The sun, a lazy orange eye, peered over the horizon and into the room once Kate's. Dusty creaks echoed, punctuated by Hazzle's shedding scales. Dawn's light struggled against lingering shadows as she brushed away loose scales, like falling feathers.

Something was wrong. No snores, no murmurs. Just the rhythmic crash of waves and salty air. Hazzle feared Kate had left early for their shared grave. The undisturbed bed confirmed her worst fears. Panic clawed at her throat.

The door was ajar. Had it been a dream? Her scaly skin was a stark reminder of reality. The faint scent of him lingered, a bitter testament to yesterday. This wasn't a change of heart. Dread filled her, mirroring the dent in the wall from her frantic dash downstairs. The old stairs groaned as she descended, retracing their steps.

At the bottom, not Kate, but a face-down figure lay on the table. Roy, fur ruffled, was beside her. Had Kate joined their fallen family? Hazzle trembled, fear battling hope. A glimmer caught her eye: a map. Instructions for something big, sooner than expected.

A cold grip seized her. Kate's hand, icy and stiff, clung to her arm. Fear locked her in place as she faced Kate. Mist escaped Kate's lips like a malfunctioning fog machine. Her head turned slowly.

Kate looked like a forgotten corpse, her eyes red and sunken. A strained smile revealed her struggle. "Goo... mornin' Haz..." she rasped. Her body failed her as she tried to rise. Hazzle shrieked in primal panic, flinging Kate's arm away. Kate tumbled, her head hitting the table, a tooth flying, blood trickling.

An anguished scream erupted from Kate. Roy squeaked. Hazzle watched, regret flooding her, as Kate cradled her nose and chipped tooth. "Kate! I'm so sorry! Are you—" Fear and concern warred within her.

Kate's voice, thick and metallic, croaked, "Most likely..." She winced as she straightened her nose. Blood trickled. "That's one helluva way to wake someone up, Haz. What brings you downstairs?" Adrenaline edged her voice.

Hazzle brushed aside the chaos. "I was looking for you. And why is there a map?" Curiosity battled fear. Roy inched towards Kate's shoulder. Crimson blood stained the map.

"Well," Kate rasped, shielding her eyes, "last night I found out we're on the wrong side of a... trail." She yawned. "What trail?" Hazzle asked.

"The law," Kate mumbled. "The Law?!" Hazzle exclaimed.

A ghost of a smile played on Kate's lips. "Yep, Haz. The Thief Hunters. So, I made a plan. We – you, Roy, and me – get outta this weirdo-town by stealing some fancy... stuff." Her voice was rusty.

Hazzle was stunned. This plan, in this state, could get Kate killed. Concern edged her voice. "Kate, you need energy for that. Right now, you'd get yourself killed. How long did you even sleep?"

"Sleep?" Kate scoffed, still drowsy. "Who needs sleep when you can plan all night, no breaks, instead of—" Her words were cut short by a loud snore. Hazzle's jaw dropped. "What made you say—" she began, but Kate's eyes snapped open.

"The Law, obviously..." Kate started, then slumped back. "I mean... if I do it... later... we'll get done for it." She slumped onto the table, snoring softly.

Hazzle buried her face in her hand. Spinning Kate around, she shook her awake. "Kate, you can do this tonight. It's better than a mid-morning heist with your eyelids turning into lead weights. For now, get some sleep. Or at least visit your father."

Kate rose sluggishly, defiance flickering before fading. A surge of energy filled her as she took a deep breath. "Haz, my head is a mess. Maybe one last time for the good old Papa routine, before we leave this dump when the big cheese in the sky wakes everyone up." She stretched.

"I'll be back..." Kate's voice softened. She took the blueprints of her heist and turned to Hazzle, a flicker of doubt in her eyes. But then, a glint in Hazzle's eyes sparked renewed determination in Kate. With a nod and a soft "Take care of Roy, Haz," she exited, the door creaking shut. Venturing out to the graveyard under the harsh rising sun, her fate hung in the balance.

The graveyard chilled Kate's skin, a familiar cold comfort. This would be her last visit. A pang of sadness flickered in her eyes, hidden by her hood. Someone had been here. Or maybe it was just grief from another, mourning is expected in the town of the rest.

Back home, Hazzle wrestled with Roy's... gift. "Roy," she began, addressing his beady eyes, "could you possibly move? This is my bed." Words failed her as she gestured towards the pungent puddle. Roy puffed out his fur. "Hey, no offense!" Hazzle backtracked. "You're on the stain."

In a heart-stopping squeal, sharp as a rusty nail, Roy stood upright. Hazzle, startled, lashed around, her heart mimicking a horse race against her ribs. Roy stood like stone, fur bristling like a threatened hedgehog. Chilling, foggy fear flooded her throat, constricting her breath. What had set the once protective rodent off?

Then Hazzle saw them. Two figures, possibly related to the law, lurked by the window, a contrast to the orange hazy sun, holding what seems to be a weapon strolling to the path to the grim graveyard. A horrifying truth slammed into her. They were here for Kate. Someone had found out about the thief's true whereabouts, or perhaps a whisper of rumors had caught wind.

Hazzle's breath tied in her throat. She had to act, and fast. The disguise was her only weapon. Snatching an old, ragged cloak Kate had left, the one with a marked scar. With hands that shook like leaves in a storm, she wrapped the cloak around her lower face, hiding the reptilian scales that marked her transformation. Next, she pulled on a bulky, distorted winter coat that hung loosely on her frame, collecting dust. Round spectacles, long forgotten in the bottom drawer of her desk, were used, dusty, sporting a few dried-ink stains, their lenses cloudy with neglect. further obscuring her features. A slack cowboy hat, retrieved from a dusty corner, completed the transformation, casting an additional shroud of shadow over her face.

These men were very much to claim their prize, dead or alive. 

She had to reach Kate. Warn her of the impending danger before it was too late.

Kate brushed off the chill dirt of the shared grave, settling into the dead grass. Closing her eyes, she inhaled the grim, familiar scent – a strange comfort. It felt almost nostalgic, a stark contrast to the sadness that welled up within her. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled, whispering a prepared message. "Good morning, Papa..."

Memories flickered as she spoke softly. Her father, Rusty, materialized in her mind's eye, his clothes a hazy sketch of shattered memories. He wore the outfit he had on when he promised her a pet mouse. His face, though slightly distorted with each blink, held a comforting warmth. This was goodbye.

Meanwhile, Hazzle burst through the front door with Roy on her shoulder as The two men marched towards the graveyard. Milky, snarled at Elmer. "Elm, that's not how you hold the darn thing! I only let you handle it because of your shot last week!"

Elmer, visibly shaken, stammered. "But that was a bow! This thing I hold..." He squinted at the unfamiliar weapon. "What is this... pipe-bow thing?"

Milky's eyes narrowed. Snatching the flintlock from Elmer, he aimed it at the sky. "This is called a flintlock, and it shoots pellets down!" he declared, then fired with a loud...

Elmer yelped in terror as the bird plummeted, a bloody mess. Stunned, he stammered, "W-Wow, that thing... goodness, that was one hell of a shot!" Milky raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean by that?"

"The bird, Milk! It crashed down like a fly!" Elmer gushed in a mixture of fear and awe. Milky grimaced in disgust. "Luck," he muttered.

Still chuckling over his "luck," Milky reloaded and continued towards the graveyard. Hazzle, frozen with fear from the gunshot, watched them approach. Roy, sensing her terror, squeaked a desperate warning, hoping to alert Kate.

Kate lingered in the graveyard's oppressive stillness, her fabricated vision an ointment for her grief. "Papa, I wanted you to know..." she started, her voice catching as her eyes darted away. Rusty's voice, a warped echo of shattered memories, rasped, "What is it, Katy Plum?" His tone was flat, lifeless, a figment of Kate's longing for the father of her childhood.

She cut through the haze, trying for simplicity. "...Just wanted to say, Papa, that Hazzle and I are leaving this town. Never coming back." Tears welled in her eyes, threatening to break the dam of her emotions. "So... it'll be a long time before I see you again." Tears streamed down her face, soaking the dead grass.

Rusty's comforting hand, a product of her imagination, patted her shoulder. "It's alright, Kate Plum. Miss Clover and I are here for you, no matter what. And before you go, Katey Plum," he continued, their moment interrupted by a jarring clang at the iron gate.

The clang at the iron gate ripped Kate from her drowsy state. The comforting dream vanished, replaced by the harsh shock of reality. Rusty's presence dissolved, leaving her alone and vulnerable. A familiar voice, laced with malice, echoed through the graveyard: "MADAM!" Milky roared, his eyes wild as he slammed the gate shut. "Miss Kate, you somehow escaped a glass shard through your chest? Dead or alive, you confuse us all!" He aimed a hand, red and furious, at Kate's drowsy, bewildered face. "Everyone thought you were DONE FOR! Yet here you are, a ghost haunting this town!"

Milky's grip tightened on the flintlock, his palm bleeding from his white-knuckled grip. "This place..." he growled, his voice thick with frustration. "These unhinged people twist reality into chaos, fabricating stories just to suit their desperation." He brandished the flintlock at Kate, his eyes glinting with a dangerous mix of anger and desperation. "A desperation to bury my mistakes, to clear MY name from the mess, YOUR DESTRUCTIVE Legacy to your FATHER!" He spat the words at Kate, his face contorted with rage. "I'll use ANYTHING to make you PAY!"

Panic seized Kate. The strange contraption in front of her, a twisted metal tube, held her focus captive. Its purpose was a horrifying unknown. A weapon of sound? Or something worse? She was frozen, unable to speak, her body a statue of terror.

A metallic click sent shivers down her spine. The world seemed to dim, the only light source emanating from the menacing device. A primal scream urged her to flee, but the only sounds were a muffled struggle and a guttural roar. Relief, a fleeting wave, washed over her as the roar intensified. The figure wielding the weapon scrambled back, dropping something metallic in the process.

But that fragile hope shattered as the weapon shuddered violently. Kate caught a glimpse of something dark within the barrel, followed by a blinding flash...

A searing pain that exploded in her leg. It felt like a demon had plunged a fiery poker into her flesh. A primal scream ripped from her throat as the world snapped back into focus.

Blood poured freely from her wounds. Through the haze of pain, she saw them – two figures holding the weapon. Her eyes darted between them, confusion warring with the agony. Milky, one of her pursuers, held it, but... there was another. Hazzle? Her closest friend?

Hazzle's eyes, wide with horror, mirrored Kate's confusion. Betrayal, a cold serpent, coiled around Kate's heart. Her vision blurred with tears, a silent scream trapped within. Hazzle's mind raced, replaying the scene in a fractured loop. The pull of the trigger... but how? It couldn't have been her... Right?

Relief flickered in Milky's eyes as he gazed down at Kate, it was dead silent and an ultimate success that locked his eyes on Kate's dimming eyes, but the lack of even a glint of satisfaction says otherwise, even with the smell of a smokey and scolding aroma of flesh. Through this silent end Hazzle, fueled by a mix of fear and desperation, lunged at Milky, her knee connecting with his gut with an agonizing yell. Elmer drowned in a panic about this stranger attacking his partner, grabbed a nearby headstone, and with a sickening thud, slammed it into Hazzle's skull, sending her unconscious.

The world spun. Kate watched, paralyzed, as Hazzle slumped to the ground. A surge of adrenaline flooded her system, momentarily pushing aside the searing agony in her leg. Betrayal, a bitter shard of ice, pierced through her. She lay there, a crimson bloom spreading on the grass, the searing pain a cruel counterpart to the icy grip of fear.

Her eyelids fluttered shut That Void Chest, let her be consumed by oblivion, and still watch the sun and moon collide with her crybaby-giving and Hag-like 'immortality'. Tears, hot and angry, streamed down her face. The loyalty she'd held for Hazzle, a bond she'd thought unbreakable like a diamond, shattered like fragile glass. But amidst the shards of betrayal, a tiny flicker remained – a desperate hope that somehow, this could be fixed. Right now, though, all she could do was lie there, wounded and alone, the taste of doubt and fear a bitter metallic tang on her tongue silently cursing every scale that flatbread had and yearning for that she as a thief rot like others before her.

The sickening thud of the gravestone against Hazzle's skull echoed through the graveyard, scattering the restless crows perched on the skeletal remains of a nearby tree. Elmer, panting and slick with sweat, exhaled with a relieved smile. "The gravestone... thank goodness it worked," he muttered, savoring the return of quiet air.

As Elmer curiously took a dropped blueprint of sorts, later putting it in his shallow pocket, Milky grunted, clutching his stomach. "Elm... get me up," he rasped.

Elmer hauled him to his feet, Milky's legs shaky like columns about to crumble. He snatched the gunpowder, pellets, and ramrod from Elmer, a glint of desperate satisfaction in his eyes as he surveyed Roy and the unconscious Hazzle. These two were the last loose ends, he thought.

Milky meticulously reloaded the flintlock. Elmer watched with growing unease. "Hey, Milk," he ventured, "is that for the mouse?"

Milky's response was short. "Partially." The real target, he thought darkly, was "the other one in my line of sight." His gaze twisted from desperate to sadistic as he pointed the flintlock at Hazzle. Roy froze.

"Witnesses are a pain to silence," Milky declared, a fiery hatred replacing his desperation.

Fear gripped Roy as Milky raised the flintlock at Hazzle. Before he could fire, a loud voice echoed from outside. A mourner, fueled by the day's events, had stirred the town's anger against Kate. "KATE THE ABANDONED!" they roared, a hungry crowd surging into the graveyard. "SHE RETURNS ONCE MORE TO FACE HER DOOM!" Milky's hope turned to dread as the mob closed in. Cheers and jeers filled the air, punctuated by flying debris of rotten tomatoes and such. A plump woman danced gleefully, her laughter echoing through the graveyard.

Suddenly, a man spotted the flintlock. His manic grin vanished, replaced by terror. A gasp escaped his lips. Silence fell over the crowd. The festive atmosphere turned cold. Fear replaced the earlier excitement. The graveyard, once filled with chaos, was now frozen in fear. The "devil's contraption" had silenced the mob.

The townspeople whispered, their eyes fixed on the "devil's contraption" Milky held. Elmer's unease grew, his gaze narrowing as his heart pounded. "What the hell is that?" a voice demanded. 

Milky faintly smirked, raising an eyebrow. "A flintlock sir or madam," he announced, gesturing at the weapon. A gasp rippled through the crowd. "Faster than a bow," he added, firing at a skeletal tree. A sharp crack echoed, followed by the spoiled egg scent of gunpowder. As the smoke cleared, Milky reloaded. "Like pocket cannons," he explained. Elmer's awe replaced his fear. The crowd roared, demanding Milky use the weapon on Kate.

Milky hesitated. He wanted to kill Kate. She was a stain on her father's legacy, an irritating scar. But he also slightly relished the attention the crowd was giving him, even though he despised the town. As he aimed, a cruel voice echoed, "Rot in hell with her father!" 

The words ignited a fury within him. Images of Rusty flashed before his eyes, his haunted expression carved in Milky's memory. His grip tightened, his breath misting. 

With a roar, he hurled the flintlock, creating a gaping hole in the tree. "RESPECT THE FATHER SIR!" he shouted, a crimson vein throbbing in his eye. Blood trickled down his cheek. Silence fell. 

His rage subsided, replaced by confusion. "Calm down," Elmer soothed. Milky nodded, his anger fading. "Capture her," he ordered. "We'll deal with this later." The crowd dragged Kate away, leaving a crimson trail.

Disappointment hung heavy in the air as the last spectator slammed the graveyard gates shut. Hours had passed, the sky darkening with heavy clouds replacing the summer-field-sunny morning.

 Hazzle awoke with a start, her vision blurred. Roy, Kate's fiery orange mouse, squeaked in terror, breaking the silence. Panic surged through Hazzle as she realized something was wrong. "Roy, what happened?" she whispered, her voice trembling. 

The frantic squeaks echoed in the grim stillness. She remembered struggling to save Kate, a clear memory now clouded by despair. "I remember that struggle," she muttered, her voice barely audible. "But... what happened?" The crimson trail was the only evidence of the struggle.

A sharp pain shot through her head, a memory of the gunshot. The moment of the trigger pull was a blank. Tears fell as she realized she might have shot Kate. "Oh, god..." she sobbed, her voice filled with anguish.

 "I... might have shot Kate." 

Roy, sensing her distress, nudged her hand. His small form offered comfort. "It's going to be okay," she whispered to herself, trying to find solace.

 A memory surfaced: Roy's terrified squeak as the gunshot rang out. He had witnessed everything. "Roy, did you see who shot first?" she asked, her voice hopeful. A wild thought struck her: Roy could be a key to her innocence.

 "If you understand me, please let me know," she pleaded, her eyes searching Roy's face for any sign of comprehension. His loyalty to Kate was a strong testament to her innocence. Yet, the doubt lingered a painful wound.

Roy nodded enthusiastically, a high-pitched squeak confirming his willingness to help. Hazzle managed a faint smile. "Okay, Roy, who pulled the trigger first?" she asked, hope flickering in her eyes. But Roy blinked, a low squeak escaping his lip. 

The mystery deepened, and Hazzle's relief vanished. Roy, sensing her disappointment, scurried to the skeletal tree. "Roy, what are you doing?" Hazzle followed, confusion etched on her face. Roy pointed with his tiny nose at the hole. 

Curiosity piqued, Hazzle reached into the hole and pulled out the flintlock. Her hand trembled as she examined the weapon, replaying the incident in her mind. She saw Kate's face, a thousand tiny pricks of betrayal. 

Trying to find a clue, she focused on the memory of the shooter The weight of the memory pressed down on her, but she remembered something. The shooter's eyes had a strange, almost unsatisfied yet slightly relieved look. 

Could it be the culprit? The flintlock, if she had indeed shot Kate, could be evidence.

Meanwhile, in a holding cell, Kate awoke from hours of sleep, her vision blurred and a pain in her leg. Betrayal consumed her, her bitterness like venom. Hazzle, her trusted friend, had betrayed her. Yet, something about the cell felt off. Her wound was strangely healing, but it was dark. She couldn't be dead. "Can anyone hear me?" she croaked, her voice weak. It couldn't be a nightmare. She could hear a festive crowd. Something felt strangely soft outside of the bars, And the cell itself felt like a lanky and thin doll box. This was no nightmare. It was a circus-like spectacle.

Hazzle left the graveyard, Roy tucked safely in her pocket. A blazing glow caught her attention. Curiosity pulled her towards the spectacle. A dense throng of townspeople, a writhing mass of bodies, surrounded a tall, thin cage standing on a carpet.

 A bloodied axe hung on a wooden board. Her heart pounded as she realized it was an execution. The carpet dropped, revealing Kate, caged and humiliated, in the center of the cheering crowd.

 Kate, with a red ball on her nose and white paint on her face, looked like a shell-shocked soldier. "What in the everloving hell did I get here?" she whispered, her voice filled with disbelief.

Milky and Elmer stepped into the blazing torches of the spotlight, Kate's caged figure a grotesque clown in the center. Milky prepared his speech, a grim execution to begin. His gaze met Kate's, and a flicker of recognition passed through him. 

This was his target, the end to Rusty's legacy tainted by her existence. Yet, the clown makeup, a grotesque mockery of her father, churned his stomach. "Hey Milk, what's wrong with looking at this clown?" Elmer asked a forced chuckle masking his concern.

 Milky's jaw clenched. "It's just..." he groaned, his eyes fixed on Kate. Elmer's expression softened. "Oh, I'm sorry, Milk. Is the makeup too brutal?" Milky shook his head, his voice strained. 

"No, it's not that. It's... it's like a mockery of her father." Kate's eyes pleaded, a silent plea for an end to the torment. The crowd's cheers turned to expectant silence.

Milky's discomfort grew. "Oh goodness, I'm so sorry," Elmer began, his voice laced with guilt. "The makeup... it makes it easier for me, you know, as the executioner." Milky nodded, his gaze averted from Kate. "Ah god. I thought it was just a joke, but you being the executioner... it's tough."

 Kate's head slumped, despair washing over her. A voice cut through the heavy silence. "Hey, executioner, do the damn deed! I gotta get back to work!" The man's impatience was palpable. Elmer dropped the axe, a look of defeat on his face. 

"Goodness... I could give you some bronze as compensation..." he offered, turning to Milky. "Are we allowed to do that?" Milky rubbed his temples. "At this point, sure give it to Sir whatever." Elmer retrieved a pouch of bronze and handed it to the man. "Here, for your family," he said, then turned back to Milky.

 "Should we?" Kate and Milky answered in unison, their voices barely audible, "Yes."

Milky's gaze lingered on Kate, a strange mix of relief and disgust in his eyes. Elmer grabbed the axe as Milky posed his question, "What are your last words, thief?" His voice was cold, but a murmur escaped his lips, "I won't call her a clown." The crowd's anticipation was palpable, their chants of "Kate the abandoned" filling the air. Kate took a deep breath, her voice trembling. "Papa, if you could hear this..." 

Her gaze shifted to Hazzle, a flicker of defiance in her eyes as she saw through Hazzle's disguise. Hazzle shook her head frantically, a silent plea for Kate to reconsider. Ignoring Hazzle's warning, Kate continued, her voice rising, "Decapitate my head, let it splash over the the panicked reptilian..." Before she could finish, a gunshot echoed through the crowd.

Shock rippled through everyone. Elmer dropped the axe, his eyes wide with disbelief. A European visitor in shining armor burst through the panicked crowd, his attendants close behind. "What do you want and why did you shoot that flintlock?" Milky demanded, his hand tightening around the axe. The stranger, a man with a comm his attendants close behind. "What do you want and why did you shoot that flintlock?" Milky deanding presence, replied, "Investigating this 'witch trial.' Who are you?" "Milk," Milky responded briefly. 

The stranger chuckled, his eyes scanning the scene. "Flintlocks, you say? Those are matchlocks, sir. Regardless, we're taking Kate Anderson for a real trial." Milky's anger sparked. "What real trial?" The stranger interrupted him, his voice calm but firm. 

"We're investigating another case with some allies from Spain, including me, and this... spectacle caught our attention when we heard from other towns. Attempted execution? Unacceptable." Milky's face contorted into a hellish snarl. Elmer stepped between them, his hand on Milky's arm. "Milk, take a breath," he urged softly.

Milky's breath came in ragged gasps as panic surged through him. If Kate went on trial, everything could unravel. The stabbing, his growing reputation as a ruthless enforcer - it could all come crashing down. Cold sweat trickled down his temple as his eyes darted around, wild with fear.

"So, are you going to do this or shoot me with that matchlock?" Kate's voice cut through his turmoil. Her eyes, shadowed with resignation, met his. A twisted satisfaction crept into Milky's expression as he reached for the axe. Hazzle's frantic gestures went unnoticed as Kate stuck out her tongue playfully. A flicker of hope ignited in Hazzle as she retrieved Roy from her pocket.

Kate's demeanor shifted dramatically as Roy's squeak filled the air. Dodging the descending axe, she narrowly avoided injury. Elmer's booming voice halted Milky's second attempt. "Milk, stop!" he shouted. "We can't kill her. Not here." Relief washed over Milky, but it was short-lived. "What do you mean?" he croaked, his voice hoarse. "Legally, we can't execute her in this town," Elmer explained. "But with enough evidence, and you as the town's enforcer, she's as good as dead."

Kate mouthed the words "void chest" to Hazzle, a silent name-calling. The strangers struggled to contain the caged woman. "See you tomorrow for the real trial," the man said with a sly laugh. Milky's anger flared. "We'll find a way to bring her down," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Hazzle raced towards the cage, her heart pounding in her chest. "Kate!" she cried out, her eyes filled with concern.

Hazzle's heart pounded in her chest as she looked at Kate, her mind raced. "Kate... I didn't shoot you," she pleaded, her voice trembling. "I would never hurt you." Kate's eyes narrowed, her voice laced with venom. "Oh, really Doc? Then explain the bloody shot that started all of this," she spat, her anger palpable. Hazzle's mind raced, trying to piece together the missing puzzle. "I remember the struggle," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "But the trigger... it's all blank, I..."

Kate's fury intensified. "A blank?" she snapped "You're an immortal Woman-Loving scaley, you can remember everything! I was a crooked fool to trust you, Doc. You did all of this because of that red-haired..." Her gaze fell on Hazzle once more, tears dripping down her chin as Hazzle trembled to the ground, repeatedly sobbing "I never..." Kate's eyes glistened with unshed tears, she tried to avoid looking at Hazzle but Roy...

Roy climbs up Hazzle's shoulder just to comfort her, a light to the darkness Kate is dressed in, the clown makeup once a more comforting way to seal her fate for the executioner, is now used as a mirror to her emotions as Roy with his beady eyes loses track of Kate. she choked on her words as she attempted something to change Roy's little mind but the phantom smell of ashes as a child in Kate mind reminded her mother's meltdown, and with Roy seamlessly away of Kate, the blinded venom was washed over by a tide of remorse in her eyes, one tear drips out washing away the paint in a line.

Kate's eyes softened a stark contrast to her hardened exterior. the single tear traced a path down her cheek, washing away some of her bitterness. "Doc," she began, her voice barely a whisper, "This is a deal. If I lose, you keep Roy." Her tone hardened again, the venom returning to her eyes. "But if you don't help me, you're a traitor to us both." Hazzle nodded, her eyes filled with a determined loyalty. Their bond, forged in adversity, was a fragile thing. Yet, at this moment, it was the only lifeline Kate had. 

After that Kate and her cage were brought into the carriage, a dimmed silhouette caused by the dripping mist of the rain. Meanwhile, Elmer with Milky on his side asked the stranger. "Can my friend here be the prosecutor?" Elmer asked. The stranger hesitated, his gaze sweeping the town. "It seems you two seem to be the only sane ones here who know this Kate besides bloody murder," he replied, finally exclaiming "Alright then!".

With Kate secured, they mounted their horses and rode out of town. "The court is just a few minutes away if you don't want to miss it," the stranger informed them, a playful grin spreading across his face. "We'll be reading about this in the papers tomorrow," he added, referring to their status right now, "Right now we have plenty of unsolved cases, especially the one that we need to bring Spaniards for." With a cheerful "Chao," they disappeared into the distance.

Hazzle watched the departing group, her gaze lingering on Kate's retreating form. Her heart ached for her friend, but a flicker of determination sparked in her eyes. She turned and walked towards her home, the flintlock heavy in her hand, even as she was haunted by the trigger still creeping at the back of her head.

Milky watched the departing horsemen with a mixture of relief and unease. "Spoiled lawmen," he muttered under his breath. Turning to Elmer, he asked, "Ready to find evidence?" Elmer nodded, taking the blueprint from his pocket. As he studied the intricate details, his eyes widened in shock. "Milky, look at this, it's a heist!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement.

Intrigue sparked in Milky's eyes as he leaned in closer. "Elm, we found the goldmine of evidence!" he declared, pointing to a specific section of the blueprint. A name, clearly visible amidst the crooked lines, caught their attention: "Kate Anderson."

As they examined the planned heist further, a few raindrops began to fall onto them, their rhythmic pattern a stark contrast to the growing excitement. "Look at this, Milk," Elmer whispered, his voice filled with wonder. "This is more than we could expect to find, genuine evidence..." The sentence was abruptly cut off as the first drops began to stain the paper.

"Elm, stop examining it, the damn ink is being tainted!" Milky exclaimed, his voice laced with urgency. "We need to save this or we lose it for good!" Elmer nodded frantically, his hands trembling as he hastily folded the blueprint and tucked it away, his mind racing. They had stumbled upon something extraordinary, a piece of evidence that could turn the tide in their favor. But the fragility of the paper and the relentless rain served as a stark reminder of the challenges that lay ahead.

The heavy rain for moments fell like rocks, hitting with its drips and drops as the sky dimmed into a seamless night, this blurs the vision of Hazzle, the cloak she wrapped her head around could be used as damming evidence by its stale yet dark crimson stain from the incident where both her and Kate met a few nights ago, her leftover scales can not be revealed by an eye of a person besides the ones she trusted.

A ripple of steps later she caught something with her eye in a dark and crooked alleyway, she looked closer to it, it was a mask bathing in a dimmed candlelight with colorful colors and a smiling lip, it was a discarded jester mask, Hazzle was hesitant to the idea of wearing it, even if she lived long to see jesters being advisors to the king, wearing this is a mockery of the court. 

A cruel joke to be defending the mistreated thief, who has white makeup and a red nose in her execution... 

An inferno of inspiration burst away Hazzle's worries, and a faint smile tides away the frown if Kate was painted as a cruel joke, or at least something to lessen guilt, so could she with this disguise. She determinedly wrapped off the worn-down cloak and pulled the foolish mask to her face, Heavy and dark clouds cleared up as the sun of the noon basked into the mask like an actor in the spotlight. Its oversized, painted smile doesn't mock her, it stands out for her, with her arms slowly extending upwards, she is going to defend Kate, even if she looks like a jester.

As the sun began its descent to dusk, the town transformed into a feverish hive of activity. Milky, with the cunning of a seasoned manipulator, mobilized the townspeople like soldiers. Their hatred for Kate was a potent weapon, easily ignited into a blaze of twisted righteous anger. Former victims and even a handful of brothel patrons emerged from the shadows, the patrons told their shattered or clear testimonies painting a portrait of a monster, a creature of darkness linked to Kate. It was a flimsy thread, a whisper of superstition in the face of logical justice, but it was already done, the town already preparing for the court like bloodthirsty spectators in a Roman callosum.

Hazzle, meanwhile, navigated the maze-like streets, her cloak a constant reminder of Kate. The jester mask, a cruel ironic disguise, offered a semblance of facelessness. With Roy perched on her shoulder, she scoured every corner, every alleyway. The black pellets from the graveyard were a concrete piece of the puzzle, but it was the unseen, that haunted her: the memory of the trigger, cold, yet blank as a canvas.

In the heart of a nearby town, Kate was a captive in a stone cell. The rhythmic thud of footsteps echoed through the building, a constant reminder of her fate. The world outside was a distant hum, a lifeless melody of voices and accusations. She was alone with her thoughts, a prisoner of her past and her present shared by all who were accused. A bitter taste lingered on her tongue, a mix of defiance and despair.

Then the day of the case arrived, its blazing sun, red and scolding the cobblestone path, the town was awakened by a twisted motivation to watch that thief perish from their prosecutor's hands. 

Hazzle woke up indifferently before "Good morning Roy" she whispered to the furry friend who slept on his nest that Kate made before, but the sun basking tyrannical crimson was alarming, her eyes widened at the townspeople already awoken this early in the morning reminding of the impending case that the town yearned for so long. 

Milky sat down in the lightless void called darkness around his room, with the only lamp behind his cold sweaty, and waterfall-like back, bathing in the crimson sunlight, his eyes already had veins ready to burst out as his eyelids turned into bag pouches, the weight of the impending trial crushed the ease that he though he once held, a complete headache that mirrors the fever-like worries within his skull.

This Maddam, no, the female of bastards, with her being a stain of a father's legacy, all in ruins because of her, held power to evaporate his and Elmer's life with a different outcome, if the balance of justice isn't in their hands, this madhouse of a town, a once ordinary and festive town shattered to ashes with a bang to be the feral beast that he tamed, With trust as the weakest glass, would turn on him and could unimaginable make him beg for death of what almost eldrich collective mindset of this town does to him. 

Meanwhile, at a small, solitary home, Hazzle took wear on her disguise as a drift of doubt halted her tracks, a defender who had nobody but a mouse at her side of defense against the army of the unknown, The weapon of the matchlock is a ghoulish reminder of a violent act and the blank gapping crack of the trigger. Redemption of Kate's innocence and her possible actions is falling apart, Failure is very likely to tear her and Kate apart. 

Yet Hope, a raft to the raging sea of doubt, a stubborn relationship that is already in shatters yet never died out.

For in the heart of both opposing forces, two sides of a coin that buys justice, the only thing that both a scaley defender and a manipulative prosecutor keep them going is only one name, an inferno of determination in their eyes, one dawning a Mask with a smile to mock the doubt and the other, doubt was completely useless to the fever and blood-pumping deep hatred, their paths are different but only one goal and motivation is the same for these two:

Justice for Kate Anderson