(Chapter 2)

The morning began with the somber burial of Cato El Altesan. To Lelei's credit, she didn't cry once during the procession. But the redness in her eyes confirmed it was less from strength and more from a lack of moisture to produce them. The grave was humble, a pile of stones providing the elder wizard a heavy blanket. A makeshift cross had been constructed by the men, and beside it the amber wizard staff was staked into the ground.

The village Elder stood in front of the gathered group to speak, "Cato, was a man of many contradictions. He was both wise yet foolish. A man that held unimaginable power in his hands, yet also the kindest soul one could have the hope of meeting. Despite his proclivity for perversion," the jab earned a few half hearted laughs, "Cato knew when to be serious in times of strife. He may be gone but will never be forgotten as long as we carry him in our hearts."

The sicarios bellowed an, "Amen!" that earned strange looks from the villagers before crossing themselves. Lati stood right next to Lelei, a silent beacon of strength to the young woman. When asked if she'd like to say some words, the bluenette shook her head slowly, eyes never leaving the staff. Tony walked up and placed a cigar on the mound before kneeling before it, "We'll keep an eye on your girl. Promise that."

The words were too low for the others to hear, except for the Saint as she swiped a stray tear from her cheek. One by one, the sicarios followed their boss's example, placing small trinkets upon the resting place. By the end of it, a smattering of gold coins, packs of playing cards, and a few rosaries covered the rocks. Despite her grief, the analytical part of Lelei's mind was curious to the religious practices of her saviors. She watched the man in light gray with the gold rings and dark bifocals walk toward the yellow horseless carriage.

As the crowd dispersed to do final preparations for the evacuation, the young mage gathered the courage to confront the leader of the men in flowers. The man was hunched over a large map of the continent, seemingly planning their travel route. His broad shoulders and taut arms made Lelei think of the embrace he'd enveloped her with. Her face warmed at the memory and the security she felt in them. This thought only befuddled the mage who'd never encountered a feeling like so in her chest before.

Not wanting to interrupt but also determined to thank the man Lelei spoke hesitantly, "U-um Sir?"

The tight muscles in Tony's back straightened and he turned with a growl, "What is it n- oh, la pequita arandano. What can I do for you, senorita?"

Lelei decided to continue before her nerve was lost, "I just wanted to thank you for saving my life. Lati told me you were the one to drive off the," her eyes glimmered with pain for but a second, "the flame dragon. If it wasn't for you I'd probably be lying next to Teacher right now."

The wound wasn't fresh, it was still bleeding. Tony saw the trauma in the young woman's gaze, probably replaying the entire events on repeat. The sad blue eyes stabbed at something Tony hadn't felt in years. Before he could understand this urge, a heavily jeweled hand descended upon the bundle of short azul locks. The mage squeaked in surprise as the Cuban rubbed her head.

"No sweat chica. That overgrown gecko had it coming. That teacher of yours? He had some balls."

"Balls?" the bluenette gazed upward into his eyes with bewilderment.

"It's another way to say courage where I come from. But yeah, he was brave. Took the full brunt of that firebreath." At this the Kingpin removed his hand from her hair, conjuring a small amount of disappointment from the girl.

"Did you care about your Teacher?" His voice was even.

The mage suddenly felt anger course through her veins at the question, "Of course I cared!"

"Then you gotta let that guilt go pussycat." The statement froze Lelei in place.

"I can tell it's eating you up inside. For whatever reason you think it's your fault."

The girl cut him off, "It was all my fault!"

"NO," The commanding tone cut through any resistance she might have held onto, "that pinche dragon is the one at fault. If your teacher was half the man I was told, then the last thing he would want is you to waste the gift he gave you."

"G-gift?"

"Your life arandano. He gave his for yours. So don't spit on his final sacrifice feeling sorry for yourself or carrying that guilt. Someone once told me 'everyday above ground is a good day' and while I hated that culo he was right. You wanna direct that anger, that pain?"

Captivated by the man's words, Lelei could only nod, "Then you point it at the ugly bastard that gave it to you. Make em regret the day they ever crossed you. Show em you are not to be fucked with."

Despite the desire to believe his words, doubt still clouded her thoughts, "A flame dragon has never been slain before. How could I hope to kill something so dangerous."

"Well first you need some dangerous amigos on your side."

"Auh-Mee-Goes?"

"Sorry, keep forgetting the people around here don't know Spanish. You need some friends. Luckily for you, you already made the most dangerous one."

"What do you mean?"

"I believe Antonio is referring to me."

The two turned to acknowledge the arrival of the Saint who continued Tony's suggestion, "Which is correct. If you desire revenge, I can help you achieve it mija. After all, what are friends for?"

The declaration filled Lelei with hope. She wasn't alone. She wouldn't be alone. These strangers, both comforted her and reignited the will to survive. The memory would always hurt but the weight against her shoulders lightened if only a little.

Caught up in the vortex of positive emotions, the girl began crying again as she dove into a tight hug against the Cuban. Initially paralyzed in the small vice-like arms, the man returned the hug with a firm squeeze.

The sobs turned into hiccups then sniffles before the bluenette pulled back to smile at the scarred man. The skin beneath his sunglasses turned a shade redder under the onslaught of cuteness. Gently extricating himself from the embrace the Kingpin stood back to look Lelei in the eyes, his hands still firmly holding her shoulders, "With my word as my bond, we'll find that dragon and see if Miguel can cook up some carne asada. Or my name isn't Tony Montana. Comprende arándano?"

The girl nodded with a smile before wiping at the watery streaks left on her face. With a grin he nodded back before going off to help with the last wagons to be loaded. Lelei's eyes couldn't help but watch the lanky form retreat.

"Something you like?" Lati teased watching the lingering glance the bluenette gave Tony.

Jumping slightly, Lelei lowered her head in embarrassment at being caught.

"He IS single. So don't let me stop you nina."

Despite the burning cheeks, the mage filed away this new information. While Lati rose to sit on the trunk a question entered Lelei's mind, "Lati?"

"Yes dear?"

"What does PAY-Q-TOE ARR-AND-ANO mean?"

Instead of answering the beautiful woman descended into a fit of giggles. This continued for a moment before she finally settled enough to speak, "And where did you hear it?"

The black pupils shined with amusement, already knowing the source.

"Mr. Montana called me that."

The robed woman beckoned the bluenette to come closer. When she sidled up next to Lati, the ladder whispered into the former's ear, "A fruit from our home. Looking closer I can see the resemblance Antonio saw."

"A fruit?"

"Yes, little blueberry."

An unmistakable rosy tint spread across her flesh despite the blank expression she wore. A new desire took root in her stomach, "Lati?"

"Yes?"

The short girl turned to look at the Saint with fire in her pupils, "Teach me Spanish."

The long caravan traveled at a dizzying pace, at least for the villagers. Ropes had been secured to the heaviest of the wagons so the APC's could tow them. Those too frail or young to ride a horse sat comfortably inside the armored hull, while the sicarios enjoyed the breeze on top. Lelei sat in the back seat of the Cadillac next to Tony's 'number two'. Surprisingly, Lati sat behind the wheel while the Cuban leaned back in the passenger seat napping.

Lelei was still amazed how fast and comfortable their ride was. Angelo had called the transport a 'car'. After getting used to the noises admitted by the 'engine' the young mage could never go back to a horse drawn carriage. The strange music that played from the object nestled in the front bounced pleasantly against her eardrums while the bluenette's nose was buried in the book Lati had given her. The gradual process of familiarizing herself with their language was coming along splendidly.

At least it was before the Saint slammed on the brakes, derailing Lelei's train of thought with a yelp. Before she could inquire the reason for their sudden stop, Tony began sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes while asking, "What the hell, Lati? A bunny run in front of us or something?"

"If that was true then they must be getting smarter. I've never seen a rabbit set up an ambush before."

The casual tone of her voice contrasted with the startling insight she'd shared with the others. Tony opened the door and stepped out onto the dirt road. Angelo followed suit. Before the convoy lay a tree in the center of the road. Despite appearing like an accident, the drag marks in the grass said otherwise.

With caution, the two men approached the log to determine how to move it. Closer examination confirmed it had been cut down, and recently based on the sap congealing around the base.

"I don't like this. You see that, Angie?" The Cuban pointed toward a set of footprints near the bent grass.

"What should we do?"

Setting his hand on the log and giving a tentative push, Tony brushed his hands on his pants before answering, "Go and grab four of our boys. See if we can get this shit moved. I gotta talk to la Patrona."

The Henchman nodded before bounding off to the nearest transport. The Kingpin took a slower pace returning to the still humming Cadillac. Leaning on the driver door, the man lowered his head to whisper in her ear, "You were right, got tracks leading into the bush."

"I'm certain we'll soon find who they belong to."

A commotion was heard from the back of the group, shouting and the shattering of glass. This put the other underlings on high alert, dismounting the roof's and creating a perimeter between the road and surrounding forest. Tony looked toward the source of the unrest, to the two women sitting in the car, then back to the din before bounding off with a shout behind him, "Stay in the caddy!"

A few of his men broke off from guarding the center to follow their boss. By the time Tony made it to the last wagon, he'd laid eyes upon the ones that had set up the trap. The gathered vagabonds stood around a shattered vase taken from the cart full of furniture. All had mismatched armor, leather pauldrons combined with plate helmets, chainmail shirts worn alongside peasant shoes. The one in charge stood out only because all his equipment was of slightly higher quality, a dirty overgrown beard below a pale shaved head.

Once the leader spotted him a checkerboard smile greeted the Cuban, "Ah, you must be the man in charge of this little party."

Tony didn't respond, preferring to put the cold mask of professionalism in place to hide his growing anger. After a moment the bandit continued, "My friends here think you must be loaded to wear such fine clothing and travel so exotically in those carriages of yours. You must also be pretty stupid to only have one sword between all of you."

The statement caused laughter from the other bandits. The sicarios flanked either side of Tony, waiting for an order. Unaware of the danger they were in, the criminals continued gloating, "Tell you what little man, you leave those clothes, the wagons, and women. We'll let the rest of you walk outta here alive. Aren't I generous?"

Tony stepped away from the security of his band and walked toward the boisterous fool with a casual gait. The lack of a response was starting to piss off the mongrel.

"Hey are you deaf? I'm talking to you shorty."

The Cuban finished closing the distance and looked up into the scowling mug of the bearded man. This lack of fear set off alarm bells in the back of the man's mind but he ignored them as he reached out to grab one of the heavily jeweled hands of the foreigner. Then something shiny blinded his eyes, followed by a sharp pain located near his pointer and ring finger. The pain only grew as he blinked away the spots in his eyes to see his palm, short two digits. Still in shock, the man lowered his sight to the missing appendages lying in the dirt between him and the stranger.

The confirmation reignited the man's pained nerves, who cried out as he pulled the wound close to him. Tony took the switchblade and swiped at the back of the man's leg. The severed tendons caused the appendage to buckle underneath the large man's weight before being spun around on his knees to face his men. One of the bandits tried to rush forward to take the head off the gray suited man, and fell backwards with a hole in his forehead. The rest froze in place while the soldatos raised their firearms.

The still smoking handgun morphed back into the blade as Tony jerked the leader's head back harshly by the beard, "You like my style baldie? You want my clothes?"

The fear in the man's pupils caused his large frame to shiver. A long slash appeared on the bandit leaders cheek, causing a whimper, "I asked you a question fucker."

"Y-yeah."The remaining vagrants stole glances between their fallen comrade and captured leader with confusion and uncertainty.

"What was that little comment about the ladies?"

At this the man started to beg, Tony cut off an ear. The blubbering quieted down again. Tony rested his hands on the man's shoulders, the blade still held in his grip.

"Listen up culo's, you probably thought you'd get an easy payday but you got me, Tony Montana. I know you got dropped on the head or something so I say this nice and slow for you. You. Fuck. With. Me. Or. My. People. You. Die," at these words the Kingpin drove the tip of the knife into the bandits throat until it poked out the other side and pushed forward, "like this bitch."

The arterial spray bathed the shocked criminals in red. What the Cuban did next made some of them puke. With a little effort, the tongue of the dead bandit was pulled through the cheshire grin around his neck. The grisly display was left to fall face first into the dirt while Tony wiped the edge off on his sleeve, unconcerned about dirtying the clothes anymore than they already were. The sight caused the remainder to drop arms and fall to their knees in pleading.

The sicarios surrounded the group before looking back at their leader, "How would you like us to take care of the trash, Jefe?" The disgust in one's voice was immense.

"How many more of you are there?" Tony was now looking toward one of the kneeling vagabonds.

"P-please don't k-kil-" the man was shot in the head by one of the henchmen.

"Answer Mr. Montana's question."

Another man answered, "A f-few hundred or so. A lot of us grouped up w-when we heard about the slaughter at Alnus. Figured this area would be easy pickings with all the soldiers either d-dead or deserted."

"You got a camp?"

The man shook his head vigorously in confirmation. The Cuban smiled at the information, "Good, you gonna take something back to your friends. You tell them what happened here. You make them understand how bad of an idea it would be to cross paths with us again. Comprende?"

Despite the unfamiliar language, the bandit understood the context and nodded desperately to show obedience. The Kingpin summoned a metal orb, removing a small wire from it before placing it inside the bandit's hand and closing the digits around the smooth surface.

"Good, now get the fuck outta my sight 'fore I change my mind. Oh, and don't let go of this till you get home, otherwise you won't like it."

The man stood up and turned to relay orders before being cut off, "The fuck you doing cabron? I didn't say THEY could leave."

The soldatos took the emphasis as approval and mowed down the others. Automatic fire rang for but a minute leaving a mess where the mob had once been. The survivor couldn't believe the carnage in front of him, each bandit looking as if they had been skewered a hundred times over. His eyes bounced between the unassuming weapons the caravan guards carried and the damage they wrought. Before he could gawk any longer a bullet exploded the dirt beneath his feet causing the sediment to splash upwards; The man shielded his face before whipping around to face the red and gray monster in human skin.

"Now run, puto run!"

Without any further encouragement the bandit scrambled off the road and into the forest. With haste the man tripped and stumbled through the vegetation, trying to escape the images burned into his memory. Tony left his men to take care of the bodies, making his way back to the front to check on the progress of the log. A few of the villagers gave weary looks as he passed, their gratefulness overpowered by fear of his appearance. He scoffed at the reaction.

No one likes how the sausage is made.

Despite his noble actions, it seemed the people of this world would only remember the brutality displayed. This thought soured his mood further. When the Cuban got back to the yellow car he found Angie and four of the men sitting on the hood staring forward. Before he could yell at them for their laziness his eyes glazed past the quartet to see Lelei standing in front of the hunk of wood. The short magician raised her blue staff while muttering to herself.

Slowly, the tree rose from its spot enveloped in Lelei's energy before being gradually moved to the side. A bead of sweat slid down the side of her face as she glared in concentration at the task before her. Once clear of the road the blue glow dissipated allowing gravity to take hold of the wood where it crashed down into the ground. Wiping a hand across her forehead, the bluenette spoke with slight exhaustion, "The path is clear again. We can proceed onward."

Tony sidled up next to the mage, "Bien trabajo arándano."

The young woman tilted her head to look at the man. He half expected the same reaction as the villagers, Tony was still drenched in the bald man's blood. Instead her eyes only glanced at the red clothing before finding his, "Gracias Antonio."

With this Lelei turned to reclaim her seat in the car, the book calling her name. Tony was still in place, surprised less about the progress she was making with their language and more over her casual acceptance of his demeanor. He would have puzzled over the interaction longer if not for the pleasant song being whistled nearby. The Kingpin made his way over to the Saint who finished her tune while staring off into the leaves, "Didn't I say don't leave the car?"

"I've never listened to a man over the centuries of my existence. Why should I start now?" Her tone was playful but with an undercurrent of challenge.

"I'm just trying to keep everyone safe chica."

"By the looks of it, you could use some of that safety."

"Oh this?" Tony gestured at the mess of a suit, "Just a little chat with the lumberjacks. Asked about fashion, so I showed them how to make a Colombian necktie."

The quip was followed by a light smack on Tony's arm, "I take it these lumberjacks won't be bothering us again?"

The Cuban rubbed the point of contact, "No. Sent one back to their little hole with a warning."

"A warning? I hope you're not getting soft mi corazon."

"Don't worry, he was the warning."

Galadriel sat against the cave wall sharpening his sword. The rhythmic scraping of the whetstone against the metal put him in a sort of trance. The scruffy blonde reflected on the strands of fate and how they weaved together to form the canvas of his current life. Born the bastard of a philandering noble and a pretty barmaid, the man entered this world with a stacked deck. The poor conditions growing up in the slums of the Capitol quickly turned him from a child, to a thief, to a brigand, to a killer.

So here he was, surrounded by other such dregs of society, sharpening his sword and waiting for the raiding party they sent out that morning to return. The canyon their camp resided in was hidden among the Coan forest. The crescent moon above held a faint red glow, surrounded by glimmering stars. The rocky terrain held an innumerable number of tents, bunched up in tightly packed groups.

"Hey, I think I see someone!" One of the archers cried before raising his bow. Galadriel got up and gave a tentative swing before joining the others gathered at the edge of the bandit camp. The figure was dazed and confused, tightly squeezing an object in one hand.

Galadriel recognized the man, he'd left that morning with the others to ambush a group of peasants spotted heading west. Now he stood alone, panting, covered in sweat, and wildly looking every which way as if waiting for a demon to appear. The demeanor of the man disturbed Galadriel greatly. One of the others slowly approached the shivering mess before laying his hand on the latter's shoulder, "Hey! What happened? Where are the others?"

This inquiry roused a reaction from the twitchy bandit. He grabbed the other vagabond with his free hand before descending into a cacophony of words too quick to decipher. Having enough of the lunacy, Galadriel pushed past the others to untangle the wild man from his quarry. Before he could again break down into ramblings a sharp crack sounded through the night air. Rubbing his hand from the slap, Galadriel waited for the man to recover before speaking, "You babble again and I'll hit you with the pommel next."

The man swallowed whatever anxiety he still held and nodded. He began his tale again with a shaky breath. By its conclusion Galadriel was not afraid but angry with the telling of events. The survivor spoke of men traveling along with the peasants, the same mercenaries rumored to be involved with the 'Alnus Slaughter'. But the rest of what the man spoke was madness.

Rapid firing crossbows? A ring that held knives? Horseless carriages? Whatever the frazzled bandit had witnessed had clearly shattered his sanity. In the midst of the breakdown, the identity of the foreign leader was revealed.

"So let me get this right? This 'Tony Montana' and his men killed all thirty of you, WITHOUT swords or spears?"

The man groaned yes in between the furtive glances around him as he cradled the item. Catching his attention, Galadriel inquired about the strange orb, rousing the survivor to finally notice it, "Their leader told me to take it back here...said if I let it go I would regret it."

"So Galadriel, the lad is crazy right?" One of the gathered bandits asked from the crowd.

Instead of immediately agreeing, Galadriel reached out to take the metal ball from the tight grip. Once the shivering fingers loosened to allow its removal, the grenade went off. The messenger was shredded by the shrapnel, turned to ground beef in an instant. Galadriels armor was fitted with holes, the hot metal punching through the plates like wet paper. The others stumbled around in a daze during the aftermath, ears still ringing, some sporting wounds while the luckiest lay on the ground not moving.

When he awoke, Galadriel stared up into the eyes of Butch, their camp 'doctor'. Trying to sit up, agony danced across his torso forcing him to lie back, "What the hell...? Butch, what happened?

There was a small amount of blood staining the object. As he mulled the item over Butch shook his head, "I don't know. That thing? Shattered into a fireball of heat and metal. Never seen anything like it before."

"What happened to the others?"

"My advice? Worry about yourself right now."

Galadriel's frown grew, "That bad?"

"Well, I've never seen a man turn to swiss cheese before. So yeah, real bad."

Before Galadriel could ask further questions, a guard shouted from outside the tent walls, "Someone approaching! Looks female!"

Galadriel turned to the source of the voice then back at Butch who wore a lecherous smirk, "Talk about timing. Well I'm gonna go have some fun, rest up."

The bandaged man groaned out 'lucky bastard' before closing his eyes. Butch exited the shelter and quickly made way over to the gathering group. He didn't want to be at the back of the line, otherwise he'd miss out on the screams. Muscling his way past the others, his eyes scanned the horizon before spotting the lithe figure strolling their way. From a distance the petite outline confirmed it was a girl, and a young one at that.

Something large was being carried by her, the black shape was hard to make out from their positions. Before the bandit's could plan their horrendous acts on the would be victim one of them made out further details of the approaching individual. The black and red uniform had the elements of a french maid, but more gothic. A red bow adorned the girl's long black hair, giving the appearance of cat ears. Her gait was steady and purposeful as she closed the distance.

"Oh shit! It's Rory the Reaper!"

The words sent a chill through every man's veins dousing their lustful thoughts. The woman stopped before leaping high into the air. The crowd was powerless to do anything but watch the young lady float in the sky, the moon framing her silhouette as the object unraveled to reveal the wicked halberd in her grasp. Like a comet, the envoy of death dropped into the group, causing a massive shock wave.

The stupid and brave yelled in defiance as they charged the Apostle. They were brushed aside with the same effort one wipes sand off a table. Those smart enough to run only ended up tired in their demise. Over the span of minutes, the bandit camp smelled of copper. As Rory strolled through the red splattered tents faint breathing drew her into one with medical equipment outside it.

The man inside didn't open his eyes as she entered, his chest a jigsaw puzzle of red splotches on the sterile bandages. Curious to what brought him to such a state, the Apostle of Emroy brought the spiked end of the shaft down, impaling his chest and stopping the shallow breaths. The raven haired beauty brought the tip to her face before giving the residual crimson a long lick. The memories of the man's final day flashed before her eyes in a second.

A voice spoke into her mind at the conclusion of the visions.

Find these foreigners. I can feel the destruction they are capable of. But there is also something else…a magic similar to mine. You must speak to their leader.

A smile graced her violet lips, "Yes master. I will locate the men in flowers."

By the time they arrived at the village of Muker the sun was gone. The high beams of the Cadillac cut through the inky darkness. Lelei lightly snored, her head in Lati's lap as the Saint played with her hair. Angie hunched forward in the passenger seat, lightly drooling on the dashboard. Tony rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn.

Finally, we're here. Any sooner and I might've been snoozing instead of cruising.

The dumb statement made him partially laugh before another pocket of exhaustion escaped his mouth. Deciding his passengers needed some energy, Tony gave the horn two quick beeps, which roused his lethargic entourage. Slowly they each stumbled out of the car before stretching their underused limbs. The hatches on the APC's opened with a hydraulic hiss, the peasants disembarked with sleepy expressions quickly changing to relief at their surroundings. Before long the locals exited their homes to be bombarded with an unexpected familial reunion.

Everyone had made the journey with not so much as a blister, thanks to the kindness of 'The Montanas' as the peasants had started calling them. Luis stood from his seat atop the BTR and stretched, feeling the magically infused vertebrae pop incrementally. The sicario jumped down to help start unloading the wagons. As he made his way past the crying, hugging, and celebrations erupting around him, a familiar braid of brown caught his eye. The little girl he later learned was called Gretel, curled around her mother still asleep as the woman chatted to a man Luis assumed was their family here.

He couldn't help the smile that grew on his face. The little one reminded him of his own sister. Before those thoughts could go any farther another of his brothers whistled for assistance moving a heavy trunk. The henchman bounded past the village Elder who stared in contentment at his people. Without assistance, this exodus could have played out very differently.

Finally the old man spotted his quarry, the now dry blood of Tony's suit making the gray glow in the low lighting. Making his way through the chaotic offloading, the man cleared his throat to draw the Cubans attention, "Mr. Montana,"

The Kingpin turned and grinned at the Elder, "Hey Tata, gonna have everything out in just a few minutes."

The older man waved his hands in dismissal, "Your kindness knows no bounds. But I'm sure your men are just as tired as us."

"No worries, my boys are tougher than they look. Besides we'll be back on the road tomorrow so might as well get this outta the way now."

The older man nodded in understanding before retrieving his pipe and matches. With practiced ease the sweet aroma of tobacco wafted into the dark sky. After several puffs the man's curiosity couldn't be put off any longer, "Forgive my prying, but when I first asked of your purpose, you said passing through. Passing through to where? What sort of business are you conducting in these lands Mr. Montana?"

The man didn't return his glance, instead watching his henchmen clearing the wagons, "You sure you wanna know? It's not a pretty thing we're here to do."

His inquisitiveness only rising, the Elder waited for more to be said.

"I'm here to put Zorzal El Caesar in the ground."

The eyes of the old man widened to a comical size at the answer. This man had spoken those words with the certainty of clearing a flowerbed of weeds. He acted as if the one in question was not next in line for the imperial throne, the commander of an army, and a seasoned warrior with numerous conquests already under his heel. The scariest part of the statement was a small part of the old man believed this stranger could pull it off. He carried himself with confidence, one that appeared infectious as the man took another drag.

Before the Elder could pry further into the ludicrous decree, the Muker Chief made his way over with a jubilant pace. The portly man was a stark contrast to his Coda counterpart, reminding Tony of Wimpy from those old sailor cartoons. He snatched up the smaller man in a bear hug, "Barden! If I had known your people were coming I would have prepared a banquet!"

Tony stepped back to avoid the rotund swirling vortex of positivity as Barden struggled to breath underneath the iron like grip of his captor. The sight would have been amusing if the large man didn't stop in his celebrations to take a critical eye toward Tony. Hairs stood up on the Kingpin's neck too late as the chief picked him up as well, "And you brought guests! How wonderful! We will have a festival to show how hospitable our little hamlet can be! What's your name my handsome fellow?"

"T-Tony Montana!" The Cuban struggled to breath under the mounting pressure from the blob of a man. Mercifully the Chief ceased his twirling and set the two others down, allowing both to replenish their oxygen levels. Upon closer examination of the foreigner, Farley saw the state of his clothing, "My god! Barden, why didn't you tell me your friend Tony was injured?! I'll fetch the apothecary!"

"No need Farley!"The Elder cut in, "We had a run in with some highwaymen on the road. Tony and his men took care of it. He's unharmed considering his grisly appearance. But I do believe Mr. Montana would desire a bath."

The idea of hot water put a twinkle in the Cuban's eye. Farley outlined directions to the local bathhouse before scooping up Barden to catch up in the tavern. Left standing alone, Tony decided to locate the others before making way to the hot springs. Lati was the easiest to spot, already surrounded by male admirers as she coyly accepted their attention with grace. When she learned of his destination the Saint parted the crowd like the red sea so they could continue their search.

Lelei was using her spells to speed up the tent staking process. Already half the camp had been secured due to her magical intervention. She likewise also left the sicarios to finish their task, anticipating the release of tension from her cramped muscles. Angelo stood leaning against one of the BTR's unsuccessfully trying to flirt with some of the local women. By their disinterested expressions, Tony could tell his numero dos was not getting any this night. As the two ladies made strides away from the dejected henchman, a ringed hand clapped his shoulder roughly, "You hate to see it. I think your game needs work chico."

"Impossible, the 'inoperable cancer' story always worked back home!"

Tony laughed at the dejected tone of Angelo, "Well, we aren't home. You ever stop to think they don't know what cancer is, Angie?"

Angelo facepalmed at the logic presented to him. Of course they would look at him like a leper! He'd just told them he was deathly sick. Not allowing his henchman to wallow in his own pity, the Cuban informed him of their quest for relaxation. The mood swing was quick, with Angie leading the charge to the bathhouse with childlike fervor.

Once they arrived, the group split off to get washed up in their respective sections. Without hesitation Tony stripped down, quickly tossing the dirty suit into a half full bucket for Guiseppe's fabric to start removing the stains. His companion wasted no time in submerging himself in the large steamy body of water. Content bubbles rose from Angelo's underwater mouth. Tony was more subdued in his entrance, leaning back against the stones with his arms spread wide in either direction.

On the opposite side of the tall wooden fence the girls likewise were enjoying the warm bath. While Lelei was initially hesitant to disrobe, Lati had no such problem as she let the violet silk robes shed off her curvaceous body to pile around her sandals. The bluenette couldn't help but look over the dark skin of the Saint, surprised to see thorny vines inked into her back in the shape of a cross. Each end of the spiky plant extended into multiple colored flower petals. Unfortunately, the mages ogling was cut short as Lati walked over to descend into the waiting pool.

"Come on in, the water's fine."

Forgoing her embarrassment, the young mage slid out of her apprentice robes before briskly hopping in the water with a splash. Breaching the surface with a gasp, the young woman slowly gravitated toward her tan friend before leaning back against the edge, eyes closed in contentment. Searching through her memories, Lelei couldn't remember the last time she'd had such an opportunity to unwind. Except perhaps the time when Arpeggio and her had first been accepted into the magic academy in Rondel. Back then, neither of them had seen the inside of a large city, so the scenery and crowds had awed both.

Sister…it's been so long. What will you say when I see you? What will Master Mimoza say when I tell her about Teacher…?

The small frown didn't go unnoticed by Lati who deftly flicked some water toward the deep in thought magic user. The action pulled the bluenette from her quickly souring thoughts and deposited her back into the present.

"Tell me what's on your mind, mija."The Mage sat up, prepared to deny any such worries but a soft finger pressed against her pink lips, "Before you say 'nothing is wrong' I'll have you know I can read hearts. So you best be honest nina."

Removing her finger, the Saint waited patiently for the girl to gather her thoughts. Finally, with blue eyes glued to the water Lelei opened up, "I'm just afraid of my big sister's reaction. We didn't exactly leave each other on the best of terms when I went with Teacher to Coda. I'm also scared the head mage Master Mimoza will blame me for Teacher's passing…"

Instead of wise words or a comforting embrace Lati proceeded to lightly bop the bluenette on the head.

"First off, I thought I already told Antonio to get it through your head you weren't at fault for the actions of that beast. Second, our families are rarely on the same page as us. But even when we fight, that bond doesn't go away. She may be upset but if she really loves you, your sister will get over whatever it may be straining your relationship. So lift your head pequita arandano."

While rubbing the point of impact, Lelei absorbed the feeling behind Lati's words. The nerves plaguing her mind on the reunion were put to rest. With that resolved, the two ladies sat in silence, enjoying both the atmosphere as well as the company. The moment appeared to be absolutely perfect.

"Hey what the-LATI! PINCHE MADRE! LATI, WHAT HAPPENED TO MY BACK?!"

At least before Tony started yelling over the divide. A commotion was heard, along with more cursing Lelei unfortunately could decipher now leaving a red tint over her still face. After a moment, an irate shirtless Kingpin adorned in nothing but a towel around his waist stomped into their section; Angelo followed behind him similarly dressed but also embarrassed at their current whereabouts. Stopping at the edge of the water, the scowling man turned to present his shoulder blades to the two women. If Lelei had found it difficult to stop looking at Lati's tattoos, what adorned Tony's back was impossible to not stare at.

The drawing depicted a skeletal figure, adorned in robes identical to Lati's own star spangled attire, even down to the red and green trim along the edge. In the bony hands an empty scale and miniature globe was held in place. It stretched from the dimples above the man's sculpted behind and stopped just below his neckline. The outline was flanked by deeply shaded flames, the orange popping out against Tony's dark skin. Lelei had to break line of sight once the irate Cuban turned back around to stare into Lati's mischievous eyes.

"Stop being so dramatic Antonio, it's just a little artwork." Tony could hear the difficulty she had not to start laughing.

"Just a little-my ENTIRE back is covered! Why'd you turn me into your next canvas?!"

The tan woman giggled for a few moments before settling down and replying with surprising control, "It was a necessary step to make you my apostle."

The fire immediately died in Tony's voice, "Oh, then why didn't you just tell me?" Lelei was confused by the statement but the Kingpin clearly understood the meaning.

"Because I knew it would be funnier if you found out yourself."

Lati could almost see the steam blowing out the Cubans' ears. But before he could go into another tirade a strange sensation washed over all four of the occupants. It felt like a cold spider walking up the spine, each turned to stare at the crescent moon in the sky. An ominous feeling settled in their stomachs, with only the Saint understanding what had just happened.

What the hell was that?

I think we may have just gotten the attention of that other death deity I told you about.

Wait, you mean the one with a regenerating vessel?

Yes Antonio, and by my calculations they will arrive sometime tomorrow.

Tony glanced at both Angie and Lelei before continuing the telepathic conversation.

What you wanna do Patrona?

Lati cradled her chin in contemplation before responding.

I want to meet her.

The preparations for the feast were coming along nicely. Already streamers of various colors stretched across the main road, providing a patchwork of vibrance above the bustling villagers. Despite the late arrival the previous night, men toiled in the fields at the first rays of light. The entire town was buzzing with excitement over the exotic food their guests had started preparing for the events. Already mouths watered from the smells drifting from the center of the Montana's collection of tents.

Lati had lent a hand, summoning several burlap sacks of rice and beans for Angelo to meticulously go through to find any flawed ingredient. Tony oversaw the preparation of meat, watching as Luis and Ernie chopped up the beef and chicken into even chunks. Lelei sat hunched over a pile of skin, peeling potatoes alongside Fernando who would stick his tongue out to the side in concentration. Some of the sicarios had commandeered the bakery, hellbent on recreating tortilla's out of the materials present. From appearance alone, one could be mistaken for thinking they had not a worry in the world.

You're sure the apostle is heading this way? Tony glanced over the work done so far with a careful eye.

Lati sat beside Lelei and smiled at her before grabbing another spud to whittle away. Yes, even now I can feel the magic getting stronger, more pure.

Tony walked behind Angelo, giving an approving grunt. The henchman was certainly thorough, with a small pile of flawed frijoles growing in size. Then why aren't we preparing defenses?

Tony stole a look at the Saint, a crooked brow hinting at his frustrations. The woman looked back, daring him with her dark pupils. Because not every challenge needs to be solved with violence Antonio. Some things require finesse and subtlety.

And you think feeding this person will resolve it?

Have a little faith, you haven't tried my cooking yet, after all.

By the time the first slabs of steak sizzled on the makeshift grill, the sun was already at its highest point in the sky. A long improvised collection of tables and chairs sat on the main road. The scent of spice was thick in the air alongside the simmering beef. Two pots the height of Barden standing boiled their contents to fruition. Several baskets were placed on the spread, each covering the still warm bundles of tortillas.

Wheels of cheese were shaved down into piles of calcium rich confetti and placed in bowls alongside the baskets. The chicken was tossed in a pan, cooking oil allowing it to crackle and crisp. Another held thick ropes of sweet dough, the frying process turning the light surface to a dark brown before granulated sugar was applied liberally. Platters of diced lettuce and tomatoes sat near loaves of bread cut into top and bottom halves and divided lengthwise into ten individual sets. A crate of wine made its way through the socializing crowd, becoming lighter as it passed.

Despite the growing hunger, everyone was instructed to wait for a 'late arrival'. The growling stomachs cried in protest, even as their owners waived off the small delay with merry attitudes. It was Lelei who first noticed the crows in the air. Their flapping forms like bits of pepper floating in the ocean blue skyline; the flock grew larger the closer they flew. Under the cloud of black feathers a lone figure walked along the road, her halberd gleaming in the afternoon sun.

Once close enough to discern features Tony could admit, the girl was attractive if a bit young for his tastes. The glossy black curtain of hair descended on either side of the young woman's pale face. Her makeup was subtle but expertly applied, giving her rose colored eyes a shadowy outline that only complimented the thin purple lips bent in a small smile. Her figure was draped in a flaring black skirt with maroon frills, the leggings climbing up her toned thighs drew many an eye. If the Cuban had to guess, she was on the tail end of maturing, probably late teens early twenties.

Simultaneously the apostle of Emroy raked her eyes over the lanky body of the tanned man. His khaki slacks and colorful button up sat pristinely against his wiry muscles. Under the scrutiny, Tony inadvertently ran his fingers through the dark locks that had partially grown out. The action was strangely humanizing to the young woman, looking for any sign of malicious intent to justify killing. Several others came to the edge of the celebrations to greet Rory, another of the men in colorful shirts with an ornate sword on his hip, a female mage carrying a blue staff, and lastly a beautiful woman in ornate robes with a knowing smirk.

Rory was the first to break the standoff, "What is that delightful smell?"

Seeing this as an opportunity to ease tension, Lati spoke in her motherly tone, "Some dishes from our home. We figured you'd be hungry when you arrived. Care to come and eat first? We can discuss business afterwards."

The saliva in Rory's mouth rose in levels at the offer. Gulping down the rapidly increasing liquid, the Apostle tried to sound less eager than she was, "Well, it would be a shame to have all that hard work go to waste. I guess I could have a bite or two."

The dishes on display covered a large amount of geography. Cuban sandwiches were assembled alongside Mexican burritos with sides of bean and rice. The pan dulce was a large hit with the children, each with a blissful expression as they took a bite of their sugared loaves. Everyone sat, laughed, ate, and drank. By the end of the dining, bellies were extended and expressions lethargic.

That is where Rory found herself, sat at the head of the entire affair. The food had been like nothing she'd ever experienced before. The spiciness of some dishes pushed beads of sweat to dampen her skin. She sighed in content before glancing around at the foreigners who'd arranged the banquet. The scarred man and robed woman exchanged looks before simultaneously standing with their dirty plates and reaching to take those of the ones sitting to their sides.

The other colorfully dressed men followed their leader's example, clearing away the used china from the crumb laden tables. The dining ware was deposited in large sudzy pots, left to the care of one grumbling villager. Slowly the decorations were taken down and furniture returned, the only signs of the gathering left were the patterns embedded into the dirt. Rory leaned her divine arm against one of the huts before walking in the direction of where the scarred man and robed woman had retreated to, a strange metal box with glass windows and small non-wooden tires. The pair was hunched over a large map on the hood, but straightened upon hearing footsteps.

"So," began the Cuban, "how was the food?"

"Quite delicious, especially that one thin meat filled loaf, with the garnish and cheese."

The man smirked at the description, "The burrito? Yeah, those tend to be crowd pleasers."

"Yes. But what was that red watery sauce? It hurt my mouth in a way I dare say I enjoyed." The Apostle licked her lips remembering the flames covering her tongue.

The Saint chimed in with the answer, "Tabasco sauce. Made from a specialized vegetable where we originate. Pain you can crave, although, " Lati paused to look knowingly at the young woman, "I imagine you are no stranger to pain of any sort, am I correct, apostle of Emroy, Rory Mercury?"

The acknowledgment gave Rory a feeling of respect soon replaced with confusion, "I don't recall introducing myself. Weren't you not from these lands?"

"I've passed through, myself, on a previous occasion. Even witnessed some of your previous triumphs." The claim caused Rory to raise an eyebrow skeptically.

"Is that so? What, pray tell, did I do to gain such a fan?"

"The slaughter of the Zufumut cult was beautifully 'executed' to say the least." That name appeared significant to the Apostle, who tensed up with caution. "Especially the way you dealt with that noble. What was his name? Kasunova? Kasablanca?"

"Kasutori…" drifted from the ageless woman's mouth, wrapped in a nostalgic melancholy, "His name was Kasutori." Her rose tinted irises glazed over as the memories dripped down the walls of Rory's mind.

Zufumut was the initial primary religion of the kingdom the Reaper was born into, Eden. Despite being the god of light, Zufumut's practices for divine favor required human sacrifice to bestow a legendary blade upon the ruling nobility. After generations of such a barbaric tradition, a king of Eden decided the price was too grisly and changed the worship of the land over to Emroy, god of death and darkness. Those followers of Zufumut were ousted and forced underground to continue their devotion. They would end up congregating below the temple to the very god that replaced theirs, hiding in the shadows and plotting.

At that time, Rory was but a mortal orphan, brought in and educated to be a priestess. At the temple she found friends who would make that bleak beginning a short chapter in her life. Together they formed an unconventional family, and for a time, all was good. But that all changed with the discovery of her friend Belle's heritage, the same bloodline used to empower the ultimate weapon of Zufumut. A nobleman and secret worshiper of the god of light, Kasutori, discovered this fact before kidnapping Belle to complete the ritual and cause an uprising of the zealots.

Emroy decided that would not do, and bestowed his blessing upon Rory, now nearing her eighteenth year, turning her from a mortal into an apostle of the gods. With her friends in tow, they stormed the temple's underground chambers. The battle was fierce but ultimately victorious. The cultists were slain, Kasutori killed, and Belle saved. The legend of Rory Mercury had begun.

This by itself wouldn't have offset the Apostle, were it not for the fact those events took place over nine hundred years ago. The knowing smile of the robed woman bore no hint of falsehood, even as her glossy dark skin lacked any wrinkle or blemish. On instinct Rory reached out and called for her halberd; The large ax twirled through the air before landing in her familiar grasp. The Reaper bounded forward to brandish the forked tip toward the Saints throat, "How did you kn-"

BANG

Something whizzed past her ear, causing a few black strands to fall away. The man pointed an object at her, oddly shaped and smoking from one end. His blank expression morphed into a hardened scowl.

"I don't know where you learned your manners, pussycat. But normally you would thank someone for a nice meal, not try to kill them."

"How certain are you that your little toy will do the job?" Rory spat back while pressing the pronged spikes closer to the still grinning woman.

Tony let go of the pistol, channeling energy into the ring finger to pull out the Scorpion submachine gun he'd destroyed the flame dragon's eye with. Controlling the erratic recoil, the Kingpin drew a line in the dirt between the two women. The sediment splashed up into Rory's eye from the impact of the bullets, temporarily blinding her as she jumped back into a battle stance. When it returned, the Reaper found her adversary standing in front of the one who knew her past. This time brandishing the SPAS, Tony kept the scattergun at a low ready.

ENOUGH! The voice of Rory's patron bellowed inside her skull. The magnitude of the command caused her to wince in pain.

"Stand down Antonio." Santa Muerte grasped the man's shoulder from behind, giving a comforting squeeze.

Slowly, the two warriors lowered their guard, eyes never leaving each other. The tension in the air was thick. The wind swept through the clearing, weaving through Rory's hair. Tony straightened his posture, letting the long gun dissolve. Out of the trees a small collection of sicarios came scrambling, led by Angelo who'd drawn his blade with a Beretta in the other hand. The men frantically searched for the source of danger, "Another dragon Jefe?! More bandits?!"

Tony shook his head, "Nah, just some target practice. Good hustle though. Next time things pop off I want that same energy."

Rory was surprised the Cuban lied to his soldatos, making her threat on the woman's life out as a small transgression. But she was even more taken aback by the wrath in her Patron's voice.

What did I order?

B-but master, the woman-

WHAT DID I ORDER?!

It had been long since Emroy had spoken to her with such malice. The girl cowered underneath the wave of disapproval, her small form shivering. With her head bowed she submitted to the god of darkness's presence.

You instructed me to speak to their leader…

Do not misinterpret your autonomy as free will. You are still my puppet, just because you see the strings doesn't mean you can stop the dance. I will not tolerate further insolence.

Yes master…

I see you're just as friendly as ever Emmy.

The playful voice invaded Rory's head causing her to look around in confusion. With frantic searching her eyes eventually fell back on the robed woman's mischievous expression. Like a single frame spliced into a reel of film, a skeletal figure flickered over the Saint's form in the Apostle's eyes.

"How did you do that?"

The Saint feigned ignorance, "Do what my dear? Are you sure you're feeling okay? Do you need un pequito siesta?"

Rory started to rile up at the teasing but surprisingly the scarred man came to her defense, "C'mon Lati, you know I hate that mind-games shit. Can I just tell 'er?"

"You are no fun sometimes Antonio. I guess we can show our hand."

"Tell me what?" The exhaustion from the spikes in emotion coupled with the rich food and verbal lashing quickly tired the Apostle's appetite for more surprises.

The Cuban stepped forward with his hands open palm and extended to either side, "I'm like you pussycat. A walking disaster. A living catastrophe. A bad-fucking-time. Chosen to carry out divine will in the name of my goddess," he gestured to Lati, "the Saint of holy death, Santa Muerte."

Silence reigned over the area as Rory digested the revelation. Her master on the other hand immediately became frustrated.

What are you doing here La Flaca?

What? No hug? No hello? That's not a very nice way to treat an old friend.

I will only ask again once, what is your purpose in this realm? You aren't supposed to be here. Answer or I will have my tool break your latest toy.

Lati laughed out loud. As smooth as sandpaper Emmy. Are you still upset over my declining your proposal? It would have never worked between us honey-

Rory was surprised to hear her master almost sound flustered. IT IS NOT ABOUT THAT! What are you doing here, Lati?

The Reaper looked over to Tony, who acted like he was listening to ludicrous directions to operate a complicated machine. The Kingpin struck a glance at Rory before looking back at the robed woman with an 'are you sure' expression. Lati nodded in confirmation. The Cuban walked toward the Apostle while summoning a small knife in his hand. While Rory watched with trepidation, Tony swiftly pulled the blade across his opposite palm before clenching the fist shut, allowing the blood to lather the surface.

Bringing the dripping appendage up, he extended his red hand toward the woman before speaking a single word, "Drink."

Her rose hued eyes bore into his brown ones, looking for any hint of subterfuge. Satisfied with what was found, the woman discarded her weapon, the heavy metal causing a small tremor as it hit the ground, before taking the offered extremity into her own small hands. She caused a strained groan from Tony, not expecting the girl to take the red thumb into her warm mouth. With a deft tongue Rory sucked on the digit, removing all traces of crimson. With a small pop it left her mouth before she repeated the routine with the other fingers.

By the conclusion of the lewd display, Tony tried to keep the blush on his face from growing, the tightness of his pants causing him to shift in place uncomfortably. During the whole process her gaze never flickered from his. Eventually her grasp on his arm retreated, choosing to lick at the few stray droplets on her own skin. The two demigods stood in silence while their respective patrons conversed telepathically.

Is this a joke?

I assure you I'm quite serious when I want to be.

And you believe that SHE won't notice your effect on the realm?

I'm hoping she will notice, and make things more interesting.

And they call ME the god of madness. Very well, I will have my apostle provide aid on your journey. And Lati?

Yes, Emmy?

Take care of yourself.

The voice of Emroy faded like a distant echo leaving the minds of all listening empty. The cut on Tony began to close, a purple light glowing from the gash. The Saint looked up toward the sky before whispering, "Still just a big softie."

"Uh, aHEM." Angelo cleared his throat loudly drawing the attention of the other three, "Why are you guys standing all silently and stuff?"

Before Tony could come up with a plausible excuse Rory answered honestly, "We are communicating through thoughts with our respective Gods. It is an ability quite common among apostles."

Angie gave her a look like she grew another head before looking at Tony, "She's joking right Jefe? You guys can't really read each other's minds right? Right?"

"Angie, you fought a dragon two days ago. We got a wizard riding with us. A talking skeleton saved your life. What do you think?"

Angelo raised his hand as if to argue, before shaking his head and sheathing his sword. Together he led the other sicarios away while trying to focus on something else, "Hey Flaco, you still got that box of domino's?"

Lati took this as an opportunity to make her exit as well, gliding toward the village. This left the two apostles to stand awkwardly near each other. It was the Reaper who broke the silence first, "I'm sorry for my outburst earlier. Your Goddess just…struck a sensitive subject for me."

Tony scoffed, "Yeah, Lati has that effect on people. Don't hold it against her, she's actually pretty friendly, past all the teasing of course."

Wanting to break the ice properly, Tony extended his hand, "Tony Montana, at your service."

Instead of reciprocating the gesture, Rory leaned into the palm, having him softly cradle the side of her face, "You taste good Tony. I like that."

"You're gonna be a handful, aren't you, pussycat?" Even as his thoughts were disorganized, he couldn't help but brush his thumb over her pale cheek.

The departure the next day was met with friendly farewells. The women had come together in secret to put together crowns of intertwined branches and flowers, figuring the Montana's held the plant life sacred in some regard. So the soldatos walked around packing up while sporting the stylish collection of petals. Even their leadership wasn't spared the kind act, each given a floral adornment to compliment their accenting outfits. While Tony found the action fruitless, the female minority of their faction found the gesture endearing and gladly strong-armed the Kingpin into wearing his gift.

So now he stood, occasionally scratching underneath the collection of twigs interspersed with white hibiscus flowers, watching the final goodbye's between his companions and the villagers of Coda and Muker. Lelei held a subdued expression beneath her wreath of azul clematis as she hugged the elder Barden. Lati had Angelo follow behind her carrying a basket of loot; The two made stops to each villager passing out gold the same hue as their head wear, yellow dahlias for the Saint while the Henchman sneezed from his daffodils. Rory sat atop a BTR, smiling down on the withdrawal while adorning her tiara of red roses. The village soon became a small speck in the distance as the convoy went north, planning on stopping in the city of Rondel so Lelei could inform the scholars of the flame dragon threat.

Nothing of much excitement occurred during the drive, except the tense seating arrangement in the Cadillac. When first piling into the vehicle, Lelei and Lati took their respective seats in the back, leaving space for Rory to sit between them. The Reaper had her own plans though, choosing to instead slide in after Tony to sit on the Cubans lap. Initial requests to have her move to a more conventional seat proved fruitless, her deliberate wiggling causing Tony to bite his lip in silence while Lelei narrowed her eyes at the back of the Apostles head. The halberd fortunately fit inside the trunk, in no small part due to Lati's foresight to make it 'bottomless'.

On the road Angelo attempted to play eye-spy with the disinterested passengers. But between the sparse green fields and endless horizon each round devolved into either looking at grass or clouds. Eventually the game was abandoned in favor of napping, leaving Tony and Rory to stare at the endless road while the others dozed. The weight of the small Reaper wasn't uncomfortable, but did cause Tony to sweat through his dark blue suit from the added body heat. The Cuban kept his hands on the wheel while the Apostle fiddled with the radio, fascinated with the exotic music.

Twisting the dials resulted in the latin inspired instrumentals being replaced by rhyming ballads sung by aggressive minstrels. Her chair called it 'gangsta rap' and cranked up the entrancing beats. The bards introduced themselves as Doctor Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. Over the course of the song they called attention to their ancestral homes, debated the pros and cons of courtship, and challenged their rivals all while flowing with the track in a way Rory had never heard before. By the end of the performance the Reaper was unconsciously nodding along to the rhythm.

"You like that chica?" Tony watched with amusement, glancing between the black clad woman and the direction of their destination.

The Reaper turned back to smile widely at the Cubans' close features, "Yes! Your culture is so fascinating, I can only imagine what your artwork is like."

"Thanks, but I can't really take credit for all of it. I'm not even originally from America."

"So where were you born?"

It was long enough before Tony responded for Rory to get worried she just asked the wrong question. His voice was low, the faintest hint of sadness coating the words, "I grew up on an island. Biggest in its surroundings. With plenty of space for farms and fishing."

"Your home must have been very prosperous." Rory inquired, leaning back into his chest as she listened.

The hollow chuckle reverberated through both hearts, "Not for the little people. Cuba was always getting fucked. If it wasn't the Spaniards it was the Yankees putting their boots on our throats. Imagine our delight when two outcasts washed up on the beach carrying a new philosophy. They started to sell a dream of everyone being equal, no classes, no poverty, no division."

"That sounds wonderful, but how did they make it work?"

"They didn't." Tony clenched the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. The bluenette discreetly cracked open her eye, eavesdropping on the personal history being divulged. "Fucking Castro, that cocksucker sold out his own to the communists. The Leaders changed but not the methods."

"People were still being ripped from their homes in the middle of the night. Damn jackals separating families to feed the labor camps and fill the prisons. My mother and little sister caught a boat heading to the States. I stayed with mi padre, and when I was big enough, joined the army. A hot meal and a sense of purpose kept me anchored for a while."

"What made you leave?" Rory muttered with sympathy.

"The same thing that makes us all leave eventually. Death. My father had gotten sick, and the medicine he needed was illegal because it was American contraband. Manny and I," A crack was heard in the Kingpin's voice, "we tried smuggling in a crate. Got caught and thrown in a cell."

"He died two days later. Was so mad I attacked the warden when he told me, in return they gave me this." He took his left hand off the wheel to touch the scar, "Would've probably rotted in that cage had it not been for the exodo del Mariel. The head honchos decided it would be easier to shove the overcrowded prison population onto the Americans while they dealt with the political refugees. So I found myself on a boat bound for the land of opportunity."

"And was it?"

"What?"

"A land of opportunity?"

"Honestly? Yeah, the opportunity to take anything you ever wanted or lose everything you ever loved." Tony didn't elaborate any further, choosing to focus on the road while both Rory and Lelei thought about the country the Kingpin had come from. Unaware of the others' contemplation, the two women shared a thought.

What happened in America?

Pina Co Lada always wanted to be a knight, even as a little girl she daydreamed of a beautiful strong woman draped in shining armor. The senators and nobles thought it ludicrous, for why would the third in line for the throne desire to be down in the muck and blood? But she ignored these naysayers, and either out of pity or defeat her father allowed a captain of the guard to teach her and her friends the art of war. It was a grueling process but resulted in the formation of the 'Rose-Order of Knights', an all female sect of the imperial army. But that pride quickly turned to disdain as her troops were regularly used for parades, color guard, and nothing more.

So when her father summoned Pina to the senate chambers she'd not known what to expect when passing the large wooden doors. Molt Sol Augustus sat upon his throne, as cold and distant as the mountain range to the west. She felt like a mouse walking into the lion's den, her father's amber eyes analyzing her like a particularly interesting tax proposal. As Pina knelt in fealty, the tension in the air was thick. Of all the things her progenitor could have summoned her for, what followed was the least expected.

"There have been sightings of a large collection of bandits operating outside Italica, you are to mobilize the Rose-Order and defend the city."

"H-huh?" Pina tilted her head in confusion. "Father, would you be so merciful as to repeat that? For a moment I thought you'd asked of my knights." Daring to look up from her position, the Princess's red pupils found the scheming eyes of her parent staring right back.

"Is this not what you've desired, Pina? I finally give your girls a vital task and you stand there like a gaping fish instead of thanking me?"His tone was thin, a sliver of ice between her and the all encompassing disappointment she was familiar with. But there was something else in those orange pits Pina had never seen before, a shiftiness often well concealed but now erratic. Despite her youthfulness, the Princess was sharp and quick witted, born into a world of political machinations and misdirection, and by token had learned to read body language quite well.

A chill stole her breath as she read the one thing she'd never seen before plainly across his stature, fear. The sight seized the air in her throat, so she stared at the tiled floor, swallowing the remnants of her discovery and nerves.

"O-of course, my liege! It is the highest honor to serve the crown. But what of the invaders? Surely they would be a more pressing matter."

"One would think so, but for now my spies report they've been spotted in the grassy provinces to the west. No, the immediate threat of the marauders takes precedent."

"But what about Zorzal? He would put down this criminal element easily."

"That may be true, but your brother is still subjugating the warrior bunnies. Most likely toying with his food." The Emperor's words caused a flinch in the Princess, who desired to not think about her brother's 'habits'.

"Understood." The fiery haired girl rose and attempted to make an exit from the stifling atmosphere. Before she could complete her retreat that same cold tone followed.

"Do not disappoint me, daughter."

The city of Rondel reminded Tony of the old colonial sections of Havana, with the sandstone outer walls and red tiled roofs. The streets proved too narrow for their hulking machinery, leaving the Montana Cartel to abandon the APC's outside the city limits. Now those very same hardened killers weaved through the spiderweb of alleys and courtyards basking in the culture surrounding them. The Kingpin had allowed his subordinates to go off and explore the metropolis with orders to avoid making trouble and return at sunset to camp, Angelo volunteering to supervise. The men had taken this condition with gusto, running like a pack of children into all different directions as the group entered through the main gate.

While Rory and Lati were distracted by the various wares of the street vendors they passed, Tony's eyes stayed firmly on the small mage in front of him. Since they'd made visual contact with the settlement, Lelei's demeanor had visibly shrunk in anticipation. The towering structure of the Magician School cast a long shadow over the city below it, being built on a plateau with sheer cliffs on all sides but one. Now the four companions found themselves at the base of the steps staring up at the vertical trek before them. Lati commented on the sight, "Still not as many as Babel. By the time you'd delivered eggs to the top they were chickens."

"Talk about a tall order." The quip earned a snort from the Saint who started up the sharp outcroppings beside Lelei. Tony and Rory brought up the rear. The hike took less than an hour, but you could've fooled the Cuban who by the end of the stairs was not only tired but also sore from carrying the small Reaper on his back when she'd started to slow halfway up the cliff. With the main entrance in sight, the Kingpin collapsed to the ground, his face buried in the emerald grass while Rory removed herself from her transportation before brushing off the dust from her clothes.

By the time he'd recouped his strength and stood, the main doors had been opened. A grandmotherly woman in faded maroon and yellow robes made her way down the steps accompanied by a young lady with wild brown hair shooting off in various directions as the majority spilled over her shoulder. The earthly toned girl held a small frown below her russet colored pupils as her gaze focused on Lelei. A curt exchange occurred between the two female magicians.

"Lelei."

"Arpeggio."

There was a sadness in the bluenette's voice. Arpeggio kept aloof, deciding the distant rooftops were more interesting. Eventually the uncomfortable atmosphere was broken by the older woman's voice, "Lelei, it is good to see you child. What has it been? Nine years?"

"Ten grand-master Mimoza La Mer." The young mage's words were curt and respectful.

The woman smiled warmly, "Ah, yes. Forgive me, this old head can have things mixed up now and then. I'm glad you've decided to visit, heavens know your tutor Cato wouldn't have the guts on his own." The name made those aware tense in anticipation, "Speaking of which, where is that pervert? Thirty years since he pulled that dirty trick with that obscene spell and hasn't shown his face since. Is he hiding in the bathhouse district, oh I swear I'll-"

Lelei chose this moment to cut off the arch-mage, the swelling of emotion not allowing her to drag this out any longer, "I'm sorry Mimoza, Cato El Altesan… is dead."

The words hung in the air suppressing all previous thoughts. At first the arch-mage had a confused smile as if someone had asked her how many oranges she could fit into her hat, "Excuse me?"

Lelei was about to shrink into her own robes before a ringed hand anchored her back to the present, "Lelei said your friend ain't coming back."

Mimoza looked from her friend's pupil to the man who'd made his presence known, going from confused to indignant, "Well you must be mistaken. Cato is a seasoned magic user, nothing short of a calamity would do such a thing. And who might I ask, are you?"

"The name's Tony Montana." The Kingpin straightened his back, neither moving closer or further from his position next to the Mage.

The arch-mage narrowed her brow as a scowl marred her pretty face, "Well Mr. Montana, it is a deplorable habit to tell such upsetting falsehoods! If you continue such slander I will have you thrown into the stocks!"

Antonio narrowed his brow at the threat, "Just cuz you don't like what I say don't mean I'm lying abuela."

Before things could escalate further, Rory cut in, hopping between the two groups, "While a bit blunt, Tony speaks only the truth, old friend. I am sorry for your loss."

The appearance of the Reaper shook the old woman from her quickly mounting delusions and shattered the glass of suppressed feelings. The influx of sorrow made the arch-mage collapse into uncontrollable tears, her apprentice kneeling beside her to provide a pathetic attempt at comfort. The sobs subsided after several minutes, leaving a haggard exhaustion on the old woman.

"How…?" Was all she managed to choke out before a fresh wave of dismay reduced her to more crying.

Lati provided the answer, while placing her hand on the opposite shoulder of Lelei, rubbing small circles into the girl's back, "A flame dragon attacked Coda. Unfortunately, we only arrived in time to save Ms. La Lalena. It was her choice to come deliver the news personally. We'd like to extend our sincerest condolences. The death of a loved one weighs heavy on all, no matter the age."

"L-loved one?" The older woman laughed in between hyperventilation and sobs, "I h-hated that sss-stupid man! He was vulgar, arrogant, condescending a-and a f-fool!"

The robed woman lowered herself to sit on the ornate steps next to the shivering heap, "If that is so, why do I see pain in those eyes?"

The arch-mage pulled away her soaked hands to glare at the Saint, "Because he never came back! So I never got to tell h-him my feelings! I hate him! I HATE HIM! I HATE HIM!" Again the elder magician descended into despair but Lati cradled the older woman and pressed her head toward the folds of her violet robe.

The two sat there for some time as those gathered around stood in respectful silence. Lelei watched the display, her own face damp but stoic. The Cuban snaked his arm across her shoulders and pulled the small woman into his side wanting to remind her she wasn't alone. The action caused Lelei to look up in surprise, but Tony's attention remained on the embraced arch-mage and his patron.

The sorrow slowly receded, like an ocean wave slinking back into the deep blue. What it left in its wake was a tired old woman with red puffy eyes and a downcast look. She mumbled something about fate before gathering herself and retreating back into the intimidating building. Her apprentice instead chose to stay behind, now shifting in place while glaring directly at Lelei. Finally Tony decided to confront the young woman, "Hey, cual es la problema mujer?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. You've been giving my friend here a bad fucking attitude since you saw her. What's the problem?"

The woman was shocked at the directness with which the scarred man confronted her. Frazzled at the boldness she spat back, "I don't see why that's any of your business. Especially as an outsider, from what I can tell. This is a family matter between Lelei and I, it doesn't concern you."

The answer confused the Cuban, "Family matter?"

"She is right," Lelei spoke with a calm tone, "as sisters of the Rurudo nomad tribe, any conflicts between clan members must be resolved internally."

Tony whipped his head at the statement, "Wait a sec, you mean THIS is your sister arandano?!"

The bluenette smiled at the nickname, "Yes, and I can take care of this myself. Tranquilo Antonio, esto no tamara mucho tiempo."

Even as he wanted to put himself between the two siblings, her words put him at ease, "No me digas. Fine, it's your show Lelei."

Arpeggio watched the exchange, her protective instincts not liking the way her little sister's eyes twinkled when talking to the Kingpin in that strange tongue. But her pride as a magician prevented her from acting on those feelings, instead she stomped down the remaining steps to walk toward the center of one of the manicured yards dotting the exterior. Stopping on the soft earth, Arpeggio reached into a glowing circle on the floor. The wizard staff pulled from the portal with ease before being twirled in the deft hands of the mage. The small gusts of wind radiated from her position before coming to a stop as she stabbed the non jeweled end into the dirt.

Lelei followed her older sister's example, making way to the opposite end of the lawn before facing the sibling. The two robed figures stood staring at each other, light wind causing the fabrics to sway softly against their forms. Tony sat down on the steps next to Lati, the latter munching on a box of popcorn with gluttonous delight.

"Hey, where'd you get that?"

The Saint looked over, her cheeks puffed up comically before swallowing the load of salty buttery goodness, "Wouldn't you like to know."

A small body plopped into Tony's lap, eliciting an oof from the Kingpin who wrapped his arms around the narrow waist, "That smells tasty. Do you have any to spare, Goddess?"

The Saint smiled at the sight before reaching into her robes to pull out a second bag of puffed kernels, "Such manners. You could learn a thing or two from this little minx, Antonio."

Tony rolled his eyes as he attempted to reach into the bag held by the Reaper; This proved fruitless as she extended her arms to keep the bag just out of reach, "Ah ah, no touching my bag of treats," a pink tint rose on the Apostles cheeks, "Unless you want to of course."

"Then how am I supposed to eat?"

The answer proved more embarrassing than Tony would have liked, forced to stay still and open his mouth periodically as Rory placed the popcorn inside. The flirtatious shenanigans were ignored by the two mages, both entirely focused on their opposite. The silence was finally broken by Tony of all people, "Kick her ass Lelei!"

The two sprang toward each other with blinding speed, the grass beneath their previous positions uprooted and scattered. At the crescendo of their impact Lelei manifested a blue marble around her body. Arpeggio coated her staff in neon yellow electricity, stabbing the gem covered end into the protective mana of her sister. The lightning arced around the shield like white rapids pouring over a boulder. The defensive charm held under the onslaught, but started to show cracks along the edges.

The bluenette waited for a gap in her sister's flow of mana. When the difference was felt, the small mage took her chance to dissolve the shield. Before Arpeggio could capitalize on the new opening a massive wall of earth rose between them, obscuring her target. Growling in anger, the elder mage directed an open palm at the wall before manifesting an intense heat in the form of fire jets. The flames coated the dirt, crumbling the structure in bits and pieces.

By the time the wall gave under its own weight, Arpeggio summoned a burst of air beneath her feet to soar over the jagged edge. Her downward momentum was halted midair, Lelei holding her in place with a green beam. The glare of the elder had no effect on the younger's mute expression. The sour face soon turned to surprise as Lelei pulled the energy tether down like a whip, slamming the woman into the ground. Before the smaller magician could repeat the action, a red blast of mana exploded outward from Arpeggio's body severing the connection.

Getting back up, the oldest sibling looked disheveled, clothes rumpled from the impact while bangs fell into her eyes. Without attempting to adjust her vision, she waved the staff with a wide arcing motion. The ground beneath her secreted water in a startling amount, taking the shape of a massive wave heading toward the still stoic Lelei. As the approaching flood bore down around her, the bluenette touched her staff to the watery mass. Before Tony's eyes the entire wave froze in place, a block of ice caught in its violent crash.

The younger mage brought her scepter down into the ground, sound waves reverberating through the air like the girl was a tuning fork. Cracks spread like spider webs across the glassy surface until the entire block powderized into an avalanche of fine snow. With the direction it was being forced, the soft fluffy whiteness poured over the stunned Arpeggio who stood in place as the snow buried her. With the conclusion of the duel, Lelei walked calmly over the cold floor before stopping in front of a small lump; Tapping her staff to the edge melted the top layer allowing her sister to pop out of the mound shivering and soaked. The two locked eyes as the youngest spoke, "I win, dear sister."

The words were delivered with that same coating of regret. The brunette didn't respond verbally, but her eyes spoke enough. Lelei initially reached down to help her big sister, who swatted away the hand while trying to extricate herself from the packed snow. With a sigh Lelei walked away from the battleground, eyes glued to the ground as the crunch of powder was replaced by the rhythmic clinks of the cobbled sidewalk. Her depressive episode would have lasted longer if not for the intervention of the trio.

"Congratulations on your victory Lelei." A soft manicured hand cupped her face, a small pinch to the cheek.

"Yeah, that was some light show. Hey, do you do birthday parties?" The Cubans' large rough palm ruffled her azul locks.

Even Rory joined in on the affection, coming up from behind to drape herself over the Mages shoulder while exhaling a hot breath against Lelei's sensitive ear, "That was quite a treat. It's been too long since I've enjoyed the work of a gifted wizard. You were stunning out there. Even made me a bit flustered…"

The bombardment of positive reinforcement turned the girl's white skin to cherry red, steam emanating from her body as the temperature in her veins rose to scorching levels. Despite her urge to hide away, the Mage made eye contact with Tony, a big smile gracing the former's lips. The Kingpin returned it with his own signature smirk, which grew at the telltale grumbling coming from the small magic user's frame. With a laugh the scarred man removed his hand from her soft hair before making way toward the steps leading back down to the city. Hands in pocket, the Cuban looked back at the three women, "Let's get something to eat. Gotta celebrate our pequita arandano."

The market streets of Rondel were chaotic and crowded. Store owners stood beside their stalls, shouting at passersby to gawk at their wares. Street urchins weaved in between the forest of moving limbs, and occasionally a mark would yell for realization his pockets were lighter than before. The prostitutes leaned coyly against the stone buildings, eyes fluttering from male to male. It felt agonizingly familiar to Angelo as he sat outside the tavern with Luis sipping on his tankard.

The cacophony of noise and movement washed over the skinny man like a warm shower. So caught up in his own musings, he failed to hear his companions' words. That proved unacceptable as a bony fist struck at the vulnerable bicep supporting the beer. A splash of foam escaped the large cup to soak into the Henchman's colorful shirt, "Hey, que diablos?!"

Luis ignored the outburst as he spoke again, eyes glued to something behind Angelo, "Man, check out la mujer."

Angie rolled his eyes while shifting in the seat, "I swear you are a one track mind Luis."

The sicario frowned at that, "No, I mean LOOK you dumb bastard."

Angelo obliged his request but not without complaint, "Yeah I'm lookin, I'm lookin! But what's so special, I'm pretty sure la gatito tastes the same as it…did…back…home…"

The crude comment lost momentum as Angelo's eyes located the focus of his drinking buddies' attention. At the mouth of a decrepit alleyway, surrounded by trash and debris stood a tall thin blonde woman. Her long hair went down to her lower back. Her body held curves that could allow her to be a successful model. Her skin was a light tan, implying she'd spent a fair bit of time outside under the sun.

All of these factors by themself wouldn't have caused such a reaction, but it was her eyes that brought a spike of alarm to the Henchman's insides. While the iris was a beautiful sky blue, it was confined within a ring of purple on her right side. The glazed and confused expression only compiled the sense that she needed help. Before he could think of his movements, Angelo rose from the table and started his way through the crowd. Most stepped out of the way as the determined expression on his face deterred them from approaching.

The shouts of Luis behind him to slow down were ignored as he got closer and closer to the woman. Before he could cross the last stream of bodies, Angelo watched as two surly large men approached the dazed woman with deliberate steps. A carriage almost flattened the Henchman, forcing him to step back and let it through. By the time the wagon had passed the alleyway was empty, a red scrap of fabric lying half submerged in a puddle where the young woman was standing. On auto-pilot, Angelo forgoed waiting for Luis to catch up, bounding down the alleyway, following the sounds of struggling.

Reaching the end of the small street, Angelo heard a feminine cry down the left fork. Turning the corner he found those same burly men dragging the girl who tried in vain to extricate herself from their clasping manacles.

"HEY!"

The Henchmans' words halted their advancement, also drawing the attention of the woman. With tears leaking from her frightened eyes she cried out, "Help me, please!"

One of the scoundrels brought his hand sharply to the back of her neck, causing their captive to go limp from the blunt force trauma, "Enough outta you wood elf. Already caused enough trouble with your lil vanishing act."

This sight angered the Henchman who in turn drew the sword at his hip, "Hey, ugly fuckers, I don't think she want's to go with you."

The two criminals sized up the smaller opponent before each reaching into their ragged coats to pull out a dagger and a billy-club, "You sure you wanna do this tiny? You can just walk away."

Angelo didn't respond, but lowered into a defensive stance with brow narrowed.

"It's your funeral then." The one with the knife sprang forward.

The swipes appeared wild and erratic; But the narrow confines of the alleyway didn't allow for Angie to punish the telegraphed combination. Instead he had to go on the defensive, barely deflecting the sharp metal in time. This went on until a failed parry resulted in a long cut being opened up on the Henchman's forearm. To his credit, Angelo ignored the pain coursing through his muscles and used the wound to his advantage. Allowing the blood to seep into his cupped hand, Angie waited for another overextended thrust to throw the splash of red in his attackers eyes.

Temporarily blinded, the man didn't see the Henchman's response. The cold steel of the sword jutted from one end of the ribcage to the other, effectively skewering both lungs in a fluid motion. Extracting the sword from the dead man, Angelo brandished it toward the club wielder, "Next?"

The mocking had its desired effect, pushing the vagabond to forgo caution and rush the wounded man. More familiar with his weapon now, Angelo waited for a gap in the criminals' incessant wailing. When presented he deftly outflanked his adversary, bringing a long slash across the top of the hand with a flowing cut to the back of the ankle. The tendons severed, allowing gravity to take hold of both weapon and wielder. On the cobblestone floor the bleeding kidnapper pathetically tried to crawl away, Angelo pressed his leather shoe on the man's shoulder forcing him to lay back looking up at the victor.

"Any last words puto?"

The scowling of the defeated scumbag shifted to a confident sneer, "Yeah, bout time you showed up."

Angelo wrinkled his nose in confusion, "Showed up? What are you tal-"

The blow to the back of the head was sufficient in knocking out the Henchman. The third attacker put his club away while berating the survivor, "I leave you two idiots alone for ONE second and you not only lose the merchandise, you nearly get killed getting it back."

"Hey, it wasn't our fault! Crazy bitch picked the lock with a chicken bone! Lucky she freezes up sometimes or we woulda lost 'er."

"Oh yeah, so what's with the foreigner?" The man gestured to the still form of Angelo.

"Some goody two shoes who wanted to play hero. "The wounded man spat on the body, "Feel like a hero now asshole?"

The leader knelt down and patted down the unconscious Henchman for valuables, "Hey, this guy is lugging around some serious jewelry."

The golden crucifix was roughly looted from Angelo's neck. Examining the necklace, the man noticed a small inscription on the back.

Que el señor te guíe a casa hijo

a Cochabamba

"What does it say?"

The man tossed the gold toward his associate that pocketed the item, "Just gibberish."

"Now what do we have here?" Crouching down, the criminal picked up the ornate sword, appreciating the craftsmanship of the weapon.

"Hey, stop gawking at the loot and give me Jack's knife so I can bleed that punk."

"Not so fast."

The bleeding bandit scowled at his superior, "What do you mean 'not so fast'?! Look at me, this bastard turned me to ribbons!"

"Yeah, with a sword bejeweled with the Empire's crest. You know who they give these babies out too?" The dumb expression on his companion told all it needed too, "These weapons are given to high ranking officers and nobles."

The floorbound criminal glanced hatefully at the good samaritan, "Yeah so?!"

"So," he slowed his speech as if talking to a child, "does he look like a soldier? I bet this here is a visiting dignitary, probably here for some hoity toity trade agreement, wanted to see the sights, and fell right into our lap."

The annoyance in the other criminal's voice was thick, "Okay and?"

"Aaaand that means he's got people that will pay a fat ransom to get him back."

"So we're just going to let him go?!"

"No, we hold out for the money, THEN you can have your revenge."

This statement caused the injured man to calm down, "Okay, what about the elf? Too much trouble to become a 'pleasure girl'..."

"Don't worry, already got a buyer set up. Guy said he'd pay a premium for woodland long-ears. Doesn't even care she's all crazy from what happened at her village."

"Really? When will he come?"

"Tonight." The man sheathed the sword on his belt, before turning to the other miscreants arriving on scene, "Help Victor get back to the hideout. I'll carry these two."

The men nodded before helping their comrade get up and limp back to base. The large man reached down and dug his hand into the colorful fabric to hoist Angelo up, but the grip proved too tight causing him to rip a piece of the shirt off the Henchman. Throwing away the scrap with a growl, he instead roughly grabbed the shoulder to toss Angie over his back before doing the same to the woman. Before long the alleyway was empty. This was what Luis stumbled upon, having finally broken through the crowded foot traffic.

The sicarios' eyes scanned the area frantically for his friend. The dead body and discarded small arms spoke of a fight. But the lack of Angelo or the girl left missing pieces to this puzzling scene. Finally something bright caught his sight; Reaching down Luis wrapped his fingers around the fabric before bringing it closer to his face. The intricate designs set alarm bells off inside the tanned man's head.

This is Angie's shirt.

Tucking the piece of clothing into his back pocket, Luis got closer to the cadaver. Patting down the cooling meatsack resulted in the retrieval of a single wooden coin. There was a carving of a horse on the object, a jester's hat adorning the equine. On the back something was written in the native tongue.

Fuck! I can't read this scribble!

The man sat next to the body, smacking his forehead in increasing frustration. Think Luis, Think! Who can read this shit…of course, the wizard!

Standing up the sicario bounded down the alley, one thought on his mind.

Where are you Jefe?

The restaurant was initially reluctant to seat Tony and the girls. The waiter's polite suggestion to find another establishment would have normally resulted in a raging Montana. But the calming presence of his Patrona made the Cuban more subtle with his disdain. The sack of gems clattered across the countertop, effectively silencing the host who's eyes nearly popped out of his skull at the treasure. With deceptive speed a private booth was made ready toward the back of the dining room, nestled between two potted plants.

No further 'suggestions' were made by the neatly dressed man as he walked the group to their seats. A scroll of yellowed parchment bound tightly in a strip of leather sat on the white tablecloth. Sliding into the center of the curved bench, Tony leaned back into the cushions. His arms were brought up to rest on the top end of the booth, the pose reminiscent of a well known martyr. Rory slid into the crook of his armpit, her body pressing into his side.

The positioning wasn't lost on Lelei, who after some deliberation decided to copy the Reapers idea. This caused Tony to widen his eyes as the bluenette took his elevated appendage to drape over her shoulders. Instead of acknowledging Antonio, the Mage stared at the Apostle with a challenging raise of the brow. The silent standoff forced the Cuban to look to Santa Muerte for assistance. The trapped man garnered no sympathy from the robed woman.

Uh, Lati? A little help here? Tony glanced between the two petite females with growing concern.

The Saint opened the scroll, scanning through the options on the menu. Oh look at that, Basilisk is in season.

Lati, I'm serious! Feels like a cold war about to go hot over here! He could almost visualize different colored lasers clashing between the two women. Rory took the Cuban's still draped arm to bring it similarly around her body before sticking her tongue childishly out at the Mage.

Before mutually assured destruction could take place, their waiter nervously approached the table, "Good afternoon folks. I've been told we have a celebration in our midst?"

The Kingpin jumped on the excuse to escape the rock and hard place he'd been pinned between, "Yeah man, our girl here just won a duel."

The soft squeeze of the shoulder pulled Lelei's eyes from her current battle who nodded in acknowledgment.

With a forced smile the waiter began his memorized spiel, "Well you've come to the right place. The Warm Hearth is the finest dining experience in Rondel. Before I take your orders, would you folks like a look at our drink menu?" His hand tapped the top end of a scroll sticking out of the black apron.

Rory answered, "No need. Have two bottles of your finest grapes brought up from the cellar, aged to the year 437."

"Uhm, miss, I don't believe you are old enough to-" The rose tinted irises snapped toward the now shivering man, daring him to finish his words.

The waiter instead chose life, and retreated to fetch their drinks. Antonio looked toward the Apostle, "You guys actually have minimum drinking ages here?"

Lelei cut off the Reaper who began to speak, "Yes. It is unlawful for anyone who hasn't seen their eighteenth harvest to consume alcohol."

"Well that's no problem for you. I mean being over hundreds of years past that would make it fine right?"

Rory's features turned surprisingly red, her glare aimed at the Mage, "Yes, technically I do clear that requirement. Unfortunately my master chose me as his vessel two months before my own birthday. So until my ascension I will not grow any older."

"Mentalmente, así como físicamente, parece." Lelei whispered underneath her breath.

"What was that bookworm?" The Apostle didn't understand the words but the reaction from Antonio and Lati confirmed they weren't the kindest.

"Learn Antonio's language and you can find out for yourself." The curt words inflamed the Apostle.

A wicked thought popped into her head then, bringing a nefarious smile to the violet lips, "You know, that is a wonderful idea."

Before he could react, Tony was brought down to eye level with the raven haired beauty and pulled into a passionate kiss. The small woman was deceptively strong as she held his head in place while her tongue entangled him with calculated strokes. The Kingpin leaned into the embrace, causing a surprised noise from Rory that quickly melted into a satisfied purr. By the time she'd relinquished his lips both parties were breathing heavier from the prolonged lip-lock. Tenderly rubbing along his stubbly cheek the Reaper whispered, "Me gusta tu sabor, Antonio."

Lelei had tried averting her eyes from the erotic exchange but found the desire to learn too strong. Despite the hot coal of jealousy in her chest, the way the Apostle moaned by Tony's efforts made the Mage squirm in her seat. Before her nerves could get the better of her and before her target could recover Lelei touched the underside of the Cubans chin, pulling it toward her direction. Unfortunately, Tony had gathered his wits and understood the bluenettes intentions.

The arm wrapped around the Mage's waist tightened, essentially pulling the young woman into his lap. Her squeak was quickly smothered by his lips as the Kingpins tongue subdued her own novice appendage. The kiss was more aggressive than the embrace with Rory, causing the young magician to writhe in pleasure. A string of saliva connected their panting mouths when Tony finally decided to let the girl rest. Her head pressed against the compact muscle of his shoulder, head still spinning from the bold action.

Tony spoke then, a playful tilt to his tone, "Okay, you both got what you wanted. Now kiss and make up," Lelei's eyes widened as a blush spread across her face, "and you just might get some more after dessert."

Tentatively the Mage looked over to the Apostle who surprisingly seemed receptive to the suggestion. Wanting more of the Cuban's affections, Lelei sat up on the man's leg and leaned toward the Reaper. Rory mirrored the action, leaning closer to the bluenette. As each tilted their heads to the side to allow for a deeper connection, the waiter appeared alongside a familiar face, "Sir, this gentleman was asking for you."

The interruption stopped both girls while Tony groaned in frustration, "Luis? What the hell man?! Can't you see I'm trying to enjoy lunch?"

The frantic expression on the henchman's face told the Cuban he'd had good reason to find him. With a gesture of the head, Luis asked to speak to Tony in private. Reluctantly the Kingpin removed Lelei from his lap before untangling his limbs with the girls and sliding out of the booth.

"This had better be important," The scarred man began as he entered an unused hallway of the restaurant beside the underling.

"Angelo might've been kidnapped."

The Cuban could only think of one reply, "Fuck."

The pair left the others to enjoy their meal not wanting to worry them; Lati stared knowingly at the two before burying her head back in the menu. Luis also asked Lelei to translate the text on the wooden coin before departing. Now they had a clue to go off of, The Crazy Mare Tavern, if no feasible way to locate it in the massive city. The first course of action was to gather up the boys, strength in numbers being the idea. So they made their way back to the gate the Cartel had dispersed from, whistling loudly every few blocks.

Like moths to a flame, more and more of the sicarios joined the rapidly increasing mob before the platoon of vibrantly dressed killers stood outside the city walls discussing their next move. A crate of handheld transceivers was brought from the vehicles and distributed, one for every two men. The piece of timber was passed down the line, allowing each soldado a moment to memorize the symbol and name of the bar. The guns were packed into waistbands or slung around shoulders, most equipped with a compact submachine gun or pistol, a handful brandished the sawed off double barrel. With orders to report in and wait once the establishment was located, the Cartel broke off into hunting parties.

Tony and Luis chose to follow along main street, eyes scanning the buildings on either side for a hint of the distinct sign. Twenty minutes passed before the radio crackled to life in Tony's pocket, "Jefe, I think I got eyes on the place. Over."

The Cuban brought the walkie talkie to his mouth, "Copy that Flaco, you got any landmarks around you? Something tall? Over."

The line crackled for a moment before the voice returned, "Yeah, I got something. You see a big church near you? Got a real shiny dome, with a tower next to it. Over."

Tony scanned the rooftops, eventually catching a golden glint from a building obscured by the chimneys. "Yeah I think I see it. Over."

"South end, you'll see me next to a cobbler. Over."

With the line vacant Tony addressed the others, "Okay you heard the man, look for the church with the gold dome, meet up on the back end. No funny business, I wanna catch these assholes with their pants down."

A flood of, "Si, Jefe." burst through the speaker before the device went silent.

Tony stealthily slid into place next to the crouching Flaco and Alvaro once they arrived. Peaking over the crates, his brown eyes focused on the worn wooden sign, eyes tracing along the carving of the horse. Spotting sicarios on the opposite end of the street, the Cuban spoke into the radio, "Cover all exits, I don't feel like going on a foot chase. You capture anyone, best be gentle, I wanna have a chat with them myself."

The Kingpin turned to his soldados, still crouched next to him, "Anyone else feel like a beer?"

"Well I am feeling a little parched." Flaco joked.

"You know me boss, always ready to party." Alvaro's eyes were burning with anticipation.

"Let's get our boy back!" Luis didn't mince words.

Calmly the four stood up before walking for the old wooden door leading inside. With one last glance between them, they entered the tavern. The interior was darker than outside, forcing their eyes to take time adjusting to the low candlelight. The tables and chairs were a scavenged mix of different styles and quality, the squeaky floorboards straining under their footsteps. With a leisurely pace the quad sidled up to the bar, each leaning on the counter without sitting.

Flaco pounded his fist against the wood, "Barkeep, aqui!"

The man behind the counter rolled his eyes as he concluded his conversation with a man sitting at the far end, bandages applied to the drunk's right arm and leg. With disinterest the man made his way over to the foreigners, "What'll you have fellas?"

"Four tankards." Flaco pointed to the others as he said it.

"I don't recognize you. Gold up front." The man didn't look up from pouring the alcohol.

Luis tossed five coins on the counter, "Have it your way, culo."

The bartender ignored the curse, sliding the coins into his apron. The man attempted to return to his conversation but Tony spoke up, "Ah ah, not so fast amigo. You want a nice tip?" The Cuban pulled a small diamond from his blue suit, rolling the glittering stone between his fingers.

The employee's eyes twinkled at the precious rock, and unconsciously reached out to take it. The Kingpin pulled his hand back, "First you gotta answer some questions. Luis, show the man."

The sicario pulled the torn cloth from his pocket and placed it on the bar. "You seen anyone today, about 5'6, short brown hair, wearing fabric like this?"

The man picked up the rag, turning it over a few times in his hand before tossing it back on the counter, "Nope, can't say I have."

Again he reached for the stone, but Luis grabbed the wrist, "What about an elf? Blonde, tall, and pretty. Had a black eye," The man visibly flinched, "and was wearing green."

The man began meekly, "Look fella's I don't want any trouble. It's about closing time so you should finish your dr-"

The stiletto stabbed smoothly through the barkeep's right hand, pinning him to the wood counter; Tony released the knife before grabbing the man by his shirt, "We're finished when I say so, fucker! Now where did you see them?!"

The man's whimpers were ignored as Tony delivered a hard slap across the face. The blow snapped his head back, leaving the bartender dazed.

"You talk or," Another slap whipped the cranium to the opposite side, "we renovate your face then your business."

"I-I can't! They'll kill me!"

Flaco took the man's free hand and snapped the pinkie, "And what do you think we'll do if you don't help us?"

"Is there a problem here?" The unknown voice snapped them to attention.

The four turned around to eight muscled goons orbiting the bandaged drunk, his smile wasn't friendly. Letting go of the now forgotten bartender, Tony addressed the barracho, "Yeah, looking for a few friends of ours. Haven't seen them have you?"

The wrapped man feigned ignorance, "Nope, not a lot of people with the skin of dirt here. You should try the sewers."

The crowd around him snickered at the comment. The sicarios tensed in anticipation of a brawl. Tony looked over the man, a golden glint drawing his eyes to the dirty neck. The cross nestled below the double chin, its chain links sinking into the slob's folds. A shock coursed through the Kingpin who recognized the jewelry, it was Angie's.

"Nice bling."

"What?" The slang confused the tubby ringleader.

Tony pointed with an accusatory finger, "The necklace, gordo. Where did you get it? Tell me and I'll get you a nice big cake to stuff that mouth of yours with. Fair trade, yeah?"

The man scowled before grabbing the pendant, "I don't think so. Not like its previous owner's gonna need it anymore."

The allusion proved a step too far, and the fight started. Tony dashed forward faster than the scumbag could react; A heel slammed into his foot pinning the overweight man in place before his larynx was crushed with a short jab. As the man fell back choking from the indented windpipe, the soldados sprang into action. Luis grabbed one of the tankers, splashing it into a charging goon's face before sidestepping the tackle and smashing the wooden mug into the back of the neck. Flaco picked up a stool, before wildly swinging it to create space between them and the bar patrons.

Alvaro began exchanging blows with one, his quick footwork and sharp reflexes allowing him to glide through his opponent's wild swings. Another attacker came in from the side, knocking the sicario to the ground. Before they could start stomping the latino, a bottle of booze sailed through the air and shattered on contact with the second man's skull. The criminal covered his face in pain, the shards of glass mixing with the hard liquor to set his features ablaze. Before Luis could throw a second bottle, one of the goons flipped a table in his direction, forcing the sicario to jump out of the way.

Tony leapt on the back of the largest miscreant, his forearms locking in place to choke the mountain of flesh. The giant fruitlessly grabbed at the back of his neck, attempting to dislodge the unwanted passenger. Flaco took the opportunity to ram his improvised weapon into the large exposed gut. The attack knocked the wind out of the towering mass, who began to slow as the Cuban tightened his grip. Eventually the lack of oxygen forced a blackout, the lumbering oaf falling forward to face plant while Tony abandoned his ride.

The remaining five stepped back, stunned that their numerical advantage had dwindled so quickly. The foreigners reassembled before their leader, the one in the dark blue clothes, mockingly gestured toward the group, "Come on, I thought you wanted to play rough?"

Backed into a figurative corner, one of the hired muscles unsheathed his hidden dagger, "Enough of this! Cut these bast-"

Tony emptied the Walther's magazine into the man's chest, two of the rounds passing through to hit his comrade behind him. The first collapsed like a puppet whose strings were cut while the second stumbled back into a table, knocking the furniture over as he tried desperately to stem the flow of red coming from his thorax. One of the intact men tried to make a run for the door, and was quickly blasted against a wall by Alvaro's lupara. The last two rose their hands in defeat.

"You wanna live?" The Cuban's inquiry was received with eager nods, "Tell me what I want to know."

The pair exchanged looks before both pointing to the door behind the bar, "There's a trapdoor under an empty barrel, it leads to the cages."

"Yeah, keys should be in the boss's office." The other chimed in.

"Oh yeah? And what will I find in those cages, you nasty fucks?"

The two couldn't meet his harsh eyes.

Tuka Luna Marceau was known for her lethargic nature around her home village, Kowan. It was often joked that if you wanted her to arrive on time, one would need to claim the event was one hour earlier than scheduled. But the teasing was manageable to the 'young' elf, who only took stock in her fathers opinion above all else. Hodor Marceau himself was a respected member of the community, even with his former womanizing status. Together the small family lived in one of the numerous treebound huts that made up their forest settlement.

It was here in her soft bed Tuka slept blissfully unaware of the danger rapidly approaching her way of life. The peaceful slumber was interrupted by the slamming of a door and a shaking of her bare shoulder. Initially the Elf tried to ignore the annoyance and return to her dreams.

"TUKA! Get up quickly!" The frantic voice of her only parent smashed the attempt and made the blonde shoot open her eyes, faced with the hovering features of her father.

"P-papa?" Her throat was croaky from lack of use, "What's wrong?!" Instead of answering immediately the tall man quickly made way toward the wooden dresser in the corner before digging a set of clothes out of the furniture, and tossing them to the nude woman.

Removing the bow from his back, the man notched an arrow before glancing out the window with a grim look, "I spotted a flame dragon during my foraging. It's heading here. We need to leave now, Daughter."

He turned to see a frozen Tuka, still gripping the elven green tunic in her white knuckled hands, her eyes glazed over from fear, "TUKA, SNAP OUT OF IT."

The booming command pulled the Elf from her shock who quickly started to cover her bare form. By the time the blonde had slid the calf-length boots onto her feet, cries of fear were heard from outside. The two vacated the structure and ran toward the center of town, the communal well. All around them, the sticky flames clung to whatever surface they made contact with. Screams of agony mixed with the ominous crackling of wood as they ran through the blaze.

Finally the short stone circle was within reach, but something massive crashed into the earth behind them. Stumbling from the tremor, Tuka turned to witness the flame dragon in all its terrible glory. The monster stood surrounded by flames, a haunting visage depicting the cruelty of nature. The single yellow eye snapped to hers, staring into her blue irises. The act staked the young woman in place with terror, haulting the progress of Hodor who held her hand tightly.

Turning from his goal, the man watched as the giant reptile pulled its head back, an orange glow emanating from the beast's gaping maw. Realizing the creature's intentions, the man picked up his still child and sprinted the last few feet toward the aquifer. The motions pulled her from the haze, "Papa, what do we do? There is no way out…"

"Not for the village, no. But maybe for you, Tuka." The voice was resigned, and that scared his daughter more than the dragon.

"What do you mean?! You're coming, right Papa?!"

Hodor couldn't meet her gaze, his smile draped in regret. Dry lips pressed against her forehead, "What are you doing Papa?"

"Making sure you're late for your own funeral. Remember, "her protests were spoken over, "I love you and I want only the best for you, daughter."

Those were the final words of Hodor Marceau, who shortly after threw his child down into the dark waters. Her scream echoed off the stone walls, following the Elf all the way down. The last thing the blonde saw was her father, smiling down on her, with crawling flames surrounding him. Then the impact of the fall turned everything black.

(Some time later)

When she next regained consciousness, Tuka attempted to sit up, hitting her head against the iron bars surrounding her. Wincing in pain, the Elf blinked away the spots in her vision before attempting to place her location. The steady groan of wheels on dirt told her she was in a wagon, her damp clothes made the thin woman shiver before sneezing. The noise garnered attention from the driver and passenger who poked his head inside the canvas with a leer, "Wakey wakey tree rat. Have a nice nap?"

Tuka glared at the human, "What is the meaning of this?! Where are you taking me?! Where is my father?!"

"Woah, woah, slow down there, long ears. As you can see, you're not the one calling the shots here. Now if you ask nicely I MIGHT just tell you what happened to your kin. But IF you don't fix that attitude, me and my partner here might pull over for 'some fun', even if we gotta take the discount payment for damaged goods. Now ask me again, little lady."

Even as she hatefully stared back at the insolent man the need for good news trounced her pride. Swallowing the spiteful curses on her tongue, the Elf asked in a subdued whisper, "Where is my father?"

The man appeared satisfied with the submissiveness, "Yeah, that's better. Now let's see, "his gloved hand went to scratch under the stubbly chin in thought, and then snapped his fingers in remembrance, " you must mean that pile of bones in front of the well we found you in. Yeah, daddy's not coming home, long ears."

While the man laughed cruelly Tuka felt the warm stream of tears pour down her cheeks, "YOU'RE LYING! PAPA WOULD NEVER LEAVE ME ALONE!"

The young woman's shouts earned a frown from the man, who reached into his coat while stepping back into the wagon. The Elf tightly grasped at the bars to the small cage and wailed in protest at the cruel truth presented to her before suddenly freezing in place. The man gave the suddenly silent captive a questioning look before administering the narcotic. A sharp prick was felt in her arm, and the blonde's sight became blurry. The trafficker exited the interior as he placed the syringe back into his pocket, confident the sedative would take effect before they arrived at the drop off point.

Turning his head to the driver, the man spoke aloud more to himself than his companion, "Man, this has to be the easiest sack of gold ever. To think, we could've kept to the usual route and bypassed Koan's woods, but this is so much better. The price of elf girls is nearly double what it was just a few days ago."

The driver chimed in, "Yeah, probably cuz of the men dressed in flowers."

The passenger rolled his eyes, "Oh don't tell me you believe all that crap. A group of less than fifty killing ALL the vassal state forces? Don't make me laugh."

"Laugh all you want, you didn't see Alnus."

"Neither did you, dumbass."

"No, but I chatted with a few deserters. The way they described the battle, " The man shook his head, "I just want to get clear of any major settlements after we get paid. Got a bad feeling about the coming weeks."

His companion brushed off the man's concerns, "Yeah yeah, one drink at the Mare then we'll get outta Rondel."

(A few hours after)

The drugs wore off sometime in the night. This new prison was modeled like a jail cell, complete with chamberpot in the corner and a pile of straw for a makeshift bed. The Elf stood on wobbly legs and attempted to push open the gate.

"No use. You need a key to open it. Trust me I've tried." A tired voice wafted from one cell over.

The blonde stopped her futile pushing and turned to the source of the comment, "What is your name?"

"My name?" a short cacophony of laughter started before being interrupted by harsh coughing, "Sorry, just been so long since someone has asked me that. I almost felt normal there. The name's Vivian, but my friends call me V."

Tuka waited for the pained chortles to cease before asking her next question, "Where am I?"

"Somewhere you don't want to be, elf."

"Tuka."

"What?"

"My name is Tuka, it's nice to meet you Vivian."

"Wish I could say the same Tuka. From what I've gathered, we're under a tavern or something, can't mistake that smell of dried ale and old bread."

The Elf took a whiff, and almost gagged. Mixed with the scent of the bar, the unmistakable musk of sex, sweat, and blood permeated the entire hallway. The voice spoke again, "Oh god, I'm sorry. I forgot elves have more sensitive noses."

Deliberately breathing through her mouth now, Tuka replied, "It's okay… now that I think about it though, how did you know I was an elf?"

Some shuffling was heard, like someone sitting down to lean against a wall, "Saw dickhead one and dickhead two drag you in."

Tuka sat near the corner of her cell, "What are they going to do to us?"

"I think you have a good idea already."

The Elf despaired in her harrowing position. Quietly the blonde curled into a small ball and wept until rest mercifully took her.

(That Morning)

"Rise and shine, fresh meat!" Something sturdy banged against the metal bars, rousing the young woman from her restless sleep. Tuka looked up from her position to see a grotesque man chomping on a cooked hen leg with one greasy hand while the other held the club he'd woken her with.

While initially staring at her captor with disgust, an idea formed in the girl's head. With her life on the line, Tuka turned to the one weapon she had left, her looks. Standing up with a limber twist, the Elf approached the man with what she hoped was an enticing smile. Pressing up against the bars, Tuka let out a small whimper, "Hey, Mister. I'm reeeal hungry. Think you could spare me a bite?"

His black eyes crawled over her body. Tuka fought the urge to shake under the scrutiny. Fortunately, the man seemed partially drunk and leaned forward with a putrid breath, "Oh yeah? What do I get outta it, long ears?"

The Elf steeled her nerves before delivering a playful smirk, "How does a first kiss sound?"

"Oh really?" His perverted giggles were followed by the partially consumed bird being passed through the bars for her to eat. Tuka tensed before reaching over and biting hard, right into the space below the man's thumb. The jailer shouted in pain, dropping the food on the cell floor as he pulled his hand back quickly through the gap. Tuka held on until the bars struck her in the right eye. She reached to cover the already swelling eye socket.

The man raised his stick and struck the poles in anger before stomping off down the hallway, muttering about 'sneaky elf sluts'. When sure the man had left, Vivian voiced her opinion, "Not a smart move. Asshole will take it out on us later."

"No, he won't." Tuka spoke with confidence as she picked up the discarded parcel of meat.

"Oh yeah? And why's that Tuka?"

The blonde didn't reply. The sound of scraping metal was heard along with some jingling. The cell door opened with a creak. Cautiously the Elf stepped into the corridor, looking to either side before making her way over to Vivian's cage with the chicken bone in hand, "Because we are leaving, V."

The tired redhead was in disbelief at her friend's ability to improvise. For a second, hope glimmered in her eyes at the thought of liberation, and was quickly destroyed by the discovery of the jailer.

"Okay time to teach you some man-H-HEY WE GOT A RUNNER!"

The shout interrupted their brief celebration, the two women snapping toward the noise before looking back at each other. In a few seconds reinforcements would be here, and neither would escape this horrible place.

"Leave me."

Tuka's fiddling with the lock stopped as she looked up to Vivian, "What?"

The girl's smile reminded the Elf of her father for some reason, "You heard me, go. Go and get far away from here."

"B-but V-"

"I SAID GO!" The shouting made the blonde flinch before a warm hand rested on her own two still jimmying the lock. The frail digits gave her a soft squeeze before retreating into the cage, "Thanks for calling me by my name, it made me feel normal again."

The footsteps were getting closer, forcing Tuka to abandon her new friend. Like a bat outta hell, the blonde bounded in the opposite direction. Running to the end of the hall, a set of steps led up toward what was hopefully freedom. Climbing the stairs, the Elf shoved the hatch above her open and leapt into what looked like a store room. A hand jutted out from the trapdoor grabbing at her ankle before Tuka slammed the trap door on the appendage earning an angry curse from its owner.

With adrenaline coursing through her, the young woman opened the closest door and sprinted through the dingy tavern out into the street. More voices could be heard from the building, her escape being far from subtle. Without a plan she darted down the streets hoping to lose her pursuers in the maze of empty stone corridors. Logic escaped the Elf, too afraid to scream for help and give away what little progress she'd made in the bid for salvation. Eventually the sounds of people led her toward a bustling market center.

So close, Tuka ignored the stomping feet behind her and ran with what little strength remained. The mouth of the alley was within reach, then she wasn't in the alleyway. She wasn't running for her life. The Elf was cold but that didn't make sense. The flames around her shouldn't have felt like ice.

The coils of heat cleared to reveal a familiar face. Her doting father glared with disgust, "Always late. Late for your own funeral."

Trapped by the blaze, Tuka could only stare in horror as the man that had raised her with love and encouragement dislodged blackened flesh from his rapidly charring bones. The disgust burned into a hateful glare; Hodor's embering skull never once turning from his accusatory gaze. It was then she could feel the inferno wrap around her arms, tearing the Elf away from the only family she'd ever known. Then it was all gone. Tuka blinked rapidly, unaware of the tears already flowing.

The harsh hold on the blonde's arms belonged to the very men that had brought her to this hell. Exhaustively, she tried to pull away from the steel grasps. The man raised his hand as if to strike her and she cried in anticipation.

From behind, an unfamiliar voice called out, "HEY!"

When she looked back, Tuka caught two warm brown pools. He was covered in flowers. A sword laid at the stranger's hip.

"Help me, please!"

The strike to the Elf's neck prevented further requests.

(Now)

The horrible smells told Tuka not to open her eyes. But she did anyway. Those same bars greeted her again. Tentatively the blonde called for Vivian. Only silence answered.

Terrible scenarios ran rampant through her thoughts. Each more graphic and violent than the last. Lingering on the very edge of sanity, the Elf couldn't help but sob at the collection of events she'd been put through over the last few days. However, a groan in the adjoining cell to her right interrupted the girl's descent into despair. With the smallest shred of hope left she called out weakly, "V? Please tell me that's you…"

The voice that replied back was clearly male with an unfamiliar accent coating the words, "Sorry lady, I may not remember much, but I do know that's not my name."

Instead of responding the blonde went back to falling apart. Hesitatingly the voice spoke up again, "I'm sorry for whatever happened to your friend."

The two continued on like this for some time before Tuka could no longer produce tears, her throat hoarse and sore from all the screaming. While she took deep breaths to lower her beating heart, the Elf decided to acknowledge the stranger, "I'm sorry."

A snort preceded his reply, "What? Why are you apologizing? I'm the one who fucked up. Should have just cut that pendejo down when I had the chance."

Surprised at his relative calmness, Tuka tried to explain her failure, "Because I got you involved in this, Mister. Now they'll probably kill you too."

The man laughed at her words, which caused Tuka to experience something new within her currently short list of emotions, anger.

He stopped laughing before answering with what she felt was a smile, "Whoever did this, just signed their own death certificate. My boss will find us, rest assured."

Tuka didn't mean to mirror Vivian's hopelessness, "What makes you so sure?"

"Because he's Tony fucking Montana, and whoever messes with his people is either stupid or brave. What's your name blondie?"

This Tony the voice spoke of in reverence sounded too good to be true and Tuka let him know that, "My name is Tuka, Tuka Luna Marceau and I wouldn't get your hopes up if I were you."

"Well Tuka," A dark hand snaked through the bars to curl around the wall and reach into her cell with an open palm. The Elf debated for a second before reaching out and grasping the hand that started to shake up and down rapidly, "my name is Angelo. I promise on my life we will get out of this shithole. The cavalry IS coming, and you'll know when they get here."

"Is your boss really that good?" Hope was a luxury Tuka couldn't afford despite the desire for it.

"The best."

A fragment of her memories came to the forefront at the declaration.

"I love you and I want only the best for you, daughter."

The Elf ruminated on the words, a small flame beginning to rise in her chest.