(Note that this does not assault any "dignity", I don't like writing it, especially to my creation, please read it at your own pace)

All hell broke loose. Disgust distorted the faces in the room as Hazzle scrambled to her feet. Kate lay unconscious in a corner, discarded like a broken toy. Hazzle's normally vibrant world morphed into something unsettling. The colors on the walls bled together, and her skin felt strangely raw, like scribbles drawn on a sensitive canvas. This felt wrong, terribly wrong. No one should feel like a hastily drawn caricature.

"What's wrong with you people?!" Hazzle cried out, her voice a fractured melody of her usual confidence and a rising panic. "I thought... there was a... sense of community... here! Isn't that ironic?"

She stormed towards the exit, the brothel suddenly feeling oppressive. But escape was swiftly cut off. A female worker hissed, her voice laced with venomous hatred. "This 'community' doesn't tolerate sinners like you walking among us, baby-stealer!"

The accusations flew thick and fast. "Get out, you degenerate!" one man bellowed. "Go back to the underworld where you belong!" another shrieked. Each word felt like a physical blow, chipping away at the foundation of Hazzle's being. Then, fists and feet began to beat her. Bruises bloomed on her skin, and a metallic tang filled her mouth. The world seemed to distort around her, sounds turning fuzzy and her vision blurring. But a strange thing happened. Briefly, her eyes gleamed an unnatural yellow, and her teeth elongated for a fleeting moment, causing the patrons to recoil in fear.

For Hazzle, though, it was a momentary anomaly. Her focus remained on escape, fueled by a desperate will to hold onto the newfound confidence she had discovered. The patrons, however, saw only a terrifying confirmation of their worst fears. They redoubled their attacks, a frantic mob determined to purge the perceived demon from their depth.

Through the pain and confusion, a shred of defiance flickered within Hazzle. "You know what?" she gasped, her voice hoarse but her gaze still holding a flicker of its former spark. "It's truly poetic! You call me a freaky creature, but..." she gasped, blood trickling down her chin, "you... all are the fear that hides under the corners, the real scary monsters!"

A surge of adrenaline briefly fueled a resurgence of her vibrant world, colors returning like a muted sunrise. Her voice, ragged but determined, rose above the din like a phoenix. "You hate what you don't understand!"

But the flicker of defiance was quickly extinguished. A brutal punch to the face silenced her, a purple bruise blossoming before bursting open in a sickening spray. This felt different. Hazzle could weather a punch, two even in this situation. But this, however... this felt like the life being drained from her. Her gaze fell upon the crimson-haired woman, now a stranger with eyes full of something far colder than the initial hate. It was a look that pierced deeper than any blade, leaving Hazzle feeling utterly lost.

"Shut your mouth, man-pretender," the stranger snarled, her voice stripped of its earlier playful facade. Hazzle's heart hammered against her ribs, the rhythm mimicking the death knell of hope. "I thought you..." her voice croaked a mere rasp.

"You thought what, the little 'appointment' we had?" The stranger mimicked, her voice dripping with scorn. "It was a game, Doctor. A way to make some easy copper off a naive fool like you. Even if I was drawn to you at first, it all ended when your true nature was revealed. You're just a sinner!"

Hazzle's heart shattered. Tears welled up, blurring her vision further. The once-vibrant world around her had devolved into a monochrome wasteland. The laughter of the patrons echoed in her ears, a cruel soundtrack to her utter humiliation. No one, not even the unconscious Kate, seemed to offer any solace. The brothel, once a potential haven, now felt like a tomb.

With a cruel flourish, the redhead yanked Hazzle up by her hair. "Everyone," she roared, her voice ringing with a twisted amusement. "This pathetic creature weeps! Show her the welcome she deserves! A send-off for fraud, a freak, and a slayer of innocence, before and after us!"

A contagious laughter erupted through the crowd. The anger they once felt toward Hazzle had morphed into a grotesque sense of righteous victory. They were vanquishing a monster, a creature blasphemous. Bottles and debris rained down on Hazzle, each impacting another excruciating blow to her already battered body and spirit. The cacophony of sounds and the pain threatened to overwhelm her, dragging her deeper into the abyss of despair.

The patrons hurled bottles with drunken abandon, transforming the brothel into a twisted carnival game. Hazzle's once-formal clothes hung in tatters, resembling the garb of a refugee caught in the crossfire. Her mind was a warzone itself, a storm brewing beneath a fractured surface. An unsettling itch crawled under her skin, a perverse pleasure accompanying the throbbing pain. Hallucinations intensified, a distorted world awash in the color red. The metallic tang filled her senses, a beacon amidst the chaos, yet somehow dizzying. A chilling giggle escaped her lips, a sound that sent shivers down the spines of her attackers.

The redheaded stranger, her earlier amusement replaced by a furrowed brow, yanked Hazzle up by the hair. The gesture, surprisingly, silenced the room. "Doctor," she growled, a mix of anger and bewilderment lacing her voice, "is this... amusement... too weak for your... tastes? Because if not..." Her voice trailed off, a threat hanging in the air.

Hazzle's response was a soft, almost imperceptible puff of air, "Do it."

A hesitant silence descended. Some patrons obliged, their initial bloodlust replaced by an unsettling feeling. Hazzle's giggles morphed into full-blown laughter, a sound that careened between joy and a desperate plea for help. The beatings escalated – kicks, punches, anything to subdue the seemingly hysterical woman. But the laughter died down soon after, replaced by a sense of unease. The earlier transformation lingered in their minds, a chilling suspicion that Hazzle was somehow... different.

In a twisted dream-like state, Hazzle envisioned herself in a desolate field. Her body seemed to rot from the inside out, a haunting melody filling the air. It felt unreal, almost dreamlike. Detached from the pain, her mind became a canvas of crimson. The sky bled red, and the faces of her attackers warped into grotesque caricatures of laughter. The field turned into a landscape of jagged shards and spikes, then... she jolted back to reality.

With a final, desperate yell that echoed through the dream-like haze, Hazzle awoke from her fractured mental state. The manic laughter was a mere echo in her subconscious. A primal scream tore through her throat, releasing a torrent of physical and mental anguish. Her vision swam, a kaleidoscope of melting colors dissolving into blurry outlines. Flashes of the drawings flickered in her mind. Her heart pounded a chilling rhythm, a coldness spreading through her body like the embrace of death. Yet, beneath it all, a strange sensation emerged – a healing, a transformation into something... eldritch.

Hazzle's mouth contorted into a horrifying anguish parody of a grin, the scent of her screams filling her senses. Outside, her body spasmed on the floor, teeth grinding down to razor points. Her eyes blazed yellow, the pupils transformed into thin lines. Ripped flesh revealed grotesque scales beneath. Her fingers elongated into wicked claws, a reptilian tail erupting from her spine. The patrons, frozen in terror, witnessed the horrifying transformation. This twisted carnival game had birthed a monster, a creature straight from their nightmares.

Yet, a sliver of Hazzle remained trapped within the monstrous shell. In Kate's unconscious mind, darkness stirred, awakened by the desperate plea echoing through the void: "Kate." It was Hazzle's voice, a beacon cutting through the darkness. Like a thief replacing a fallen knight, Kate's senses snapped back into focus. Gone was the lustful atmosphere, replaced by a scene of chaos, makeshift weapons glinting in the dim light. "What happened?" she muttered, confusion battling with a rising dread. A guttural growl tore through the air. Kate's heart hammered against her ribs as she turned towards Hazzle, now a monstrous entity.

But amidst the bellows and trills of the beast, Kate heard something others couldn't. The monster locked eyes with her, a single-clawed hand reaching out. Underneath the primal roars, a desperate plea escaped the creature's maw: "Kate... Save."

Kate's eyes widened. This monstrous horror, this supposed enemy, was somehow Hazzle. A steely resolve settled in her gut. This wouldn't be a heroic fight against a monster. This was a desperate rescue mission, a fight to save Hazzle from the darkness consuming her.

Kate, jolted awake by Hazzle's desperate plea, darted for the shadows. The brothel erupted in chaos. Blinded by the frenzy, Hazzle's monstrous form thrashed and roared, the primal scream a desperate call for help rather than a battle cry.

The redheaded stranger, her earlier confusion replaced by a rabid glint in her eye, rallied the patrons. "Tonight!" she roared out of her lungs, her voice laced with a twisted sense of purpose, "Tonight, we slay this demon once and for all!"

A group charged toward the thrashing beast. Hazzle, trapped within the monstrous shell, didn't fight back. It moved with a mindless urgency, driven by a primal instinct to escape. It stumbled, a grotesque parody of a runner, as the patrons swarmed it, ready to deliver the final blow.

But just as one attacker lunged for Hazzle's reptilian legs, a powerful kick sent him sprawling. A hooded figure stood between them, the crimson floorboards casting long, menacing shadows. The patrons squinted, a sense of unease settling over them. The figure seemed strangely familiar...

Then, the figure threw back its hood, revealing a face that sent a jolt of terror through the crowd. It was Kate, her fiery mess of orange hair a stark contrast to the dingy brothel. The patrons stood frozen, their blood running cold. First, a monstrous lizard woman, and now the return of the thief they thought long gone?

For Kate, fear was a distant echo. Determination burned in her eyes. "None of you showed respect for my supposed demise," she said, her voice surprisingly steady. "So now, I return to haunt you... until the day you die." It was a bold statement, laced with a touch of dark humor, a mask for the fierce protectiveness she felt for Hazzle.

The adrenaline rush was intoxicating. The stunned silence of the patrons was a welcome change. Leaning down, she whispered to the monstrous form, her voice barely a murmur, "Haz, get out of here. This place is insane. If you can't move, let's face these freaks together."

A guttural sound, a sound that somehow held a flicker of recognition, erupted from the monstrous form that lurched towards the sound of Kate's voice. "Oh... Kate..." it rasped the voice a chilling mix of Hazzle's former lyrical tone and a reptilian hiss. "What the everloving hell just happened? I felt like I was in a field and..."

The creature stumbled to its feet, a monstrous parody of Hazzle. Panic flickered in the yellow depths of her eyes as she glanced down at her body, now covered in shimmering scales. Her hands, once delicate and familiar, were now grotesque spoofs, replaced by long, sharp claws. A scream, raw and primal, ripped from her throat.

"Kate, what..." Terror choked her voice, the words tumbling out brokenly. "What have I become?!"

The metallic tang of blood filled the air, a strangely intoxicating scent to her heightened senses. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs, a primal fear clawing its way up her throat. This wasn't her body. This wasn't her.

"Haz! Calm down," Kate shouted, her voice cutting through the shocked silence. "You're still you, mostly. Just... with a few... adjustments."

Hazzle's panicked gaze darted around the room, finally landing on the frozen patrons and Kate standing protectively in front of her. A sliver of her human mind flickered back to life. "Right," she rasped, her voice a strange echo of its former self. "Now then," she continued, Kate's mischievous glint in her eyes mirroring her own, "anyone from this pale-faced audience has any questions before we rip you all to shreds?"

The silence stretched, broken only by the ragged breaths of the patrons. The redheaded stranger finally found her voice, her tone laced with a mixture of rage and bewildered disgust. "Well, yes," she snarled. "Are you some... creature lover?"

Kate's lips twitched into a smirk. "Of course not," she replied, a touch too quickly, "I love Haz like a... sister. Very much so that we sleep together in the... same bed."

The word hung heavy in the air. Hazzle recoiled, a wave of shame washing over her. She buried her face in her clawed hands, the weight of Kate's poorly chosen words settling on her shoulders awkwardly chuckled at the answer.

The redheaded stranger raised an eyebrow, a cruel smile twisting her lips. "Those words," she said, her voice dripping with malice, "if they're the last ones before we send you and that... thing... to the coffin, then at least it'll be a memory we won't soon forget. Thankfully, with our numbers, we'll all live long enough to cherish it."

The threat hung heavy in the air, a dark promise of violence. The situation was far from over, but with Kate by her side, a strange sense of defiance bloomed within Hazzle. This twisted brothel, these bloodthirsty patrons, they would all face the consequences of their actions. The fight for survival had just begun.

The fight erupted in a chaotic flurry. Kate weaved through the attackers, a whirlwind of elbows and kicks. Hazzle, still grappling with her monstrous form, lashed out with newfound claws, her attacks more instinctive than strategic.

A man lunged at her with a makeshift spear – a crude stick topped with a broken bottle. Kate reacted in a flash, tripping the attacker and disarming him. "Hazzle!" she yelled, tossing the spear towards the hulking creature. "This was your welcoming party gift to your transformation but I took the liberty of returning it."

Hazzle turned, a rumble escaping her throat that might have been a thank you. But before she could respond, a primal growl tore through the air. The redheaded stranger charged at Kate, a clay pipe glinting in her hand.

"Kate, redhead!" Hazzle roared, the sound echoing strangely, a mix of human and beast. The patrons froze, momentarily stunned by the monstrous voice.

Kate, alerted by the warning, twisted away just as the stranger's pipe swung through the air. "Missed me, Living and Breathing Toy!" she taunted, adrenaline coursing through her veins. With a cry, she disarmed a female attacker, snatching the wooden plank she wielded. "Looks like our friendship is contagious," she yelled, slamming the plank into the woman's side. "And Hazzle here is making sure your little party doesn't get too crowded."

The redhead glared at Hazzle, recognizing her as the true threat. She cast the pipe aside, her eyes gleaming with a twisted determination. Hazzle, encouraged by her newfound power, fought with the ferocity of a cornered animal. Hazzle, her voice a chilling echo of its former self, rasped, "This... power..."

A strange sensation coursed through her, a primal thrill that danced with the terror. Her new form felt strong, capable of defending itself in ways her previous form never could.

"It's incredible!" she continued, a hint of fascination creeping into her voice. "I can finally protect myself... and maybe understand why..."

Her words were cut short as the redheaded stranger lunged, the clay pipe connecting with a sickening thud on Hazzle's head. The monstrous form crumpled to the floor, the scales receding, claws retracting. Hazzle remained, unconscious, her body a grotesque hybrid – human, yet undeniably marked by the transformation.

Panic surged through Kate. She shoved past the remaining attackers, reaching Hazzle's side. The woman was alive, breaths shallow and erratic, but otherwise unharmed. Relief washed over Kate, mirroring the state she'd been in moments before.

The scene crackled with raw emotion. "H-Haz!" Kate screamed, the bond between them pulling her like an invisible tether. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm as she rushed toward Hazzle's monstrous form sprawled on the grimy floor. Relief washed over her in a tidal wave as she confirmed Hazzle was still breathing, the monstrous features receding. Tears welled up in Kate's eyes, a fiery determination warring with a crushing sadness. "Haz, don't you die on me, not like Papa..." she rasped, her voice thick with a mix of rage and sorrow. The raw emotion bled through, a stark contrast to the tense silence that had descended.

Hazzle's ragged breath echoed in the stillness, a faint flicker of life returning to her eyes. The transformation wasn't fully undone, but the grotesque monstrosity shifted back towards something vaguely... human. Claws retreated, most of the scales vanished like dust, and the reptilian tail was gone. Her voice, though still rough and raw, no longer held the guttural roars and growls. It wasn't a complete cure, but it was enough. Hazzle's eyes fluttered open, a weak grunt escaping her lips.

The two locked gazes, a silent understanding passing between them. The weight of their ordeal hung heavy in the air, the gravity of their situation further amplified by the ring of people surrounding them, all exits blocked.

"So, finished with your touching reunion, possessed protector?" The redheaded woman sneered, her voice devoid of warmth. She stalked toward them, a glint of cold steel in her hand.

"Not a chance," Kate retorted, her defiance unwavering despite the flames of anger flickering lower. "Even with Haz weakened, we'll fight you tooth and nail!" Her voice rose above the tense silence. Running wasn't an option. The sheer number of attackers was daunting, but they were just... people. Inexperienced with the bloody scene that unfolded before them.

Just as Kate braced herself, a coughing fit wracked her body. Blood spattered across Hazzle's cheek. Kate crumpled to the floor, gasping for air, the adrenaline rush fading quickly to the real weak state she was in. Fear gnawed at her as she watched the redheaded woman approach, a cruel smile playing on her lips.

"Looks like even spirits bleed," the woman taunted. "Don't worry, splitting your skull will send that ghostly essence back where it came from."

Kate's voice was weak, barely a whisper. "What... what essence...?"

The redheaded woman ignored her, turning her mocking gaze to Hazzle. "Consider this a mercy fruit licker. You two were nothing but trash cluttering our streets. A peaceful resolution would've been nice, but, sadly, we can't save the original soul of your friend or what was, but either way no matter the blessing or if she isn't possessed or not, she will be destroyed like glass! This is your punishment for existing differently. We, the townspeople, will take care of the demon inside her too." She gestured to Hazzle, her voice dripping with disdain.

She spoke with a twisted playfulness, yet her voice hardened as she continued. "Now close your eyes, because it's about to get dark."

The woman's tone softened, a chilling parody of a lullaby. "Like a mother tucking in her children," she murmured, the glint in her eye glinting with psychotic glee.

The mob stirred, eager to participate in the brutal spectacle. With tears welling up in her eyes, Kate whispered, "I'm sorry..."

Just as the redheaded woman raised her weapon, a soft glow emanated from somewhere unseen.

A jolt ripped through Kate, a harsh awakening like a punch to the gut. Her eyes fluttered open, stinging with a gritty residue. The brothel floor was gone, replaced by a scene ripped from a nightmare. Ashes and debris stretched before her, a chilling echo of the mining disaster that tore her family apart and left her an orphan. The brothel walls were in ruins, yet the surrounding area remained strangely untouched. The patrons who were moments ago baying for their blood were sprawled unconscious on the ground. The redheaded was nowhere to be seen – just a lone clump of hair and scalp, a gruesome testament to her demise.

"Where am I?" Kate rasped, a tremor in her voice. "Hell? Doesn't look quite like the stories."

A searing heat bloomed in her chest, stealing her breath. Instinctively, she reached for the source of the red bead nestled against her skin. It pulsed with an unnatural light, an unsettling warmth radiating outwards. Had it, in some way, protected her from a brutal end?

Silence descended, thick and suffocating. Should she be grateful? Or terrified of the bead's unknown purpose? There would be no answers here, no comforting whispers of explanation. If she lingered, the unconscious patrons would stir, and the twisted so-called game would resume. This town, once simmering with darkness held at bay, had erupted into a violent spectacle, and she, Kate, was supposed to be the bloody centerpiece.

A sardonic laugh escaped her lips. The town's madness had always been there, festering beneath the surface. Back then, before the mining disaster, before she embraced a life of petty crime, she hadn't seen it. Maybe the town mirrored her disgust for her past self. A fleeting moment of amusement flickered across her face, then died just as quickly. What good was a single sliver of understanding when the entire town had become a twisted festival of bloodlust, ready to turn her into a sacrifice?

Guilt nibbled at her. This, somehow, was her fault. A consequence of her actions, pushing the townspeople over the edge. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she forced herself to focus on the present. Survival. Getting Hazzle out of this nightmare.

Memories flooded back, vivid and unwelcome. Kate saw herself as a child, peering through dusty windows at the joyous chaos of the town festival. Back then, her family was whole, or at least still at its holding edge, her papa still alive and working the mines. Laughter echoed through the darkness of their own home, a playful counterpoint to the festive sounds outside. It was a memory she clung to, a shield against the loneliness that gnawed at her whenever her papa was away.

But seeing the festival now, without the dust of nostalgia, filled her mouth with a bitter tang. It was a cruel reminder of the dreams and memories she'd shattered, the metaphorical grave she'd dug for this town's hope of ever recovering. Yet, one thing mattered more than the wounds she'd inflicted on so many – getting the absolute hell out of this night with Hazzle unscathed. They had to escape these people, flee this town that had descended into madness.

Turning to Hazzle, a flicker of hope ignited in Kate's chest. A faint, peaceful smile graced Hazzle's lips. But as Kate drew closer, the smile dissolved into a mask of raw terror. Hazzle blood ran cold when Kate touched the blood with her fingers.

"Oh god... Haz!"

Ignoring the tears pricking her eyes, Kate scooped Hazzle into her arms and bolted into the night. The cobblestone streets blurred beneath their feet. Hazzle's whimpers echoed in Kate's ears, each one a shard of ice piercing her heart. "Why'd I leave her?" Kate choked out, her voice raw with despair. "This is all my fault!"

She sprinted towards the safety of the location they call home by the shore, her heart a frantic drumbeat urging them onward. They had to disappear, to find some semblance of normalcy in the face of this horrifying chaos.

With a frantic kick, Kate burst away the withered oak door, sweat and tears dripping down her face to her chin like a fountain, washing away the stains of the crimson fluid that flowed in her veins, her eyes stared at the table from the dining room, her hands trembled like an overwork lumberjack from holding the slumber Hazzle, bruises of a selection of purple violet and a sickening red curse upon what resembles human and the ancient creatures of times before the discovery of mankind itself.

 Kate rushed with all of her strength left in her spirally worm-like legs throwing out Hazzle in a thud to the wooden table that Kate hope isn't sickening, she whimpered for all of the air she once savored in the destroyed mess of a brothel distracting her from saving Hazzle, the one that kept Kate afloat from all of this chaos, Kate feels her heart thumping wildly in her ears as she grips in Hazzle shoulder, tears swells her eyes blurring the face of Hazzle, "Haz, wake up..." Kate's voice croaks as her body trembles from any responses holding a dimming light of hope in her mind in this darkness of times, yet no response, Kate's heart skipped a beat as mortified horror fell on her like hard rain, she grabs Hazzle again in the shoulder and shakes her like a rattle, softly spoke to her like a mother "Haz?" the shaking goes faster and faster with Kate's voice repeating those words louder and louder, yet once more no response.

Kate's grip on Hazzle's shoulder tightened in a desperate attempt to rouse her friend. Crimson lifeblood seeped from a wound, a metallic tang filling the air. Tears welled in Kate's eyes, tracing a salty path down her cheeks as they mirrored the flow of blood. With trembling hands, she cupped Hazzle's face, her own etched with a raw mix of sorrow and urgency.

"Haz! Wake up!" Kate's voice cracked with desperation, the words echoing unanswered in the dead silence. The urgency in her touch left its mark – a constellation of bruises blooming on Hazzle's pale skin.

A heavy silence descended, broken only by Kate's ragged breaths. Hope, once a flickering ember, began to die. Hazzle slumped back onto the wooden table, a lifeless weight in Kate's hands. Guilt, a suffocating presence, coiled around Kate's throat.

"What have I done?" she whispered, the words thick with despair. Tears streamed down her face, each one a searing reminder of her mistakes. "It should have been me," she choked out, the metallic tang of blood a constant echo of her failure.

Burying her face in her hands, Kate surrendered to the crushing weight of grief. Her actions, fueled by desperation, had backfired spectacularly. The cold blood on her hands felt like a physical manifestation of her shattered hope.

A raw sob escaped her lips, echoing through the room. "This is all my fault! I should be the one burning in HELL!"

Tears streamed down Kate's face, her fiery hair, once a vibrant halo, now offered meager comfort as it draped over Hazzle. Silence choked the room, broken only by Kate's muffled sobs. Then, a sound. A rasping whisper, barely human, yet tinged with a reptilian hiss: "Water..."

The word, a mere croak from a supposed corpse, paralyzed Kate. A bizarre mix of emotions warred within her: a flicker of hope, a wave of relief battling the cold grip of panic.

Without hesitation, Kate sprung into action. The room echoed with the frantic clatter of splintering wood and shattering glass as she ransacked cabinets and trays, desperate to find the life-giving elixir. Water, the nectar of hope, had to be found.

Hazzle returned to her senses, yet a soring headache from whatever part of the underworld affected her own two eyes, her mind wasn't the same as before, daze and confusion occupied her nerves right now, and yet, a red stain reminded her of the chaos of the brothel.

With this bolder of guilt and despair on her shoulder, she lays down on the living room chairs getting off to the groaning planks of wood they call a floor, the silence grows as the shattering stops, with the silence abruptly cut off by fallen items from a cabinet somewhere, Kate walks in.

Her eyes widen from Hazzle's awakening being a recovery, with Hazzle slouching on the chair massaging her forehead, "Oh you're awake Haz!" the relief of Kate is almost a melody of a wave, her voice spoke like a blooming flower as a jolt of gladness returns the senses of Kate "I thought you're going to be a butcher's treat to cannibals"

 A humorous chuckle escapes her mouth, a change of pace from the reservations of her laughs to the bitter and cynical words of the town she lives in.

Yet Hazzle this time didn't give Kate a response and instead, further slumped down to the chair like a sandbag bursting sand, a drained sigh escaped her lips, her voice unlike usual, Her voice, when she finally spoke, was a mere rasp, heavy with a growing sense of guilt and a despair that mirrored a dying ember. 

"Kate, can I have some water, please?", Kate's smile faltered, mirroring the dimming lantern light. Hazzle's eyes, usually bright and lively, seemed to hold the darkness of a starless night.

 Kate retrieved a glass of water, her heart sinking at the sight of Hazzle's hands. Hazzle's stone-like hands, a loose yet frozen-like hold barely held the water from Hazzle's hand, Hazzle took a sip, savoring the lukewarm liquid as if it were nectar.

But the surroundings of old crimson stains and the sack of what Hazzle is says differently about their grim situation. "Kate," Hazzle began, her voice barely above a whisper, her gaze locked on her reptilian hand, scales still clinging to her skin. "Do you mind... giving me some time alone? Just to... rest." Her voice trailed off, a hollow echo of her former vibrancy.

Kate understood. Witnessing the carnage Hazzle had caused in her transformed state, perhaps some privacy was exactly what she needed. "Sure, Haz," Kate replied, a faint smile on her lips. "Everyone needs some 'me time,' especially now." 

But the smile couldn't quite reach her eyes. The dried bloodstains scarring Hazzle's transformed skin, the crusted crimson streams escaping her nose, and the defeated slump of her shoulders painted a picture of utter despair. it aches her heart of Kate like a dagger.

She wants to see Hazzle at her very best at the start preparing for the best night of the two lives, and the finish line gives the two winners a box of dead puppies and only for Hazzle, a stampede of going postal degenerates.

Kate ascended the rickety stairs, her every creak met by a muffled voice seeping through the wood. Abruptly halting at any movement, she strained to hear over the splintering. Then, breaking the hushed celebration echoing from outside, a whisper barely louder than a spirit's: "One hundred years..."

Hazzle's voice resonated within Kate, but the words carried an unnatural weight. A hundred years of life? Was Hazzle, the once youthful facade now replaced by weariness, something more? The chilling thought echoed Kate's earlier realization, Hazzle's transformation during the fight. But what did this ghostly message mean?

Driven by a torrent of questions, Kate crept down the stairs, eyes darting into the shadows. Reaching the bottom, she found Hazzle, no longer slumped but sitting stiffly, staring at the few remaining scales clinging to her arm like grim reminders of her monstrous form.

"One hundred years," Hazzle rasped, her voice barely a whisper. "These scales... they explain why I haven't aged, don't they?" A haunting quality hung in her voice. "Sleepless nights searching for a cure, this constant yearning gnawing at me. Especially last night, worse than ever before. I tried keeping things simple for you, Kate, but some questions are... too deep."

Hazzle's face contorted, a flicker of anger warring with the tears streaming down her cheeks. Her voice reached a desperate peak. "I thought everything, my... my feelings, the way I don't fit in this time, even this endless youth, I thought it was all fixable. I thought I'd age, slowly but surely, until a proper burial. But now, seeing what I've become..."

Her hands trembled, flying to her face to muffle a choked sob. The aggression dissolved into raw despair, her voice ragged. "It's all been a waste. Wasted nights, a wasted yearning for something different..." Tears streamed through her fingers, the weight of years settling on her like a heavy cloak.

Kate's heart ached. Concern etched lines on her face as she took a hesitant step forward. But before she could reach Hazzle, the despair morphed into a storm of self-loathing.

"Worse of all," Hazzle shrieked, a tremor of shame in her voice. "I thought it was just my body, a freakish quirk of nature! But no. My words ring false, like a bell that tolls out of tune. Nobody understands. That's why I have no clients, no friends... it's all because of this disharmony within me!"

Her teeth clenched together, a raw, unfiltered anger mirroring the tears in Kate's eyes. With a deafening crash, Hazzle slammed her fist into the floor, the wood groaning in response. Her fiery rage dissolved into a chilling apathy, her eyes as cold and lifeless as marble. Tears traced tracks down her cheeks, her voice a hollow whisper.

"What's the point? All the knowledge I've hoarded since childhood, the people I thought I cared for... gone one by one. My father vanished and surely by now, rests beneath the earth. And now this form, a curse that trails behind me like a shadow."

Hazzle squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold back the flood of anguish threatening to spill over. A muffled sob escaped her lips, a buried echo of past pain. But then, a sudden warmth enveloped her.

Kate's arms wrapped around her, a silent offering of comfort. The embrace felt like a sudden downpour, washing away the grime of isolation. In that shared moment of grief, their tragedies intertwined, a fragile thread of hope stitched through the open wound of despair.

"Haz, you're not a monster," Kate said, her voice soft as a summer breeze. "At least, not in my eyes."

A humorless chuckle escaped Kate's lips. Hazzle's eyes, clouded with shame and tears moments ago, flickered with a spark of hope. Seeing this, a flicker of warmth ignited within Kate.

"Shaming yourself won't help," Kate continued gently. "Truth is, tonight's chaos is on me. This morning, I pointed you towards the brothel, a death trap if there ever was one. Then, that same person," Kate gestured to herself with a grimace, "the thief reeking of the dead, saw an opportunity when the... meeting between you and the redhead began."

Kate sighed, the weight of her guilt a tangible presence in the air. "The whole town's in a frenzy because of my carelessness. I scared them with my past, leading to a stabbing that six feet under me and a friend getting hurt."

A fragile peace settled between them, thick with unspoken emotions. Kate's self-loathing lingered, a bitter taste in her mouth. Hazzle wiped away stray tears, a wave of sympathy battling the feeling that Kate's words unintentionally mirrored her struggles.

Finally, Kate massaged her temples, a guilt-ridden frown etching lines on her face. "I just... I feel like I ruin relationships, you know? And I... I don't want to lose you, Haz."

The weight of her guilt felt like a crushing blow. Standing seemed like an insurmountable task. The floor groaned under her weight as she inhaled the stale air, a silent reminder of their recent chaos.

With a defeated sigh, Kate offered a bitter farewell. "Well, Doc, I guess this is it. I'll take Roy and disappear. No need for me to be a threat anymore." Regret colored her voice. "So..." she gestured with a trembling hand, "goodbye, dear friend."

Silence descended, broken only by the creaking stairs as Kate began to leave. Hazzle found her reaction extreme but understandable. She sighed. "Kate, don't leave. Even if you affected everything, I share the blame."

Kate froze, head snapping back. "You do?"

"Yes," Hazzle admitted. "I saw the redhead this morning, and... well, I lied about it. I feared you'd see me as trash, like everyone else in this town, even some I thought were friends generations before you, and before..." Hazzle trailed off, her voice thick with emotion.

Kate's guilty frown faded, replaced by a faint smile of relief. "Wow, I almost walked out for the second time! And this time," a genuine smile replaced the faint one, "we didn't mock each other's chests or abandon an orange friend. Very well, Haz, I feel much better with..."

A jolt of pain ripped through Kate's neck, sharp and sudden like a bullet ant's bite. She flinched with a muffled grunt, but the momentary lapse in control didn't break her focus.

"Right then, Haz," Kate said, her voice firm despite the pain. "Time to put those lessons from the past few mornings to good use."

She straightened up, eyes hardening with newfound resolve. Kate's gaze locked onto the spot where the hidden threat lurked. Hazzle, her arms dangling limply by her sides, offered a faint smile in understanding.

The hours poured away like sand as they tended to their wounds. The darkness of the night, once an unpredictable whirlpool, became a dark blue canvas where they etched a bitter scar in their minds. Yet, intertwined with the pain, a sweet memory bloomed. Laughter and whispered stories filled the air, stitching the night together. As the clock ticked closer to twelve, the last seconds of the rising moon resonated like a heavy wall, and a strange sense of peace settled over them.

Hazzle, despite the battering she received, found herself unexpectedly thrilled. Perhaps it was the honesty that sparked a new understanding, perhaps the simple joy of shared company. A stark contrast to the strangers they were a few days prior, they had found solace and connection, blossoming into a friendship that felt deeper than mere acquaintances. They were, at that moment, best buddies.

The drowsy eyelids pollinate the air as the time reaches twelve, and Kate's and Hazzle's wounds turn into a clashing reminder of the incident, but also the unexpected end of the night's rainbow that shines through all its grim darkness, the bedroom, once riddled with a sleepless splatter of ink and scratches of a fuming frustration, now felt as a reminder of what Hazzle can't accomplish or at least find one crumb of a clue.

Hazzle lays on her bed, savoring the long-lost feeling of the feathery clouds her head lays down on and the straw mattress poofing some of its once-used hay's aromas of the fields and crops, it wasn't luxury or sleeping like the clouds but yearning sleepless nights made it so much more heavenly than the rich could ever buy, but those left-out scratches and ink, mirrors the scales in her skin, a haunting reminder that she can't shake away. 

A crawling anxiety lingered in Hazzle's mind, momentarily forgotten as Kate settled onto the mattress. "Don't worry about the scratches, Haz," Kate said, a faint, reassuring smile playing on her lips. The infectiousness of it brought a hesitant smile to Hazzle's face.

"Sure, Kate," she replied. Kate stood and checked on Roy, the once-orange pet mouse, nestled in a makeshift nest. Roy, startled awake by Kate's touch, squeaked excitedly and clambered onto her shoulder. Laughter bubbled up in Kate as she turned to Hazzle.

"He was asleep," Kate confirmed, holding up the now-terrified Roy. "But not for long..."

As Kate revealed Hazzle's transformed reptilian form, Roy's fur bristled, fear glinting in his eyes. He scrambled for cover behind Kate's back, trembling violently. Kate's smile faltered with concern for her small companion.

"Hey, Roy, it's just Haz," she soothed, trying to calm him without upsetting Hazzle. "She won't hurt you."

With a reassuring pat, Kate placed Roy near Hazzle. Initially, Roy squeaked in protest, but as Hazzle turned away with a sigh, he cautiously stopped. Then, with a nervous squeak, he closed his eyes tight.

Suddenly, a hiss erupted from Hazzle. "Kate, get Roy back!" she yelled, her eyes widening with a flash of fear. Roy opened his eyes slowly, and Hazzle's own eyes narrowed, revealing a glint of teeth.

Kate raised an eyebrow at Hazzle's sudden panic. "He might just claim his side of the mattress," Hazzle blurted, her voice laced with a strange mixture of irritation and fear.

Seeing Kate's bewilderment, Hazzle elaborated. "In all the past days I shared a room with you," she confessed, "I've been terrified of Roy!"

"But why?" Kate asked, genuinely confused. "Because of mice!" Hazzle exclaimed. "Like their urine... it gets into everything! It's possible that I can never get the smell out of a mattress!"

As if on cue, a humorless chuckle escaped Roy. He scurried in a circle, and to Hazzle's horror, let loose a stream of... relief. The stench quickly filled the air, effectively putting an end to their conversation.

To Hazzle's further dismay, Roy seemed rather smug, marking his territory. Kate, trying to hide a smile at the unexpected turn of events, noticed the shift in Roy's behavior. "Looks like he's not scared of you anymore, Haz," she remarked awkwardly.

Hazzle's jaw dropped, momentarily paralyzed. Concern clouded Kate's face as she tried to reach Hazzle. "Haz? Haz? He's just not scared anymore..."

Before Kate could finish, Hazzle let out a frustrated roar, then quickly composed herself. A touch of sadness laced her voice as she spoke. "Kate, can you please put Roy back? Even if this night has been... unexpectedly better, it feels a bit anticlimactic, you know?"

Kate understood the weight of her mistake. "Oh," she said simply, regretfully taking Roy back to his nest. Hazzle curled up on the other side of the bed, her legs tucked in tightly.

Kate apologized sincerely. "I'm so sorry, Haz. I thought Roy would recognize you by scent or voice. He just... blinded me to the fact that you're like this. But maybe that's a good thing."

Hazzle, despite the lingering smell, managed a weak smile. "Even in this weird form," Kate continued, "you're still my friend. And yes, maybe being oblivious for a few hours made this night a little better for both of us. So, can you forgive a small mistake?"

Hazzle returned the smile, a flicker of the infectious warmth from earlier. "Of course, Kate."

"Now then," Kate said, settling back down, "some sleep might help heal those wounds."

Hazzle yawned, and Kate turned towards the window. Gazing out at the town, a memory flickered, a reminder of the innocent life before all the chaos. But amidst the scratches and fading ink on the windowpane, a sense of unease settled in. In the distance, a strange glow pulsed, brighter than the town's festive lights.

As the glow intensified, Kate saw a group of constables approaching, torches in hand. some of these law enforcers were the attackers she and Hazzle had earlier been attacked by during the Brothel, their faces bruised and defeated. In their eyes, Kate saw the glint of accusation, a realization that sent a shiver down her spine.

Hazzle's voice softened with exhaustion, shattering the ice that had encased Kate in a chaotic display of regret. "Kate... what are you standing up for?"

"Oh, uh, nothing at all, Haz!" Kate stammered, hoping the street scene below wouldn't attract further attention. "Just taking a last look before some shut-eye." She forced a snort, praying Hazzle wouldn't delve deeper.

Hazzle, too weary to examine, shrugged. "Speaking of the street," she mumbled, the last traces of energy draining from her, "this place has been a nightmare for both of us. I know you can't...?" Her voice trailed off, a silent question hanging in the air.

Kate, her loyalty warring with the grim reality of their situation, finally confessed. "Pretty much... I can move us somewhere... away from this weird town I once... called home, I guess." Her mind raced, lying down as Hazzle drifted off to sleep.

The calmness outside their window couldn't erase the idea gnawing at Kate. Sleepless hours ticked by as she formulated an escape plan, determined to break free from this vile maze. Ironically, the solution struck at the witching hour. Bags under her eyes, yet with a newfound resolve, Kate whispered to Roy.

"Roy, I know this might sound crazy, but hear me out. One last score. A final act to truly bury my thief persona. This town will forget about me anyway, and with us gone, you, Hazzle, and I can finally have a new life, a fresh start." A determined glint, a shard of her old self, returned to her eyes. "Tomorrow, Roy, we'll take one last gamble. We'll leave this town, their copper scattered in the wind, a laughingstock for accepting us with open arms, a town that embraces Hazzle's struggles and my past."

Her laughter, like a pirate planning a final treasure hunt, echoed through the room. Yet a crooked building nearby housed another. A man finished the swigs of his ale in his cluttered room, a former barkeep his only company. A celebration fueled by the blood on his hand from a few nights ago, the stabbing gnawed at his conscience. No remorse for the thief he killed with a broken bottle, but the memory of his past transgressions haunted him.

Memories flooded back. As a child, he stumbled upon the Anderson household, where a newborn baby was presumed dead. He'd overheard a drunken slur, a false accusation that the man as a child cried over to a wave of guilt crashing over Rusty, the baby's father. This guilt layered on top of the mine explosion that claimed Rusty's life, even if the two were almost strangers became a heavy burden for the man to bear. The red bead, once a symbol of a lost family, became a constant reminder of his childish mistake and its devastating consequences. He lost the red bead after a scuffle, while a painful reminder of his past, also felt like a strange release, a burden lifted.

The Ex-Barkeep, sensing the man's unease, offered another refill. "Hey Milky, you want more ale?"

Milky's response was a low growl. "No, it's fine, Sir Elmer." He stood, his voice laced with a detective's grim determination. "This is the last swig for tonight. I don't ever want to hear that damned 'Kate Grave-Party' again. It stirred up enough trouble with the thief's father being in slander. This poison I hold is all I have left to not get into a fit over it." His teeth gritted, his veins straining under the weight of his struggles. He finished the ale, disappearing like a bad dream.

Elmer lit the dimming lanterns "Before you turn in for the night, Milky, there's one more case that you need to know about."

Milky turned, clutching his empty bottle. "All ears, Sir Elmer."

Hesitant ran through Elmer's mind Sweat beaded on Elmer's forehead as he grappled with the best way to present the details. "Well, you see... the case involves the new "Loner Brothel" being reduced to... rubble."

Milky gulped and sighed with his head looking down, his eyes narrowed. "Probably a faulty lantern, some casualties, maybe. Case closed for this town's self-inflicted chaos." He began to dismiss the case, his interest waning.

But before he could return the bottle, Elmer held him back with a single, damning detail. "Well... no, you see," Elmer chuckled nervously, trying to soften the blow, "Milk, the explosion, even if... just an explosion, uh, it's... similar to the mining incident..."

Bloodshot eyes widened as Milky's body violently convulsed. Elmer, fear gnawing at him, attempted to explain calmly. "Milk, listen," Elmer pleaded, his voice strained, "the explosion size is identical to the mine collapse. But with only one fatality – a scalp found at the scene. No severe injuries, just cramps and lost teeth. Witnesses claim that the once-dead... Kate is..."

Elmer's words were cut short by the glass in Milky's hand shattering. Blood welled from his palm, shards digging into flesh. He growled, a primal fury unleashed.

"That damn hag!  We're screwed if the other towns get wind of this! We head to the graveyard at sunrise, where that she-devil could be at that moment sobering to a father who is most likely to be ashamed, and by God, we'll send that hag to the fiery pits of hell ourselves!"