did his best, but he did not seem to get anywhere.

The fire was still burning. He had faked that he had turned ill and that he would not allow anyone but Bernardo near, it was the perfect excuse to be able to watch the cave for over a full day. The fire did not die and nobody came to nourish it. It was unnatural and troublesome.

For a week no new death's occurred. Then a vaquero went missing, he was found a day later by a child who had not listened to his parent's warnings. The mystery was only made more complicated by the fact that the child had survived although literally stumbling over the dead vaquero and his horse. Why had the so called curse refrained from killing the child?

The vaquero had been killed I the same messy manner as all the others, while the child, upon passing the spot later, did not receive a single unnatural injury. Both the commandante and the outlaw were slowly going insane by the unpredictability of the curse. It was as if the reach of the curse was expanding, the bandidos killed in the cave, the soldiers in the mountains, the travelers on the road and now the vaquero on the grassland.

The most pronounced fear of all was that the curse would spread into town.

If they could only know what was the cause. The road had been there for a very long time, ever since Los Angeles was first founded, and it was first now people were dying in a most horrible fashion. It seemed unlikely that the curse had been there all along and had simply decided it would start killing now. No, there must have been some sort of trigger. But what? There had not been anything from the first murder that stood out.

The child that had survived despite stumbling over the vaquero was the first child involved, perhaps the curse did not kill children? It was however an unlikely scenario, it was more likely that the child had simply been lucky, like he and señor Varela had. The only reason to know for sure was to test the theory, but there was only one way to test it, and Zorro would never permit it. Apparently the commandante however would.

The only way to confirm the theory was to consciously let children visit places where people had been killed. That the commandante would actually try this came to Diego's attention because of sergeant Garcia. The sergeant was, as he did most of the time lately, sitting in the tavern with a somber expression, he did not even ask for wine.

When Diego joined him and asked him what was wrong, like he almost always did, the sergeant decided to tell him the truth. "The commandante captured an Indian child and he wants to use him to see if children are immune to the curse."

Diego had at first refused to believe the sergeant. "But sergeant", he had said, "you certainly don't mean that capitan Monastario is going to force the child to go to the cursed area?"

"That is exactly what he is going to do, Don Diego", sergeant Garcia said and Diego was certain that if the sergeant was put through much more he'd end up in a severe depression. "He's just a kid … not even ten years old. What if he dies?"

"Zorro will never allow that", Diego said, in an attempt to comfort the sergeant, although his mind was somewhere else. It would hardly be the first time that the commandante mistreated the Indians, but this was still a new depth if mistreatment.

"I think that the commandante is counting on that, he'll certainly set a trap too", the commandante sighed.

Diego did not reply, he looked around himself. The sergeant was not the only one who was trying to forget the curse in the tavern, the main difference was that others consumed the alcohol, instead of refraining from it. The horror surrounding the pueblo was taking its toll. Many believed that not even Zorro could help them, and Diego had to admit that Zorro probably couldn't.

When he left the tavern he was somewhere happy that he at least had something to do. He wondered if señor Varela was informed about the plan. Somewhere he doubted it, it seemed highly unlikely that the man would allow something like that to happen.

Diego hurried home and informed Bernardo. Diego, going insane by his powerlessness, threw everything from his desk. Books, paper, ink and everything that had been lying there soon faced the ground. Then he punched the wall, hard enough to injure his knuckles. Bernardo quickly came with a towel which Diego held against his hand. "I hate this, Bernardo. There must be answers to this!"

Bernardo simply nodded and kept a wary eye on his patron. It did not happen often that Diego lost control over his mood like that, but when it did things were really wrong. Usually only Bernardo could calm him down, but for the time being it was perhaps best if he could simply let of some steam.

"Tonigh, at sundown", Diego said, after having calmed down somewhat, "the commandante is planning on testing it then. I'll have to stop him."

Two hours later Tornado was carrying the outlaw at tremendous speed towards the cursed area. The commandante and his lancers had left enough tracks for him to follow and it did not take long before he had caught up with them. He held a decent amount of space between the lancers and himself. They were with too many for him to foolishly grab the child and ride off, he'd probably get shot, not to mention that he could not just ride of into the cursed area. He'd have to be patient.

"This is far enough!" he heard the commandante shout. Zorro dismounted Tornado and send the horse away, then he sneaked closer. Like the sergeant had said, they were prepared for his arrival. With a frown he noted that sergeant Garcia wasn't among the soldiers. Odd.

Like expected from a man as power hungry as the commandante, he was a coward. He did not dare go even remotely close to the spot where señora Varela and the escorts had been killed. The cowardice would work to the outlaws advantage if things went according to plan.

He observed as the child clumsily got off the horse and turned to the commandante. "Can I really go home after I do this?" he asked.

Zorro started, taken aback. What was this?

"Yes, of course, my child", the commandante said, conjuring his most stunning smile. "In the carriage there is a little box with a cross on. If you can go and get it for me you can go home." Capitan Monastario crouched down so he was at eye-level with the child and kept smiling as he pointed towards the blood-covered carriage of the Varela's.

Zorro's anger returned with all its intensity. There was no such box in the carriage, he had seen enough of it to know that the capitan was telling a lie. How horrible, tricking a child into walking to his death by promising he would be allowed to go home.

The lancers did not seem too comfortable either, but the idea that the Indians were worth less was too deeply grounded for them to do something about it all. The child ran of, seemingly uncaring about the diced corpses that laid just a few meters from the carriage.

Zorro acted as soon as the child passed his hiding spot. He grabbed the child and pulled him with him into the bushes, he felt the child fighting his grip. "No! Señor! I just want to go home!"

"He lied to you, niño", Zorro said through gritted teeth, "to them you are nothing. They are using you as a human bait."

"Kill him!" they heard the commandante shout behind them as Zorro kept dragging the child along and whistled for Tornado.

"What about the child?" one of the lancers asked.

"I said shoot! I don't care if you kill the child in the process!" capitan Monastario said and Zorro's anger grew further. With his sword he parted the bushes and cleared away several other obstacles in their way. The child could barely keep up and when he heard soft sobbing the outlaw knew that the child had heard the commandante's cruel words.

A bullet missed by a hair and hit a tree in front of the two. There was no way they'd be able to get away from the lancers in that habitat. Looking around himself Zorro made a bold decision. "We'll have to take the road. Tornado can't reach us here." He knew full well it would probably get them both killed, but so would the soldiers' bullets if they did not get away soon. The outlaw was not stupid enough to run over the middle of the road, but stuck to the sides, where they were not entirely unprotected. All the while he was seeing red with anger.

"STOP IT!" someone yelled at the top of their lungs. The voice did without a doubt not belong to any of the soldiers, it was far too accented and came from a completely different direction. There was something about the despair in it that made the outlaw obey. So did the lancers and the commandante.

On top of the rocks stood a person, not very old, fifteen or sixteen, not even an adult yet. The long white hair would indicate a girl, but Zorro had his doubts, the voice had definitely been male, not to mention that the figure was wearing pants.

"Why?" the person yelled, "why must you be so, so … so angry? It hurts!" The teen fell to his knees, clearly sobbing. "Stop being so angry!"

For a couple of seconds not a word was spoken, then Zorro took a step forward. "Who is angry?"

"ALL OF YOU!" the person screamed, "You are! He is!" The teenager pointed at the child. "They are!" Then nodded towards the lancers.

Zorro could not deny the truth, he had been furious, but now that anger was fading away. The situation they were in was too odd to cling on to anger in it. He felt a bit weird, having never been in such a situation before he did not really know what to do, but he was convinced anything was better than what the commandante would come up with. He was highly aware of the soldiers' aimed weapons when he took several additional steps forward, praying the curse wouldn't kill him.

"I'm not angry. Why won't you come down? It is not really safe where you are, people have been dying. Come down and we can talk in …".

He was interrupted by mad laughing "Of course people have been dying! I have been killing them!" The child had hardly finished his words before he screamed out in agony. "I TOLD YOU NOT TO BE ANGRY!" he yelled, sounding almost desperate before five or six lancers fell dead to the grounded, parted with their horses.

"Calm down!" the outlaw yelled and looked at the remaining soldiers and the commandante. Anger was a hard feeling to suppress, but now it seemed their lives depended on it. He himself could not even summon any form of anger anymore, if this was the person responsible for all these death pity was the only feeling he experienced.

"Have you been killing all these people?" the outlaw asked, not unkind.

The person nodded and hugged himself. "I try not to … but it is so hard. It hurts when they are angry, it burns. I can't stop them from being mad any other way." The teen wiped away the tears, but to no avail, new ones replaced them instantly.

Zorro and capitan Monastario shared a glance, for once without any sort of dislike in the exchange. The question going through their heads was the exact same: What the hell would they do now?

I will not, can not, abandon a story. This will be done, but as you can see it will take some time.

Do please review