(Chapter 4)

(3 Days Before The 'Night of the Hell Canyon')

Zorzal El Caesar never worried. Being the star general in the Imperial Army as well as the next in line for the throne itself tended to assuage any concerns that invaded the blonde's mind. Preferably to better focus on the finer things in life; Those being wine, women, food, and battle of course. Never was the Prince happier than during the aftermath of a conquest. Indeed, he was in high spirits as someone voiced their request for an audience outside the royal tent.

Foregoing an answer, the courier entered before lowering eyes in alarm, "My apologies, Prince. I didn't know you were in the middle of…celebrating your victory."

Zorzal didn't slow in abusing 'former' Queen Tyuule as he barely acknowledged the servant, "It is fine. I'm sure you're eager to carry back word of my successful subjugation of the troublesome rabbit. Isn't that right, your highness?"

The beaten silverette only whimpered painfully in response. Her weakness elicited a laugh from the Prince. A wave of bile flooded the courier's mouth at the disgusting act, but he swallowed it along with any protests. Reaching into the long cloak, a tightly bound scroll was produced and presented to the nude man. Zorzal didn't notice the messenger's departure as he unfurled the letter.

The further along the Prince read, the slower the thrusts became before ceasing to focus entirely on the parchment. Roaming bandits? Rebellious vassals? A siege in Italica handled by his weak willed half-sister? All paled in comparison to the revelation Rondel had conducted a purge of nobles with aid of the foreigners that butchered them at Alnus.

When he'd first heard of the men in flowers, Zorzal thought it a joke. Some silly tale the lesser skilled of their army had conjured up to deflect their incompetence at squashing a band of mercenaries. But then the losses continued and rumors grew more credible. Stories of a scarred man leading a small but deadly force of loyal soldiers using weapons that made the sword obsolete carried far. Of course, these peasant myths didn't concern the Prince.

But that didn't change the fact his father barely tolerated his appetites for the unwilling flesh as is. If knowledge of the 'side business' he'd brokered with the council head of Rondel where to get out, Zorzal would be facing heavy sentencing under Imperial law, royalty or not. Cursing this revelation, the man shoved away the bruised and battered demihuman before beginning to dress. Leaving the warmth of his personal quarters, the Prince made his way toward the command post they'd set up in the local chieftain's house. It was time to give the orders to march back.

As he thought up an adequate excuse to return to the Capital without cause to do so, the wheels in the blonde's head began to turn. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise. Zorzal was tired of tiptoeing around the old man, and his ever softening heart. Maybe it was time to finally seize his birthright. Then the blonde could rescind that archaic 'anti-slavery' law, and really rake in the profits. A voice not his own added to the quickly mounting reasons.

Isn't it the fate of the weak to serve the strong?

Zorzal's steps grew faster at the thought, accompanied by a sick smile. The ride would be long, but at least he'd have a little bunny to make the journey home more bearable. Somewhere, covered in shadows, a manicured finger stroked a crystal ball in excitement. The pawn had taken the bait.

Pina's breakdown was over. She felt weak and pathetic, thankfully Angelo said nothing of the outburst while the young woman recollected herself. But the redhead realized that it was only because something else had grabbed his attention while she reassembled her mind, "Is that…?"

Getting up from the chair, the man approached the second steaming porcelain bowl as if in a trance. He didn't flinch at the container's heat as the Sicario raised the broth to his lips, greedily tasting the onion, quinoa, bell, and cayenne peppers combination. In one continuous gulp it was consumed. As it emptied his desire for more grew into a violent frenzy, one which resulted in the shattering of the empty bowl against the wall beside the Princess's stunned position. The action alarmed the redhead, who retreated to the opposite side of the bed, unsure if the violent action was deliberate or reflexive.

His continued silence only further perplexed Pina, who after some tense deliberation, found the courage to approach the distressed man. As she came closer, questions bubbled up to the surface of her mind. Was Angelo aware of his surroundings? Would he strike her? Feeling like a line had already been crossed between the two with her own actions, the redhead reached out to touch the tightly coiled shoulders. The quaking muscles slowed as her nails found purchase, and raked down the spine in slow ministrations. Angelo's breathing evened out, and a pained groan sounded through the air.

Coming closer, she made out narrow streams carving down the sides of the Henchman's face.

Sir Angelo…is crying?

Thrown off balance at the sight, her lips tripped over the words, "W-What's wrong?"

"'S nothin." Angelo failed to convince both himself and her.

Feeling bold, the woman challenged his flimsy deflection, "Really? Because you look like a cockatrice just laced your soup with its rage inducing venom."

"...Cockatrice? What's that?" His voice was pulled from sorrow with the hook of curiosity.

"Surely you jest. They are a fairly common rabble among the beasts of these lands."

A hollow laugh rattled from the Sicario, "Well, I ain't from round here, Roja."

"Yes…I'm beginning to really see that." Pina found herself sympathetic to the stranger in a strange land, and extended an olive branch in the form of knowledge, "I guess a cockatrice would best be described as the unholy union of a common farm rooster and a hellish python."

This description roused the Henchman from his melancholic musings, who looked to the redhead with disbelief, "Wait, you mean you guys got snakes wiggling around covered in feathers?!"

Angie's crude imagination elicited a snort from the Princess, "If so, they aren't cockatrices. They stand proud on their taloned feet, whipping their tails back and forth, often towering over even the burliest of villagers."

"Really? How tall are they?" The Sicario tried to wrap his head around the image of a chicken bigger than him.

Elated that her lecture had brought him out of the previously volatile mood, the redhead continued, "Well, average bestiary height is listed as around two meters. But my mentor-" Grey Co Aldo intruded on the memory with his dead vacant eyes, causing a noticeable pause in the girl's telling, "he…he said they could grow the size of a carriage if left unattended."

Instead of inquiring about the beast some more, the Henchman pulled at the loose thread Pina had exposed to him, "You're mentor, what happened to him?"

Even as his tone suggested nothing but respect and concern, the reminder of her recent loss brought a venom forth from the woman, "I don't see how that's ANY of your business." A finger poked into Angelo's broad chest, "Are YOU gonna tell me what that was all about with the bowl?"

The man looked down in response. Inside Pina felt both satisfaction and guilt. Sure, the Princess hadn't wanted to be reminded of her own blundering failure of a defense and the resulting consequences of it. But now she'd again harmed any progress made in finding common ground between the two groups. Wrapped up in her personal critique, the redhead didn't hear Angie at first.

The second attempt was harder to ignore, especially considering how close to home his confession hit the young woman, "I miss my mother."

Grabbed by the honesty in the Sicarios' voice, Pina could do nothing but turn to gaze upon the anguish he held in his features as the foreigner unraveled himself before her, "That bowl… it was filled with something she used to give me when I was little."

The name of Tuka's dish came back to the Princess, "Pa-soul-ay Row-Ha?"

Angelo's head shook softly while his eyes continued to read the tops of his shoes, "No, that's a Mexican soup. What I had is called Quinoa stew, originating from my home country."

The Princess pried further, "Where did you grow up then?"

Briefly Pina wondered if this was where their conversation would conclude. The Henchman looked as if he wrestled with a heavy secret, one that clearly held sway over his actions. Turning away, the redhead began back toward the bed, feeling like returning to her blissfully ignorant slumber would be a better alternative compared to the heartrending highs and bitter lows this interaction had brought her. Pulling away the sheets, the girl crawled back into the soft embrace before recovering her lower half in the fabrics. Surprisingly, Angelo returned to the chair beside her and sat down.

They stayed there in silence, before Angelo looked up, piercing her in place with his dark orbs. Pina felt the severity of this choice. Whatever was spoken now, was given in the utmost trust. Trust that filled her chest with nervous excitement. "The name of the country I come from is called Bolivia."

"I grew up surrounded by the thick jungle mountains of the Chilean range. In an isolated village called Cochabamba. Translated, it means 'Garden of The Gods'. Which I always found ironic."

"Why? Was the landscape desolate?" Pina's fingers gripped the comforter tightly while her interest intensified.

A small chuckle came from the words, "The opposite, it was lush, green, and humid year round. Even in the heart of winter we'd be sweating buckets during the nighttime."

"So what made the name ironic?"

"The fact that it was a garden tended by the devil himself." The same fury that had broken the porcelain coated his answer.

Together, Angelo's hands came to tightly bind to one another, "Being so far away from outside interference, Cochabamba has been essentially ruled by one family since I can remember. They live like kings, leaving the rest of us to build our shacks in the shadow of their palace; This is partially helped by the fact they're also the only consistent employer for miles in any direction. It wasn't always such a contrast, but that gap only grew with the return of the former patriarch's son. With it the hostility for the lesser fortunate began to bleed into the very fabric of life. We went from the occasional beating to reinforce loyalty to the ever looming threat of execution for even the smallest hint of dissatisfaction."

Pina's interest turned to silent horror. The idea of living under the constant possibility of death frightened the woman. It was further amplified by the almost bored tone Angelo took with relaying the details as if he was describing the weather still and not listing draconian means of terrorization. All this went unseen by the Sicario. He just continued on.

"Mi Madre," The words sounded like they took all Angelo's strength to form, "She was a maid. Worked in the big house, El Casa De Sosa. It was hard on her, but…she did it for us. I can't count how many times I'd wake up early in the morning to her walking through the door. She wouldn't speak, just wash the dirt from her skin while trying to avoid the bruises on her arms and back before crawling into bed."

Pina's chest constricted in empathy. But one nugget of information caught the Princess's attention above her own pity at Angie's childhood, "When you say 'us', who did you mean?"

A lump formed in the Henchman's throat. One that was harshly swallowed, "My siblings, Rael and Carlos. From the beginning my mother could bear any injustice, as long as she had us. Didn't matter that my father would go out to philander and drink, before returning with only fists as a gift. His hatred of her rolled off my mothers shoulders like water on glass. 'It's just us four against the world'. That's what she'd say after every beating."

The story brought Pina to tears. But the young woman silenced any noise from escaping her thin trembling lips. For if the redhead voiced her sorrow, she feared he would stop the telling in lieu of comforting the distraught Princess. An act that would only increase these feelings of privilege and shame. How could she call herself hurt, when Pina didn't know what true pain even was?

"It didn't matter. We had each other, and that was all I needed. Until one day-" Angie's knuckles turned white from the combined grip, "The old man comes home angrier than usual. Wants to take it out on me, which wasn't really that surprising. He'd always held a special animosity for my face in particular; Maybe just hated that I had my mothers eyes."

Pina touched the conjoined hands softly. It didn't stop his memories, "Whatever the reason, that night he came at me harder than I'd ever seen before. Couldn't see anything after the first few punches. Yet the bastardo continued. I thought I was going to die…"

Angelo released the tight grip, choosing instead to cover the Princess's hands in his own shaking palms, "And then mama came home. We didn't hear her. My brothers hadn't said anything. Too busy cowering in the corner to speak. One second he was winding back to crush my skull, the next, my father was clutching his throat, trying to stem the blood surging out."

His eyes broke away from her ruby irises, lost in their own ghosts, "I can still remember the taste. Sweet and coppery. It was warm, so warm…She dressed me in my paralysis. Wiped as much of the evidence away from my face as she could. Sat me down at the table, and went immediately to making Quinoa stew. Didn't acknowledge the body, just stepped around its edges as she put together the food."

"When I finished eating, she said I had to leave. That I wasn't safe there anymore."

"What? Why wouldn't it be safe?!" Pina held anger in her question. One directed at events long set in stone. She had no power to alter or overturn this nightmare the Sicario had lived through, and that made the redhead feel useless.

A sigh broke from the Henchman, one that signified how exhausted he truly was behind the mask of bravado he'd been wearing all these years. "She wouldn't tell me. Just kept muttering to herself about 'him finding me' and 'the truth coming out'. I was given a knapsack, enough money to bribe the border guards, and this-" Angelo dug for the cross hanging around his neck. Taking it off, the Sicario held the gold chain in his fingers while the intricate pendant twirled back and forth.

"It's…beautiful."

Without thinking the Princess reached out to trace her fingers over the subtle detailing. An engraving of a man in a toga carrying a child on his back with a staff in his right hand caught her attention. Angie answered the unspoken question, "That's Saint Christopher, protector of bachelors and travelers. I guess she wanted me to get out safely."

Turning it over, the girl found more etchings. But couldn't decipher the strange symbols.

"'May the Lord guide you home son, to Cochabamba'. Always wondered if she somehow knew one day I would have to leave. But," He quickly pulled the jewelry back into his closed fist, "it doesn't matter now. She's gone, along with my brothers. A fire took out half the shanty town one year later, found out from a fucking newspaper while I was digging through trashcans on the streets of Miami."

The harsh conclusion of his tale left a bitter taste in Pina's mouth. One the redhead tried washing away with her own experiences, "I know your pain, Angelo."

This caught the Sicarios' attention, who looked up in surprise, "You mean…"

"I was only nine when the fever took my mother. It was the first time I'd ever seen a parade draped in black. No music, no laughter, just a long quiet march to the royal tombs." Her ruby irises welled up at the recollection, but she was too prideful to let them spill over. At least until the Henchman hugged her.

As Pina retracted from the embrace to thank him, a maddening pull came over her. The Sicarios' deep brown eyes drew her in, closer and closer.

What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I do-

A hair's breadth away, their lips hovered in uncertainty. Neither knowing what would happen next, both dreading and eager to step into the unknown. The knock on the door broke the spell, forcing the pair to separate in clumsy haste. Turning to the disturbance, Pina's tone carried a hint of disappointment, "I…better answer that."

Angelo nodded in silence, his features unreadable. Cursing her luck, the Princess got up from the bed before wrenching open the door, "This had better be important!"

The maid was taken aback by the subtle anger in Pina's eyes, "I apologize, your royal highness! I've been tasked with informing you we've sighted a large force riding toward the city. They should be crossing the eastern bridge shortly."

It seemed the battle for Italica wasn't over quite yet.

Yao was relieved when the man named 'Urn-EE' promised to bring her before his commander. After having traveled for over a week, the idea of coming back to the elders with not only a solution, but an army, put the spring back in her weary step. Distracted by these thoughts, the Dark Elf didn't notice the first shrines. But as they approached the large palace toward the center it became harder to ignore. Outside every occupied dwelling a cup of water was placed beside a small collection of wildflowers.

The silverette found the displays confusing, "Why did the citizens do this?"

"Por la Patrona. They offer a drink to show respect and request her favor. The petals tell us where their loyalties lie." Ernie didn't look back as he answered.

The explanation only brought more questions forth. Who was this deity the people were trying to appease? What was the reason behind the foreigners' fixation on flowers? When had they garnered such respect? Where was their armor and horses? Why didn't they carry swords?

With a shaky exhale the tall woman put these rapidly increasing curiosities in a tight mental bind. All would hopefully be answered soon. Walking through the open gates, the pair passed a small group of civilians. Each wore a small necklace made from colored beads ending in a cross. Some bowed their heads to the sicario as they passed.

Yao watched with interest before a scratchy voice emanated from the dark skinned man's trousers.

"Gran T aquí. Posiblemente tengamos otra ola en nuestras manos. Comience a empacar sus cosas, luego reúnase en el puente del este. Puede que tengamos que enseñarles a estos hijos de puta otra lección."

Pulling the small device out of his pocket, the soldato replied back into the microphone, "Entendido, Jefe."

"What is that thing?" The Dark Elf pointed to the walkie-talkie with awe and wonder.

"This? Just a communication device. It lets us keep in touch no matter how scattered we are."

She approached the magical contraption, partially disbelieving of the answer. There was no way to speak over large distances that easily. Right? Before the silverette could reach for the radio, the sicario put it away and started toward the gate to their right. Soon he was joined by other similarly dressed men, all calmly making their way toward the eastern wall.

This garnered frustration from the tired woman, "Wait! Where are you going?! I thought you were taking me to your leader?!"

The mustached henchman turned with partial exasperation, "I am, senora. El Jefe told us there may be more banditos on the way, and needs us at the bridge to deter any such attempts. You wanna talk to the boss? He'll be there. Now are you coming or not?"

"If what you say is true, won't you need to dress for battle and arm yourself?" The silverette's golden irises flicked toward the lightly dressed foreigners carrying those strange metal objects.

Ernie laughed at this, "Tranquilo, Obscura. I AM armed," The man wracked the charging handle of the Uzi, "and we," he gestured to the others, "are dressed to kill."

As Tony drove toward the bridge, he could feel the unspoken tension between two of his passengers. Pina was more frazzled riding in the passenger seat than she'd been planning their survival the day before. The Cuban's eyes looked to the rear view mirror, where he watched Angelo occasionally stealing glances at the redhead when he thought she wouldn't notice. Something had happened between the two, that much was clear. The Kingpin didn't bring attention to it, knowing they had bigger fish to fry at the moment.

Tony parked the car before the cobblestones that made up a majority of the watery crossing, the only exception being the two wooden support beams toward its apex. Lelei and Rory removed themselves from Lati and Tuka's laps, allowing the taller pair to also exit the backseat. To their rear, the BTR's assembled parallel to the water, providing a wall of cover should the need arise. Slowly the dust cloud approached, coinciding with the arrival of the other soldatos. Unseen by all, a Dark Elf began elbowing her way to the front of the crowd, determined to get an audience with the mysterious leader these foreigners addressed as 'Jefe'.

With the dirt cloud thinning the identity of their approaching guests was revealed. Lelei's features didn't portray the surprise she felt, even if it was substantial. Rory licked her lips in delight, excited for the prospect of more bloodshed. Tuka felt a familiar fear grip her heart, one only calmed by the Cuban's firm arm wrapped around her shoulders. Pina and Angelo felt dread, both confronted with the harsh reality that their alliance together was coming to an end.

Sitting on the hood of the Eldorado, Lati spoke everyone's thoughts while rolling a gold coin between her fingers, "Oh good, the Imperials are here."

A gilded carriage led the army, pulled by two white horses covered in chain-mail. It stopped on the opposite side of the river. The soldiers followed suit, standing in silence as the breeze fluttered through the banners they carried. As the redhead looked over her requested reinforcements, a sinking feeling began to form in her stomach.

What have they done to the royal crest?

While the golden dragon remained untouched, a red circle replaced the iconic yellow cross that overlaid the beast's form. An unsettling cold began to crawl up the redheads back, one only amplified as she scanned over the ground troops. Instead of female troops in ceremonial plates worn by the Rose-Order, the men under her gaze wore dirty, battered, bloody gear. The Princess began searching for Bozes, hoping her friend could explain the irregularities she was seeing. The carriage door opened, revealing the blonde captain, but her appearance brought horror in place of relief.

The girl's eyes stayed firmly focused on the ground, the look of utter despair smattered across her bruised face. Behind Bozes a man in the attire of a senator exited as well. With a harsh tug, he pulled the chained woman by her collar forward, the arms tied to her back preventing any attempt at disobedience. Each step felt like an eternity, before finally the two stopped in the center of the bridge. Ignoring his prisoner, the man addressed the Princess with a jovial tone.

"Good evening, your royal highness! I take it that the defense of Italica was a success?" The cavalier comment shook Pina out of her shock, replacing it with anger.

"What is the meaning of this?! What have you done to Captain Palesti?! Unhand her at once!" Running on autopilot, the redhead surged forward with sword drawn. Tony looked back to the Saint.

Go, make sure the little chili pepper remains unharmed.

The order caused the Kingpin's hazel orbs to harden. Removing an arm from Tuka, the Cuban pulled a small object from his white suit jacket and handed it to the Elf beside him. Leaning close, Tony whispered into her pointy ear before following the rage blind woman; The blonde stared at his back with worry while her fingers tightened around the device. Getting closer Pina prepared to behead the filth in front of her. But the reveal of a knife poised to puncture the captured captain's rib cage stopped the redhead from following through.

Enjoying the hesitance shown, the senator cooed in a mocking tone, "Ah ah, that's close enough, Princess Pina Co Lada. Wouldn't want Lady Bozes to have an accident, would we?"

The reveal of Pina's position in the Empire caused a collection of varying gasps. Two felt especially affected by the reveal. Angelo's jaw clenched tightly, caught off guard by the title the redhead held. Tuka brought a hand to her mouth, feeling a sense of betrayal wash over her. Only Tony and Lati remained unsurprised at the truth, both having suspected something along those lines when they'd met the girl.

The redhead spat her words through gritted teeth, "When my father hears of this he'll-"

"Do nothing, such is the nature of corpses after all." His words struck her in the chest like an arrow piercing tarp.

"W-what…?"

A cruel smile formed on the man's bearded face at the girl's dismay, "Yes, I'm afraid FORMER emperor Molt isn't in any position to interfere. Far too busy feeding the birds with his entrails."

"You lie!" The Princess's voice cracked.

This only further intensified the man's smugness, "If so, then why not ask your friend? I'm sure she'd be glad to tell you the truth."

Pina looked back at Bozes, unsettled by the meek creature that had replaced her hotblooded companion, "BZ?"

The blonde's answer came in the form of silent tears. The sight poured ice into the Princess's veins.

"Just who are you?" The grip on Pina's sword weakened.

"Ah yes, forgive my rudeness." Gesturing to himself, the man spoke in self righteous fervor, "Senator Franklin Belette, at your, well, your brother's service really."

Finding strength, Bozes looked up, her voice carrying anger covered in despair, "He took it Pina. Zorzal finally took it."

"T-Took what?" Her ruby irises shrunk to pins as the dots connected.

Tony stopped beside the Princess with hands in his pockets, "The throne, Roja. Looks like your people had a change in management while you were gone. Now the new boss sent them," The Kingpin tilted his head toward the soldiers, "here to tie up loose ends. Ain't that right, lord Bitchette?"

The senator's attention broke away from the redhead, "How uncouth. Who are you to speak to me in such a way? Say your name, dog. So I may add it to the purge lists."

"Name's Tony Montana, and as for your lil list, I wouldn't worry about it much longer."

"And why is that, peasant?" The white suited individual's confidence continued to dig under the senator's skin.

"Cuz the only thing being written here is your suicide note, cabrone."

"Enough! I didn't travel all this way to entertain rabble such as yourself." Ignoring the infuriating foreigner, Belette brought the dagger up to cut a line slowly across Bozes cheek, "Now listen very closely, my dear. The great Emperor Zorzal has decided to show mercy."

"Simply renounce your claim to the crown, come with us, and your friend here will be spared. Hell, I'll even let the men in flowers run with their tails between their legs. We can crush them at a later date anyway. So what do you say? Otherwise," The scumbag pointed the knife directly toward Pina, "everyone here dies."

"He's lying chica." Pina tore her eyes away from Belette to look at the Kingpin.

Tony continued as he stared down the cowardly piece of shit, "If you go, they'll just have their fun before cutting both your throats."

The senator looked toward the Cuban with malice at being read so easily, "You stay out of this!"

Turning to the Princess, Tony growled, "You really think this fuckin punk's gonna keep his word? I know worms just like him, always a big smile 'fore they stab you in the back. You want that? Fine. But if you got a brain underneath all that hair, show me right now. Just make a move, Roja."

Belette tried to regain control of the girl's attention, "Don't be foolish Prin-"

The Kingpin was having none of it, "You still talking, pendejo? I got an idea, why don't you stick your head up your own ass? See if it fits."

The senator went to waive the knife toward the Cuban, "Why I'll-"

Seeing an opportunity, his prisoner took it. Bozes lunged forward to sink her teeth into her captors arm. The bite forced Belette to release the chain so he could backhand the insolent sow to the ground. Finished pretending to negotiate, the senator closed in on the vulnerable redhead with murderous intent. Pina was trapped in her own body, still as a statue. Time slowed, allowing her to memorize the features of her assassin, the curve of his snarl, the hate in those eyes.

Is this…how I die?

A loud bang ripped through the thought, leaving a hole in the senator's face where his left eye once was. The body acted like a puppet with its strings cut, bringing the toga-wearing traitor to fall face first into the floor leaving a red smear as he slid. Crimson splattered across the bridge of Pina's nose, filling the nostrils with a scent of copper. To her right, Tony stood with the smoking pistol pointed at the still body. She flinched as the Cuban put three more rounds into former senator Belette.

"Have a nice trip asshole."

Tony approached the shackled woman with switchblade out. A quick slash and the ropes around her wrists fell away. Picking up the collection of metal links, the Kingpin extended his ringed hand to the Captain with blood on her lips, "If you wanna live, now's your shot, chica."

Bozes hesitated, held back by the smallest fragment of remaining patriotism. Here stood the leader of the men in flowers, an enemy of the Empire, offering not a blade, but a hand. A day ago she'd have run her sword through the man with zero qualms, and scoffed at his kindness. But an evening of torture and humiliation by ones own government certainly put the Captains previously blind loyalty into question. An arrow landed in the stone beside her.

Before its brethren could find their marks, a blue wall of mana rose separating the trio from the Imperial archers. Trusting her instincts, the blonde reached out for the dark appendage. The Captain was pulled to her feet with his wiry strength. Handing the bundle of chain to the bruised woman, Tony turned to shout at the traumatized Princess, "WE GOTTA FUCKING MOVE, ROJA!"

The order fell on deaf ears, leaving the Cuban in charge of their escape. Roughly grabbing the girl's hand, the Kingpin ran toward their side of the bridge. Bozes followed with haste. The sounds of charging soldiers at their rear changed to fanatical shouting while the horde crashed against the gradually weakening barrier. Already cracks were starting to spread, Lelei's strained groans telling the others she couldn't hold it for much longer.

Tuka shook like a leaf in the wind. Her stomach churned and threatened to release its contents. The chaotic heartbeat of the Elf carried the spark of adrenaline to every part of her being. Watching the Kingpin sprint with singular focus, her mind replayed his instructions. The ones that Tony had given before he followed after Pina.

"If shit goes bad, hit 'this' as soon as we're clear of the supports. Then cover your ears and remember: This blood's on my hands, not yours, Rubia."

With a shaky exhale the blonde pressed the button, setting off the C-4.

Yao was nearing the front of the pack when the crack of a whip sounded. Which wouldn't have been unusual if it hadn't been followed by three more similar disruptions.

Even a veteran flogger couldn't recover that quickly.

Around her the men didn't react to the noise. But they did begin to fiddle and tweak with the metal objects in their possession, filling the silverette's ears with sharp clicks and clacks. Above the horizon, a magical barrier rose. The Dark Elf's enhanced vision allowed her to witness the black cloud of arrows attempting to puncture the wall of blue energy. Someone was trying to cross.

The sight brought worry to the girl, who forced a second wind through her tired muscles and finally broke through to the front. What greeted her was not a man though, but a collection of women obscuring the bridge. Yao's intrusion went unnoticed by all except one. Lati's dark eyes filled with amusement as she stared directly into the silverette's own golden irises. The Dark Elf opened her mouth to explain herself; Then the explosion happened.

In an instant a bright flash replaced the bridge, effectively blinding the girl. What followed was a shock wave of air so intense and hot, it forced the silverette to shield her face for fear of incineration while debris whistled past. Incessant ringing burrowed into overwhelmed ears, leaving a sharp pain in their wake. Around Yao, movement was felt but she couldn't make out any of it. It took all focus just to breathe.

Which almost made her gag, as the air was laced heavy with the stench of tar, smoke, and blood. Coughing in disgust, the Dark Elf stumbled blindly forward until an arm hooked itself around her elbow. Loud pops filtered through the tinnitus, adding to Yao's distress.

What in the name of Hardy is happening?! Did the beast follow me?!

Any remaining speculation was quickly extinguished by the brief flashes of light and noise washing over the silverette. Being tugged along, the woman tripped over unseen objects, but a small hand came to steady her posture. The Dark Elf could offer no resistance as she was brought behind something large enough to cast cooling shadows over her scalded skin before the stranger released their hold; The grating sounds became partially muffled to the girl's relief. Yao's fingers outstretched to identify the structure. The cold bite of metal greeted her flesh.

The carriages?

Slowly regaining her senses, the Dark Elf looked around her new environment. Indeed the towering metal hulls provided a makeshift barrier separating her from the river where smoke continued into the sky. Looking away from the mysterious transports, Yao found herself the center of attention, with five sets of eyes burning holes in her. The most intense of which was carried by a scarred man in a white suit who towered over her with a scowl, his hazel orbs chilling her blood with its harsh gaze.

"Fuck were you thinking?! You got some kind of death wish, Nieve?! What the hell are you doing here?!" His voice was thick with an accent Yao had never encountered in her three hundred years on the continent.

When she didn't respond, the foreigner turned to his right, "Lelei, donde encontraste a esta chica?!"

A petite girl with short blue hair responded while supporting herself with a staff, "No se, Antonio. I noticed her during the aftermath."

Another slightly younger female dressed in black and red interjected on the others behalf, "Lucky little thing. A few more steps and they would've gone for a swim."

One of the foot soldiers stepped forward, the first of his kind she'd seen with a sword, "Maybe she's a citizen from the city?"

The Mage shook her head, "Not likely."

"And why's that Arandano?" Tony was beginning to calm, albeit slowly.

"Well, the clothes look like something from one of the southern vassals. The Peraria Republic or Alguna League? But they don't have demihumans…"

"Except for in Elbe." The nugget of knowledge came from Tuka in a hoarse whisper. Tony, Lelei, Rory, and Angelo looked at the blonde with surprise. But the Elf's eyes only stared back toward her dark counterpart, "Father told me they were fierce warriors, who'd lived in the dry canyon's of the Elbe Kingdom. Successfully driven off every attempt of subjugation over centuries. All under the blessings of the goddess of the underworld, the legendary Dushi clan."

The title roused the Dark Elf from her shell shock, replacing it with hysteria. Without thinking things through the woman fell forward on her knees with zealous ramblings, "Yes, YES! I'VE FOUND YOU! YOU CAN KILL IT, RIGHT?! OF COURSE YOU CAN, OF COURSE, OF COURSE, OF COURSE!" Madness overtook the silverette's face, contorting it into a hideous caricature, "YOU CAN SAVE THEM ALL! EVERYONE! MY HOME, WE MUST GO, QUICKLY! BEFORE THE BEAST TAKES MORE! JEFE, JEFE, JEFE, JEFE!"

The Dark Elf's arms wrapped tightly around Tony's leg, effectively immobilizing him. The woman descended into a fit of giggles, unaware of the discomfort she was causing those around her. Angelo kept one hand on his hilt, unsure of the strangers slipping sanity. Lelei held a small pout, doing her best to curb the jealousy rising inside at the elf's groping of the Cuban. Rory examined her with boredom, before leaving to watch the slaughter of Zorzal's remaining soldiers. Tuka looked as the mythical clan member fell apart, disturbed by her state.

"Uh, Lati?"

"Si, Antonio?" The Saint didn't turn, keeping her hands hovered over Bozes's gradually fading bruises. Beside the Captain sat Pina, who stared at the dirt in silence.

"Who the hell is this?!" The Kingpin gestured with both hands at the unraveling Dark Elf.

"Another soul colored by neglect, seeking purpose in all the pain."

With that the Saint hummed a melody while continuing her work on Bozes. Tony's attention came back to the Dark Elf; His Patrona's explanation only added questions to the Kingpin's mind. The sound of the soldatos decimating what remained of the strike force caused her to flinch in between giggles. Even insulated from the culling, the gunfire was constant and intrusive. A part of the Cuban felt pity for the silverette.

When the last turncoat had escaped over the horizon, the shooting stopped. The river continued on, previously blue waters now a mix of red, brown, and bodies.

As the boiling pot came to a simmer, Tuka found herself staring at her own watery reflection while lost in thought. The event's of the morning continued to replay in her mind despite efforts to ignore them. The sharp click of the detonator, the tremor beneath her feet, and consuming flash of light, all reminded Tuka of one irrefutable fact:

I killed those soldiers…

The jailer had technically been the first, yes. But with everything that had happened in Rondel, the Elf never found the time nor desire to acknowledge the blood already on her hands. Unfortunately, cooking left a lot of time for the mind to wander. And with that came the chance to second guess choices. Whether she wanted to or not.

Tony could have died. They would've hurt everyone. There was no peaceful option. I know this. So why…why does it hurt? Why do I feel…guilty?

"I think la sopa de fideo is done, Mija." The Saint's playful remark brought the Elf back from the darkening contemplation's. Just in time for her to see how the once colorful broth had been reduced to a burnt, bubbling, black mess.

"Oh, oh no! No no no no!" Attempting to remove the pot from its place on the collapsible wooden grill only achieved scorching the blonde's thin fingers.

As the liquid spilled across the grass inside the kitchen tent, other's stopped their tasks to watch. Despite her lower half becoming effectively drenched in the broiling sludge, Lati didn't so much as flinch. Instead, her focus remained entirely on the stuttering Elf.

"I-I'm so so sorry! T-This i-is all m-my f-fault!" Two warm hands gripped the blonde's cheeks before pulling the skin in opposite directions.

"It was an accident. Nothing to be sorry for, you silly goose." The motherly tone contrasted with the harsh treatment of the Elf's reddening features. When Tuka thought her face was finally going to come off, the robed woman released her to envelope the seared digits. Before the Elf could ask of the Saint's intentions a white glow emanated from their joined hands. Lati pulled away when the light ceased, leaving Tuka to stare at two unblemished appendages.

With an experimental flex the Elf found all previous pain had disappeared from her palms, "That's amazing."

"A trivial thing. Spend a weekend with Merlin and one's bound to pick up a trick or two. Now, are you going to tell me what's on your mind, Rubia?"

Self consciously the Elf looked around to see the sicarios watching with silent intensity. Their gazes passed between the two women with great interest. Feeling like she would be looked down on, the girl decided to lie. The blonde's ears visibly lowered along with her eyes, "N-Nothing…"

"How fortunate for you then that I'm an expert on 'nothing'. Come, let us go for a walk, so we can talk about it." Whatever excuses the Elf would have used were circumvented by the strong hand pulling her out of the busy wigwam and into the chilled air of their moonlit camp.

The sudden change in temperature caused her to experience horripilation, covering the exposed biceps in little bumps of sensitivity. Releasing her hold, Lati reached into her robes to pull out a garment of which the Elf had never seen before. It looked like a traditional long sleeved shirt only for a moment. The comparison gradually fell apart as the blonde's blue orbs looked over the apparel. A hood woven into the back of the neck and large double sided pocket located on the front made the green stripes running across its black fabric break in visually interesting ways.

"Arms up." The Saint ordered.

Following the instructions, Tuka was blind for only a moment as the clothing slid overhead and down her torso. At first the material felt rough against the exposed parts of her body, but that ceased as the girl fiddled with its placement; Even with all the slack around her thighs the Baja jacket felt snug over the Elf's sizable bust. Instinctively the blonde balled up her fists before depositing them in the large front pocket. The coarse wool's thickness helped retain her body heat as a breeze passed by, ruffling Tuka's hair. Lati smiled at the wardrobe change before continuing deeper into the encampment, the Elf pulled up her hood and followed.

Catching up Tuka tried to think of something to fill the quiet, "This jacket's really nice. Thank y-"

"Shhh. We're talking about nothing, remember?" Silenced by the statement, inside the blonde was grateful at the Saint's unspoken understanding. Lati wouldn't pry into the matter.

Side by side, the two wandered aimlessly around the collection of tents in no particular order. A pleasant aura was carried between them as they went. Angelo was spotted near the bonfire, cleaning his blade with a trance-like focus as if it was the only thing in the world; He'd seemed distracted all day, but none had approached the Sicario about it. Lelei lounged in the Cadillac, muttering to herself as the pages flew by on a book they'd received from the citizens of Italica. Rory sat at one of the tables greedily consuming a smothered burrito roughly the size of her head; The Apostle was in high spirits as she ate. Passing the tent housing two of their latest guests, small sniffling could be heard inside.

Tuka increased her pace, ignoring the urge to check on the Princess and Captain. The two hadn't spoken since the reveal, one unable and the other unwilling. The blonde just didn't have the stomach to look at the redhead, let alone sit in the same vehicle as her now. So when Lati summoned another car to compensate for their growing lack of seating the Elf was relieved; The Bentley S2's five person capacity proved itself a benefit once the two Imperials and unconscious Dark Elf were loaded into the backseat after the latter's freak out. Driven by Luis, the cream colored vehicle kept a respectable distance from the Cadillac as they traveled toward the border of Elbe before stopping to set up camp for the night.

"Still mad?" Lati's insight was startlingly accurate to Tuka's dismay.

The Elf tried to sound calm as she deflected the Saint's attention, "Mad? Why would I be?"

"You're right, who in their right mind would be upset at finding out their new friend is related to the people that almost sold them into slavery? I mean that's just preposterous." Sarcasm doused every word out of the Saint's red lips.

Feeling called out, the blonde pushed ahead, pretending not to hear the muffled crying behind her. As their stroll came to its end, the pair found themselves outside the Kingpin's own personal tent. Santa Muerte gave Tuka a knowing look, "Well that's enough exercise for one night. I think I'll retire now. Thanks for 'nothing', Rubia." Leaning over the Saint pecked the unprepared Elf on the cheek before turning to walk away, "Pass that along to Antonio for me, por favor."

Embarrassed by the affectionate action, Tuka mumbled a confirmation as the robed woman disappeared in between the tents. After a few minutes of gathering up courage, the Elf finally pushed past the flaps and into the candle lit space. Inside, her blue orbs had difficulty adjusting to the dimness, but the sparse decor helped in locating her target. A figure laid on the cot underneath a blanket, back facing the entrance. Steady breathing indicated they were asleep.

Oh great, he's already in bed. Maybe I should just wait till morning, talk to him then.

Dejected at the turn of events, the Elf turned to make her exit. But the spot where the Saint had kissed her only seemed to grow warmer with each step. Tugging on the hem of the jacket, the blonde argued with herself.

Lati did ask me to pass it on…

But you could wake him! Then he'd see us…doing…that.

She gave me this, right after I made a mess of everything.

I know but-

She didn't force me to talk even though she knew I was lying.

Yes but-

I've been only a burden and they still let me stay.

Bu-

Ignoring her internal qualms, Tuka boldly strode toward the bed, determined to pay back even just a fraction of the kindness she'd been given by the Montanas. With butterflies filling up her chest she leaned over the body to deliver a chaste kiss to the angular jowl. Closing in, the Elf was surprised to find the musky scent the Cuban carried was absent, replaced with something decidedly more earthy. The reason for this became obvious only after the fact.

As Tuka's mouth pressed softly into the skin, a feminine moan drew from the person, "Mnnn~"

Caught off guard by the reaction the Elf pulled away with confusion, "T-Tony?"

Yao yawned as she turned over, leaving the sheet to slide off her dark curvature. Bare flesh filled Tuka's eyes, making her grow flush at the scandalous sight. Looking away quickly, the blonde tried not to think of the implications as to why she was in Antonio's tent. "W-What are you doing here?! Where is Mr. Montana?!"

Rubbing away the dust of sleep, the Dark Elf gave a disappointed whine, "Ugh, and here I hoped Master had finally returned to my little surprise. But it's just you. What do you want, wood elf?"

"Oh I was j-just uh, coming to wish Tony a goo-" The Elf stopped halfway through the defense of her actions before whispering in a tone the silverette couldn't identify, "Master?"

Becoming fully awake, Yao stood up with an arrogant smile, unashamed of her nudity, "Isn't it obvious, wood elf? To ensure the survival of my tribe, I'm giving myself to the Jefe, as his willing slave. In pursuit of my goal, nothing will stand in my way, not even dignity or shame. So why don't you take your little speech impediment and go before you embarrass yourself in front of him?"

The silverette waited for another stuttering remark to pass from the pathetic blonde's mouth. But the woman just stood there in silence, face obscured by her golden bangs.

Oh great, I broke her.

Annoyed at the girl's fragile nature, the Dark Elf stepped forward to push the motionless doll toward the flap. That proved to be a poor assessment as Tuka looked up with a raging scowl, "WILLING SLAVE?!"

In a blur the Elf was upon her. Together they crashed into the rug covered ground before rolling across it in struggle. There was no elegance in the brawl, just shouting, spit, and malice. Forced onto her back, the silverette choked under Tuka's harsh grip around her throat.

"YOU DON'T KNOW ONE THING ABOUT WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A SLAVE! HOW DARE YOU MAKE LIGHT OF IT! TAKE IT BACK, TAKE IT BACK NOW!" The blonde's eyes were narrowed in disgust as she continued to squeeze.

Yao responded by reaching up to rake nails down her opponents hovering face. The Elf cried in pain, inadvertently loosening her hold. That proved a significant error, leaving room for the Dark Elf to wiggle out from under. Reeling from the wound, the blonde was unprepared for the bicep that snaked around her neck before pulling back into a sleeper hold. Legs wrapped around the girl's torso from behind, further constricting Tuka's rapidly depleting oxygen levels.

In desperation the blonde threw her head back. A visceral crunch confirmed the breaking of the Dark Elf's nose. Scrambling away, the silverette held a hand to the crooked appendage to stem the flow of red already leaking onto the carpet. Both panted from the exertion as they stared daggers at each other. Candlelight flickered in their eyes.

"What is wrong with you?! Does the Master have a thing for broken toys?" Yao's words came in a nasally tone as she pinched her nostrils closed.

Tuka's right hand covered the damaged iris, but even with only one eye her stare was charged with animosity at the ignorant Dark Elf. With a stomp forward the blonde yelled, "STOP CALLING HIM MASTER! HE'S NOT LIKE THAT! TONY-" Tears began to flow from the memories of that cell, "TONY WOULD NEVER!"

The Elf's eyes glazed over as she began to hyperventilate, overwhelmed by the emotions running through her chest. The tent was gone, replaced with the all too familiar glower of her father and the flames. This went overlooked by the silverette, who was too focused on returning the favor for the nose to stop now. Dashing forward the Dark Elf brought a fist to rest in the blonde's exposed gut, causing her to retch and drop to her knees. Outside, footsteps could be heard approaching.

Emboldened by the sudden lack of fight in the Elf, Yao dug her fingers into the girl's hair before pulling the head back roughly. The silverette raised her shaking fist in anger, ready to pummel Tuka's anguished face.

"What pretty features, shame I'll have to disfigure them. But I'm sure Master will understand, once he sees all I can provide, there won't be any more need for you."

The Dark Elf brought down the white knuckled appendage ready to reshape the blonde's profile. Tuka snapped out of it to be greeted by the encroaching blow, powerless to avoid it at the speed with which it approached her vulnerable visage. But then the punch stopped, a mere centimeter from deliverance. The Elf looked up to Yao, confused at the sudden act of mercy. The silverette paid her no attention, too busy gaping at something to their side.

Looking to the left, the blonde's mouth went dry. Standing with a hand anchored around the Dark Elf's wrist, the Kingpin asked with deathly calm, "Who said you could hurt my people?"

Antonio didn't normally go for walks, but after the shit show at the river, he was too agitated and short tempered to interact with the others. The appearance of the Dark Elf only added another life for the Cuban to keep track of in this ever complicating conflict. It had seemed so simple initially, steamroll toward the Capital, bombard their defenses, and cut one war criminal's throat before the weekend started. Now, the Kingpin was babysitting royal refugees from the very Empire he'd been systematically cutting apart for weekswhile chasing down a goddamn dragon to cure an Elf's PTSD because that's what a Goddess of Death said to do. If spoken out loud, Tony'd be forced to admit how crazy his situation had escalated from walking through a creepy door in the basement.

The feelings blossoming between him, an ageless Apostle, and the methodical Mage being one such escalation. Certainly the Kingpin enjoyed the sensual if time limited trysts between the two beauties and himself. Still, it wouldn't be long before the status of their relationship was brought into question. Reflecting on the turbulent track record Tony had accumulated over the course of his life, the man was reluctant to give the duo that which only served as a target to those he called enemies. And yet, the Cuban couldn't fathom going back to the insulating loneliness 'success' had brought back in Miami; The pair had already burrowed too deeply for that to be an option. Truly, Montana was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

So the Kingpin walked, walked and thought of all the spinning plates left in his care. Given enough time, some were bound to fall and shatter despite the Cuban's best efforts. It was just a question of who, when, and how while they continued this odyssey. The situation brought to mind a Russian proverb the instructors had often repeated during boot camp: Victory cannot be achieved without sacrifice. Montana stopped to punch a tree at the memory, finding no comfort in its wisdom.

Easy for you assholes to say. Never had to think about those that died paving the way to your fucking medals.

Antonio's hatred for military command remained unchanged, even in this world of magic and monsters. To someone who preferred looking his adversaries in the eyes before pulling the trigger, the cavalier attitude at which general's sent thousands to die with the stroke of a pen felt not only cowardly but insulting to the Kingpin. Already having come close to losing the only living member of his organization left, the experience had shaken Tony deeply even if he'd hid it well. So how could the man accept the fact loss was not only inevitable but possibly necessary to achieve his Patrona's goal? Grappling with the weight of being a leader, the sun's setting passed without notice while the Cuban became lost in his own worries.

Only when the crickets began their concert did the scarred man take note of how late it had become. Cursing his own obliviousness, the Cuban turned around to retrace the steps that had led him to this uninhabited section of the forest. Without pessimistic musings to keep the Kingpin company, the journey proved fairly uneventful and short. Soon the familiar chatter of his men drowned out the buzz of nature. A flicker of light poked through the veil of leaves, providing a beacon for Tony to follow.

Breaking through the dense vegetation, the man was exhausted. So much so that he didn't think twice to make a beeline toward the large tepee near the center while the Kingpin's stomach cried in protest. The pull of sustenance became outweighed by the desire to sleep unburdened by these heavy thoughts. But that goal seemed further and further away as his ears picked up a commotion coming from the parted flap. On guard, Tony entered through the gap in the canvas, only to be shocked at the mess laid out before him and the two individuals at its epicenter.

The once tidy tent looked as if a tornado had ripped through the enclosed space. Candles were strewn about, pouring wax from snuffed out ends onto the carpet. The cot where Antonio had fantasized a peaceful rest was turned on its side, scattering the pillows and quilt around it. Even the rug itself was stained with a red hue the Cuban was all too acquainted with. Yet all the destruction paled in comparison to the state of one bruised blonde and her attacker.

Neither of the women paid him any attention, too caught up in the moment to take notice of the Kingpin's entrance. A closer examination of the kneeling Elf tightened the knot in Tony's empty stomach. The telltale signs of a freezing spell were plainly worn on her frightened face as the Dark Elf propelled her taught knuckles toward Tuka's brow. The Cuban's feet carried him across the room with an unnatural speed. As the man's ringed hand clamped down on the silverette's wrist, a startled flinch came from the Dark Elf.

Yao turned to stare at the Kingpin in terror as his harsh whisper filled the air, "Who said you could hurt my people?"

Before the girl could think up a rational explanation, Antonio twisted the captured appendage harshly until an audible crack rang out followed by her pained cry. Forced to release the Elf's hair, Yao was unceremoniously tossed to the side before Tony lowered himself to cup Tuka's watery streaked features, "Hey, Rubia. I'm right here, okay? I'm right here, shh everything's fine. You're safe. Just tell me what happened, chica…"

The silverette rose from the ground with arm cradled close to her chest, "M-Master there's been a misund-"

"I DON'T REMEMBER ASKING YOU A FUCKIN' THING!" The rageful outburst caused Yao to scoot backwards defensively. Even Tuka found herself cowering under the weight of the Cuban's anger.

When he turned, the Kingpin's lip was curled in a snarl, "YOU COME TO US, IN THE MIDDLE OF A GOD DAMNED FIREFIGHT! YOU BREAK DOWN CRYING ABOUT NEEDING 'HELP'! YOU CAN'T SAY A FUCKING WORD BESIDES JEFE! YOU FORCE US TO BRING YOU ALONG! WE HOUSE YOU, WE FEED YOU, AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY IT?! STRIPPING DOWN TO YOUR BIRTHDAY SUIT, RANSACKING MY SHIT, AND ATTACKING MY FRIEND?!"

Red began to fill the Cuban's vision, creating a tunnel of focus toward the Dark Elf. He took a step forward, and she slid further away. Something pulled at Tony's elbow, causing him to shove away the restraint. Only the blonde's whimper of pain pulled him from the all encompassing inferno threatening to consume the Kingpin's reason. Looking back, a sharp sensation stabbed into the man's chest; The Elf looked up at him with shock from her place on the floor.

Tony reached for her, "Tuka, I'm so sor-"

"No, don't toUCH ME!" Tuka clamped her eyes shut as she hid behind trembling arms.

"What in God's name is going on in here?" Angelo's voice was followed by the parting of covers that separated the trio from the outside.

The collective gasps pulled air from the Cuban's lungs. Just outside the tent, Angelo, Rory, Lelei, and Lati looked upon the two injured demihumans and the man between them. Their expressions extinguished any fury inside Tony, leaving the bitter aftertaste of regret. A lump formed in his throat, fully aware of how the Kingpin looked at this moment. The memory of Gina's visit to the Babylon club surfaced in his head, leaving a burn of shame to amplify inside Montana.

"Cual es el significado de este, Antonio?" The Mage's words were appalled as she spoke them behind a cupped hand.

The Apostle's tone carried a frigid disgust, "Tony…I thought you were different from other men. It seems I misjudged."

"Jefe, please don't tell me you…" The Sicario couldn't look his superior in the eye, glancing between the damaged elves with a disbelieving expression.

Santa Muerte said nothing, just staring at Antonio with a saddened disappointment. Somehow the Saint's reaction hurt the most of all, reminding Montana of his mother's face when he'd tried to give her money earned through his dealings. Standing up, the Cuban turned from their accusatory stares with clenched fists. No matter how far he traveled, the devil on Tony's back stayed, tainting everything it came into contact with. What did he know of freedom, when the Kingpin was still ruled by the dark well of animosity inside himself?

The man had no answer, for their questions, or his own. Tony spoke in a resigned offhandedness as he knelt to start picking up the scattered objects around him, "Take a good look, cuz this is what a bad guy looks like. Took you all long enough to see it. Good, that make's my job easier." Tony glanced at the silverette, "Get your shit and get out of my tent."

Quietly the Dark Elf did as she was instructed, dressing with one arm before exiting the tepee carrying downcast eyes ready to spill over. The Henchman approached Tuka with a gentle caution, after some coaxing she too found strength to stand and followed Angie out of the desecrated space. Eventually the petite pairing of red and blue left as well, each questioning their understanding of the man they'd thought they were falling for. Only Lati remained, watching as the Cuban picked up the remains of his shattered belongings and reputation; Both wondering the same thing.

Could a tiger ever really change its stripes?

When Yao returned to the tent the Montana's had provided for her, she could do nothing but cry within its confines. Surprisingly, it wasn't the fractured arm that brought about this anguish, but the thought of losing the one group that could feasibly save her people. Weeks of travel, anxious days, sleepless nights, all washed away in a matter of seconds. For a fight that seemed less and less important the harder she sobbed. All because her damned pride couldn't accept the insult of being injured by the wood elf.

What was I thinking, attacking the doll?! The Dark Elf clenched at her silver locks in frustration. Master will never want me now… But without my body, what left do I have to offer? Sitting down, the girl racked her brain for a solution; But that only made clear the severe lack of options available.

The diamond didn't even get a reaction from their foot soldiers, like they aren't even interested in wealth. A vision of sandstone structures covered in flames clouded her sight. Familiar faces formed in the ash coated ground. Each accusatory stare unblinking in their deathly judgment. I'm sorry everyone, it was foolish to place your faith in me… because I've just killed you all.

The Dark Elf dug sharp nails into the exposed flesh of her thigh, wanting the pain to match the self hatred she was feeling in scale. But no matter how hard she pressed, that sense of failure outweighed any punishment the silverette was able to enact. A cavern of despair stood before her, eager to swallow Yao whole. She was tempted to let it; Just give up, sit here, and wither away until there was nothing left to mark her pathetic existence but dust. Santa Muerte had other plans though.

The Saint didn't announce herself as she entered the Dark Elf's chambers. It wouldn't have mattered, with the young woman too focused on hurting herself to notice the intrusion. A soft hand reached out to interrupt the self-maiming as a gentle voice filled her long ears, "Will that fix anything?"

The appearance of the robed woman only further stoked the flames of inadequacy burning within the girl. Unsuccessfully the Dark Elf tried to pull her fingers away from the touch of the Saint. Eyes not daring to look up into the disgusted expression the woman most certainly held. Yao felt unworthy of Lati's attention. She felt unworthy of a lot of things right now.

Even their priestess sees the futility of my actions. How low of a creature can I be?

Please, continue to assume what I'm thinking. Because that worked out SO WELL the last time you did it.

The words inside her head elicited a shudder from the silverette. Slowly, golden irises rose to meet Lati's own pools of obsidian. But in place of revulsion the Saint's expression carried empathy. The kind look only proceeded to confuse the young woman. Yao had gone and sewed discourse through the men in flower's ranks, got in an altercation with one of its members, and was denounced by their leader. So why was the shaman comforting her and not the wood elf?

The desire for an answer grew in size as the woman lowered to sit beside the Dark Elf on the barren cot. Without warning the ethereal beauty began undoing the clasps that held the star spangled cloak in place around her shapely form. Slowly the garment was removed, revealing skin in the hue of freshly ground coffee. Watching this, the silverette's face grew redder, "Why are you undressing?"

The Saint looked over her bare shoulder with a grin, "What? Are you saying you don't like naked strangers in your sanctuary when you don't expect it?"

Yao opened her mouth to argue before closing it as she understood the point the brunette was trying to make. Tilting her head downwards, the Dark Elf was apologetic in tone, "I see now how my actions could be seen as…intrusive." Tuka's bruised features surfaced in Yao's thoughts as she reflected on the incident, "It was also wrong of me to retaliate against the doll… The Jefe was right to discipline me."

A grimace flashed across Santa Muerte's face, "No, Antonio wasn't. It wasn't his fight to enter or end; Despite his overprotective instincts saying otherwise. If Tuka had wanted a scrape, she should've been prepared for the consequences of losing it. But that is a matter for another time. Now," The Saint pooled the fabric into her lap, unbothered by her own exposed body, "give me your arm."

The Dark Elf did as she was told, not fully understanding why submitting to the order felt so easy. The stiff appendage was covered in the silky material, becoming warmer the longer it remained in contact. Eventually the rising temperature grew too much for the silverette to stay still, and she tried to pull away. The robe tightened its hold, like a boa constrictor squeezing a fresh victim. Yao yelped in panic, beginning to think up ways to escape the crushing grasp of the mysterious fabric.

Then it was over. The article of clothing grew slack, while the heat gradually disappeared around the silverette's forearm. Freeing herself of its touch, the Dark Elf rotated the extremity cautiously. Yao brought the appendage up toward her face, in awe of what she felt. Or to be exact, what she didn't feel.

The pain…it's…gone?

"How?" Was all that could escape from Yao as she stared at Lati's satisfied smile.

"How is so boring. Especially when why is so much more fun. Now ask me why, Nieve."

There was a subtle shift in the atmosphere. Like the air itself had stilled in anticipation. Of what, Yao was clueless. A small part of the girl became filled with dread. But again she followed the instructions laid out before her, "Okay…? Why did you heal me?"

"To show you not all goddesses are cruel and inattentive to their followers." As the word 'goddesses' passed her lips, the illusion around Lati fell away, revealing her true form in all its glory. The sight of the skeletal figure startled the silverette, who stood up abruptly before pulling the curved short sword nestled at her back.

The girl aimed the blade tip toward the demon, "What sorcery is this?! If you desire my soul, you will have to fight me for it!"

The marionette of bones responded by reaching up to place a bleach white finger on the weapon shakily hovering near her face. In front of the Dark Elf's very eyes the metal corroded rapidly, covering the polished surface in an orange rash of rust. As the rot spread toward the hilt, Yao dropped the object for fear of it transferring to her. When the scimitar hit the ground the entire thing crumpled to dust. Now defenseless, the girl felt her strength leave her legs and fell to the floor.

The silverette's voice was hollow with defeat as she stared into her lap, "Fine, I'm tired of denying fate's hand. Feast upon me monster, I shan't stop you…"

Rising up, Santa Muerte walked to tower over the Dark Elf's hunched body. With a steady hand the Saint reached down toward Yao; The skinny fingers combed through the girl's hair smoothly. A laugh spilled from the chattering jaw bone, "Such a drama queen, you're lucky you're cute."

Lati knelt to tilt the Dark Elf's chin upwards, "I don't want your soul, silly." Looking into the yellow orbs, the Saint placed her palm over the silverette's thumping breast, "But this…this I have uses for."

"I…I don't understand?" The creature didn't change behavior, still emanating a soft motherly aura the shaman had exhibited.

A slow circle was drawn over Yao's skin with one finger, "Do you know what sustains a god, Nieve? Ask the Mayans, and they'd say it was blood. Listen to the Izanami, and it would be mistaken as devotion. Interrogate a Zulu, he'd call it fear. Each comes close, yet still fails to see the full picture."

Yao hung on every word, soothed by the digit tracing her heart, "Tell me, Mija. Why did you travel all this way, so far from home? What drove you to bear such a responsibility to retrieve help? And no, I'm not talking about the dragon. I'm talking about what it threatens if you don't stop it."

"...My clan. I do this for them."

The Saint stopped her ministrations causing the Dark Elf's chest to ache, "And you do it because…"

A stray tear slid down the girl's cheek as the images of her family flashed through her mind, "Because I love them."

Standing up, Lati offered a hand. The silverette took it, and was pulled back onto her feet. Making way toward the cot, Santa Muerte pulled the robe over her, shielding the bones from view. When she turned, the facade was back in place, "Exactly. Just as we would do anything for the ones we love, the same applies to deities. Love is what sustains all things, including the gods. Which is why I'm appalled with the reverence you hold toward your family's tormentor ."

Yao could only recall one deity her people had ever worshiped. The supposed reason for all the Dushi clan's victories. The ruler of hell. The queen of the underworld. The one most simply known as, "Hardy?"

The Saint frowned at the name, "Yes. While she may receive heaps upon heaps of love, that harpy is incapable of feeling for anyone but herself." Raising her arm to stretch out the robes inky blackness, images began to appear on the fabrics surface. The Dark Elf gasped in horror as she recognized them, "La puta toys with mortals; Sometimes it's a plague," The construct spied on a little Yao crying over an older female covered by a sheet, "at others it takes the shape of conflict," The day the silverette's fiance was slain in battle was shown with crystal clarity, "her favorite method was always calamity though." The last window followed the very reason the young woman was even here, the dragon unaware of its audience as it flew through the sky, "But no matter how Hardy dresses them up, they all have the same intention. To harvest as many loving devoted souls as possible, each feeding the bitch's never ending lust for power."

"That's impossible! Mistress Hardy has shielded us from hardship for generations!" Even the Dark Elf found her own words hard to believe, shaken by the involuntary stroll down memory lane.

A gold coin slid out from the Saint's sleeve as she lowered her arm ending the visions. Lati rolled the change between her fingers, watching it with disinterest, "If that's true, you wouldn't be here. Your people prayed for salvation, did it come?"

The Dark Elf mumbled something unintelligible. The robed woman lifted a hand toward her ear, "Say again? I didn't quite catch that."

"No!" The silverette choked out, feeling like a fool as hot tears fell from her eyes.

Yet how was one supposed to act, when the very foundation of their existing beliefs was shown to be nothing but a lie? Some may have despaired, hoping the ground would swallow them up. Others could break, being reduced to laughter and madness. Neither described what Yao felt now; A rising pressure forming beneath the rib cage. Lati, to her credit, didn't show how pleasing the waves of hate rolling off the Dark Elf felt.

A hand gripped the silverette's shoulder as she fumed in anger. Looking up, Yao found the Saint's face hovering closely, a predatory smile stretched across the blood red lips, "Maybe it's time you called on someone else, one who knows how to return such loyalty."

Lelei felt like an island. Actually, that wasn't quite right; An island anchored to the earth, rising up out of the ocean to stand tall. No, driftwood was a closer comparison, aimless, meandering, and completely at the whim of the waves. That's what the Mage endured now, cast out of the cozy harbor of infatuation, and deposited into a raging storm of contrasting emotions. The bluenette struggled to endure it, then again, matters of the heart tended to do that to someone.

The night had failed to provide any rest, even with the Apostle's warm body helping to drive off the chill in their tepee. Rory was distant, too lost in her own head to lend comfort. The absence of a certain broad chested Cuban that ran hot like a furnace wasn't lost on either girl. The Reaper was angry, though she controlled it well; Only the occasional clench of hands betrayed her mask of indifference. Lelei didn't know what to classify the turmoil inside her chest as, but it certainly held hints of disappointment and disbelief.

When the morning arrived breakfast became a decidedly awkward affair. The mess tent was its usual noisy chaotic space, sicarios working over skillets while the smell of eggs and bacon filled the air. Despite the pleasant scents wafting around her though, the Mage struggled to summon an appetite; The ravenette beside Lelei had no such qualms, digging into the stacked plate with fervor. It took considerable effort to choke down her meal while trying to avoid staring at the empty chair at the head of the table; The Kingpin having chosen to eat in his own tent. The others who'd been present during the incident likewise avoided saying anything about the matter; Even Angelo to her left didn't try to lighten the oppressive atmosphere, not being able to think of a joke funny enough to do so.

"This food is delicious!" Bozes's praise came muffled through a stuffed mouth across the table.

Sat between Tuka and Pina, the Captain was oblivious to her role as a barrier separating the pair. The redhead had given a greeting when the two royals first entered the culinary space, the Elf didn't respond. Instead Tuka stared at the untouched plate of hash browns, the pink swelling around her blue eyes hinting at another restless night; A necklace of purple and claw marks adorning her face only added to the Elf's haggard appearance. The scarred man wasn't the only vacancy either. Both Lati and the Dark Elf couldn't be located; Some of the henchmen mentioned 'an early morning walk' between the two but held no further insight into their whereabouts.

The bubble of unease inflated with each content sigh of the Captain. Tuka's grip on her fork tightened gradually until the blonde's knuckles were as white as the tablecloth beneath them. The action didn't go unseen by the Princess, who foolishly chose then to try and clear the air between the Elf and herself, "Tuka, about what you learned yesterday, I-"

The girl rose from the seat quickly, features obscured by golden locks. With robotic movements she gathered the dishes in front of her before briskly depositing them in a tub of steamy suds. Making way back toward the exit, Tuka would have made a flawless escape if it weren't for the clueless Captain's intervention. Standing proudly with arms crossed, Bozes held a look of practiced authority. The Elf was decidedly unimpressed as she went to step around the rag covered woman.

A hand jutted out to halt the blonde's progress, "Her highness may be too polite to correct such behavior but I am not. Apologize for ignoring Pina's gracious attempts at conversation, NOW."

"BZ, please." Said redhead was still seated, a sad lilt coloring her voice, "Tuka has made it clear she does not wish to speak with me. Just…let it go."

The headstrong blonde dug her heels in, "That I cannot do, your highness. Even on the run, you are still of noble blood. These commoners have no right to-"

"BOZES!" The shout came with an undercurrent of frustration, "Leave. Her. Alone. That's an order, Captain."

Reluctantly the girl did what was asked of her, lowering the arm slowly. The Elf said nothing as she left. Sitting back down, Bozes shot her friend a questioning look. It went ignored by the Princess, who went back to dejectedly taking bites of her food with a faraway look. Tiring of the hostile energy, Angelo reached across the table with an open hand while burying his own negative thoughts, "Angie Perra, nice to meet you Ms…"

The blonde looked at the appendage with apprehension, "Bozes Co Palesti. It's good to see some of your band know how to speak. I was beginning to think only your leader had a voice." The bluenette bit her lip at the backhanded compliment.

The man laughed off the insult with a jester's grace, "Haha, well you've just got here. Give it some time, I'm sure Tuka will warm up. Yesterday was just…," His eyes glanced at the Princess, "a lot to process."

"That's a doubtfully optimistic outcome, wouldn't you say, Angelo?" The Reaper's even tone failed to completely hide the irritation she felt; The desire for conflict a welcome diversion from her own warring mind. It had been too long since the woman put an elitist in their place.

The ravenette's comment drew the attention of Bozes's brown eyes, "And what would make you say that, little girl?"

The Apostle's eye twitched at the dig on her appearance. A cruel caricature of a smile adorned Rory's violet lips, "Simple, what prisoner would be mad enough to befriend their warden?"

The Princess slammed her fist on the table, "I had no knowledge of the misdeeds carried out by the Imperial Army!"

"Yet you share blood with the man that commissioned them." The Apostle brought a finger to the point of her chin as her eyes peaked up with an inquisitive tilt, "I'm curious, are you really that oblivious? Or just stupid?"

Pina flinched under the harsh words, unable to dispute them. Both held the sting of truth at their hurtful centers. The Princess grew up always being told the high standards of conduct carried out by the Empire's armed forces; Even when old enough to investigate these claims herself, the redhead hadn't thought of a need to. Sugar coated campaign stories from Zorzal and Grey only added to the misleading impression the girl had carried with her toward Italica. But little by little, the veneer was sanded away by the citizens' distrustful glances and overly submissive behavior; Clearly they'd interacted with the true face of the Imperial Army before.

While Pina shrunk in on herself, Bozes only burned hotter at the insult, feeling bolder now that she wasn't starved and tired. "Watch your tongue child! Do you know who you speak to?!"

Lelei's cold calculating voice came to the Reapers defense with a biting remark, "Political refugees with nowhere else to go? Failed knights clamoring to hold onto their fading prestige? Ungrateful brats thrown from the lap of luxury? Sorry, it's just hard to narrow down the choices. Which would you prefer?"

The slap stung the Mage's cheek, but still she stared down the fuming blonde. The ravenette began to stand up, a brown hand grabbed her shoulder. "It ain't worth it, Rory. C'mon girls, let's get outta here before our 'commoner' stink rubs off on them."

The Sicarios declaration got through the outer shell of numbness covering the redhead, "A-Angie wait-"

"It's okay, you don't have to pretend to be nice anymore. It ain't my first time being a peasant, your highness." The sad acceptance in Angelo's voice cut like a knife. Together the three left the tepee.

"Hmph, at least one of them knew their place." The Captain lowered herself to continue eating. Pina shoved the plate onto the ground before storming out. Left alone, Bozes was puzzled over the redhead's sudden departure.

Was it something I said?

The water was cold. That made sense, considering they'd sourced it from a nearby lake; Flaco had procured a bucket full in the early morning hours before leaving it outside the tent. Unlike the swamps of Florida, this source was clean, untouched by the pollution slowly seeping into every wild space left in America. The Cuban hadn't realized when he'd gotten off the boat; Too caught up in the glitz and glamour of Miami's neon lights to notice the change. But it was there, in every drop, a taint, unseen but not unfelt. Head submerged in the basin, Tony washed the fog of sleepiness away; Idly his mind wandered to simpler times, back when every bath was outside.

Cheaper than a cup of coffee. His father had said those words every time they'd gone down to the river to clean themselves. It was customary, and advantageous, to go on Sundays; The vacationing bureaucrats packed like sardines inside the church, leaving the water level to rise above a trickle without diversion to the western style pools at the back of their properties. He'd always found it ironic, how those fat men in suits professed their sins in weeping confessions, then walked out the door to continue stealing food and water from the mouths of families with their decadent parties and wasteful ways. Then I became just like them.

The observation coincided with the burn of Tony's lungs, proving too intense to ignore, and he pulled away from the rippling surface. With a shuddering exhale the scarred man wiped his face of the remaining droplets, inspecting the consistency of his shaven features. A circular beard greeted his watery reflection, the dark patch of hair cupping the angular chin as it connected with the neatly trimmed mustache below his sharp beak. All other traces of stubble were parted by the razor laying beside the bucket. Given their weeks of travel, it had been long overdue to groom himself properly. But something had kept getting in the way, or some people to be more accurate; Two petite silhouettes graced the surface of his thoughts before he buried them.

Not like that's gonna be a problem anymore. A ringed hand squeezed the edge of the basin hard before the Kingpin made way toward the clothes laid out on the cot. The khaki slacks stood in stark contrast to the navy blue button up, little white and yellow daisies covering the shirt like small pox sores. Sliding on his brown boots, the Cuban walked outside into the late morning sunshine. The sudden brightness forced him to shield his eyes from the fiery orb, quickly remedied by equipping the aviators Guiseppe had included in the wardrobe.

With a slow turn of the head, Antonio scanned the camp for a certain violet shawl and its owner. Luckily, the Saint wasn't one to blend into a crowd; His eyes spotted the Goddess congregating near the Eldorado. As the Kingpin got closer, he noticed a similarly dressed figure standing beside la Patrona. The pitch black robes held smaller four pointed stars, filled with a royal purple, and outlined by a thin golden stroke. Together, the two turned in synchronization to greet him; Tony's surprise was concealed by the shades. Yao's nose was still reddened, held in place by a short strip of medical tape, the bruises around her neck complimenting the color of the robes' astrology.

"Ah," Lati's eyes shimmered with disillusionment, "glad you could finally join us. Sleep well, Mijo?"

Tony bit his tongue hard, tasting blood in the process. Santa Muerte knew exactly how much sleep he'd gotten, she'd just wanted to twist the knife still in his gut a little more. Remind him of how displeased he'd made her. The man swallowed every nasty syllable that threatened to part his lips. With balled fists shoved into his pockets he answered, "Fine."

"Good." Santa Muerte's voice was unsympathetic, black pupils lingering for a second before shifting toward her right, "Do you have any remaining questions about your task, Nieve?"

Yao stopped gawking at the Cuban's unexpectedly subdued presence just in time to answer Lati's inquiry, "Y-Yes Mistress…are you sure about this?" The Dark Elf could feel his gaze on her. She buried the urge to flinch, "I can go into Tubet by myself. I promise to carry out your wishes swiftly."

"Si, mi amor. Without transport, it would take all day to walk there. Fortunately," The Saint raised a hand to gesture to Tony, "you'll have a chauffeur and bodyguard to make the journey easier."

Tony made no move to protest, knowing it was not a choice. With a stony face he went around to the passenger side, opening the door with practiced ease. The silverette stared at the action, hesitant until manicured nails dug firmly into her shoulder blade with a gentle scraping, "I am watching. Now, go, go and spread my love to the people."

A jingling sack was deposited into the girl's hands. With a nervous swallow she approached the car; The length of the robe made it difficult to sit down at first, getting caught on everything as she adjusted her placement. A strange flattened rope stabbed at her side with a dull metal bit, causing Yao to squirm in discomfort. But it was quickly replaced by fear as the scarred man reached behind her to grab the nuisance. That anxiety rose as the Kingpin leaned close, the Dark Elf's nose practically buried in the broad shoulder.

What is he-

A sharp click sounded, and then Tony was out of her personal space, shutting the door. The seat belt fit snugly between the valley of Yao's chest, securing the girl firmly in place. The suspension shifted with the Kingpin sliding into the drivers side. With a turn of the key, the engine purred with anticipation. With one hand on the wheel Tony shifted gears into drive.

"Not so fast," Lati presented with an open palm, her expression uncharacteristically serious, "the rings, Antonio."

"What?!" Tony's outrage didn't garner a reaction.

At their mentioning, the jewelry throbbed in a way metal shouldn't. The gold began to sting, like rubbing alcohol on a fresh cut. Quickly the man ripped off the bling, before dumping it into the Saint's hands. His face red with embarrassment, the Cuban growled, "And what happens when I need to fight, huh? What then?"

"Easy, just pretend they're another woman for you to put your hands on." The scathing remark shut down any room for conversation; Yao kept her sight low, even as her ears absorbed every word. "These are made for a man who can control himself. I'd believed," Santa Muerte stared firmly into the hazel orbs, "naively now I see, that after losing everything you'd held dear you would strive not to repeat the steps that led you there. I guess not, though. These will stay with me, until you prove you know restraint."

The pile of rings disappeared into Lati's form. Without a goodbye, the Kingpin hit the gas, peeling out of the encampment. Tuka watched as the car lost itself in the trees from the camp's outskirts, her blue eyes unnoticed in the rear view mirror. A foreboding sensation rose in the blonde's chest, as if this was the last time she'd see the man that carried her out of the flames as he was; Even with the memory of last night still fresh in her mind, the girl hadn't forgotten how tender the Kingpin could be. The Elf didn't like this feeling, not at all.

It wasn't long till the greenery of the forest was replaced by the barren, brown, badlands. The road became bumpier, showing significant signs of neglect. Above their heads, the blue sky remained cloudless, allowing for the sun's rays to beat down on the silverette and Kingpin. In the restrictive garment, Yao felt the dampness of sweat invade each crease of her covered body. Bringing a hand toward her face, the Dark Elf attempted to alleviate the smothering torridness with a fanning motion.

Noticing this, the Cuban silently debated with himself before reaching for the center console. With a few switches cool air began to pour from the vents on the dashboard. The sudden shift in temperature made Yao shiver pleasantly as the moisture was wicked away. Timidly the woman glanced over at Antonio, "Thank you."

A tuft of air blew from his nostrils, the only acknowledgment to her words. With nothing else to focus on the silverette began to examine the man, a curiosity growing in her eyes. The Cuban's hair was swept back by the speed of the Cadillac; Dark locks curling under the strain. His clothes reminded her of those flighty dukes and duchesses, the ones that would show up every few years with a brilliant idea to try and control her clan. But unlike those sniveling imperialists, his body carried no hint of softness.

Every inch of him was tightly coiled muscle, like a viper waiting to strike. Tracing the outline of his arms with her eyes, the Dark Elf followed the curve of his appendages until they rested on his hand. The same one that had broken her forearm. Trepidation flooded her veins, fearful of re-experiencing the scarred man's fury. Yet there was something else, a small tattoo, etched into the space between his thumb and pointer finger.

"Do I got some shit in my teeth?" Tony's casual voice caused the silverette to jump in her seat.

Quickly Yao shook her head, feeling jittery for being caught. "Then what is it?"

For several minutes the Dark Elf didn't respond. Figuring she didn't want to talk, he turned his sight back onto the road. When they slowed down to take a turn the girl found her courage, "Did it hurt? Getting the mark on your hand?"

Antonio was at a loss for words. The man had been preparing himself for an uncomfortable confrontation with his victim since they first got on the road. He'd expected screaming, fear, maybe one or two accusations of being a monster. But while the Dark Elf was clearly wary of his proximity, she'd so far shown kindness; More so than deserved. The Cuban was offset by the civility.

Slowly the Kingpin shook his head. Which was true, the evidence of Tony's time in the army was a bee sting compared to the actual training. In fact, other than when he'd gotten squeezed in customs, the Cuban had gotten used to forgetting it was even there. But it was, still marking the man as one who'd murder for profit. Antonio tensed up, half dreading having to explain its meaning. But the question never came, instead the silverette nodded in understanding before returning to silently watching their surroundings.

The fuck is wrong with her?

What actually came out was more tame, "Are you crazy?"

Yao replied plainly, "Madness is not a common trait among the Dushi clan, no."

The oblivious way she answered forced Tony to be more direct, "No, I mean why aren't you clawing out my ojos? Hell," The Kingpin looked away, "how can you even stomach being in this car after what I did to you?"

Yao tucked a strand of hair behind her ear self-consciously, as if reliving a humiliation of some sort, "'Forgiveness is a flower, watered by the tears of remorse'."

"What's that 'posed to mean?" The Cuban turned back, brow narrowed trying to decipher the phrase.

"I do not know." The Dark Elf stared at the sack in her lap before lifting her head, "But the Mistress said if I was serious about walking the path of her disciple, I will have to understand its essence by the time we return, as well as 'make up' with the wood elf." The silverette gazed out into the horizon, a hand rubbing the bruises wrapped around her throat, "You are not the only one being punished here, Jefe."

"Tony," The scarred man corrected, "just call me Tony. I ain't your boss, chica."

"Tony." Yao tried the name in her mouth, surprised at how it eased the tension in her shoulders, if only a little.

It had started like any other afternoon in Tubet, border city to the kingdom of Elbe. That is to say hot and boring. The former didn't matter so much to Doyle Earh, having spent the majority of his meager nine years on this rock surviving under the overwhelming temperatures the highland desert hovel was known to reach during a midsummer day. But it was the latter that caused the street urchins' currently downtrodden mood; True, the boy was without food, shelter, money, or even a family. Yet if asked for anything to change his current lifestyle, the request would remain the same, to not be so bored.

"Ugh." A groan exited the dark haired boy's cracked lips. Lying on the sandstone rooftop, the scruffy youth kept the tan forearm across his eyes so he could sigh in peace.

A dark shadow crept over Doyle, taking the shape of a small girl, "Don't."

"Don't what?" The boy's voice took on a mischievous timbre at the obstructions request.

He could practically see the cute frown forming on her face, despite having his eyes still covered, "Don't say it."

"Buuuuut Perdida!" Doyle took on a shrill octave, over exaggerating the childish whine, "I'm juuuuuuuust sooooooo boooooooooooore- OW!"

The kick had no power behind it, still the youth rubbed his arm as he sat up. The little girl held a smug sense of satisfaction as she took her place beside him on the roof's edge. Together they watched as the street below ebbed and flowed with activity. Merchants of various garb sauntered back and forth in front of stalls, shouting at passersby to stop and look; The occasional city guard patrol came through, harassing the less fortunate into keeping off the main avenue. A hot breeze scurried between the buildings, carrying grains of sand with it.

Eventually the comfortable peace was interrupted by the boy's growling stomach. He turned to apologize, only to be greeted by the sandy blonde holding up half a loaf of bread, her lips in a pout and cheeks a rosy hue.

"We can split it if you want…" Her gray eyes glanced off to the side.

While Doyle's mouth watered at the sight, the hardened survivor inside had some questions, "Perdi, where did you get this?"

A closer look at the girl's hand showed a tiny pinkened bandage wrapped around the smallest digit. Ignoring the grain, the youth reached out to take his friend's hand. She tried to close her fingers, but Doyle gingerly kept them open as he looked over the dirty palm. Slowly a stern look grew over his features, "Perdi, what did I say about going to see that lady? She's not our friend."

"Nuh uh! Dr. Hay said she would be my friend!" The sandy blonde's cheeks puffed up in annoyance at her companion's cautious nature.

The same could be said for the boy, miffed at the girl's overly trusting habits. But it was not without reason. Two years of scavenging together had made Doyle protective of the one person that didn't look at him like trash. So when a mysterious healer suddenly appeared in the last few weeks offering food and medical attention to any children willing to part with 'a drop of blood', he'd ordered Perdida to stay far away from the lady. Nothing good could come from the unusual act of charity; Rarely were such deals as simple as they appeared.

Locked in a staring contest, neither the boy or girl ceased their glowering, both hoping the other would concede. The tense standoff was interrupted by their combined stomachs protesting. A twitch of the lip, a shift of the brow, and the pair was reduced to playful giggling at the funny noises. Any foulness was quickly forgotten as Perdida leaned on Doyle to support the aching laughter. At last the duo ceased, their sides sore from the movement.

Slowly the boy reached for the loaf, ripping the parcel in two. Without hesitation he handed the bigger piece to Perdida. She accepted it gratefully, happy squeaks leaking out between the mouthfuls of processed wheat. Doyle on the other hand was a lot slower, too busy watching to make sure his friend chewed thoroughly after each bite. When the sandy blonde finished, another chunk was presented to her, only a handful of bites missing from its body.

"Here, I'm not that hungry." Reluctantly the girl took the food, regardless of the guilt she felt for doing so.

Dummy…you need to eat too…

When Perdida finished the boy stood up, offering a hand. The girl took it with a smile. Descending down into the alleyway, the two navigated the grimy backstreets steadily getting closer to the city's northern entrance. The sun was high in the air, signaling peak traffic hours. It was time to get to work.

The setup was simple. Perdida would roam through the throng, singling out marks that couldn't put up a chase, the older vendors as well as those bogged down with their stock; Most were eager to help a little 'lost girl' find her parents, although a few were wise enough to shoo the blonde away. Doyle on the other hand relied on his natural agility and light touch to 'relieve' the hapless participants of coin; Never more than a few, the fear of getting caught kept the boy's greed in check. Many of the destitute had only one hand, giving the youth a powerful reminder of the risk he took every time they did this. It was indeed simple, but simple doesn't mean easy.

Fortunately the evening's haul came without much struggle, the closest to trouble they'd gotten being a storekeeper who wizened up only after Doyle had the gold in his hand. Together they escaped the merchant while he blustered in anger, too portly to follow. Despite the clean getaway, the pair felt it was a sign to quit for the day. Regrouping near the fountain in the center of the square, the boy counted their loot while the girl splashed her feet in the shallow water. The liquid was soothing on the blonde's tender soles; The worn down sandals beside her had seen better days.

"-And that makes eight." The boy's scratchy voice sounded pleased.

"Does that mean…?" Perdida was excited and struggling not to show it.

The dark mop of hair turned toward her, a warm smile ensconced beneath Doyle's green eyes, "Yes, we can stop by Old Man Teig's bakery."

Even with fatigue beginning to set in, the girl found a second wind at the news. So far the two had amassed close to one hundred coins, the total needed to commission a boat at one of the southern ports to ferry them away to the island nation of Baia. It was only after a big score they got sweets, the rest of the money going into what Perdida had dubbed the 'family fund'; An inside joke between them about how they'd find everything they needed once there, including a real home. The dream of escaping this dry dump felt closer than ever. These thoughts bounced around in Doyle's head as Perdida dragged him by the hand toward their destination.

Just a few more months and we're outta here…

Soon enough, the sour stench of homeless, stray animals, and garbage was overpowered by a mouth watering aroma coming from the doorway of the only building in the area with a chimney, eagerly belching smoke into the sky. As they approached, a familiar pot bellied ox of a man stepped out with a pipe hanging in the corner of his mouth. The apron looked as if it clung on desperately to the baker's large form, splattered with flour and the occasional rogue dot of icing. Deep wrinkles around the forehead and mouth characterized Teig as someone who'd thrived in the harsh environment that had chewed up and spit out lesser souls. Within earshot, the children were surprised to find the normally ornery grouch humming a happy tune as he searched for the sparking crystal in his pockets.

"Y'know smoking makes you look older." The boy's comment was effective in dousing Teig's cheery mood for a moment, summoning an annoyed glare.

"I knew the day was turning out too perfect, nice to see you too, shrimp."

"Hey!" The boy's complaint was ignored as the giant bent down onto one knee, arms open for the gray eyed girl to leap into them with a big laugh.

"And what do we have here?" The man lifted the scrappy blonde into the air as she squealed in delight, "I don't remember making a sugar biscuit this big!"

"I'm not a Bic-Scut!" Perdida choked out between laughter.

Setting the girl down, the baker rubbed the dirt from her clothes off on the already filthy apron. As he continued the search for the illusive magical stone, Doyle stood up on his tiptoes peering through the window into the shop. Inside pastries of various sizes and styles sat behind the wooden counter on large slanted shelves, designed to show off the variety available. Nothing seemed out of place except for the fact, "It's empty?"

The man grunted in agreement as he ignited the bowl. Taking a slow toke, Teig breathed out mellowly, "Cleared out pretty quick after those missionaries came through."

The answer confused Doyle. Religious pilgrimage wasn't uncommon in Tubet, owed to the sheer quantity of temples that resided within its border; Some even rumored to have been built by their very own deities decades beforehand. It was a standard sight to see caravans of zealots on pilgrimage to one of the crumbling ruins; They were poor sources of income, often as broke as the boy. So he'd avoided them out of habit. The idea that a pair of them had driven off all of Teig's customers upset the youth.

"I'm sorry you didn't make any sales today, geezer."

He'd expected the baker to bark out something angry. Instead Doyle got a chuckle in response, "Don't be, I made out just fine."

Something sparkled in the man's fat fingers, twinkling with the aid of sunlight. Perdida pointed at the object in awe, "That's a really pretty rock, Mister Teig!"

"Thanks squirt, but it isn't a rock."

Leaning closer, the pair got a better look at the pebble. Both gasped as it finally dawned on them what the baker held. The diamond was roughly the size of a raspberry, brilliantly cut to enhance its natural shimmer. Doyle's hand twitched at the sight. The gem was easily worth over five hundred gold, maybe more.

Enough that we could leave tomorrow.

"Where'd you find the pretty rock?" The blonde's innocent question shook the boy from his thoughts.

"Yeah, how'd a fossil like you get a gem like that?!"

Teig slipped the precious stone back into his pocket while wearing a wolfish grin, "Like I said, things cleared out fast when those two missionaries came through. At first I thought they were looking for handouts, was gonna tell 'em to leave. Glad I didn't. Were passing these babies out like it was their duty or somethin'. Didn't even ask for much, just that I set that up."

The pudgy phalange drew the children's attention toward the ground next to the door. It had gone unnoticed at first, Teig's chipper attitude distracting Doyle from seeing the shrine. The cup of water was small, the surface tension of the liquid rippling near the edge. A cacophony of color soaked in the glass, each of the wild flowers mysteriously thriving under the oppressive heat. It was almost as if the plant life was shielded inside an invisible bubble, protecting it from wilting like all vegetation did in Tubet.

"They gave you a DIAMOND for watering some stupid flowers?!"

Perdida didn't take kindly to the boy's dismissal of the blossoms, a tiny fist planted in his bicep, "It's not stupid!"

The man continued, talking over the petty squabble, "Never seen clothes like that before either. Woman was dark, covered head to toe in this shawl thing, and had stars all over it; The guy on the other hand had this blue top covered in daisies, wore tan pants, and a big scar over the left eye. She was the one passing out the gems in a big sack, but if you got one, you also had to take the seeds that came with it and promise to water them. A few morons tried to strong arm the lady for the whole thing," Teig whistled as he shook his head, "big mistake. The man with her had the idiots on the floor in the blink of an eye."

The baker shuddered at the memory, "I've been in my own fair share of brawls and fistfights, and could tell he was used to playing for keeps. Only showed mercy once she stepped in and said it'd 'make their task harder', whatever that means. After that, the two left. Customers filed out as well, probably eager to spread the wealth. No concern of mine, already kept my promise."

Perdida's belly began grumbling. She looked down in sadness, "Does this mean we can't buy honey bic-scuts?"

"No you can't," The girl could feel the welling up of her tear ducts, "because I'm just giving it to you, sweetie pie."

The blonde looked up with a surprised expression, the moisture running down her cheek. Patting the child on the head, Teig turned around and walked back inside. A few moments later the man returned with a reed basket stuffed with an assortment of sweets, far more than the two pucks of dough they'd asked for. Doyle opened his mouth to protest, but the joy in Perdida's eyes stayed his tongue. Holding the large bundle in her skinny arms, Perdida thanked the baker.

Before Doyle began following his happy friend, the boy turned to Teig, "...Thanks old timer."

A hand the size of his entire head slapped the youth on the back, "Don't mention it, kid. Keep an eye on her."

"I will." With that Doyle ran to catch up with the girl, eager to reach their stash.

So far the task set out for them was going smoothly, to Yao's delight. Only a few hours had passed since her and the Cuban arrived, and yet the burlap bag was already a third emptier; The former melon sized diamond providing enough offspring to capture the attention of those they chose to approach. Being instructed to seek out the downtrodden first, the Dark Elf meticulously went over every back street, alley, and dreary lane to fulfill her new Mistress's wishes. Gem by gem, and seed by seed they navigated through the sandstone jungle. If things kept up like this, they'd be returning to camp by late evening at the most.

Harassment was of course unavoidable, yet even unarmed the Kingpin proved an adequate escort; Most backed off through sheer intimidation, and those that didn't soon regretted their mistake. Just like the three in the bakery; Either too brave or too stupid to not see robbing the Dark Elf was a bad idea. Of course Tony dealt with the provocateurs using ruthless efficiency; Perhaps too ruthlessly considering the frightful glances the Cuban could now feel on his back every few steps. After their exit back onto the street, the silverette had returned to her wary observance, trailing several feet behind the scarred man. It may have had something to do with the fact he hadn't been inclined to stop hitting the trio until after she'd interjected.

Not like they would have shown us the same courtesy.

Tony's cynical examination was kept to himself as they headed further south into the slums. Overhead, the rope lines weighed down with rugs and laundry provided brief infrequent shelter from the fiery orb in the sky. Stray dogs poked their heads out from empty barrels and makeshift dens as the two passed by, drawn by the aura surrounding them. The buildings here were old, if the numerous cracks and worn features were anything to go by. Stopping to extricate a rock from his shoe, the Cuban heard shuffling behind him before the girl found the courage to speak.

"...Where did you learn to fight like that? Three hundred years I've participated in battle, at no time have I seen a style such as yours."

"Was the martial art of my home country's elite soldiers," The Kingpin grunted as he stayed bent over digging for the irritating pebble, "when you needed to get up close and personal. Sensei Riso wasn't in the habit of sharing his teachings outside of a small circle though. Add to it the fact it's not even originally from Cuba and I get why Karate Operativo looks strange to you, Plata."

Yao's bravery grew as she stepped closer, "Plata?"

"Silver, like your hair." Tony's remark coincided with the aforementioned sediment being flicked through the air to skim along the dusty ground. He continued down the corridor, not bothering to check if she'd followed.

The Dark Elf didn't know how to feel about the Cuban's observation. While a piece of her was warmed by the nickname, a larger part kept on guard for another of the Kingpin's violent outbursts. A phantom ache around the forearm reminding Yao of just exactly how strong the man accompanying her was. And his willingness to use that strength. No matter the reason.

I know the Mistress said she was watching, but I must remain cautious. If he means to continue our conflict, I will have to strike first when his defenses are down.

Tony to his credit had no such intention, but that mattered little to the girl that had already tasted his wrath. Walking along, his hazel orbs were drawn to the few structures in the city that didn't have a flat roof, instead sporting spires reminiscent of the cathedrals in downtown Havana. The thought brought about a small wave of homesickness, which quickly passed. Whatever kind memories he carried were outweighed by the pain experienced. Still the Cuban looked fondly on the architecture.

Which gave the thief stalking the two a perfect opportunity. Dashing out from an unseen narrow backstreet, the criminal was swift in yanking the bag of jewels from Yao's unprepared grip. The Dark Elf's startled yelp caught the Kingpin's attention. Turning around, Tony had only seconds to witness the mugger's head of dark hair disappear around a corner before the situation fully registered in his brain. The girl's surprise turned to horror as her hands closed emptily around where the sack had been only moments before.

"H-He took-" Yao flinched as Tony closed in, afraid of what the man would do because of her mistake.

"Stay here." The words poured out as the Cuban flew past the silverette, already gaining speed.

The Dark Elf felt the gush of wind whip past her face, forcing the woman to shield her visage. The edge of the hood was caught by the air, freeing the girls metallic locks from their silky confines. When it died down she looked up to find the Kingpin gone, replaced with curious looks up and down the alley. Slowly those eyes narrowed as they went from her hairline to the pointy ears sandwiching it. For the first time all day, Yao wished Tony had stayed closer to her.

The Cuban's lungs burned as he sprinted through the alleyway, the surroundings turning into a tan blur. His prey had the home field advantage, ducking in and out of streets with a practiced ease that said this wasn't the pickpockets first time robbing someone. Unfortunately for him, he was being chased by a man who didn't give up easily. So they ran, both steadfast in their goals. The chase was on.

Somehow the cat and mouse game led Tony back toward the northern plaza where Yao and him had first entered the city. Busting out of the alley, the Kingpin looked around, but the youth had slunk into the sea of foot traffic. The man cursed with an exhale. Even if the thief was still close by, it would be nearly impossible to spot him in a place this busy. Just as Tony began lamenting the prospect of informing Lati of their failure, a loud voice cut through the din of the square.

"AHA I GOT YOU NOW STREET RAT!"

"HEY, LEMME GO!" A smaller one cried in protest.

Following the argument the Cuban worked his way through the throng of people until he came upon the source. There, fruitlessly pulling at his captured arm, the boy kept the bag close to his body as if it was his very life he was protecting. The merchant that had aided in his capture paid no attention to Tony, his malice entirely focused on the child. "Thought you'd come back for seconds eh? Well, I'm sure the guards will be happy to dole out two counts of stealing for your troubles!"

At this the boy's struggling increased. Fear was painted across his soft features. Noisily the trader called for the city watch, only slowing once he noticed the sack tucked defensively into the youth's armpit. With a callous hand the man yanked the container away from its confinement. After loosening the leather strip, and peering inside, the stones glimmered in his eyes, a lecherous smile emerged at the sight.

Deciding it was best now to make his presence known, Tony came out of the mob with a sheen of sweat glistening off his forehead. "Thanks for the help man. That brat almost got away from me. Now, if you'd be so kind as to return my things, I'll get outta your hair and you can deal with him how you see fit."

A sour expression tainted the merchant's face, and he looked upon the Cuban with contempt. Glancing between the foreigner and the bag, an idea began forming in his head. An awful, terrible, insidious idea. The man began to shout louder and more adamantly, ignoring the Kingpin's claim of ownership. At last a squad of soldiers pushed their way through the people, "What's with all the racket?"

Laying eyes upon the knights, the trader began wailing like a newborn baby, "Oh thank the gods you're here! This thief," The man raised the boy's arm forcefully up, "and his master," He gestured to Tony with the palm weighed down with diamonds, "tried to rob me of my goods!"

The Cuban snarled in indignation, "YOU FUCKING SNAKE! THAT'S NOT WHAT HAPPENED AT ALL!"

While justified, the Kingpin's anger only seemed to discredit his words. The guard closest to Tony stepped between him and the smug merchant, "I'd lower that tone if I were you, pilgrim. Jashae Dazhan has been selling his goods here for years."

"Yeah? Well he's also full of shit." The tubby charlatan grew red from the insult.

"Are you going to let this criminal talk to me like that?! Take him and his minion away before they scare off any more of my customers!"

One of the armored men took the boy from the traders grasp. The other two began to eye Tony, both looking for an opportunity to restrain the irate man. His hazel orbs flittered between them before settling on the boy's green eyes. The thief mouthed something. It chilled the Kingpin's blood.

"They'll take your hand."

Tony was taken aback by the youth's silent tip. The idea was ridiculous to him. To have such a punishment bestowed upon so small a crime made the man ill at the thought. He wanted to believe the pickpocket was bluffing, a desperate last attempt at sympathy before being locked up; Remembering how many of the homeless were missing a limb cast doubt on him though. Deciding to trust his instincts, the Cuban made his move.

It mattered little how armored the closest soldier was, no amount of plating prepared one for a punch to the throat. The man clutched at his neck as he fell to the side, giving Tony a straight shot toward the fat fuck that had forced his hand. A short kick delivered at the right angle, and the merchant's knee bent inward, a piercing scream following the crunch. The diamonds were left in the air, only long enough for them to land in the Kingpin's outstretched hand. Not losing any momentum, the Cuban spun around and whipped the sack like a bludgeon across the face of the one holding the boy. The cloth caught on the sharp edge of the guard's helmet, and a tear opened up, spreading the stones like dust in the wind.

Seeding the crowd with riches, the last sentry was smothered in the confusion as those around him desperately clawed for the jewels strewn about. Using the chaos to his advantage, Tony began making his way toward the edge only to be stopped by a tug on his shirt. Whipping around with fist raised, the man laid eyes upon the boy, hands lifted in surrender. Antonio withdrew from the combat stance, wearing a look of mild confusion. "What? You want a cookie or something?"

The boy rolled his eyes at the comment before pointing off to the side. The Cuban followed the digit, seeing the rest of the guards beginning to contain and suppress the lot. The one Tony had struck with the bag was seen angrily talking to what looked like his superior before gesturing in their general direction. The man looked back toward the pickpocket, only to find him gone. Before Tony could complain about the youths' sneaky exit, a sharp whistle drew his eyes toward the edges of the square; Standing there patiently, the child beckoned with one hand as the other gripped a tarp concealing another backstreet.

Smart little shit, I'll give him that.

With no other viable escape route, Tony exhaled in acceptance before following the kid into the shadows.

The Dark Elf was lost. Which by itself didn't seem so bad, if it weren't for the angry mob chasing at her heels. In hindsight it made perfect sense, the invaders repelled by her clan over the years had to have come from somewhere. It just turned out that somewhere was the Tubet guard regiment. Divided, the loved ones of those failed conquerors were common folk the silverette could take down with her eyes closed.

The problem was they weren't divided, but bound together by a singular objective, "LYNCH THE LONG-EARS!"

Running aimlessly through the winding ball of string that made up the city, Yao could feel her stamina draining as the humans continued their hunt. The once pristine silk shawl was now torn in several places, an unavoidable sacrifice to allow the woman full movement as she evaded those calling for her death. Stumbling upon a crossroad the Dark Elf could hear hostile voices echo and reverberate off the buildings, making it sound as if her pursuers were everywhere. Knowing indecision would only hasten her demise, the silverette chose a path at random and continued her flight. The road picked turned out to be a dead end though, to the Dark Elf's detriment.

A bitter laugh came at the sight. I decide to change my ways, only in time to be slain for the past. Was this your plan all along, Mistress?

The cries for bloodshed seemed to be growing louder, causing Yao to become frantic in searching for a way out of this unfortunate turn of events. Just as she began to lose all hope, a soft voice could be heard singing to itself. Turning to where the tune was coming from, the woman noticed a small gap in the wrought iron fence to her left. It would be a tight fit, but if the Dark Elf wanted to live she'd need to have faith the hole was big enough. On hands and knees the woman crawled through the divide; The thundering of footsteps rang behind her, indicating the group had just missed their mark.

Pushing quietly through the dry weeds, Yao looked around at the unconventional sanctuary she'd sought shelter inside. The graveyard had seen better days. Dead vines and bushes compromised the integrity of the various mausoleums and headstones located around the rectangular courtyard. It sat beneath the shade of a temple's corpse, the paltry ruins shielding the forgotten resting place from prying eyes. Leafless trees stood firmly at each of the four corners, their spindly branches stabbing into the sky.

The little girl sitting on one of the tombs was the only thing out of place in the eerie space; Oblivious to Yao's presence, she continued to sing in between bites from the pastry in her hand, a basket of its comrades at her side. Having gone unnoticed, the silverette watched with fascination at the child's bubbly attitude. The little one's scraggly form revealed the curve of her small bones, the rags she wore barely resembling the green dress they may have once been. In spite of the unkempt appearance, she carried a positive aura that seemed to push back the grimness surrounding her. Using a grave marker as cover, the Dark Elf leaned outward, trying to decipher the lyrics the kid was spouting off key.

"You…only…gray…away…"

Why does this melody sound familiar?

The brittle stone gave way under her weight, and the silverette fell out from the hiding place. Whatever concealment previously held dissolved instantly as the little girl stopped her song and turned to look directly into the panicked golden orbs. Yao clamped her eyes shut in anticipation. Any moment and the child would scream, alerting those the Dark Elf had just escaped; The people of Tubet's revenge would finally be sated. But the scream never came, nor the sharp pitchforks or burning torches.

A small sticky hand pressed against Yao's cheek softly, "Are you hurt lady?"

Huh?

Opening her eyes, the Dark Elf found concern plastered across the girl's face. Staring into the gray irises yielded no hint of malice or deception, only the honest worry of innocence. Slowly rising to a sitting position, the silverette shook her head 'no' in answer. Walking back toward the basket, the girl returned with something in hand. The smell of the sweet roll made Yao's mouth water.

"Would you like a honey bic-scut? I have a bunch."

Again words failed to manifest, so she simply nodded. Handed the bread roll, the woman hesitated only for a second, before ripping a large chunk out of the confection. With ravenous hunger the loaf disappeared, only leaving crumbs to mark its existence. Shakily the Dark Elf got to her feet. Raising a fist to cover her mouth, the silverette coughed lightly as the tiring trek began to catch up with her body, "Thank you for your generosity, child."

"Perdida!"

"What?"

"My name is Perdida! Not 'child'!" The girl stamped her small foot for emphasis.

Feeling more put together now that she wasn't running for her life, Yao giggled at the childish display, "My apologies, Miss Perdida. It's very nice to meet you." Stepping down onto one knee the woman presented an open palm, "You can call me Yao."

Perdida reached out and shook the Dark Elf's hand with a smile. Eventually letting go, the sandy blonde returned to her previous spot on top of the casket shaped masonry. Yao joined her, choosing to lean against the side.

"That was a lovely song. Where did you learn it?"

"Mama, but Mr. Teig helped me remember! He's really friendly even if he likes to pretend he's scary!"

"And who is that?"

"He runs the bakery! He does the bestest, right?" The girl turned expecting an answer.

Yao recalled the quality of the bread, "That was him? You are right, he is very skilled. He must work very hard."

The girl smiled at the woman's approval. For awhile the two stayed there, chatting about anything that came to the sandy blondes mind. The little one talked of splashing in the fountains, petting the dirty 'puppies' that cowered away from all other people, and the stars when the sky grew dark. The openness of Perdida's face did funny things to Yao's chest. An urge to protect, and nurture. Which made the avoidance of the real conversation harder to put off.

Although the silence at that moment was comfortable, the silverette had several questions. The biggest of course being, "So…Perdida, why are you here all by yourself?"

"Waiting for my friend." The girl said it so matter of factly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

What kind of friend leaves a kid alone in a graveyard? Yao scooted closer, "Won't your family be worrying where you are? Your mama?"

The girl stopped casually swinging her legs over the edge, and that was all the answer the Dark Elf needed. Still the youth chose to respond, her voice a pitch sadder than before, "She's gone, went to find daddy…"

The dark skinned woman leaned closer, "Where is daddy?"

A small hand pointed to the clouds, before returning to the dirty lap. After some time the tone shifted to a hopeful lilt, "But Doyle said we almost had enough money to go to Baia! Once there we'll find a new mommy and daddy that wants us!"

Yao grew a small frown, "And this Doyle, is this the friend you're waiting for?"

The girl nodded with a smile as the daydreams of the orphans' new life on the island played in her head. A little home right on the beach, the emerald jungle as their backyard. Daddy would be a fisherman, big and strong; He'd teach her how to swim. Mommy of course would be beautiful; Warm hands that tucked her into bed every night with a kiss. They'd eat big meals together, laugh, and play; That's what Doyle had promised. It would be perfect.

"How did you earn enough for a ship? Ferries are expensive."

Perdida became shy, looking away in guilt. The lady seemed nice enough, but Doyle had said explicitly to never talk about their methods. Lest the city take more than it already had. Instead the girl reached for another roll, occupying her mouth with the bread. Yao saw through the deflection.

"Is he forcing you to do something you don't want to do?" The words came with a disgusted veneer. The Dark Elf clamped a hand to her little thigh.

"N-No. Let go please." The girl was retreating in on herself, frightened by the change in the stranger.

The plea fell on long deaf ears. The silverette already conjuring a scenario in her head. The picture made her sick. A glint of fire rose in her eye, "If Doyle is hurting you, you need to tell me!"

The girl's face bunched up, water welling in her eyes. Perdida didn't understand. Why was the lady so mad? Doyle had never asked her to do anything. In fact, he'd done everything for her; Finding a warm place to sleep every night, giving her all the medicine they found, giving his share even when his stomach growled.

"Hey Perdi, I got a-" a boy's voice called through the gate at the back of the courtyard. The latch slowly twisting open.

Hearing the familiar scratchiness, Perdida followed her training. With a hard twist the girl freed herself from the oppressive grip, and slid over the crypt. Running past the gravestones the sandy blonde pushed open the unlocked gate. Standing on the other side, the boy held surprise on his face. A colorfully dressed man stood off to the side, unsure what was occurring.

"PERDIDA WAIT!"

Not thinking anymore, the girl grabbed the dark haired youths hand and ran outward, toward the mouth of the alley. Running after the kid, Yao burst from the gate with surprise, "You?!"

"Yeah, nice to see you too, Plata. What's with all the people running around with spears and shit? What'd you do?" The casual demeanor with which he talked of the roving death parties made the Cuban seem ludicrous.

"What diD I DO?" Yao had replaced her fear with anger finally; Pushed to the limit over the taxing day. It was a good slap, perfect form, good speed. The Kingpin didn't move, his head arched to the side. If the silverette was surprised by his inaction she didn't show it. Stabbing at his chest, she spouted viscera, "Never mind, a brute like you could never understand! Now get out of my way! I have to go after her!"

Stepping aside, the Cuban watched as surprise splashed across the Dark Elf's face. Running hand in hand with Perdida, a small boy looked back at her with confusion. They were close to the street. Yao ran. Tony followed.

Out in the light the children stopped dead in their tracks, several city guards aiming blades at the pair.

"Step away from the thief, street rat. He is under arrest."

"Wait, didn't the merchant mention a girl?"

An annoyed sigh came from the first man, not appealed by the prospect of doing more work than he had too, "Fine, grab her too. But you'll carry both."

Doyle pulled Perdida behind himself, if looks could kill, the boy's glare would have torched all in its path. Breaching into the debacle the Dark Elf ensconced the small forms in her arms, "Don't hurt them!"

The action only garnered the attention of those that had not given up their long-ears search, the numbers adding to the wall of bodies surrounding them. The amount of hostile eyes sent a shiver through the three, "A thief and a knife ear traitor? Forget the arrest, we'll need to prepare for a hanging."

The mob took a step closer. Yao's heart clenched in terror. Then a tearing was heard. As the discarded shirt flew through the air, Tony walked forward, his skin warmed by the sunlight, eyes hidden behind the sunglasses. Stepping around the trio, the man redirected all attention toward himself in a single breath, "WHAT?! YOU GONNA HURT SOME KIDS AND A WOMAN, LIKE THAT MAKES YOU TOUGH?! YOU CHICKEN SHITS CAN'T EVEN TAKE ME! COME ON, TRY ASSHOLES!"

Dropping into a squared stance the man whispered low enough only those at his back could hear the next sentence, "Get the ladies out of here, Chico. Hide. I'll buy you time."

"Bu-"

Turning around quickly, the man crouched to the orphans level. Yao expected the Kingpin to threaten the boy, maybe show force. The sunglasses were removed, but behind the dark lenses only a wall of calm hazel greeted the youths' panicked face. The shades were large, but they fit just barely over Doyle's thin features. Antonio gave a soft squeeze on the shoulder, "'Member what I said, mano? Smaller the dog…"

"...the bigger the fight." Doyle finished the phrase, finding it hard not to believe as he felt the certainty within those fiery eyes saying only one thing.

Everything is going to be alright.

Caring nothing for honor or tact, one of the knights took this tender moment as an opportunity to stab forward at the vulnerable back presented. Gasps rang through the crowd, a reaction to the sword snapping in half upon contact with the inked flesh. Santa Muerte's visage glowed with a gold light shimmering under the dark lines. A reactive shock wave knocking the scumbag off his feet, the gust of wind kicking up a blanket of sand from the ground. When it at last cleared, only one stood in place of the epicenter, his knuckles tightened in preparation.

"COME GET SOME PUTO'S!"

The armored recovered from shock first, and came swinging their steel every which way attempting to cut into the Cuban. He danced through the barrage, using their attacks against each other. A knick here, a slash there, one accidental stabbing later and the tin soldiers were too busy putting pressure on lacerations to continue the onslaught. Starting to recover from the supernatural display, the crowd surged forward, whipped into a frenzy by the foreigners' arrogance and swagger. Tony stepped backwards only until the tall corners of the buildings flanked his sides.

With the long alley at his rear, the Kingpin greeted the horde with a smile. The next ten minutes were best described as a blur. Smashing heads into walls, dislocating limbs, feeling jaws break under his fist? It only slowed the wave that crashed against his bruising physique. Each victory shortly replaced with a fresh faced fanatic trying to claw at his heart.

Antonio was slowing, despite his best efforts to ignore it. The multiple laps around the city finally catching up with the Cuban's exhausted state. Ducking a wild hook, the Kingpin didn't move in time to block the kick at his chest, knocking him on his back and the air out of his lungs. Using the momentum, Tony rolled backwards onto his feet, feeling the cold metal door press into his shoulder blades.

With no more room to maneuver he spoke in a tired laugh, "haaa haaaa…what? That's all you got?"

"Restrain him." Someone spoke from the rear of the group.

The Kingpin noticed how the expressions on his attackers went from hatred to fear. Quickly several hands shot out to pin the Cuban. He struggled, oh god how he struggled. But even a rabid Tony Montana wasn't enough to stop the wall of hands from shoving him into the yard of headstones. Before he could rise, they grabbed for the arms, binding the wrists with rope. Brought forcefully to his feet, the Cuban huffed quietly.

The people parted to either side of the small alley, which in any other context would have been comical to watch. Who they parted for didn't tickle Tony as the funny type though. The White robes had a gold trim. He walked with his hands behind his back, one disdainful sneer underneath a crooked nose high in the air. The tan balding newcomer sported a Faustian goatee, almost as white as his eyebrows. With an unimpressed expression he stopped to look at the 'tiger' his men had been chittering about, "Hmmm, I thought you'd be bigger."

Tony balked weakly, "Yeah? Bet your girl'd think I'm big enough, Pendejo."

The comment earned a strike across the jaw, whipping blood from the smart mouth. One of the restrainers gripped the dark head of hair, pulling Tony back up to look at his attacker. The goateed man brushed the blood off the heavy leather book used to hit the Cuban. Opening the volume, the man licked his thumb as he flipped through the pages; Finally stopping at the desired entry. With a seasoned orators projection the man read out his display of power, "The Exalted City Of Tubet Criminal Codex Section 1-15: Any such pilgrimage that desires to instill doubt in Lord Saltan's justice is subject to disbarment and banishing from city limits."

The orator stared at his prisoner, "A generous verdict if I do say so myself. Pending entirely on your level of cooperation of course. Now, where did those thieves and the long ear run off too?"

"..."

"Fine, it matters not. Maybe some 'encouragement' will help your tongue loosen in the meantime. I'm certain they aren't far." Giving a hand gesture, the Magistrate walked away as they began to pummel Antonio.

(Hours Later)

The sun was beginning to fade over the horizon. The entire city was orange. Lanterns dotted the ruin grounds, most of it bathed in dark. Frustrations long having set in as the inquisition failed to find a trace of those dirty heathens that had challenged the way of things in their domain. Returning outside the remains of the temple, Diso Akash was not pleased.

Making way toward the tomb in the center of the courtyard, the Magistrate found only a little satisfaction in the bloodied state the tight-lipped pilgrim had been reduced to. Still, the foreigner said nothing as the repeated strikes fell on his crouched form. Pushing aside the large buffoons that had failed to bring results, Diso decided a personal touch was required. Harshly squeezing the swollen face in between his thumb and fingers, the balding man spat out harshly, "Enough! Either you tell us or you take the punishments upon you. I will ask only once more, where are they?!"

A sigh came from the bleeding lips, sounding defeated. Meekly the Kingpin beckoned Akash closer. Smugly the Magistrate leaned in, eager for the broken man to reveal all his secrets. All Tony revealed was the sharpness of his teeth. With a yelp Diso pulled back, a hand clamped tightly over where his left ear had once been; The Cuban glared back at him, the torn appendage dangling between his lips with a smile.

The shirtless man spat out the ruined flesh, "They're right EAR! Get it, you stupid bastard? Or do I need to speak up?!"

"I WANT HIM OVER THE SLAB NOW!" The Magistrate was done feigning reasonability.

On his back Tony was held, the porous stone scraping at the skin outside the ink. Several wrenched the head back, forced to stare up into the purple dusk already beginning to leak the twinkling light of stars. Coming back into view, Diso was upside down now, turning his horrible smile into an off putting frown. Showing off something that looked like an ice cream scoop, the crazed inquisitor began talking with an unsettling joy, "You know we rarely have reasons to break out some of our best punishments anymore. Given enough years and even the most stubborn communal traits can be scrubbed away. Now only the thieves and street trash remain, making keeping order a bit dull. So thank you."

"For what, Picasso? You was already ugly, I just made it obvious." Antonio's eyes skirted toward the edge of his vision, drawn to a tipped over basket on the ground. It had gone ignored by the search party, finding the trampled pastries irrelevant in their hunt for the others. If only they'd realized it was in fact the key to locating the trio. Tony smiled briefly, comforted by the fact these assholes were too stupid to find Yao and the kids.

Planting both hands on either side of the trapped Kingpin, Akash leaned close with a crazy look in his beady eyes recapturing the trapped mans attention, "Criminal Codex Entry 34-1: If the eye of disdain lays upon a city official," The sharp metal curve of the tool scratched into the already present scar tissue of Tony's left cheek, "pluck it out."

Masking his fear, Tony pierced the Magistrate's joy with feigned nonchalance, "Can you like hurry this up? I'm getting tired of hearin' that whiny voice. Like a rat, always fucking squeakin and shittin. You got a mute button somewhere under that dress?"

"Let's see how long you can keep that sense of humor when I sever your optic nerve, pilgrim."

As they proceeded Diso had to reluctantly give the foreigner props. Because if the roles were reversed, the orator would have started screaming immediately, not wait until the halfway mark. Tony's muffled cries leaked below into the crypt, only adding fuel to Doyle and Perdida's vivid imaginations. Yao sang softly to the two whimpering orphans in the dark enclosed space, a tepid stream of water leaking from her eyes. Each tasted the bittersweet flavor of gratitude, silently thanking Tony for his unwavering endurance.

With a loud 'pop' it came free. In his delirium Tony looked upon the glossy hazel dotted sphere. The Kingpins last thought before it all went black?

Damn, what an eye sore.