June, 2020: Warning: Unedited. Low quality.

COUNTING STARS

Chapter 19: Intruder

Sunday, November 18th

The floorboards creak ever so quietly beneath the soft weight of my footsteps as I creep through the dusty attic. It's dark, but the full moon shines through one of the windows, washing the room in an eerie blue light. I still must strain my eyes to see.

I turn my head, directing my fascinated gaze toward Dark as he silently and comfortably leads the way. He looks backward; my breath hitches as I note his irises beginning to burn a bright red. This, the darkness, is his natural habitat. He's at home here.

I squint my eyes until nearly shut just to get a blurry image of my surroundings. Meanwhile, he sees better here than during the day. He could be leading me off a bridge and I'd still follow him. Hell if I'd know where I'm going.

I faintly see him raise a hand, indicating for me to stop. I oblige, albeit a bit too late, and bump into him. He glares at me with his fiery eyes and I don't think I've ever been intimidated by him before now. He looks terrifying like this.

Apparently he'd found the way down into the mansion. Lifting the hatch slightly, he peers down at the bright hallway below. Red carpet laced with gold lining covers the wooden floors; perhaps that will quiet our landing just a bit.

For Dark, staying quiet won't be an issue. He proves this by yanking the hatch all the way open and leaping down with the grace of a cat. He hadn't made a sound.

I gape at him, despite already knowing about his otherworldly abilities. Dark, the red in his eyes gradually fading now that he's exposed to the light, beckons for me to come down with a wave of his hand. Biting my lip, I hesitate, knowing that my landing won't be all that stealthy. He beckons me again, and I drop down.

Much to my surprise, Dark reaches his arms out and catches me, stifling my fall and successfully making no noise. He places me on my feet, quite like he would a child. I don't particularly take a liking to the new feeling of dependence this situation has given me.

The hallway we've landed on, being the third floor, leads to rooms on both ends—one with a light on, the other without. Dark starts to go toward the dimmer room; it's natural instinct for him. I stop him, though, putting my arm out. When he turns to me with a quizzical raise of an eyebrow, I point to the other room that clearly contains a staircase leading to the lower levels of the mansion. After all, as we've observed before intruding, our target is most likely located on the first floor—if he stays there, that is.

Dark nods in understanding and gestures for me to lead the way. Perhaps he feels that I am more fit to do so in the light.

After descending the marble spiral staircase to the second floor, we set foot in what appears to be a training room. Decorative suits of Hylian armor line each wall, each of their right metal fists gripping a spear. Practice dummies stand near the middle of the room, beaten and sliced from the toil of training sessions. Nunchucks, scythes, and other strange-looking weaponry lie scattered about.

I slowly move past the dummies toward the far door, ignoring the one to the right, for what I could see through its open entryway was just a small bed. A guest bedroom, possibly. Not that anybody would want to visit Agahnim, however.

About halfway through the dojo I notice Dark has stopped to pick up a scythe. When his eyes meet my disapproving gaze, he holds his hands up and mouths, 'What?'

He knows what. I hadn't come here to kill. Farore knows what my mind would be subjected to if I killed another man.

Dark, with the attitude of a child who knows he was wrong, huffs to himself as he swaps the scythe for a pair of nunchucks. He grabs another pair and tosses them to me. I take them and nod at him.

The next room was another corridor, leading three more ways. To the right: a staircase I assume leads to the first floor living room. Straight forward: a closed door, the light off. Naturally, Dark is drawn to this room, but I hold up a patient hand to halt him. To the left: a room with its door opened, allowing the candlelight from within to spill out to our feet. From what I see, it looks like the master bedroom. It has been around twenty minutes since we've arrived; it is possible that Agahnim has already retired to go to sleep.

Eyes locked on the opened door, I bump Dark on the chest with my hand and point. Seeming to understand my thought process, he nods.

I take slow, anticipating steps forward, Dark trailing. I find myself wishing that Agahnim is sound asleep in his bed right now. A quick smack to the temple, and he'd remain asleep for long enough to put him in prison, where he belongs. Placing my hand on the wood of the doorway, I barely peek my eyes out from the security of the wall, peering into the candlelit room.

A darkened television makes up most of the right wall. The orange light of the candle flickers from its golden container atop a nightstand in the right corner, neighbored by a large crimson vase. The vacant bed rests firmly at the back wall. A quick glance to the left leaves me certain that the master bedroom is empty.

This disappoints me, but a scattered set of papers resting atop the nightstand catches my attention. I enter the room, Dark following curiously, and stop at the wooden nightstand.

I peer down upon it, then notice that the scatter of papers are maps of an elaborate, grand structure. In the top-right corner of the aerial-view map are two words written in red ink: Hyrule Castle.

I frown uneasily. Whatever the M.O.D. has planned for the castle, it seems like a big deal. Dark leans over my shoulder to observe as well.

Nunchucks dangling at my hip, I sift through the papers until a different map catches my eye. This one happens to only be a large circle, aside from something near the back: a rectangular shape is circled in red ink. Below the circle is a little footnote somebody scribbled on in red pen, reading: Wisdom. Don't let anybody touch it but Master Dragmire!

Ganondorf aims to take the final piece of the Triforce—Wisdom. I take the maps and stuff them into my pocket, determined to go and intercept it before he can obtain it. And then, if two pieces are in my possession, Courage and Wisdom, I will have so much godly power that I will end Ganondorf's life with ease!

The thought leaves my mouth watering. With a wild sense of determination, I grin savagely.

Click.

Dark and I freeze, hearts dropping in fear. We slowly turn our heads, and in the doorway stands the cloaked, wrinkly figure of Agahnim. With his chrome pistol aimed steadily at my chest, he growls, "You might want to put those back."

I don't hurry to make any moves, knowing full well that nobody in the gang has the guts to kill me without Ganondorf's consent. It's commonly assumed that the Triforce goes to the killer in the event that a bearer is killed. Nobody wants to walk up to boss-man wielding the sacred power that he's been targeting his whole life.

Aware of this, I reply sternly, "You might want to put that down."

"Consider this your warning."

"Likewise."

Dark's eyes flutter uneasily between the two of us. Neither I nor Agahnim move, and the tension in the air grows rapidly by the second.

"I know what you're thinking," he tells me darkly. "You think that just because I won't kill you, you can get away with being a brave, defiant little brat. Don't think I can't shoot you aiming to keep you alive."

I suppose I haven't thought of that.

"Checkmate," he says with a smug grin.

But he doesn't shoot. This surprises me; most of Agahnim's bravado doesn't go without action. Maybe he doesn't trust his shot enough and he fears hitting a vital.

"The maps, Hero."

I steal a glance at Dark, who flicks his eyes behind me, then back. He's trying to tell me there is something useful there. Knowing our nunchucks will do little against a pistol, I hastily devise a plan, trusting Dark's wordless advice.

"Fine."

I intentionally drop the maps behind me, as if it were an accident, then turn around to pick them up. When I reach down, my eyes fall upon a big crimson vase sitting on the floor beside the nightstand.

"What do the maps show?" asks Dark as I prepare for action. I envision Agahnim turning his head toward my doppelganger to answer him, then place my hands on either side of the vase.

"You don't get to know—"

CRASH.

Agahnim stumbles back, blinking and dazed, as shards of the vase fall to the floor. Dark finishes the job with a quick blow to the head with his nunchucks. The old man falls hard on his back, motionless.

"Good thinking," I commend my doppelganger.

He nods his reply.

"I'll call Shad to bring the police so they can put this guy behind bars. Then we can get out of here."

"Okay."

When Shad picks up, I relay the story of our infiltration and successive takedown of the gang member with much enthusiasm as my detective silently listens. "So," I say after finishing the details, an excited grin on my face, "I need you and some cops to come get him. Isn't this great? Now we only need to get Zant, and then I can—"

"Link," came Shad's stern interjection, keeping his voice low. "You did well taking Agahnim down. But I just ran his file— we don't have a warrant for his arrest."

I pause, blinking back confusion. "…What does that mean?"

"It means we can't arrest him only on suspicion of gang activity."

"But—but he's admitted it to me, and to my friends—"

"As far as CTPD knows, however, he's a licensor who lives a quiet life." He sighs. "I'm sorry.… Hold on a moment."

I listen as rumbling sounds are sent through the phone, and can make out some of Shad's muffled voice as he converses with who I assume are his coworkers. "What's going… Break-in? …sure this is… know where… Guardian Acres... okay." This time, Shad's voice comes in much more clearly: "Link, get out of there. Now."

"Why, what's wrong?" I ask, apprehension growing in my chest.

"The police are aware of a break-in in Agahnim's neighborhood and are going to the scene to investigate," he says urgently. "Hurry, and please, if you're smart, just leave Agahnim there." He hangs up, and I gulp.

"Take the maps, quick," I tell Dark. "I have another call to make."

The mini van pulled up much quicker than we expected. When I saw who was in the driver seat, however, the speed at which they must have been traveling makes much more sense.

"Hurry the hell up!" roars Volga from inside the van, poking his head out the window.

Our unlikely ally, Vaati, had gotten out of the car to help Dark and I drag Agahnim's unconscious body toward the vehicle. "You owe us for this," he says, stopping to bind the prisoner in tight ropes once we arrive.

"Get in!" an unfamiliar voice screeches from inside the van. "I can hear the sirens!" The door slides open, and the three of us tumble inside, Vaati having stuffed Agahnim in the very back. Volga floors the pedal, and we take off out of the neighborhood.

I haven't noticed, but the unfamiliar voice we'd heard belongs to the person sitting beside me. I finally look over, then study his peculiar appearance. His skin appears to be maroon, and he wears black ripped jeans and a black sweatshirt, the hood pulled up so far that it hides his entire face except his mouth. "Name's Wizzro," he offers upon noticing me scrutinizing him for a brief moment. I nod my greetings, still intrigued by his mystique. "Cia will be very pleased that you're finally bringing her an M.O.D. member for once, instead of just turning him in. Hah!"

"Only because the CTPD can't legally arrest him," I counter.

"Sure, sure," he agrees with a sharp-toothed grin. "But I believe there's another reason."

"Oh?"

"Don't act all innocent," says Wizzro bemusedly. "Everyone hates him. You don't want justice for that geezer! He deserves to suffer."

The memory of Agahnim beating my face into a pulp faintly comes to mind. I shrug at Wizzro. "Point taken."

"Hah! I got the pure-hearted Hero to agree to injustice!" he mocks.

"You don't seem to know my main goal in becoming Hero."

"What's that?"

"Killing someone," I state flatly.

Wizzro turns to stare at me with his shrouded eyes, still grinning. "Dragmire. That's right." As if teasing me, he cackles quietly.

"Police," warns Vaati from the passenger seat. Volga takes notice and forces the van to go even faster.

I peer out the tinted window as we whizz by two cop cars. One continues toward the neighborhood we just fled, while the other turns around and pursues us.

"We're being followed," says Wizzro, oddly calm.

Volga growls in frustration, then lifts one hand off the wheel as he throws on a ski mask. "Take the wheel," he orders Vaati, who complies.

From behind me, Dark asks, "What're you doing?" He looks forward at Volga with shocked disapproval.

Ignoring him, Volga grabs a pistol with his right hand and leans out the window, firing backward at the police car.

"No! No!" I yelp, instincts kicking in as I lunge forward to grab Volga's arm. My chest smashes into the driver's seat as Volga repeatedly slams me, trying to free himself from our struggle for the weapon.

"Let go!" he roars, managing to fire off one more bullet before throwing me back into my own seat.

As Volga reclaims control of the getaway van, I look back at the police car with gut-sinking apprehension. The bullet sinks into the rubber of the front-left tire, and I watch as it pops and sends the vehicle rolling.

Time seems to freeze as I lock eyes with the driver. I see his fear.

Reality kicks back in and the car lies upside-down beside a building, quickly disappearing as we speed away. My heart wrenches, and silence settles in the van.

"What was that, Hero?" demands Volga angrily.

With a level voice, I say, "I didn't want you to kill him."

"I aimed for the tires the whole time. Their cars are bulletproof, anyway."

I gulp, knowing my misjudgment. It made me appear weak. "…You're right," I say, not wishing to make him any angrier.

"Idiot," is all he says.

Wednesday, November 21st

The exhaustion I can deal with.

The piercing, dismantling pang of emptiness I keep feeling, on the other hand, is a tad more difficult to handle. Empty. That's a good description of it.

It's not that I lack a purpose anymore—avenging Uncle Rusl is well enough to keep me focused on my quest to kill Ganondorf. It's just that, afterwards, when my purpose is fulfilled, what's next? What will I have left?

Neglected friendships. Scarring experiences. Tarnished relationships. Is that what I'm coming home to?

I ponder these thoughts as I sit alone in Castle Park, careful not to get carried away and nearly drive myself mad again. My eyes flick up to the elegant harp that hangs from the tallest tree, only leading my mind to return to thinking of my failures with Zelda.

Footsteps crunching on autumn-fallen leaves alert my attention to behind me. I turn to see Pipit, bundled in a warm coat and thick scarf, heading toward me. "Hey," he says, not as chipper as usual.

"Hey." I pull my green baseball cap tighter onto my head as winter's early chill breezes by.

"You, uh… you doing alright?" he asks hesitantly, taking a seat beside me on the bench. "I feel like I haven't talked to you in forever."

I shrug, unwilling to speak.

"We're kinda worried about you, dude," he admits, offering a small, awkward smile. "Um… Sheik especially."

"Why Sheik?"

"I dunno, probably a best friend kinda thing."

I frown. Am I really Sheik's best friend? Even when I've treated him awfully and constantly worried him? My heart hurts for him. Immediately I'm washed over with waves of regret as I realize what I've put my friends through over the past three weeks. I sigh, defeated, putting my hands to my face.

"You mind if we talk?" questions Pipit.

"I don't."

"So, um, I met a girl."

I roll my eyes. "Not this again."

Raising a hand, he shakes his head and says, "No, not like that, Link. It's different this time. Hear me out."

Despite my doubts, I nod and gesture for him to continue.

"So I met a girl last night. We talked for a long time. And… she was unique. She made me happy." He pauses, frowning and averting his gaze. "Didn't make just one certain anatomical part of me happy. No, it was my whole body this time. And my soul. I was actually… happy."

"Good," I say with a half-smile, somewhat amused by his storytelling.

"Her name was Orielle. I actually remembered her name, Link," he tells me with a grin. "I never remember girls' names! I'm almost worse than Dark!" My smile widens as he continues. "I didn't have to pretend to be someone who I'm not that night. I was just natural, and happiness came to me."

"I'm glad," I say genuinely, eyes drifting back to the tallest tree.

"Anyway... what I'm saying is…" He stops. "Link." I meet his eyes again, and he resumes speaking. "Don't pretend. I know what you're going through, even though our situations are very different. My whole teenaged life, I tried to come off as this invincible, constantly-upbeat dude who wouldn't let anything bring him down."

I gaze at him with disheartened surprise. "You played that part well."

"I really did," he agrees with a downcast nod. "Nobody suspected how I really felt. I hated my life for a long time."

"I'm really sorry," I offer. "I should've helped—"

"See, that's exactly what I didn't want. Help. This is why we're similar, Link." He looks at me, summoning all seriousness his usually-goofy personality could muster. "You're trying so hard to be strong. We know how tough you have it, Link. Your uncle died! And because you and your detective are trying to put him in jail, you had to end things with the hottest girl in the school to keep her safe! You have awful luck. And we want to help you."

I nod slowly. "…I know."

"…You're seeing a weird side of me," he comments idly. "I'm sorry. But the least I'm asking of you is to just talk to us."

Gods, how Pipit has changed. Or perhaps he has always been this way but never chose to show it. He's right; we are similar. Everything he said is right. It saddens me to know that I'm not the only one going through internal pain. I don't want my friends going through that. Not at all.

But I suppose that's exactly how they feel about me.

"…Okay," I tell him. "I'll be there for you guys. Since you're all there for me."

He grins. "Awesome."

Once again, my gaze falls upon that stupid harp, and I huff dejectedly. "I can't even talk to her anymore," I find myself saying.

He narrows his eyebrows. "Who? Zelda?"

I nod weakly.

"Well, I mean," he pauses, thinking. "It's understandable why you had to end things. But it's understandable why she thinks you didn't have to. You know?"

"Yes."

"So I have a question. After the killer is in jail, and you're certain his gang won't be coming after you anymore, would you like to pick up where you left off?"

"…In a perfect world," I muse, "of course. But she won't forgive me. She might've already moved on."

"Then," he begins, pausing to bite his lip pensively, "give it time. Time heals everything, right?"

With a weak smile, I shrug, gaze falling to my feet. "Sure."

Saturday, December 1st

As thin blankets of snowfall have begun to rest upon the rooftops and the once-green grass below, so too have the monsters started to lurk about more frequently. And now that the M.O.D.'s forces are thinned to nearly nothing, Ganondorf could be cranking out additional monsters like a sweatshop. With more people staying indoors to huddle up in the warmth, scores of beasts and demons have taken the opportunity to come out of the shadows. Dark, who had been regularly journeying out into the city while I often chose to stay back, had even reported seeing a few monsters out in the daylight once in a while. Such news left me nervous, and I worried it would strike mass fear in the civilians if the discovery were to be made.

It's been two weeks since Dark and I broke into the mansion. I've called Vaati three times since then to check on the fate of Agahnim, still regretting giving him up to the Y.U.G.A., despite it being my only option. He didn't pick up.

Now that December has come, I only have twelve days to bring in the last free M.O.D. member, Zant, in order to complete my deal with Cia. On the thirteenth of November, I'd told Vaati I'd get them all within one month. That month is coming to a close. What would happen if I didn't finish my task? Would Cia and her gang turn on me and try to kill me, as well? It's likely. But I'm confident I'll get Zant by then, even if I've only seen or heard of him once.

"He's that skinny twat, right?" Dark had asked crudely when I spoke of him. "I'll go look."

And so Dark made a nightly habit of searching for Zant, while I decided to take some time off and try to ease my mind. Normally I'd feel bad for leaving my right-hand-man hanging like that, but every now and then he'd bring Midna, convincing her that they were simply going for walks. Therefore, I preferred to give the two some alone time. Dark would never tell Midna why he was always turning his head, looking around for something.

It will be a couple days before I join him in the search, but for the time being, I have some friends I need to reconnect with. All thanks to Pipit. Why does that feel weird to say?