"Well, no real good reason for not updating this. The best I can come up with is that I was busy with contest fics, but that only takes up a couple of hours during my day. Since my summer's been lazy, I have no good justification to offer.

"But I'm back, so gloriously back!" Foxpilot gets hit in the face with an orange. "…I know who you are and I will find you. Later though. For now, I shall move on.

"This is a request asked by a reviewer back in chapter two, the first request I'm doing for a specific kill/torture. Yes, I know she's dies all of the times, but I intend on changing that…eventually. She'll still die, but not every single time. Because sometimes, torture is better than death…for the viewer, anyway.

"So, I don't own Zelda or any related material. Sure I have some of the games, and own a few pieces of merchandise, but if I owned the series, I'd be willing to make a game where you actually get to design tortures for characters.

"But I don't own it, so that's that. Let it…Begin!"

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The sound of the ocean lapping against the beach was tranquilizing. Not to the effect of subduing a walrus, but it made the sandy area a good place to just sit back and rest. Maybe even think a little.

It did not, however, make for a good singing spot.

As the redhead sat by the ocean, she tried vocalizing a few notes. But every time she attempted to launch into her favorite song, she'd lose her rhythm as she listened to the sea's movements.

It was unusual, actually: normally the beach was her favorite place to practice singing to the animals. The swish and swoosh of the waves calmed her nerves and gave her the perfect image for when she would croon to her wild friends, so that she'd stay together even then.

But something didn't feel right today. Something felt…special. The redhead couldn't quite tell if the special feeling was good or bad, but she knew something unusual would happen today. She could just tell it in the wind and ocean. Undaunted, she continued to try and sing.

She had finally managed to get more than five notes strung together when she heard a loud whumpf a little ways down the beach. Curious, she set off to find the source of the noise.

She didn't have to go far at all. The redhead crested the hill she had been sitting by and was amazed by the sight. On the beach was a sack. A large sack, sopping wet and clearly very old. From the marks in the sand, the bag had just tilted over from a standing position; from the sound, the object or objects inside were heavy.

The object or objects inside were also moving.

A normal person would have either left the bag there or gone for some friends to help carry it somewhere. Perhaps both, checking back every day or so to see if the contents of the bag had died. But the redhead wasn't normal. Her love for life drove her forward to open the sack and free its prisoner or prisoners.

The redhead stepped up to the bag and let out a gentle, "Hello?"

The sack stopped moving for a moment before exploding in a torrent of noise. "Hey! Whoever's out there, get me the Goddesses' Feet outta here! If this is that weird girl again with the funny clothes, you can tell your weird little chum in the weird hat to keep his liquids to himself! One time was enough, so if you're going to let him stuff me with pureed berries again, I'm going to rip your legs off and feed them to Jabu-Jabu! Screw you, you little slut! You hear me? Get me out of this thing!"

The bag began struggling with more vigor, but the material was heavy. Lumps popped up and went down as the being in the sack tried even harder to break through the sodden cloth. It seemed somehow odd that the person couldn't break through a wet sack, but as the redhead held the material to untie it, the bag proved to be of a sort of foreign quality that resisted being damp. Already the bag was drying out.

Through the struggles of the person, the redhead managed to open the bag's knot and lift the mouth of the sack. The person inside stopped struggling for a moment before scrambling out like the former prison was infested with serial killers. The redhead gasped in shock.

The most obvious thing about this person was that she was blue. A nice pale blue, not unlike some of the fish the redhead's dad got at the market so often. The next surprising feature was that this person—if it could be described that way—had a head the size of a shovel. The head had four eyes: two in normal places and two more where the curvature of the appendage curved back.

The redhead didn't make many more observations, as she was promptly hit in the head with a fist that smelled of ocean water, the strange bag, and, oddly enough, blood.

The redhead hit the beach, the sand cushioning her fall. The hit hadn't been hard, but the punch had come as a surprise. The redhead didn't black out, but her vision swam as the smell of blood filled her nose. The blue stranger gasped in shock.

"Hey, you're not the weird girl! You're just a different weird girl! Actually, you remind me of some other weird girl I met once. But you're not her, are you?"

"Ow ow ow!" Though enthusiastic, the redhead's response was not what Ruto, Princess of the Zoras, had been expecting. Though from that right hook to her nose, this could be expected.

"Uh, sorry. I thought you were some other weird girl." Ruto helped the redhead sit up, taking a bit of nearby kelp and rolled it into tubes to plug her victim's gushing nose. The redhead seemed grateful despite the fact that she'd just been clocked in the face by a giant fish. "So, uh…what's your name, weird girl?"

The weird gir—er, redhead responded, her voice still filled with pain. "I'm Marin. I like singing to animals."

"That's great kid, but I didn't ask for your life's story. I'm Ruto, yes the Ruto. Princess of the Zora race and heir to the Zora throne. For freeing me from the accursed magical bag of bagness, I hereby give you my eternal thanks and yadda yadda yadda. I guess I owe you a favor, so make your wish. C'mon, snap to it."

"I wish you'd die!" The voice sounded completely different, even though it was also female. Looking up, Ruto saw one of the things that she'd never wanted to see outside of her royal dungeon.

She was a girl in her teens, with fair skin that didn't seem to fit on the beach. Her clothes fit even less—a heavy sweater and pants made from the same material as the bag that had been Ruto's prison. Her body seemed to lack muscle, which made her seem disarming and easy to pick on. To counter this, in her hand was a strange sword with gold trimmings. This blade had one edge and curved upwards from its base. On this despicable girl's mouth was a twisted smile that turned slowly into a frown.

"You there!" The new weird girl pointed her blade at Marin. "Did you set the fish free?"

"Y-yes. So what if I did? It's not fair to keep a living being in a bag like that!"

"I was going to destroy her in front of the nearest village, you idiot! You ruined my plan! Now I'm going to kill you, too!"

"Wha—? Why?"

"It's what they do, kid." Marin looked at Ruto, who had a dark expression in her face. "These people, they're not normal. They do things, things that should be impossible. I don't know how, but they make the incredible happen for their own ends, ends that often culminate in someone's death. If you've been targeted by one, you're done. Hey, weird slut," Ruto called to the sword-wielder, "where's the thin bastard with the funny hat?"

"He's busy taking care of things. He said I could destroy you. Oddly enough, I think the girl that set you free was on his list, too. Ha ha! This'll be fun!" And with that, the weird girl twirled her blade and held it in a battle position. "Meet my Fanghook Katana!" The sword caught fire, which the strange teen pulled off of the blade and chucked at Marin and Ruto.

"Run!" Marin didn't have to be told twice. The two set off down the beach, dodging as many fireballs as they could. Each blast kicked up sand, grains of which were flash-burned into glass. Shards of the clear substance flew everywhere, making tiny cuts on the fleeing girls' bodies. They looked back again. The strange fighter was closer, but seemed to be tiring.

Then their feet felt hot.

Looking down, both girls saw that the sand below them had turned into a field of fresh glass, still scalding from its sudden transformation. The fugitives' soles were practically on fire. Another few steps and Ruto feel to the ground. "Princess!" Marin stopped, but the burning ground made sores spring up on her feet. It was agony to just stand on the surface.

"Zora…bad with heat…go on!" The princess seemed adamant, so Marin turned to go. As she took her first step, white heat passed through her back and out her front. There, catching her dress on fire was the mystical blade the weird swordswoman had been using. "Who…?"

"Renee Springer. Remember it in the domain of the Goddesses. And remember that you will suffer again. Perhaps not by me or my associate, but by others." Marin was fully aflame now and barely heard her killer's monologue. Renee removed the Fanghook Katana, letting the torch of a girl slump to the glass ground.

Turning to Ruto, Springer readied her blade again. Though she was winded from her intense run, Renee grinned gleefully. "I will enjoy watching you burn."

"You can't—AAAAAAGGH!" Ruto yelled out was the katana was stabbed into her leg. The fish-girls' flesh, dried by the hot sun and the escape attempt, caught quickly. As the fire lapped at her head, drying out her spare eyes, Ruto heard the echoes of the mad girl's laughter; laughter she'd hear for some time yet, even after death.

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"And that's it! Wow, this was quick. I hope you like your cameo, Renee Springer!

"As for future torture/kill ideas, I'll only accept three more. As much as I enjoy seeing your imaginations run wild, I want to do most of this myself. However, punishment requests will stay open. If you want to submit an idea, please check the reviews to see if your idea or victim has already been taken.

"Also, Renee, my apologies if you were offended by Ruto's language. This is a T fic, after all, and I intend to make the most of it. If you don't like it, you can take solace in that you got burny, painful revenge. Or you can ask me to change it.

"Thank you for your time, and good night! Ciao chow, all."