Between two cities [Great]

[Malon]

„Sera, Malon? Are you two awake?“

“Yeah, we are…” said Malon, looking at the spot from which she presumed Carmelita was speaking. Again the fox was invisibly sneaking around the hideout and had gotten past the guard to them. “What happened? Everyone left yesterday.”

“There was an ‘accident’ with a pair of magic constructs going rogue. A number of the bandits got injured or killed.”

“How many?”

“Three deaths and three injured, plus those constructs. We still have ten or so guys to deal with.”

“And there’s something else... I heard one of them speak about... uhh, hold on. The White Marsh? Someplace else.”

“The Pale Moors maybe?”

“Right, that was the one. They said that some prisoners are being escorted to the capital. Criminals who were caught when attempting to sneak to the Moors... they’ll be trialed. But Scar might try freeing them to bolster his forces. Probably very soon.”

“Mierda... then we have to act sooner than that, before they can move out. I have to steal a key first... can you try to lace their dinner today with what you found?”

“Of course. And Snake is having me bring food to her chambers personally. Maybe I could...” The glimmer in her eyes and a glance towards the bandana on her arm told Carmelita enough to interfere immediately.

“Chica, you’re dealing with a professional robber and killer. I know you’re getting confident, but don’t stretch it... let her go to sleep like the others, and flee the scene.”

Malon rubbed her forehead. “... sorry. I’ll... okay, I’ll avoid unnecessary conflicts. What will you do now?”

“I have a few plans to separate the bandits and break us out.” A few tubes of vitamins materialized out of thin air, next to Sera who swiftly hid them in her robe. “Here’s the last dose for today’s meals. Hopefully it’ll give you all enough energy to keep going until we’re out.”

“Got it... thanks, Carmy.”

When the fox didn’t reply anymore Malon presumed that she had gone back to her work. And not a minute too soon, for Sera and her were soon called up along with the others to help with breakfast. An uneventful day. Sera slipped the concentrates given to her into the watery soup when she could while Malon focused on Snake’s work. The bandana was tightly around her head, clearing her mind of the unnecessary. Focusing her thoughts. Concentrating her mind onto the task at hand. But she started to realize that this was not enough. Her words to Carmelita came back to her mind. How she had thought of taking an opportunity. How she had promised to avoid unnecessary conflict.

When she looked up a figure stood on the opposite side of her table, looking at her. Or did it? It was like a mannequin with no facial features. Only smooth dark blue and black skin covered the egg-shaped head... and a bandana just like the one Malon was wearing on her head, dark wine-red and with a sort of flame pattern on it.

“You are starting to understand”, the figure spoke. Its voice was the same as Malon’s.

“Who are you?” she asked. She did not feel afraid... for some reason the realization that she was hallucinating was calming her, when anyone else would have told her that she was descending into insanity.

“Do you not already know the answer? I am you, of course.” The figure’s features began to shift and swirl as if it was an image beneath a body of water that someone had tossed a rock into, then reformed into Snake. Still wearing the bandana. “I am still you.” Now it had Snake’s voice.

“No, you are Snake now.”

“I am still you”, the figure repeated itself.

“I could look like her. I could take her essence.”

“You will have to kill her. You will have to break your promise to do so.”

“No, I won’t. I don’t have to get into an unnecessary conflict with her.”

“You could wait for her to fall asleep and slit her throat. Then you will steal her skin.”

Malon nodded. The figure took a step backwards and observed as she finished her work. She tugged the bandana off her head and looked back. Snake was now gone. The only one nearby was Sera, eyeing her worriedly.

“Is everything okay, Malon? You stood there for a minute and stared into space.”

“I’m fine. I was just... lost in some thoughts. Let’s go serve breakfast.”

[Dawnika Snow]

Sera was beginning to worry about Malon. Ever since Snake had given these bands, that Malon wore around her head, and Sera wore on her right bicep, she has acted a little off. She hadn’t known Malon for very long, but they had become friends in the short period of time. Even though Sera had aimed to distance herself from Malon at first, her overwhelming desire to not give up gave the teenager the hope she needed. If her new friend had not come, she would not be getting out of this mess. The only thing she could hope for now was to make it out alive.

Thinking on all the mess that has happened so far, something came to mind that Sera hadn’t yet the time to think of. What was she going to do after they escaped? That would be if she survived, that is. She could always just head home, but she missed most of her school and probably failed her classes. She could live safely here with her parents in Camelot, but they always seemed eager to push her out. That was why she lived in Coruscant alone in the first place.

If she made it out of this hell-hole alive, perhaps she would ask Malon if she could join her for awhile on her adventures. They might be a bit to exciting for her tastes, but Malon seems crafty and much stronger than she appears. At least until she could figure out what to do next.

Sera’s mind trailed as she stirred the stew filled with leeks and potatoes. She didn’t understand cooking in the slightest, but she just followed what Malon told her to do: ‘Keep stirring the stew on a low flame. Then when it’s almost done, put what Carmelita gave us in it and make sure it mixes well.’ Easy enough, but the problem was Sera wasn’t quite sure when it would be done.

It looked done enough to her, so when the watch-guard looked away, she dropped the vitamins into the stew and continued to stir. Soon enough, they dissolved into the warm water, as if they were never there. Sera’s heart raced. She had never ‘poisoned someone’s food or anything of this kind. It was kind of thrilling, but maybe that was just because one of these men tried to rape her. Nevertheless, the deed was done, and now it was time to serve the food.

[Carmelita]

Carmelita bit her lip to prevent herself swearing, painstakingly searching the belongings of an absent Scar. She pulled out a drawer under his bed, rifling through the clothes she found there. Shirts. Weapon polish. Bloody bandages. Underwear. She screwed up her face and used a small stick to lift up the clean clothes, wary of lice. No dice.
 
The bandit leader didn’t keep the vault key on his person, she’d deduced that much: that was why he’d had to leave to fetch it when Foureyes needed to access the vault, after all. The man’s room, however, had no hidden compartments, no secure safe or drawer. After all her searching, she’d found nothing.
 
She replaced the items of the ransacked drawer and felt under the bed, where something might be secreted. She got nothing but a woodlouse for her trouble. Getting inventive, she got down on her hands and knees and tapped the earthen floor, hoping for the sound of a hollow hidden with earth. Still no luck.
 
On top of her lack of success, there was a deadline closing in. It was nearing supper time, and Carmelita knew that if something went wrong with Malon and Sera’s plan she had to be ready. If only she knew where the damned key was.
 
Checking nothing was out of place, Carmelita slipped out of the door, closing it silently behind her and carefully resetting the thread that had been placed across to record the presence of a snooper. The singed scent of her cloak mocked her muzzle, growing distractingly strong the longer she puzzled over where Scar might have hidden it. The tunnel she paced down back towards the kitchen was silent as she swept down it. Her presence disturbed some loose dirt and she automatically swept across it with her boot to hide the evidence. Carmelita thought furiously, ideas of potential locations discarded as soon as they were brought up until she remembered a little wooden box, covered in blue sigils.
 
The lockbox.
 
In the stone hut, the one that had acted as Scar’s office and the same room she had already scoured looking for information had been the one item she hadn’t dared touch: a small lockbox with glowing runes. Magic was undoubtedly involved, and she’d decided that it would be too risky to try and open it for no perceived gain.
 
Mierda.
 
Carmelita jogged through the mine to the main entrance, emerging into the cavernous bowl that formed the main chamber. A bandit, likely just relieved from the wall, walked nervously past the spot where the lionesses had been brought down, ignorant of her presence. Across the cavernous expanse, candlelight flickering from gaps in the tightly shuttered windows, was the hut she needed to revisit.
 
Sneaking across the cavern was easy,  with the reduced foot traffic now that several of the bandits were bedridden or six feet under. The door itself lay open as she crept round the corner, and candlelight shone from within. Carmelita peered round the corner. Scar, the bandit leader himself, was sitting at the writing desk, comparing some scrolls with a large map that lay across the surface
 
“Let’s see,” the man was muttering to himself. “There’s the Red Gull Pass, but that’s the obvious place for an ambush. Besides, we’ve used it before, and they’ll probably be running north which puts them… there.” A pin was pressed into the wood through the parchment, and he stroked his chin in thought, before putting in three more pins at other points on the map. “Hmm…”
 
Carmelita waited, both impatient to get to grab the glowing box that lay visible on the shelf above the desk and interested in what the man’s plan might hold. No doubt he was planning on recruitment straight from behind bars, the prisoner transport that the girls had told her about. Soon the man got to his feet, pushing the chair back and giving the map he’d been staring at a grim look.
 
“We’ll need to push the horses, but it’ll be worth it.”
 
He wrote some notes down on a couple of scrolls as Carmelita narrowed her eyes. Perhaps the man intended to leave before supper, maybe having an early meal with preserved meats and fruit. If so, that might mean there would be a few men not eating the meal… and furthermore, people who might be leaving soon.
 
She pulled back as Scar blew out the candle and left the hut, pulling the door firmly to behind him. The bandit put the door on the latch and headed towards the wall, no doubt to talk to the guards. Carmelita’s chance to act had arrived.
 
A plastic card to quietly lift the latch was all she needed to do it silently, and she carefully opened and closed the door. The blue runes glowed in the dark, but she didn’t dare try and grab it here. Instead, she took a small felt bag from within one of her pouches and wrapped it around her hand.
 
The felt pouch was a marvelous piece of kit for any burglar or spy to have on them. In addition to being innocuous, the importance of having a way to muffle metal items or a spare way to touch things that might leave fingerprints or react to body heat was easy to underestimate.
 
The lockbox was quickly hidden in the felt pouch, and she checked carefully that Bentley’s stealth device did in fact hide the box from outside. With the same subtle smoothness of her entry, she eased open and closed the door on her way out. She ghosted through the tunnels, heading for the one place that it would be safe to open an unknown magical box, not coincidentally the place where the other key lay, the valves she needed to close stood and the first fight she’d need to engage in would occur: the workshop.
 
First, though, she headed to the prisoner pens. There she found Sera quietly returning from preparing the evening meal. Carmelita waited for her to enter the room with the rest of the prisoners, readied her shock pistol at the side of the jailer’s head and held the trigger.
 
The first warning any of the prisoners had that something was happening was the sudden muffled scream of surprise and the bright flashes of light coming from outside the cells. There was the sound of something hitting a surface hard, and there was a sudden silence.
 
“Wh… what was that?” one of the kids whispered nervously, before letting out a small squeak of fear as their jailer appeared in the entrance to their cell. There was a moment of flinching, expecting his gruff voice. Instead, the unconscious man was dropped to the floor, the sound of someone dusting their gloves off emanating from a slowly appearing figure behind him.
 
“That would be me, valiente niño. My name is Inspector Fox-Cooper, I’ll be staging your escape this evening. Please remain as quiet as you can while we unlock everyone. Oh, and if someone could gag this lout so he doesn’t give the game away, that’d be wonderful.”
 
There was a moment of stillness before Sera took the keys from the jailer’s belt and began undoing manacles and chains. Carmelita let the prisoners begin freeing themselves, taking a few other keys and releasing the prisoners in the other cells.
 
Soon, all the hostages had been gathered in the largest cell. The eldest and most feeble still needed a shoulder to lean on, but Carmelita could see that Sera and Malon’s efforts to increase their vitality had not been in vain. Speaking of which…
 
The fox leant over and whispered to Sera. “Where’s Malon?”
 
“She’s with Snake. There was a thing.” Sera gave a small frown as she said this, looking at Carmelita worriedly. The inspector bit her lip.
 
“I’ll find her once everyone else is safe. Here,” Carmelita picked up the jailers mace that lay on his belt, “I need you to bring up the rear. We’re going to be moving as quickly and quietly as we can, but if a bandit spots us delay him until I can get to you.”
 
Sera nearly dropped the mace, the weight unfamiliar in her hands, before securing it tightly and clutching it to her chest.
 
Giving Sera a pat on the shoulder, Carmelita led the way quietly through the tunnels towards the mine. It seemed fortune was with them, and no bandits appeared to block their path to the vaults. As she began to walk down the stairs, she gestured for the hostages to wait halfway down, and she activated her cloak for the first proper showdown of the evening.
 
---
 
Carmelita entered the workshop near silently, carefully looking for Four-Eyes. The boiler furnace’s dull roar seemed especially loud to her ears as she crept through the room.
 
For some reason, the light from the stones around the room had vanished, leaving only the flames beneath the boiler to light the room. Carmelita swore quietly, looking for the centaur and praying she hadn’t made an error of judgement.
 
In the mild panic she’d worked herself into, Carmelita failed to notice the rug-shrouded lump on the floor that lay in her path. A boot came down on the hem, caught, and sent her flying.
 
She landed with a soft thud. Thankful that the sound of machinery falling over hadn’t sounded throughout the whole tunnel complex, the feeling of a soft warm coat beneath her hands finally prompted her instincts to catch up with the situation. She slowly raised her eyes to come face to face with a now wide awake centaur.
 
A grab at the Fisti-cuffs on her belt was thwarted as the centaur shot to his hooves, sending her flying onto a nearby workbench. The fizz of her cloak breaking was only made worse by Four-eyes clapping his hands twice.
 
“Desert Sun!” he commanded, and the lights of the workshop each shone with the intensity of the Endless Dunes midday sun. Carmelita swore loudly as she rolled off the workbench, eyes near blinded by the swift change in ambient light. Her tail felt the air pressure of something passing through the space she’d just occupied.
 
Hooves sounded as they trotted swiftly over to the weapons racks. Carmelita took the opportunity to begin working her eyepieces to reduce the intensity of the light. At the sound of a snorted curse, she decided to play for time while her eyes recovered behind makeshift sunglasses.
 
“Mister, I am a member of law enforcement. We have taken over the camp-” here her hands found a STAPLER on her belt and began setting it up, “- and you would be well advised to surrender and come quietly.”
 
“Keep talking, fox,” came the biting reply. “I’ve spent too long working on my equipment to give up now, especially-” the sound of steel chain snapping interrupted his speech. Carmelita surreptitiously activated her cloak. “Especially when I’ve got access to my own toys to play with.”
 
Carmelita rose from where she had been hiding to see Four-Eyes level a crossbow at the workbench she’d taken cover behind, sword in his off hand. The centaur circled round cautiously, and she took the opportunity to begin shooting her shock pistol.
 
The centaur took the first ball of electricity to the chest and gave out a surprised cry of pain that sounded awfully like a neigh. Carmelita was forced to duck as a slew of crossbow bolts began flying in her direction, solid copies of the one in place on the enchanted crossbow.
 
Galloping hoof-beats to her right prompted Carmelita to roll round the left corner, charging a shot on her shock pistol and readying the Fisti-cuffs in her off hand.
 
“Where’d you go now? When I find you-”
 
The centaur’s words cut off as a near point blank charged shot deprived him of his sight. Snarling angrily, he charged blindly forwards, swinging wildly. With a click the STAPLER triggered and the blinded centaur was wrapped in loops of titanium alloy. As he blindly fought the snare, Carmelita dodged the immensely slowed weapons and clamped the Fisti-cuffs to his wrists.
 
As repeated shocks quickly pushed Four-eyes into unconsciousness, Carmelita breathed a sigh of relief.
 
---
 
Climbing up into the scaffolding took a hair-raising five minutes. The hostages, having descended the stairs at the end of the fight, alternated between breaking their manacles and magic dampeners and spitting on the unconscious, trussed up centaur.
 
Hidden in the ceiling was the glass case she had spotted before. Carmelita deftly swiped the key and dropped onto a workbench.
 
“Sera, catch.”
 
The girl looked up in time to catch the incoming key in her frying pan, giving a startled squeak. Scolding herself for unprofessional conduct, Carmelita opened the vault with Sera turning the second key.
 
As the door rolled away, Carmelita turned to address the hostages properly for the first time.
 
“Hello. I am Inspector Fox-Cooper, of Suprapol. I’ll be your police extraction this evening. Behind me is a secure location for you to shelter in as I apprehend the bandits who trapped you here. If you wish to take a more active role, the top of the stairs is a good chokepoint to hold off any bandits who wish to regain control of the gates-” at this she shut off the valve leading to the gates steam controls, and the pipe runes’ blue glow faded, “- and their leverage.”
 
The women who had had magic dampeners on them headed for the stairs, as did Sera and a few other hastily armed prisoners. The rest traipsed into the vault, marvelling at the treasure and armoury that lay within.
 
Carmelita asked two of those headed to the stairs to instead wait by the vault, to shut it in case the bandits made a concerted push. Giving a tight nod to Sera, she slipped back into her cloak. With the hostages safe, it was time to hunt bandits.

[Malon]

For clearness: Part of the below described events happen before or during Carmelita’s last post!

Dinner time came around and things went almost as smooth as could be. Almost because Sera had recieved a beating from one of Snake's thugs after Malon had not put in enough fruit into breakfast - yet another instance of the twisted perversion of solidarity which these people imposed on their prisoners -, and Malon had been very angry at herself for that. That minute where she had met the strange figure, when Sera had told her that she had spaced out for a bit. Because of that hallucination she had not finished her work and run out of time. Her only consolation was that Carmelita's vitamins had strengthened them both and Sera had endured the beating better than she would have a week ago. That, and the knowledge of what she was going to do very soon.

Sera and she shot each other a glance as they met by the cupboard with spices. It was time. Nobody else knew of their plan, nobody suspected a thing. The vegetables and spices that they added looked like any other except that they were in the far back. Malon cut the valuable leaves and handed most to Sera. Together with one of the spices, they would create a potent but delayed soporific - that was going in the main course for the bandits. The leaves that she kept went into the rich soup that Snake would have. She mixed it with another spice that brought out the soporific effect, but with this other spice, it would be less potent and last less long, but it would also take effect faster. That was what she needed for her job.

Soon the guard slammed their spear against the wall. "Time's runnin' out. You ready to serve?"

They dared not look at each other, but Sera and the others nodded at the guard. Malon, wearing her bandana again, put the food on a tray and walked past him as confidently as she could. He didn't stop her. Nobody did, though they glanced her way as she navigated the tunnels to Snake's quarters. Whether they were looking at her or at the food, she didn't know, nor did she want to know.

"Come in", a voice came through the crude wooden door when the guard - the same one that had beaten Sera this morning - saw Malon coming and knocked. He too eyeballed her as she walked into the little cave, then he closed the door behind her. She was alone with the disfigured woman who was going through what appeared to be letters, without looking up. Right next to her was a knife whose blade shimmered in the candlelight. "Well? What are ya waitin' for? I'm hungry over here!" she snarled. "And I hope for your friend that this meal's better than what you did this morning."

"I made sure that it would satisfy you", Malon promised. She set the tray down. “For today’s dinner I have made you a miso soup with smoked bacon strips for a start, the main course is cod fillet with a deep-fried coating and an accompaniment of potatoes with whipped cream, and dessert is baked apple with cinnamon.”

“You sure raided my storage for this one”, remarked Snake as she took a spoon and began to eat the soup. “Mmmh, at least you made good use of the ingredients. This is good.”

Malon withdrew a little, pretending to wait for Snake to finish eating to take the tray back, and watched her eat spoonful after spoonful. When she was nearly finished, her movements became sluggish and her spoon missed the bowl and hit the table. “What...” She mumbled. The herbs were taking effect. She nearly fell forwards but kept herself from dropping onto the table and food with her arms. She was pale.

“Is everything okay, Miss Snake?” Malon asked. “Should I get help?”

“No, I... I...” she mumbled, then lost her grip and fell off to the side. Malon was with her before she could hit the ground, catching her by her shoulders and easing her onto the ground, on her back. Snake’s eyes widened. Malon had reacted far too fast and correctly given the situation – and she was supposed to be scared of her. In a second, she had understood... but it was too late. She struggled to act but could not move, while Malon stepped over to the back of the room and pulled a knife with sheath and a set of keys from a cupboard. “You…!”
 
If only looks could kill, Malon thought. When she turned away from the cupboard, another Malon stood next to Snake, except that she looked older and… well, slightly different. Her skin was a lot darker and her hair was of light orange color instead of the orange-brownish that Malon had. That was another illusion. Snake did not notice her even though she stood right by her. She attached the sheath to her belt and drew the knife as she came closer.
 
“You could hurt her”, she said. “You could stab her where it won’t kill her on the spot. She would suffer before she dies. Slowly.”
 
“I won’t”, Malon replied. Snake could not do a thing as she placed the knife and, with a motion as routined as killing one of the cows that had gotten incurably sick, slit her throat open. She had no time to suffer before the light disappeared from her eyes. “She wasn’t nice, but she does not deserve a painful death.” She passed a hand over her eyes, closing them, then cut a curl of her hair. “Who are you?”
 
“You don’t remember me?” the woman asked while playing with a strand of her hair, smiling. Malon noticed that her ears were not quite as pointy as a Hylian’s.
 
“You’re a Gerudo woman.”
 
“Correct.” Her smile widened a bit.
 
“I’ve never seen a Gerudo. They’ve never come to the ranch, nor…” She was interrupted when the woman dismissingly waved a hand at her.
 
“Surely you would not forget the first face you’ve seen in your life, Malon?”
 
“... you’re my mother?”
 
“No, I’m just a hallucination of your mother.This is your mind’s way of dealing with what is happening to you right now.”
 
“... and what is that?”
 
“Do you know the story of the descendants of the chosen?”
 
“That legend about how the individuals chosen by the Triforce keep reincarnating when darkness threatens to take the land. The Hero of Time and his aide, the Keeper of Light.”
 
“That is correct. But they are not the only ones. Others chosen by the Triforce reincarnate, time and time again throughout the generations, and most have some relationship to the Hero of Time or the Keeper of Light. You know Impa, the Shiekah caretaker of the princess Zelda?”
 
“Of course. She’s personally reviewed our milk orders on more than one occasion when we visited Hyrule castle.”
 
“She is one such person. And you are another.” The woman sat down on the chair that Snake had sat on. Her feet went straight through the body’s chest, like those of a spirit. It was the only thing that broke the feeling that she was real. “In most cases this just means that you look very much like some person who lived hundreds or thousands of years ago. But there is a rare occurence, known as the Awakening of a Hero. When this happens, the memories of the past generations flood the current incarnation’s mind. Sometimes only small bits of those memories remain, like certain skills and fragmented memories. You however got the full program. The shock and distress you were put under when you were brought to this crapsack place… that was what shook you awake.”
 
“Wait, so you’re saying…” Malon rubbed her temples, trying to gather her thoughts. “... that I now have multiple past Malons sharing their memories with me?”
 
“You could call it this way. Have you not noticed how expertly well you just slit Snake’s throat even though you only did it once before, to poor Betty who had fallen ill shortly after giving birth to a calf?”
 
“I saw dad do it!” Malon defended herself, but she realized how right it was.
 
“And why did you take a curl of hair from Snake?”
 
“... I… uh…”
 
“I’ll tell you why… because Malon the seventh had a Skinwalker as a Sire.” The illusion put in a break as if to give Malon time to ask what a Skinwalker was, but when Malon remained quiet she spoke again. “Skinwalkers are shapeshifters… able to take on the appearance of other people, animals, even objects. They are not tied to one body, to one ‘skin’. They are also not to be confused with Skinstealers, the violent, martial tribe of Skinwalkers known for stealing their victims’ appearances to infiltrate their opponents’ homes and camps for assassinations. No, Skinwalkers were a rather peaceful tribe. Your Sire, and I say Sire because Skinwalkers are neither man nor woman, really, fell in love with a Hylian woman and took on a shape to approach her. Though he told her about his true nature after a while she still loved him, and a few years later Malon the 7th was born. To this day a very small amount of Skinwalker blood runs in the veins of the Malons, their predecessors and eventual descendants.”
 
“This doesn’t answer the question that you asked me…”
 
“Of course. Well, because there is so little Skinwalker blood in you, you need a catalyst of some sort to create yourself a new skin with. This practice is known as Skinweaving, and it was practiced by the Skinwalkers to craft items that would allow them to shift without having to concentrate as much. Granted, you can only take on a specific appearance using a skinweaved skin, but it is rather quite practical. Perhaps you will eventually be able to freely skinwalk, but let’s start with the basics here. You took the locket to weave a form of Snake with.”
 
“Right… but what about the knife skills? Did my Skinweav- I mean, Skinst- no. SkinWALKER Sire have those?”
 
“Ah, no…” Again the illusion played with her hair. “That is owed to the black sheep of your lineage, Malon the 13th. She was a hired blade… a pretty damn good assassin. She killed the High Priestess of the Gerudos who was guarded by eight bodyguards, without ever getting caught.”
 
Malon shuddered at the thought. “Did her personality…”
 
“... bleed into you? Somewhat. She was really good at using her Skinwalker powers, and a bloodthirsty one. You experienced that recently, didn’t you?”
 
She thought back to the encounter of the illusion when she had been cooking, and to the occasional dark, bloodthirsty thoughts that had crossed her mind. She nodded.
 
“The good news is, this passes. As the memories of your ancestry flood your mind, their personalities brush yours and leave traces, but these are not permanent. You can however draw on them when you need to. For instance, I’d recommend that you try to tap into her character now. You want to eliminate a few more bandits, right?”
 
“... no. I want them turned in to justice, not slaughtered like lambs. Is there anyone in my lineage who knows how to knock them out without killing them?” she asked while her fingers began to work on their own. Threads came from her fingertips, fine as strands of hair, and with great precision and speed they weaved and formed into a white oval mask in Malon’s hands, with the curl of Snake’s hair worked into it. It had red marks on its white surface, and black lines depicting a stylised version of Snake’s disfiguring condition which had given her her nickname.
 
“Yes, but your mind could not process this much information at once. Let it ‘digest’ Malon-13’s memories first. You’re barely finished with processing Malon-6’s memories, and-”
 
“Alright, just explain this to me later. I’ll just have to make do with what I have.” She inhaled, preparing herself for what she was about to do, then closed her eyes and put the mask on.
 
 
A few minutes later, Snake emerged from her room and the guard straightened his posture. “Ma’am, there have been odd sounds coming from the back, towards Four-Eyes’s room, but I didn’t want to leave my post.”
 
“I’ll go check it out, I need to pay a visit to Four-Eyes anyway. You guard my door.” She bared her teeth. “That stupid girl tried to stab me while I was eating. I knocked her out and tied her up, so I can deal with her later… pity that she’s such a good cook, or I’d rip the bandana off of her head and strangulate her friend with it for doing that.” She let the mental picture sink in a moment, then continued. “Don’t think she’s gonna escape, but guard the door, just in case.” She leant close. “I don’t need to point out what I’ll cut off if I catch you trying to sneak into my room, do I?”
 
The guard gulped. “Of course not, ma’am.”
 
“Good. Did you get your dinner by the way?”
 
“Yes, twenty minutes ago.”
 
“Alright, then stay here until I come back. It won’t be long.” She walked down the corridor, with Snake’s characteristic strut, deeper into the cave network.
 
Malon had trouble with her impression, though the guard seemed to buy it. How the hell could Snake keep this annoyed face up all the time? Her grimace dropped and she pulled out the metal bar that she had stolen from Snake’s stash. Quickly now.
 
The prisoner room was empty, only an unconscious guard was to be found… so Carmelita and Sera had made their move? Great! She ran back to the kitchen. She had thought of grabbing a bite of the meal she had prepared for Snake - only the soup was poisoned, the rest was okay - but here was where her backpack with her other belongings within were hidden. When she came in though, she spotted another bandit leaning over the kettle, stirring a ladle inside. When Malon cleared her throat loudly, he spun around.
 
“What are you doing here?”
 
“I’m, uh… I didn’t get a ration. I was getting my…” The bandit sputtered. The lie was written all over his face. He was starting to turn beet red.
 
“Right. Don’t dally then.” She pretended to walk past him, but when he, visibly relieved that he wasn’t sacked, began to stir again, her metal bar hit him square in the back of the head, knocking him out good. She dragged him into Snake’s storage room and retrieved her belongings, then locked the door and headed back out. Now her only concern was that Carmelita, stealthed, would find her and knock her out before she had a chance to explain herself. But she could not risk removing the mask either, if she ran into a Silverhand.

Now it was time to find the others and to knock out the remaining bandits, then make an escape and alert some sort of authority.

[Carmelita]

The tunnels were quiet as Carmelita padded through them to the sleeping quarters. A few bandits lay insensate on the floor, weapons sprawled besides their drugged forms. Carmelita cuffed them to a tunnel support, divesting them of a few knives, and continued on to the kitchen. A trussed up, unconscious bandit indicated Malon had already started her job for her. Carmelita was relieved to find a pulse, and continued on her way. The sleeping quarters were next, and Carmelita made quick work of the bandits here, cuffing them to secure places and removing any weapons secreted on their persons.

She found one bandit dead, with her throat slit. Carmelita winced, but moved on. What was done was done, and she had seen more violent responses from wronged parties in these situations.

After clearing the living area, Carmelita had yet to see Scar. It was likely that he, and those on guard duty, would still be awake, and so she headed to the camp entrance in no short order.

---

The wall turned out to be abandoned. Carmelita held herself back from running along it, but the nervousness as to where they had gone was getting to her.

As she descended from the wall, she stopped dead upon seeing Scar standing in the middle of the cavern, casually look straight at her through glittering spectacles.

“It took me a while to realise something had gone wrong,” he said, just loudly enough for Carmelita to hear him. “Now, if you would open the gates, I won’t detonate the emergency runes on the furnace.”

“I wouldn’t know what you’re talking about,” Carmelita bluffed. “Your hostages are safe in your cells-”

“No they’re not. I had my men from the wall find that out after they were hit with a mace and a storm of magic as they went to get weapons from Four-Eyes. So you’ve cooped them up in the safety of the vault: the same vault I REALLY didn’t want anyone to enter. Now, you’re a prime if I ever saw one, so you’ll be able to summon up a tool to open the gates despite their lack of stea,. First sign of treachery, I’ll detonate the runes.”

Carmelita grimaced, pulling out her escape plan. The plastiglex circle expanded to fit squarely on the gate, and she drew out the process as long as she could, hoping for anything that might solve the situation.

“Hey, Boss, everyone’s unconscious and cuffed. What’s going on?”

Carmelita turned to see a woman she knew to be dead walking out from the tunnels. Scar frowned and, after a quick glance at his compatriot, gestured for Carmelita to get back to work.

“We’re scarpering. The operation’s done for. Soon as-”

His words cut off as Malon slugged him in the back of the head with an iron bar.

---

A day later, and a call to the watch of Minas Tirith, and the bandits were lead away in chains from the entry to the hideout. The former hostages (a lot of whom had a hangover from the impromptu party they’d started while Carmelita had been busy watching the criminals) were provided with the comfort of padded carts, and Carmelita joined them after the lieutenant in charge of the operation asked her to come give a full brief at the guard house.

As they made their way slowly through the countryside, Carmelita took the opportunity for a long rest.

[Malon]

What a climatic conclusion to something that had started as a simple kidnapping because she had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, Malon thought to herself. The three of them - Sera, Carmelita and herself - were sitting on the back of a carriage together with one other liberated hostage, with more carriages in front and behind them, driving in an orderly line. The kingdom’s soldiers were well trained in discipline of this kind, it would seem. Thanks to Carmelita passing them all the information that they needed, they had been able to organize a rescue party in record time. The hostages had been given blankets to cover and warm themselves, food and drink and first aid for the bruises, cuts and other injuries that they had sustained while captive. Of course, only the superficial, physical injuries could be treated. Many of these people had deep-going scars left from the horrors that they had gone through, that would last them a whole lifetime.
 
The trip back was slow, taking nearly two days instead of the one that it had taken Minas Tirith to send the rescue party, due to the larger number of travelers, but the three of them were rather happy about the downtime. At first neither of the three spoke a word, then Sera and Malon started at the same time, and had to stop each other to decide who would speak first. Malon explained, in rough terms, what she had learned from the illusion and why she was able to take on the appearance of one of the bandit leaders. She also apologized to Sera about having made her worry. Sera explained how she had been worried for Malon indeed, but how the story, crazy as it may be, reassured her, and talked about her relatives in Camelot and how she hoped that she could visit them soon - after this whole mess was concluded. The three of them had been asked to be witnesses in the trial against the Silverhand bandits and, after Carmelita had noted their suspicions about the royal guard having a mole in her call to Minas Tirith, to meet with an officer of the royal guard for a few questions once they were back.
 
Malon played with the bandana and the mask that she had fashioned out of Snake’s hair. It was strange how she associated that piece of cloth with not only Snake, but also Malon the 13th - her past incarnation where she’d been an assassin. When she put it on, she noticed, 13’s thoughts mixed with her own far stronger. Her mind cleared, she stopped moving unnecessarily…
 
“Malon, you’re spacing out again”, Sera said, snapping her out.
 
“Sorry… ah. I just thought of something.” She put the bandana aside and took the mask into her hands. The threads she had weaved the mask with slowly came undone and fell to the ground of the carriage as she pulled them one by one, a process done much faster than weaving the mask together. Eventually only the curl of Snake’s hair remained in Malon’s hands. She tossed the threads over the side of the carriage and took the bandana into one hand while holding the curl in her other. Finally she combined the two, weaving the strands of hair into the bandana until they were not to be seen anymore. “There we go… it will be easier to remember who this turns me into than that mask”, Malon declared as she put the bandana on, showing Sera how she could make herself appear like Snake until she removed it again. “It’s the Snake Band- no… the… the Bandit’s Bandana.” She was careful not to leave it on for more than a few seconds though, since Snake’s face was one the guards knew well. They knew that she was dead, but a reflex reaction without thinking if they saw her sitting on the carriage could spell her untimely death.
 
“What are you going to do when this is done, anyway?” asked Sera.
 
“I have no idea… but Camelot seems like a nice place, all things considered. The landscape reminds me a lot of Hyrule, before… well, before everything went to hell. I could find work on a farm somewhere, or as a cook. And with this Skinwalker stuff I won’t be caught as easily by a bunch of bandits.” She put the Bandit’s Bandana into a leather bag that she had “borrowed” from one of the stashes of the cave, since her backpack was stuffed full. What WOULD she do? Oddly enough, the idea of just going back to her old ways and working her life on a farm, selling milk and dreaming of heroes and white horses. She peeked towards Carmelita more often than not, when the fox wasn’t looking her way. How she had so confidently infiltrated the hideout, how she had handled a complicated situation with a vast number of dangerous bandits, made up a plan of escape and defeated several strong opponents, how she had saved them all… she was a model hero like in the books. Brave but not foolish, smart, quick-thinking, strong, yet also friendly, caring and fighting for the right thing. Malon had yet to find the right time to ask her, but she wondered if Carmelita worked for any group - any sort of justice-supporting guard force or something.
 
 
 
When they arrived at Minas Tirith in the mid afternoon Sera and Malon were handed fist-sized magic orbs, which the soldier informed them to be Communicators. They were free to move around Minas Tirith until the trial commenced or they were ready to be questioned about the supposed mole, but were requested to stay in the city or nearby as they were important witnesses. With the Communicator they could be contacted to show up for the trial when the time came. While they were at it, Sera and Malon exchanged numbers with each other and with Carmelita as well. They then drove through the main gate of Minas Tirith’s outer walls, traversing a veritable sea of people with their line of carriages while soldiers kept the way clear for them, and stopped by the guard stables where the carriages would be brought. Malon climbed off the carriage. Carmelita was already busy with an official-looking individual that had been waiting for them, and Sera was climbing off behind her.
 
Malon would have waited for her, but the curious sight of a group of people in strange clothes manning a large booth that said “Syntech - DA Sign-Ups” on a large sign above it caught her eye. She walked over to see what was going on with that.