Their ship sailed until they reached the village of Santo Pollo. From a distance, the crew spotted smoke rising from the church. There was no doubt that the damage was caused by an act of arson, unequivocally by the marauders that now terrorized the land. As they went about docking, Dea felt a pang of pity as she thought about the villagers. She hoped they were alright and that she could bring a hand in ending this madness.

As soon as their ship was secured to the dock, Deacon rounded up the crew. A few villagers watched them pass by wearily while others held clear suspicion on their faces. They couldn't be blamed - they were under attack, and the presence of visitors was unprompted. Still. No one stepped forward to question them, so they passed through until they reached the church. There, they were finally addressed by a friar, who clutched a bible close to his chest and adjusted his circular glasses.

"Greetings, my children, and peace be with you. What brings you to our humble village?"

Deacon pointed to the building behind him. "Do you know who did this?"

He addressed the burning house of God with a sad nod. "We were attacked by a group of bandits last night. But no one has been in there since - we've been a little afraid, wondering if anyone's still in there. Do you plan on venturing forward?"

The fire was burning at a steady rate. They'd have to make their move as soon as possible to get clues as to the group's recent whereabouts. Dea took a step towards him and gestured with her hands.

"We are here to find someone who helped with this attack. If you'll let us, we hope to rid you of them entirely."

He eyed her attire with obvious judgment, but begrudgingly stepped to the side to allow them in. She was mildly offended as they passed by him and into the doors of the church. None were surprised to see the state of the interior - parts of the walls caved in, a pile of benches and podiums lit aflame in the middle of the room, and rubble scattered everywhere on the floor. Deacon scanned the room while the rest of the crew peeked behind pillars. They came to the conclusion -

"There's no one here," He announced.

Dea let herself relax as she took a look around for herself. She approached one of the pillars and found a torn flag that had been recently desecrated with a golden bold 'T' . She pointed to it and got her co-captain's attention.

"..The mark of the vigilante you've been talking about?" She asked. Deacon came closer to observe the sight and let out a groan.

"It's as I suspected. He must have dealt with the raiders. I wonder if our target is even alive."

"-Is he the killing type?" She inquired, following the rest of their crew out. Deacon shrugged while one of their disguised soldiers informed the friar that the church was clear.

"I don't know enough about the man to say. But I would not blame him for doing what he needs to. However, our fugitives are more valuable alive than dead."

They moved into the middle of the village, stopping to gather their bearings. Their crew began discussing what to do next. Dea listened to their ideas, but found her mind clouded. Something occurred to her that she neglected to pry about when she first joined the Armada. She didn't even question it when she was assigned to aid an Elite's objective. She'd been so ecstatic to be promoted to such a position, that she didn't examine the motives behind it…

"Deacon?" She asked, stepping closely to keep their conversation private. She didn't want to give them away, but also wanted an answer before they continued on. "What exactly happens to these prisoners, when we're done with our mission?"

He tilted his head. "You don't know?"

"Queen neglected to tell me. It seems to be hush-hush in the Armada."

"They will be brought back to Valencia to be questioned."

"-Questioned about *what*?"

He noted the uneasiness from the villagers around them and picked up his cane. The longer they lingered, the more suspicious they became. It was exactly what he wanted to avoid. "We'll discuss this later."

He moved away and she raised her voice. "I'll be holding you to that, espía ."

The spymaster pulled out a map from one of his pockets and unfolded it to share with the crew. They huddled around him. He pointed to an area that was not far from Santo Pollo, trailing his fingertip along as he spoke.

"The source of the bandit's operation must be on the outskirts of town, somewhere in Banditoad Trail. If there's anywhere we'll find him , I believe it is there."

"- 'Bandit' oad Trail? That can't be a coincidence?" One of their crew-members spoke up. Even their Captain paused at the implication.

"...It made it easy to find their location, yes." He folded up the map and turned on his heel to lead them in the right direction. "Be ready; there's no telling how many are out right now."

…

…

Deacon's warning was fortuitous. After following the trail, they were abruptly stopped by a group of bandits. The crew sprung into action - delivering good blows to the unsuspecting raiders. Dea and Deacon remained behind - shooting any who happened to slip past. They aimed for their limbs, deterring their enemies and bringing them down more easily. Their fighters remained upfront, taking care of most of the brawl.

The number didn't seem to decrease, as they were constantly being bombarded. In the midst of the fighting, they kept an eye out for their wanted criminal - only to come up short on the men who attacked them. Those who wore masks and bandanas were taken care of in a different matter - where Deacon made sure they were incapacitated so he could quickly check their identity. They still had no success.

After several confrontations, the group was beginning to tire - constantly fighting with no discovery of their target. Their soldiers grew weak, having to move continuously under the blazing sun. As they took care of their enemies at a steady rate, Deacon and Dea were faced with even more bandits than before. They did their best to keep their distance, but stopping to reload their guns presented an opportunity for their opponents to get close. One had landed a rough hit on Deacon - effectively stumbling him back. Dea fired a shot in his direction, not landing, but causing him to move backwards. Her partner returned to his feet and noticed they were surrounded, their crew now long ahead of them.

" Cavolo!" He swore. They remained back-to-back as they shot at the marauders surrounding them, who were closing in awfully fast.

"Where did everyone go!?" Dea exclaimed, attempting to look over the shoulders of the men around them. Deacon lowered his head as he accepted the situation - they'd been separated from their crew in the middle of battle.

This was not good.

Before either of them could be attacked, a laugh sounded from above. The group stopped what they were doing to gaze in the sky confusedly. A black figure jumped from practically nowhere and landed in the sand between them. He rose to his feet and pointed a sword in the direction of the bandits, laughing once more at their surprised expressions.

"Ha-hah!"

Without pause, the man struck the nearest few and threw his whip to wrap around a nearby branch. He swung on it to slash at the rest, grinning as he watched them fall down instantaneously. When he landed on his feet, he cracked his whip at the backs of two figures who attempted to strike him - watching them fall to their knees and scream in agony. He kept this up until the bandits ordered a prompt retreat, running from the scene as fast as they could.

As soon as they were gone, the man whipped around to redirect the blade of his sword at the two. He flashed a pearly, yet menacing, grin at them. "Now, you fiends shall suffer the wrath…of El Toro! "

A group of trumpets played around them. They were able to get a good look at the figure that had been moving so fast. He wore a circular hat and black cape that majestically flowed with the wind, sporting a mask that covered his eyes, as well as a black outfit that had an open v-shaped area around his chest, revealing an ample amount of hair. He stomped his boot as he sliced a large 'T' in the air, for extra flair.

Before Deacon could respond, feminine laughter broke the tension. The men looked to the side and found Dea chortling as she pointed at their new company.

""A Zorro ripoff?...THAT'S who you are?"

He took offense at her comment and flared his nostrils. "-I resemble nothing of what you just called me! I…am EL TORO! Enemy of all oppressors, defender of the innocent!"

She ignored the trumpets for a second time and continued to snicker at his performance. El toro grew impatient and decided not to pursue her, turning his attention to Deacon instead. He narrowed his blue eyes.

"I know what you are here for, canalla . I will not have anyone else terrorizing the people of Santo Pollo! Leave while you still can!"

The Emissary held up his gloved hands to try and diffuse the situation. "We are not here to attack anyone. We are trying to capture a convict who has escaped from our hands."

El toro tilted his head as he closely observed their masks. He shifted his stance. "I am not familiar with your kind, but I know that you do not belong here. Who is it you are exactly searching for?"

"Our target goes by 'Esteban' . He is one of the raiders destroying your village."

His leather clad fingers twitched on the handle of his blade. He clearly recognized the name, but withheld his trust. "Who do you work for? Where have you come from?"

Dea had stopped laughing at this point and composed herself. "We're two people who are enforcing the law. And if you help us, we can help you ."

He remained on edge, refusing to lower his weapon. He turned his head to think about something. "This… 'Esteban ' character…I have learned about him. He is the leader of the bandits. An incredible thorn in my side."

It dawned on Deacon. "That would explain why we have not yet seen him. We are trying to reach his base, but have been separated from our group. If you can point us in the right direction, we will gladly take care of the rest."

"I cannot allow you to proceed!" He asserted, thrusting his blade further in their direction. "I have been watching you all, since you reached these lands. Your people have grown weak. Without my assistance, you will all undoubtedly die."

Deacon muttered something about that being an exaggeration while Dea moved forward. "So you'll help us?"

He studied them a bit longer before slowly retreating his sword. "We share a common enemy, do we not? You wish to capture their leader. Without him , I can easily chase the rest out. I will restore peace to the village."

He used his whip to lunge himself upward and land on a dead tree to get a better sight. He craned his head down to address the two. "Consider this a… temporary affiliation . I expect you to leave when we are done."

Deacon nodded. "I assure you that our departure will be swift."

"Good…I see your people up ahead. The place those rogues are staying is in a cave - you will reach it if you keep heading east. I will meet you there."

They watched as El Toro easily launched himself away with a hefty swing, and was running on his feet out of sight. They carried on when they were on their own. Deacon handed Dea the small canteen he carried on his person. She took it with grateful hands and moved her head away to take a hefty gulp of water.

She handed it back to him and clacked her tongue. "So, why exactly did you want to avoid him? He was quick to help us."

His answer was one she never expected. "He's annoying."

She thought back to his introduction and held her laughter. It was dramatic and a little overbearing. It still piqued her curiosity. "-You two have met before?"

"We've come across paths during my time in Cool Ranch. I doubt he recognized me just now."

"That's because you're missing your cape." She pointed out. "Was it just me, or was his flowing * against * the wind?"

She sensed him smiling under his mask. He soon shook his head. "I pray we don't have to fight beside him for long."

They finally reached their crew, who had been desperately searching for their Captains. Once they were reunited, they exchanged water and took a little rest. In just a few minutes, they would be meeting with a masked vigilante who was willing to help them.

El Toro was waiting there, as promised. The two informed their crew of the help they were receiving, so no weapons were pointed at him when they approached. He dropped himself to the floor of the cave entrance and turned expectantly towards Deacon and Dea. He made a quick once-over of the group that would be fighting with him. Whatever he was thinking, he didn't voice aloud, as he turned and led them inside.

"We must waste no time!" He exclaimed.

They followed after, staying alert of their surroundings. Dea took this chance to make sure her gun was loaded while Deacon discreetly pressed a couple of buttons on his communicator. El Toro motioned for them to stay back. He moved forward cautiously as the two captains joined his side and got a good look at what awaited them.

A group of bandits remained ahead, conversing with each other as they idly stood around. They eavesdropped on their conversation, but found nothing of value. El Toro motioned for them to charge ahead, and the rest complied. They successfully took the group by surprise and had them all knocked out in a matter of minutes. They moved forward, not sparing a minute of pause. There, they encountered another group who, this time, had apparently expected them.

" Ey !" One of them exclaimed, drawing his gun on their new company. "Are you itchin' to have your brains blown out?"

El Toro took a few brave steps forward. He was unimpressed with the barrel currently pointed in his direction. "You brutes have been terrorizing the people of Santo Pollo for too long! Now, justice will be served!"

With a quick snap of his whip, El Toro smacked the gun out of the man's hand and struck him with the end of his sword. Everyone charged forward - the sounds of knives clinking and gunshots echoing in the enclosed cave. It was hard to tell what was going on amidst the scuffle. Blood was sent everywhere, several strikes sending the liquid in different directions. Some cries of pain sounded on top of the other. What rang the loudest was when the fight was over and silence ensued. Everyone stood glancing at each other, taking note of who was still standing.

Once all heads were accounted for, they rushed to continue their journey. They stumbled upon Esteban himself - who stood proudly in front of his desired group of lackeys. He was as repulsive as Dea imagined - a man with the sides of his head shaved, grease coating his skin, accompanied with ripped clothing and fingerless gloves. He had an intense look in his eyes as he grinned much too widely, stepping forward with confidence as the awaiting group poured in.

"Well, well. Looks like the Armada has found me, after all." He tipped his head in the direction of the disguised crew. "Have they sent their best people? I don't want to go out without a bang ."

"Since you're aware of your arrest, let's make this easy." Deacon countered as he disposed of his cane. "Surrender yourself now before any more blood is shed."

"I'll do that when you give me back Alyssa!" He barked angrily. "That's all you bastards are good at. Bullshittin' people 'til they sign their lives away! We were going to start a family, for fuck's sake!"

The Emissary was unphased. "Turn yourself in before you leave us no other choice."

"Fuck off!"

Esteban pulled out a gun and shot without warning. The bullet barely missed their battle angel. It was an invitation to run and confront the bastards. El Toro went to work disposing of the henchman while Deacon urgently attempted to make his way to the leader. He was thwarted with every step, some rogue throwing themselves at him before he could even aim his gun properly. They gradually mashed into one mess, with hands being thrown in random directions as everyone attacked those in their general vicinity.

Dea managed her way to Esteban, and was just about to pull the trigger before a hand forcefully grabbed her from behind. Her reflexes brought her leg backwards to kick the offender in the shin, freeing herself from their grasp. This motion had caught the enemy's attention, and when she stumbled forward to regain her footing, she was already seized again. This time, by the man she sought after.

His voice was gruff as he spoke in her ear. "A fighter, huh? Alyssa was one, too. Come to think of it, she had a body *just* like yours…"

Then he did something Dea did not expect. His hand slid down the front of her disguise, smoothing between the valley of her breasts. He nearly slipped his fingers under the corset, but halted his touch below her waist instead. His fingertips brushed along the ends of her skirt, dangerously close to lifting it. Her body tensed as she registered this unwanted action. Then reality kicked in and she thrashed in his arms, hoping to loosen his grip. He held her down and laughed.

"That's a nice outfit you got on. Do all women in the Armada dress like whores? If I'd known about the easy access, well, I wouldn't have been running after her …"

An angry tear formed in her eyes as Esteban slipped his hand under and forcefully groped her. She lost every ounce of her self-control and screamed at the top of her lungs. She threw herself forward and attempted to throw him off balance. But he expected her move and countered it easily. He clearly had experience in this scenario. That thought sickened her. He was so distracted with trying to restrain her that he neglected to see the figure running towards them.

There was no warning as a pistol struck him in the side of the head, loosening his grip and sending him to the floor. Dea reached for her gun, but her shaking arms made the attempt futile. It slipped from her hands when a hand locked itself around her ankle. She fell forward harshly - the air escaping her lungs as her ribs collided with hard rock.

"You bitch!" Esteban was pulling her with an unexpected amount of force.

He dragged his body on top of hers and delivered a cruel blow to her masked face. She swore she heard the material cracking under his knuckles. He grabbed her head with his other hand and smashed it against the floor - dazing Dea as the world around her began to mix colors. Before he could do it again, a shoe collided with the underside of his jaw, sending him off of her. She looked up in time to catch him wrestling with Deacon, who attempted to commandeer his weapon.

During their struggle, one of the guns had gone off - whose it was, she wasn't entirely sure. She was distracted when a sudden pain came near her stomach and her gloved hand instinctively covered the area. When she glanced down, the blood was already pooling from the spot. The aching in her head became unbearable and she struggled to maintain consciousness. A groan escaped her throat as she attempted to hold herself up.

Her struggle was noticed by Deacon, who froze when he saw the sight. Taking advantage of his distraction, Esteban launched his fist into his stomach. The spymaster doubled over in pain as the other man grabbed a hold of his pistol. Before he could fire it, a whip wrapped itself around his wrist. A pained scream escaped his throat as El Toro encumbered both of his hands from behind.

"Quick!"

Deacon jumped to his feet and grabbed a pair of handcuffs. Esteban's hands were secured and he was firmly held down by the masked vigilante, who looked proud with this feat. Deacon had no time to gloat over their accomplishment. He ran in Dea's direction. He fell to his knees and lowered his head, noting her closed eyes and immobilized body. He desperately checked her pulse, relaxing a little when he confirmed she was still alive.

"Santo Dios , is she alright?" El Toro implored.

He inspected her abdomen before searching for the entry and exit wound. The rest of the crew surrounded the scene, their dragoon taking a hold of their prisoner for the time being. El Toro took a few steps forward and watched with concern in his eyes.

"She's still breathing, but not very easily," He announced after a minute. He turned his masked head toward one of their soldiers. "Cinzia, vieni qui!"

The desired soldier darted to his side and lowered herself to her other captain. She was the crewmember who had the most medical expertise between all of them. It took a few moments until she supplied, "I can't find an exit wound. But we need to stop the bleeding."

Deacon nodded as he produced a roll of gauze from one of his pockets. Cinzia provided pressure and the necessary elevation as he wrapped it around her body. He could hear Rooke's voice in his head - remembering the time his brother insisted on teaching him basic first aid practices. He encouraged Deacon to always carry around bandages, gauze, and clean cloth on his person for unexpected injury. He glanced at Dea several times as he worked, noticing the new crack in her mask that had nearly split it into two pieces. Something inside him twisted unpleasantly at the sight.

It took a few layers and careful monitoring until the blood had finally slowed. The air around them was getting colder, so he removed his trench coat and laid it under his co-captain to retain her body heat. He still applied pressure to the wound and kept a close eye on her condition. He wondered what exactly to do next.

Transporting her using the ship was a dangerous option - there was no telling how rough the weather would become, and any excess movement could prove to be damaging. She would need treatment to locate and remove the bullet - neither of which he could supply at the moment, with their limited materials. It didn't help that they were so far from Valencia right now.

He sighed. "She may have a concussion. The degenerate slammed her head around pretty hard."

El Toro cut in. "I have heard that it is dangerous for a concussed person to fall unconscious. Is that true?"

"Not in all cases," Cinzia responded. "We'll need to check on her condition to see if any major damage has been done. What will we do, Captain?"

Deacon sat there in silence, in a clear mental debate with himself. He felt angry and frightened, as much as he hated to admit it. All of this had happened on his watch - despite coming to her rescue, he could not stop the bullet that had accidentally launched itself during his struggle with the enemy. He felt nauseous knowing that it came from his own gun. He imagined Dea succumbing to her injuries here and struggled for air. El Toro approached them with a solution of his own.

"I have a friend in Santo Pollo who can help you. His manor has a room to offer you sanctuary, until she is well." His smile lowered into a frown. "I do not appreciate the deceit you have given me. But considering you have helped me today…It is a way to show my gratitude."

"Does your friend have any medical supplies?" Cinzia asked seriously.

"I am sure that he does, and he will be able to aid you better than I can. We must get there soon, so your friend can be treated."

Dea was secured in their Dragoon's arms as soon as he pawned off Esteban to Deacon, who purposefully tightened his cuffs until he heard the man inhale sharply. Several scenarios of torture played in the Spymaster's mind while they traveled to Don Rodrigo's Manor. Methods he was familiar with, and knew were painful for the prisoners who refused to comply. He normally did not think of these things with such pleasure - he'd always carried them out with necessity and neutrality. But now he felt personal spite to ensure this man would endure every second of pain, as he was forced to spill everything he knew to the Armada.