"We're almost there," Lindsay muttered as she spread open her foldup set of makeup palettes, scrunching her nose and assessing Penny's facial features to determine how best to frame them. She picked up a small tub of cream foundation to start, dipping two fingers in. "Let's hope Ramona's forger friend can get back to us in time."

Penny made intense eye contact, which made it a little weird to apply anything to her face, but whatever. "You ever wonder how she knows so many shady underground types?"

"Comes with the tragic backstory, I suppose," Lindsay sighed. She could make good use of those cheekbones, but my, did Penny have to have such a square face? It was a good thing she had such big dark eyes and thick lashes to work with. You know, come to think of it, Penny could have been a real knockout if she tried... She had that fairytale princess look but covered it up with sweaty sports and boring brown clothes. Baffling, frankly, when Lindsay had spent practically her whole childhood trying to look as much like a fairytale princess as she could. Anyway, if she was going to emphasize Penny's cheek structure, she might as well do the same thing for Ramona, who was shaped much softer. It would help make her less recognizable.

Penny kept distracting her from her makeover thought process. "It makes people rather difficult to trust when every day they reveal fresh dirt from under their hoods."

"You don't trust Swan?"

"Is that even her real name?"

That gave Lindsay pause. She shook it off and picked up a brush. "She's our friend. It's not as though you don't have things you keep locked up."

"She keeps her own wings locked up. Doesn't strike you as odd in any way?"

"You've seen the way the world treats dusters," she replied coldly. "I'd do the same thing if I'd been called the Ugly Duckling my whole life."

Penny recoiled slightly. Lindsay grabbed her by the chin—none too gently, mind you—to get a better reach.

"Stop moving or this'll take forever. I need you, Minerva, and Duckie to look as uniform as possible."

Penny's mind was still swirling with uncertainty. Maybe it had nothing to do with Ramona at all, although she'd had reservations about her (and, truthfully, the lot of them) before. Maybe what was really bothering her was the fact that everything had felt considerably off since the queen's death, as if the world itself had tilted the wrong way on its axis. She felt muddled and fuzzy and everything irritated her, and every time she slept she kept seeing red. She was just so... so tired.

Lindsay frowned, her hand pausing momentarily as she brushed powder across Penny's cheek. "What is that?"

"What's what?" Penny's hand flew to her face. "Oh." The scratch from the fight the previous day hadn't healed yet. It seemed like it might be inflamed. "It's fine."

She didn't believe that, not really, but she was so sick and tired of everyone bringing up new problems that she didn't want to add anything else that would make it take longer for this whole endeavor to be over with. She would handle the infection herself. Lindsay didn't seem to care either way and was content with resuming applying her makeup. Makeup wasn't really Penny's forte. She had had handmaids wait on her hand and foot when she was married to Prince Skip, and they dolled her up then, but her appearance didn't really matter now. It was all fine and well that people like Lindsay put a lot of effort into it, but it felt to her like a silly and frivolous endeavor when she could be practicing with her new bow, for example. Of course, Lindsay would say that archery was a frivolous endeavor in response. To each their own, Penny mused.

Come to think of it, a lot of things had been different when she lived in the palace. Princess Penelope, they'd called her. But when she left the guys in the boxing ring shortened it—Penny—and it felt less formal so it stuck. All of the thieves had been someone quite the same but also considerably different before they met each other. She still remembered the day she'd first been invited to join their crew. She had fled the region she ruled over—the Rose and Villagetown mainland was notorious for constant shifts in minor management, and Northeast Rose was overthrown in the midst of the Riding Hood Riots. To this day red cloaks made her shiver. Penny was probably lucky to be alive. But she never did leave Rose; it was a sprawling kingdom more than four times the size of Villagetown where she'd grown up and it was easy enough to get lost and start a new life. She was up against a real big guy that day, an ogre named Cecil. He was a regular and nice enough, about as friendly as ogres could manage to be, but Penny wasn't about to break her six-win streak.

She'd been dripping with sweat and somewhat dehydrated because of it, licking dry lips and readying herself for her next swing. She never got it in because Cecil feinted left and then knocked his head violently into hers, leaving her ears ringing. She'd dizzily righted herself and barely registered someone she didn't recognize pushing her way through to the front of the crowd. Cecil took a hit, and she took two, and they tumbled for a bit before both standing at the ready, circling each other like vultures as they inched ever so slowly closer.

Penny had swung her leg in a low arc and toppled him off his feet with a thunk, taking the time he wasted stumbling to grab one of the poles that strung rope around the arena and slam it into his gut. The crowds had whooped and shouted—that was cheating. But Penny didn't play clean. She'd never win that way, not against men far more than thrice her size. Punch to the jaw, knee to the kidney, elbow to the stomach, and he was finally on the ground. Her knee pressed into his chest as he struggled to breathe, she waited for the count. One. Two. Three. Third time's a charm. The bell gonged and she released Cecil, reaching out to help him up.

"You dipped again," Cecil had said in that thick western Fairy accent of his afterward, referring to her cheating. Penny shrugged.

"Arthur doesn't care," she'd responded. Their boss was relatively lax so long as the cash continuously poured in. If it didn't... now that was an entirely different story. "He says it riles up the crowd, makes 'em mad. They stay for more to satiate their cravings for justice."

Cecil shook his head, popping the cork off a bottle of Bhaltair whiskey and downing about a third of it with a wince. It was technically only legal for ogres to drink given its potency, and truthfully Penny was too afraid to ever have tried it even when it was offered to her. Players weren't really allowed to drink on the job, but it wasn't like anyone was going to try and stop him. "I don't like you," he said, but there was no malice in his voice. Penny glanced up at the chalkboard displaying the week's scores. An assistant added a tally under her name, ticking up her streak to seven. Not a single match lost in the last three days.

"I play to win and I get my money." Penny patted him on the back. It didn't really matter how many times Cecil lost, either—he'd still get his paycheck at the end of the day same as everyone else. Although Penny would collect a few extra tens per winning match, any real competition was mostly staged or just for fun between the fighters. "Besides, I wasn't about to let myself drop out of the top five." There were screens around the ring that flashed photos of the five competitors voted most popular with the audiences. PENNY WINSDOR was one of them.

"You're in the top five because the crowds have to have at least one hot chick," Cecil argued, waving the bottle haphazardly. Penny frowned. That was an unspoken truth in a largely male-dominated sport, but she had never counted herself in that category. "Speak of the devil," he added with a soft laugh, gesturing to the girl emerging from the locker room in a fitted black top and shorts. Dirty-blond hair sheared short, with choppy bangs that framed her face. She was lean, leaner than Penny was, but had arms like slim cannons and washboard abs. Cecil was practically drooling as she headed over to the arena. Dread flooded Penny's expression.

"I have to go up against Blair?"

"You could tap out," said Cecil smugly.

"Like hell. I'm not the only one who cheats, you know. She's a damn duster and everyone pretends she isn't—we all know why. Close your mouth, Cecil, you'll get drool on your shirt."

"Your jealousy's showing," he singsonged.

"I am not—"

"Hey," someone said breathlessly, having run up to them. Penny narrowed her eyes. It was the girl she'd seen pushing through the crowds earlier. Fay judging by the accent. Not quite the same as Cecil's, though. She wasn't familiar enough with Fairy regions to place it. "You're Windsor, aren't you?"

"What's it to you?" she said gruffly. She was already annoyed—and now what? Had Skip sent someone to find her? The fear tugged at her insides, her pulse already speeding up. She'd thought she was rid of him. Penelope Callaghan. No. No. She was Penny Windsor. Never filed for a legal divorce... her thoughts reminded her. I'm still a Windsor, dammit!

The girl pursed heart-shaped lips. "Heard of the Ugly Duckling?"

Penny wrinkled her nose. This wasn't going where she'd expected it to. The Ugly... Oh, yeah.

"The thief? Yeah, I have."

"Perfect. You know she's here, then?"

"Here in Noc Ruadh or here at the arena?"

A haughty smirk spread across her face. "That depends on your answer."

"My answer to what?"

"Our offer."

Penny wrapped gauze around her bloody knuckles, snapping off the end with her teeth. "I have a match to get to with the last witch I feel like fighting right now. I don't want to hear your offer."

"We need muscle," the stranger insisted. "It pays good."

"I ain't a criminal." She elbowed past her, heading for the arena again. "There's lots of dumb muscle around here. Find someone else."

"We don't want dumb muscle. We want smart muscle. You're resourceful, scrappy."

"I don't care," Penny spat.

"We can protect you from him."

She paused, jaw tightening.

"Am I supposed to know what you're talking about?"

"Skipper Callaghan?" Penny spun. The girl lifted a carefully sculpted eyebrow. "Yeah. We know who he is. And we know you don't want to end up anywhere near him ever again."

Penny had stalked forward, inches from the face that she now knew was Lindsay's. "I don't need protection," she hissed. And then she told Lindsay that she could tell the Ugly Duckling to go do something that made Cecil bark a laugh. Cecil winked at Lindsay and they both left.

I ain't a criminal. The thought made her laugh now. How did one go from a princess to a thief? The most fascinating part was that it was actually something of an upgrade. She was snapped out of her past life by Lindsay slapping her lightly on the cheek.

"Get up! Time to do your hair now. The Pea Princess bodyguard uniform always has a sleek ponytail with a black ribbon."

"How do you even know this?" Penny grumbled, obediently uncoiling her hair from its braided bun. It fell to her waist, normally stick-straight but in gentle waves now thanks to having been braided tightly for so long.

"It's a good group, alright?" said Lindsay defensively. "You know, Minerva never puts on the radio because she's lame, but Claude's driving now," she realized with an eager grin.

"Not a chance," Claude called flatly. Lindsay pouted.

"Just one Peas in a Pod CD? You don't have to play the whole album if you don't want to—"

Claude slid a disc into the compartment and pressed play. Lindsay groaned when it was Pinnochio the rapper. He turned the volume up, glancing over his shoulder to revel in her distaste with a smug smirk on his face. The most frustrating part was that he wasn't even a rap fan.

"I thought you liked classical!"

"Yeah, but this annoys you and I enjoy that greatly."

"You're still wearing the dress."

"And you're going to listen to this the whole rest of the drive."

Lindsay covered her ears and moaned in mock pain, Penny sighing with disinterest beside her as she smoothed back and tied up her hair. "There's only about an hour left," she told Lindsay in a halfhearted attempt at encouragement.

Lindsay crossed her arms. "That makes me feel so much better," she said bitterly.

The next hour was filled with mostly costuming. Ramona and Bear had to be woken up, and then Lindsay gave Penny, Ramona, and Minerva uniform hair and makeup looks with a muted brown wig to cover Ramona's atrociously conspicuous hair. Gelling back Bear's hair was a horrible chore—there was just so much of it, and he didn't take care of it well enough for it to be easy to work with. After tearing through tangles and undoing all the small braids through it, she finally managed to put it all into one neat low ponytail. The beard was a whole other ordeal.

"I'm sorry, Baby, but we've really got to get rid of it."

"But I don't feel myself without it!" he protested sadly.

"I know, I know." Lindsay wasn't normally all that empathetic, but he was terribly distressed about the matter, and she felt so bad that she conceded somewhat. "I'm just gonna shorten it, alright? It's unruly."

And so Baby Bear's massive beard was shaved to a small, respectable one, and the clippings dumped unceremoniously out the window while he watched on with despondence. It was very strange looking at him with so much less hair. Of course, it would be back with a vengeance in a week—Bear's hair grew like Rapunzel's. Still, he grieved the loss anyway.

They finally parked in the back lot behind the enormous FastTrav airport building. It was an eyesore, mostly thanks to the gigantic neon banner that read FASTTRAV: THE PILLAR OF THE TRANSPORTATION REVOLUTION. A sign displayed in front of several entrances advertised AN ADVENTURE AROUND EVERY CORNER!

Claude was probably the most difficult to dress. Lindsay had to manage to school his features into a more feminine look, and Minerva had to coax him into a corset to tighten his waist. The end result looked ridiculous to them, but Lindsay had to admit that it had an astonishingly convincing effect. Claude looked about as happy as a mermaid out of water, but he wore the heels with pride anyway. Of course, he did everything with pride.

He turned to Ramona, dramatically tossing his hair. "How do I look?"

"Like a moose in lipstick," she said without looking up from the spellbook page she'd been rereading over and over.

"But, like, a sexy moose?"

Ramona flashed a condescending smile. "I'm sure girls dig a man in a pencil skirt."

Claude returned the mocking grin. "I'm sure dudes love ducks."

"Get a room," Minerva said, snapping a temporary hairstyle wand to life—the trendy new replacement for curling and straightening irons. It glowed pink and she waved it apathetically around Claude's head. His hair fizzled and the curls unwound, straightening and lengthening it. It was still relatively short, but having been yanked straight, it went from falling midway down his neck to reaching a little ways past his collarbone. Shorter than Lindsay's hair, but longer than Ramona's. A sparkly barrette completed the look.

"Alright, everyone, go ahead and take blackmail pictures," Claude declared, gesturing to his new getup. Penny clapped her hands.

"Fantastic idea! Where's the scoping camera?"

"Someone rearranged all the stuff that I had neatly organized looking for a shrinking artifact," Lindsay chided with a pointed glance at Bear, who threw up his hands as if to say what are you looking at me for?

Penny narrowed her eyes at Claude. "You get off easy this time." He silently thanked his lucky stars.

"Where's the paperwork?" Minerva asked Ramona quietly, and Ramona wiggled her fingers out the open window. They were cutting it close on time. They couldn't just sit here all night, not if they wanted to avoid scrutiny. It was rush hour, and a crowded airport was a convenient one.

"Give it a minute."

She did have a way with birds. Sure enough, a northern cardinal arrived shortly with a fresh envelope. She tore it open.

R—

Long time since I've heard from you. Rumor has it you tried to steal the queen's crown. I do hope next time you're actually successful. It would be an entertaining display at the Blackhearts if you plan to go this year. Here's the docs, most I could do in the time given. Luckily we have a new printing machine. Now be a responsible little thief and do something illegal with it, sweetheart.

See you at the convention.

—H

She could only hope that she wouldn't be the laughingstock of the Blackhearts if she really did arrive. She had to come up with a scheme that was totally off-book, something that had never been done before—something truly impressive if she wanted any chance of winning. Either everyone would be impressed thinking she was involved in the murder of Snow White, or they would be amused that she had attempted to snatch Snow's crown. Ramona had learned that more often than not it was best to let rumors fester—her reputation had always been much more ruthless than she was and she navigated the criminal underworld best when she manipulated that to her favor.

She flipped through the papers. The work was flawless. If Hayden had been here, she might've kissed him.

The plan was in place. It was showtime.

She was counting on Lindsay's and Claude's acting skills to pull them through. She trusted them, sure, but with everything that had been happening lately and the tension in the crew she couldn't stop the nervousness blooming in her chest. Everything had to go perfectly or they'd be kidnapping fairy godmothers. She ran through the plan one more time in her head. Costumes, papers, spell. Costumes, papers, spell. Simple enough. They could do this. It was just another heist, only easier.

Ramona breathed in deeply and allowed the thought to settle her nerves. Another heist. Only easier.

Minerva handed her one of the gold bangles she normally wore in her hair, which she liked to pretend she hadn't stolen from Claude. She gave another to Penny. "Wear these instead of ribbons." She pulled her ponytail through one, pinning a small onyx hair clip through it. "Just in case." Ramona watched her carefully before nodding and swapping the black ribbon for the bangle. She knew what Minerva used that clip for, and connected the dots—all three bodyguards had to match as closely as possible lest they raise suspicion.

They all filed out, adjusting each other's costumes and fussing over hair in the parking lot. Passerby ogled them strangely, and Claude tapped his foot impatiently, telling Bear to hurry up. "Alright, it's one of these," Bear said, holding up a handful of wacky-looking objects. "I was a little scared to try them in the van. Here goes nothing."

Minerva cringed and covered her eyes with her hands, and Bear fired something star-shaped at a stray rock nearby. It exploded abruptly in a shower of white sparks.

"Well, that's not it." He discarded the star over his shoulder and tried a ring set with a blue gemstone instead. "Maybe this one."

The lizard he targeted with a blue beam very suddenly shifted into a small lizard-sized rooster. Ramona's eyes lit up, and she crouched down and cupped her hands around it. Penny looked on with disinterest as she picked it up. She hoped Ramona didn't intend to keep it.

"Nope," Bear said decisively. He held up a bottle filled with what appeared to be glitter (but anyone who had lived in Fairytaletopia for longer than a day knew better). He examined the tag, which read DRINK ME. "Seems promising." It was the last thing he had, so he turned to the van and held it out hesitantly, slightly nervous about it combusting given the exploding rock. He popped the cork, and the bottle shot out of his hands like a rocket, hurtling toward the vehicle. In an enormous puff of sparkles that left the thieves all hacking and coughing, it disappeared.

"It—" Lindsay coughed, holding up a finger. "Wait—I—I have—a joke—"

"It vanished," Claude said with a satisfied grin, recovering from the dust much faster than she had. Perks of growing up in the slums in Fairy. "Is that what you were going to say?"

Lindsay had some choice words for him that proper narrators have the good sense not to repeat.

Minerva picked it up and examined it, now small enough to fit in the palm of her hand like a toy car. "Didn't go anywhere. Just travel-sized now." She handed it to Ramona, who put it in her magical bag and zipped it. When she unzipped the compartment again the miniature van really was gone. Perfect. She'd gotten this bag for that exact reason—it always appeared empty when being searched.

"Right, then," murmured Ramona. "Into character, everyone. There's already people staring at us."

Lindsay straightened, adjusting her updo; Claude flexed his ankles in his heels; and Bear put on false glasses, a clipboard under his arm. Whispers and pointed fingers followed them as they made their way through the parking lot, camera lights flashing every so often. It was a good thing Snow Kingdom wasn't keen on cell phones, but photos would undoubtedly get out to the newspapers regardless, and Ramona could picture the headlines now: Peas in a Pod lead singer Eloise Diamond spotted in Snow Kingdom, and fans speculate that she may have gained some weight... She stifled a laugh at the thought of the real Eloise's horrifically offended expression.

Penny leaned over. "Leave the rooster."

Ramona had almost forgotten she was holding it. She clutched it a bit tighter. "He was a lizard and now all of a sudden he's been thrust into an entirely different body and view of the world. We can't just abandon him," she whispered urgently.

"Then put the damn thing in your backpack."

They glared at each other in a brief staring contest before Ramona did so. The whole crew headed around to the front of the building and went inside.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

🎶 I hate having to come up with new chapter titles 🎶 It takes everything out of me to come up with chapter titles 🎶 I am not naturally inclined to titling 🎶 Nothing else to say in this author's note 🎶 What should I write in Chapter 27 🎶 Yikes that's scary that it's Chapter 27 now 🎶 14 sounded far more manageable 🎶 regret 🎶 regret 🎶 regreeeeettt 🎶