Legend of Zelda: Book of Mobius

—Remembering something someone did or “said.”— Thinking.

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He’d spent the entire three weeks being a nursemaid to the plague victims. It was hard, grueling work. The teen collapsed in his bunk feeling drained and depressed. He knew that his eyes were gaining that infamously hollow look and his lips had trouble moving into a smile. Before he’d just been familiar with death. Now the thief was close to being an unwilling friend with death.



Suffering was a constant for those who rotted under the tender ministrations of the disease. They wasted away till flesh hung from bones, dark freckles sometimes breaking out along the over-soft skin. Their nails blackened and they developed a rasping cough. As the disease progressed, their heads would become more like skulls, eyes bugging from their sockets and mouth slack.



Eating was one of the hardest things to get the sick to do at the terminal stage. The length of suffering was random, but he’d seen almost a hundred die in the last three weeks from his building alone. There were over ten thousand infected people residing in Kakariko, with only a little over a thousand to care for them all.



That involved cleaning, feeding, keeping comfortable, and collecting samples for those rushing to find a cure. Link had to purify himself before leaving the building in scalding water and harsh soap. His skin felt dry and raw from the vigorous scrubbing he endured to ensure he didn’t contract the sickness. He supposed he was lucky that the disease spread through water and not air or touch.



He’d been surprised how many Lower Level dwellers had survived the flood. They doted on Link much the way he did on them. Trading playful insults in Lower Cant, they made his duty relatively easy.



However, most of the attendants were originally from Impa Quarter and tended to look down at the former thief. They didn’t ostracize or abuse him, but they did treat him with a level of indifference and hauteur when they deigned to acknowledge his presence. Not that Link would bother with them one way or another if he could help it either. The Upper Quarter was spreading rumors that the Lower Levels had started the plague.



They didn’t try to hide their suspicions, often talking about it in loud voices near the Lower’s pallets. It burned the teen’s temper that they would dare suggest such a thing near the just as suffering men and women.



The greatest irony to the teen was his easy companionship with the soldiers and Provost Guard.



The teen hadn’t seen Viscen since he’d returned to the Sages. He’d never questioned where the man went or given it much thought. It wasn’t exactly the most important thing on his mind. However, the older man had returned as abruptly as he’d left, giving the teen a rude awakening.



The watchman had doused him before dumping a sword and shield onto his stomach. He was blithely informed that his fighting skills would be put to test and he should be quick and meet him in the courtyard.



I’m getten tired of these bastards thinken’ I’m at their beck and call! First they pierce my ear without asking and now they’re going to beat me bloody for no reason. What’s next? A dress?



Already in a bad temper, the thief stood before the taller man. The sword wasn’t a blunt practice weapon, which surprised the blonde. He could only pray that the guard was as talented with the sword as everyone claimed, for the watchman’s was just as sharp. Link’s limited training wasn’t enough to stand up to a full-fledged soldier.



“Can we get this over with? I have people to look after.” The teen stated, feeling a little edgy. Despite not enjoying the constant care the sick needed, he felt as if he were letting them down playing soldier with the older man. The Upper Quarter would neglect his people if he didn’t pester and demand it.



“Are you brave?” Viscen asked with a blank look on his long face. Link blinked, a little confused that he would ask such a question suddenly.



“When ya think of my profession…I think ya know tha answer. I avoid fights and sneak around. That’s why I’ma sneak thief instead of an armed robber.” The teen replied slowly, trying to adjust the shield on his right arm. He’d just bear it. It shouldn’t take too long in any case.



The hair on his arm stood on end and Link jerked the sword in his left hand, blocking Viscen’s sudden strike. The thief felt the impact through to his shoulder and dropped the shield to get a hold on the hilt better.



The guardsman switched targets and slammed the teen hard on his exposed shoulder with the flat of his blade. The teen stumbled to the side, shoulder throbbing.



“Never drop yer shield!” He roared in the young man’s face. Link winced away, ducking another swing from the blade to dance out of reach. “If yer runnen low on energy and know ya cain’ win tha fight, yer shield will save yer life! It’ll give ya tha option to fall back an’ re-group!”



Link gathered up the shield again, wondering how the hell he was supposed to learn to work with a shield in one day. He slid his arm through the leather strap and grabbed the handle. Rotating his bruised shoulder, he scowled and shook out his sword arm.



Viscen came at him like a charging bull, growling deep in his throat. Link’s eyes widened, captured by the black depths; causing his body to freeze in surprise. He regained his mind at the last moment and blocked the swing at his head with the shield. Woodchips flew and the teen growled under the strain through clenched teeth.



He’s using the edge! That bastard!



He turned his body, using the shield to urge the aggressor past him and throw the older man off balance; he twirled around and aimed a blow at the exposed back. Viscen was nowhere to be seen, but he jerked his eyes to the sky and shielded his body as the watchman dropped from above. The teen collapsed beneath the weight, rolling from under the older man to come up in a defensive crouch.



“No courage for scoundrels, is that what yer saying?” The guard asked easily as he strode towards the boy as he straightened. “Ya fought magical armor, clockwork armor, a wolf and the seraph and ya say ya avoid fights?”



“I didn’ go looken’ fer that.” He gritted out, beginning to circle the advancing guard warily. “Part of the job and I had no choice most time. I wuz locked in tha room wit’em.”



“So ya fight if ya’ve no choice?” Viscen was like a blur and the young thief was hard pressed to block the horizontal swing towards his stomach. They danced around one another, the teen too out of breath and concentrating too hard on avoiding bruises to answer. “Why’dja come back, Mikau? Yer just a filcher! Mudlark! Dog piddle! Lower Level scum!”



Each name was met with a blow that Link either parried with his blade or blocked with his shield. The teen’s blood boiled as his words were thrown back in his face. He finally found an opening the watchman’s guard, jamming the pommel into the tall man’s stomach. Viscen skirted the blow easily, but Link’s follow-up by slamming his elbow into the sternum caught him off guard.



Forced to take a few steps back, the teen pursued him, compelling the sentry to take the defensive against the sudden flurry of attacks with sword and shield.



“It’z! Puppy! Piddle! Ya ass!” The thief snapped, face contorting as he fought to find another opening. Their blades clanged and slammed against one another, filling the air and making their ears pulse with each burst of harsh sound. “I don’ answer to ya, anywayz! I don’ have ta tell ya why I came back!”



The watchman snarled, knocking the thief’s sword wide, jamming his free fist into the younger man’s diaphram. Link doubled over as his breath whooshed from his chest. He thudded to his knees, wheezing while the guard overshadowed his body.



“That’s right. Ya don’.” Viscen replied in a bland voice. Link turned his face up, squinting at the watchman. “But I do decide if yer worth our time.”



He strode around the teen’s crouched form, boots grinding into the earth churned by their feet. Link contemplated taking a cheap shot, but decided it too much effort and merely stood.



“Clean up and come to the ballroom.” The soldier threw over his shoulder, heading towards the guard shack. Link scowled at his back, wondering what the hell that was all about.

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The thief stood before Houlihan and Monk a half hour later; relatively clean in his smock, scarf, and gloves. He fidgeted, wanting to go do his rounds.



Viscen leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he watched the three in the center of the room. Houlihan was staring at a tattered notebook, mumbling under his breath as Monk stared at the teen, not bothering to conceal the malice in the ice blue eyes.



Houlihan flicked a green eye up after a moment, looking shocked to see his surroundings. The long fingers combed through his oily, tousled silver shot curls distractedly as he seemed to try to orient himself. Link wondered if the professor’s mind even resided in the real world.



“Ah! Boy!” He gave a warm smile and Link sighed as he gathered his patience. Did he even hear Reno call him by his given name? Neither Errol nor Houlihan called him by it. He was still known as Mikau, making him wonder how much Viscen spoke of him to the other guards. “We have a mission for you!”



“A mission.” Link stated, eyeing the man suspiciously. They’d ignored his existence for three weeks and avoided answering any questions about Reno. Did they mean to use the fox-boy as a hostage so Link would do as they bid? He’d been allowing that thought to stew for the longest time, amazed that he hadn’t considered the possibility when he gave Reno over.



“So mistrustful.” Monk commented, voice dry. The filcher’s eyes flicked to meet the matching blue ones. The older man hadn’t gotten any more pleasant. Monk seemed to have the uncanny ability to read his mind. “Just because you’re a sorry excuse for a human being doesn’t mean the rest of the population shares that particular trait.”



Link felt his twitch surface as his face began to flush.



“Don’ you ever give it a rest, old man?” The teen snapped irritably.



“Did I hurt your tender feelings?” Monk taunted with a smirk, eyes glinting. “A shame. Perhaps if you weren’t so ill-mannered as to believe that we would make you do something against your will, I would have no fuel against you.”



“I suppose it’s yer shining personality and sweet temper that should win my trust. Tell me, do ya work hard to polish that happy nature or does it come with age?” The teen asked in a falsely saccharine tone.



“Maybe if you survive long enough, you’ll find out Hero.” The older man replied in a mocking voice. He grinned when the thief’s hackles went up at the nickname, but had no reply.



At least he had no intelligent retort to give. Death threats, dirty names, or curses would only make Monk’s victory on that verbal spar sweeter.



Monk twenty-seven, Link twenty.



“My dear boy! I have good news indeed!” The professor easily slid into the beat of silence, stepping towards the thief as he thumbed through his notebook. The three other men speculated if the absent-minded man even noticed their exchange. “I have a task for you.”



“Wuzzat?”



“I’ve found the cure to the plague.” Chris handed Link leather rolled up tightly and mummified with twine. The thief frowned and picked at the string. “DON’T OPEN THAT!”



Link jumped and let it drop, hands up and palms forward to show proof of emptiness. Chris scowled and propped his fists on his hips, unknowingly crushing the notebook. “Pick it up, boy!” The teen crouched, watching the older man cautiously as he slowly picked up the bundle before standing again. Houlihan nodded, satisfied. “You’ll need to go to Renado Sanctuary.”



“The graveyard?” The teen asked in disbelief, quirking a pale brow as he tucked the leather into his smock. Why would a plague cure be in the graveyard? You’d think they’d have found it way before now if it’d been so close.



“Yes, now don’t interrupt!” Houlihan chided with a grin, ruffling the boy’s sandy locks. “You’ll need to gather the plants depicted here—“ he blinked in surprised at the abused notebook. He straightened it out best he could before shuffling through until tearing out a sheaf of paper and handing it to Link. The teen flicked his gaze at the likeness of various flowers and a mushroom on the crinkled, ink-stained ream. He quirked a brow before tucking it in with the leather, so Chris continued. “They’ll be in the furthest room back. You won’t be able to miss them. I cannot stress the importance of what I’m about to tell you next. Are you listening?”



“Yes, Houlihan.” The teen droned, hoping that the man would finish so he could get the errand over with. The faster he got the ingredients, the faster they could make a cure. He fair shivered with anticipation. The teen’s life had revolved around his sick friends and the idea of saving them being so near anxious to begin the task.



“It’s imperative that you accomplish this at night.” The older man rested his hands on the shoulders that were beginning to broaden, green eye boring into blue.



“At night. Got it.” He shrugged off the hands easily, taking a step back to regain some personal space. He was tempted to question why, but really wasn’t sure if he wanted the answer. It was entirely possible it would make sense to the teen, but the chances were slim. Viscen and Monk had used up Link’s patience for the day. Sometimes, it was just easier to do as he was told.



“Remember! Night! And don’t open that leather until you’ve entered the cavern!” Chris repeated, looking more serious than the teen had ever seen him.



“Where’s the entrance?” Link shifted slightly, his legs aching from the abrupt morning workout. He knew that hoping the watchman had similar pains was futile. At least he’d have an excuse to crash after he visited his wards. If the uppity bastards had a problem with his skipping out, he’d send them to Chris or Viscen.



“Where’s what?” Chris asked blankly, obviously having already falling back into his own world, the lens over his right eye tracking something only it could see. Monk rolled his dark eyes, taking a step forward as Houlihan faded mentally.



“Along the eastern cliff face in the cemetery, you’ll see a ledge a little over fifteen feet high. Climb up there and there’ll be an opening that’s man-made. I believe the rest is self-explanatory.” He told the thief crisply, eyeing the muttering Chris dubiously.



“Thanks for clearing that up, old man.” The thief’s lips twisted in amusement at the sight of the two. Monk was always picking up where Houlihan left off. If their relationship weren’t so akin to twins who could follow each other’s line of thought, Link would suspect them sharing a bed. As disturbing as thought is…I seriously don’t think that Houlihan has interest in anything like dancin’ with gillys or jocks. It’s disturbing how devoted he is to science.



“You wouldn’t need it if you’d take initiative and scout the area before nightfall.”



“If I did that, then ya’d only be Houlihan’s dancen’ gilly. Don’ ya like ta feel a little more useful, bindle?” Link bared his teeth in a parody of a smile, turning from the fuming man to walk to the door. Viscen snickered behind his hand, moving so the boy could exit the room. “Best get ta maken’ yer buck’s lunch.”



The thief walked out the door, not surprised when Viscen was on his heels.



“You shouldn’ antagonize him like that, Mikau.” The guard murmured softly at his back. Link cast a glance back, shoving his hands into the pockets of his smock.



“If ya’d listen, ya’d know that he starts it all by his lonesome. Ya don’ really expect me ta take that kinda abuse all meek?” The teen asked bluntly, blue eyes swimming with amusement. He wouldn’t take nastiness from anyone again. His ego was still bruised from being duped for as many years as he had been by Gramps. It didn’t take that much of a leap to come to the conclusion they weren’t related by blood.



“Monk’s going through his own thing.” The watchman started, expression shielded as if he wasn’t sure how much to say.



“So he’s gonna be a cockbite to me at every turn?” Link growled, bristling. “I didn’ do shit to tha ass.”



The guard flinched but didn’t answer right away, letting them descend the stairs before changing topics. “Hit yer rack. I’ll make yer excuses and leave some gear by yer rack. Just get tha cure, Mikau.”



The teen turned with a frown; head beginning to shack in unacceptance of such an order. “I can’t just go to sleep. I need ta take care of my blockers.”



“Yer what?” Viscen looked a little bewildered and the thief rolled his eyes in frustration.



“My mates, buddies, brothers, friends. The Lower Level sick. If I don’t watch them Uppers, they’ll overlook ‘em.” He stated, crossing his arms over his chest in mild agitation.



“Why would they do that?” The older man quirked a brow, unaware of the continuing prejudice since all the sick from each city was kept in separate quarters and tended by their own. He’d had no reason to look closely at Kakariko and their care.



“They think that the Lower Level is where the plague started.” He informed the watchman. “It’s stupid, but they won’ listen to what I say. I’m one of them, not an Upper. What do I know?”



The last was said bitterly and the guard quirked a brow. The taller man fondled his own earring thoughtfully. If what the teen said was true, he’d have to dispel the rumors before they reached ears that could actually do damage. The last thing he needed was quibbling between the civilians.



“I’ll see to it, shorty. Didn’t think ya cared so much.” The watchman rested his hand on the soft hair, grinning when the boy scowled and knocked it away. “Just do yer errand.”

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Link stood under the arching sign of the cemetery, staring into the mist-shrouded gloom. The amount of stars in the skies was astonishing, but not surprising that half of the country’s population now relied on candle and torchlight in the cities once more. The silver glow lent to the ambience, glistening off the dew clinging to the white marble mausoleums.



The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, disliking being in the eerie location. The chill seeped through his cotton shirt and baggy brown trousers. The boots were sturdy enough, but fourth or fifth hand. Sadly, his bracers, picks and jacket hadn’t been saved. The sword Viscen had left beside his bed was strapped across his back, the shield placed over it. He was able to secure another slingshot, which he kept secured in his belt next to the pouch of ammunition.



The thief took a deep breath, dredging up the will to walk past the broken iron gates. His footsteps went unheard against the moist soil, the clanking of his equipment muffled by the fog. The thick vapor swirled and parted for the teen, wisps teasing his exposed flesh. He passed the rows of mausoleums, varying shades tombstones jutted from the haze before him. Half were listing, while some were hidden in the opaque covering and making going a little harder than need be.



Link stepped carefully, eyes scanning the area cagily. He’d never really believed in ghosts before, or magic for that matter, but he’d seen the phantoms over the lake. Filmy apparitions with milky eyes and ragged clothing gliding over the still water surface, damning the living with their piercing stares and creating fog from the cold that swathed their insubstantial figures. Sometimes their spider web strands of hair floated lazily about, as if they were still beneath the deadly calm waters, while others had it plastered to their skulls and dripped silver moisture from drenched clothing.



It’d been beyond frightening to witness their rising. The teen had been thankful that he hadn’t caught a glimpse of someone he knew at one point. No one dared to chance the waters edge, unsure of the specters’ intentions.



There better be a damn good reason for me to be here at night. Like the plants only bloom at night or something. He griped silently, treading through the maze of gravestones to the ledge containing an ominous, gaping hole far above his head. He trembled, only then noticing that his tripes and muscles were tense with contained fear.



Taking a deep breath to steady the jangling nerves, he jumped against the cliffe. His boot toes scrambled for purchase and his fingers found niches to grasp. The thief scaled the wall quickly, scrambling over the ledge. He stood up and dusted off his knees to cover up the action of ridding the sweat from his palms. Lips pulled into a stubborn line, the teen slipped into the cave.



He closed his eyes and walked into the depths. There was no light and he needed his night vision to be able to have a prayer to see through the pitch. He kept his footsteps quiet, knees bent and boots rolling over the floor to keep the sound at bay. He only got about thirty steps in when he heard leathery rustles above him. He stopped, hunkering down and opening his eyes. The light was barely worth mentioning, but he could see it reflect off the red orbs above him.



In the dimness, he could make out tiny bodies all hanging from the high ceiling. Wings opened and closed periodically, squeaks barely at a pitch that his long ears could detect.



Oh, hell. I hate bats… Link’s lips twitched a little; sweat beading along his back in spite of the chilly, moist air. I’m going to kill Houlihan. This has to be his fault, somehow.



One gave a loud screech, flaring out its wings. The teen yanked his shield from his back, holding it over his head and shoulders. The keese dropped from their perches, launching at the teen. He listened to their furious cries as they thudded against the wooden barrier. The filcher gritted his teeth, right arm pinned and trying to scrunch further under it in case the keese’s aim got better. He yanked out his slingshot with his left, but had no way to load and fire while under attack.



Putting it back, he jumped up and bashed as many of the pesky beasts away with the shield. He drew the sword and began a hasty game of stickball, slamming the creatures before they had a chance to touch him.



It was a relatively short battle, ash exploding around his lanky, quick moving figure. The remaining bat-Unknowns fled to the entrance, leaving the boy to glower in their wake as he brushed the ash from his hair and clothing.



I really don’t want to have to fight anything. I know they were human at one point. The teen frowned in the darkness, guilt pricking at him. I could be killing someone I know…but I guess it doesn’t matter. It’s not like they’re the same. They’re not like Reno and kept their minds.



He could, of course, just leave. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about moral battles or getting torn apart from the nasty beasts. He really didn’t feel like fighting or adventuring. He didn’t like pain.



So don’t get hit.



He could almost hear Monk’s sneering reply and grunted as a flush spread. There’s something wrong when I start thinking about Monk’s replies.



There was a mildly selfish reason to move on and deal with the nasty creatures.



He could contract the plague.



It was in his best interest to move on, so he growled and fumbled in the darkness. His senses became keener in the dark, eyes able to distinguish the elements of the cave without light. The dense walls amplified even the smallest of sounds, tickling his sensitive ears and making them twitch.



The strange thing was that he was beginning to think that he was being watched. It came from all directions, making his skin prickle. Not that he sensed that the presence meant him any harm.



The insane thing was that he was starting to suspect that it was the cavern.



It was silly, to think that an area would be aware. The part of his mind that still denied magic flinched from such a thought, while the other rolled it delicately about to try out the taste.



It’s possible and I’d be an idiot to dismiss it so fast. It’s still…not a good thought that I’m running through something that’s…alive.



He tucked the troubling thoughts away to chew on later. The last thing the thief needed was to be distracted if an Unknown decided to call. Light, so he could find out what Houlihan gave him, was in order foremost. So the thief dragged the pads of his fingers against the gritty rock face about the height torches were placed.



He was shocked when he managed to find a torch lodged in the wall. Next he fumbled with the flint, since Viscen didn’t deign to give him a lighter till he got a decent flame. Another test, he was sure. The damn guard always seemed to find some way to piss the teen off.



However, the sudden flare of light disturbed not only the keese roosting in the gray stone ceiling, but the blue, red, and yellow chu-jellies that were sleeping on the moist floor. Link sighed, seeing the inevitable and went to work dispatching the squawking, leaping, annoyed Unknowns.



The spat lasted only a breath and Link began the next arduous task now that he had light.



Getting all the twine off that damn leather roll.



“Damnit, Houlihan.” He growled as he picked at the string. Of course, he would free one strand to discover a couple dozen residing beneath it. It took him ten minutes to free the thick sheet of leather. If he’d had a dagger, it would have taken less time…but Viscen only loaned him a sword, clothes, belt, flint, and shield. No picks or knives. There had been a hat, but fat chance on him wearing it.



Grumbling still, he unfurled the roll to discover that it was a map. A little surprised, he brought it closer to the flickering light.



“How did Houlihan get in here and create a map without getting the ingredients?” He muttered, identifying markings for chests. A flashing green mark caught his eye. “How does it do that? It shouldn’t be able to do that. Magic?”



He walked forward a few steps, the hair rising on the back of his arm when the dot mimicked his movement. What if that old nut job never made the map?



“How would he magic the leather? How the hell would he know how to?” Link rolled up the map, tucking that tidbit along with the living cavern. I guess there are some things that I should just accept. I’ll try to shake the information outta the old man when I get back.



The thief went after chests first, discovering first hand that the cavern was indeed aware. For some reason or another, it liked to trap him till he destroyed the Unknowns in certain rooms. Link took it in stride, not seeing that he had much choice in the matter. He decided that the cavern just wanted all the Unknowns exterminated. Would an aware cavern be uncomfortable with hostile creatures in its depths?



After the first torch was lit, the rest of the rooms were surprisingly bright from other torches or unknown sources. For the safety of his quickly unhinging grip on sanity, he decided not to question it and just be thankful. Flint was a pain in the ass to use.



The thief explored and pondered; fighting off any Unknowns he crossed. Standing in front of a large chest with two silver keys in his pockets, he did concede to himself that he’d lost site of the target in the midst of his looting.



So, he flipped up the lockless latch and flipped the lid. He was surprised and pleased to see a blue boomerang nestled in gray sand.



“Well, well. This is nice.” He picked it up, satisfied with the heavy polished wood in his grip. He turned and tossed it, watching it twirl about the room to slam back into his raised hand. He grinned, tucking it into his belt. “This’ll do.”



The reluctant adventure headed back out, discovering uses for the keys and delving deeper into the living maze. He even settled into a routine, no long getting worked up over a couple of keese or chu-jellies. Even when the snapping plants popped up, he didn’t even jump. He’d pick up any of the plants that grew in strange shafts of light in quiet corners.



The last door before the passage that led to the room that Houlihan claimed the cure was…Link paused. The wooden planks banded together looked pretty ragged and shoddy. The doors had been stone slabs that he pushed to the side.



Why would I need to go all the way back here for the cure when it was strewn about the cavern, anyway? This doesn’t make sense. Then again, when does Chris make sense? Cripes. I got a bad feeling about this. He kicked the door open and stared into the pitch-black corridor it revealed. He tugged at his blonde bangs for a moment, contemplating the wisdom of entering it. There weren’t any torches that he could reach and the darkness seemed to repel the warm light.



The thief didn’t get much of a choice, seeing how something suddenly shoved him into it.



“GAAAH!” He flew into free space, arms and legs flailing wildly. Air rushed past his ears and the blonde filled his lungs to let out another wail. He was sure that he’d grow tired of screaming at some point, but till then, it was the best way to display his panic.



Light bloomed below him, shimmering scarlet and wavering like fire. A gold triangle was at its center, growing steadily as the thief closed the distance. He fell through the sheet, barely noticing the flare of heat the coursed through his veins as he absorbed it.



He landed, face first, with a grunt in a pile of random bits of clothing. He pushed up his torso slowly, looking around. He wiped the sweat from his brow, nerves tingling from the surge of adrenaline still coursing through him. The open area he’d landed in held the cistern for the city.



Pipes from the water treatment plant ran along the walls and ceiling, all eventually connecting to the channel that would take the water to Kakariko. The cleaning system was obviously not in operation, seeing how Link could the lack of chemicals in the containers that fed into the tank.



The cistern had also been ripped open and now piled with rotting corpses, accounting for the rancid taint in the air.



“A whore in church…” he murmured, paling at the sight. His flesh crawled and his stomach threatened to reject his dinner. “That’s what’s causen’ all this.”



How was he going to fix this? It was evident that clearing the bodies would help, but the water was still tainted. Another treatment center would have to be set up and he didn’t have the know-how nor tools to even attempt it.



The thief scrambled out of rags, breathing shallowly through his mouth. He tripped over something heavy, stumbling a few steps. He glanced down, eyes alighting upon an onyx, rupee-shaped block. Precious gems were embedded inside of it, glittering with a dark, cold beauty. He picked it up, shocked at the weight for something barely six inches long and three inches wide. The thief tossed the pretty piece back and forth in his hands, mind wandering as he glanced about room.



He walked around the cistern, forearm over his mouth to further filter out the smell and stumbling over the connecting drain. There was junk piled all around the area. Strangely enough, it was all sorted out into different groups. Household items, clothing, shiny things, dishes, machinery and pieces of buildings all stacked hap-hazardly around the room. It was odd, to say the least, and the long eared teen wondered who sorted it and why.



Someone must still be down here. Who, though? Must be an Unknown. Who else would stack the bodies of the workers into the cistern?



Slow, deliberate sounds of bare feet hitting rock echoed in the thick, polluted air. The rasping noise of something being dragged steady in its wake. Link paused, listening to the indistinct mutterings of someone as a piebald rat rounded a pile of machinery.



Not just any rat. It was an eight-foot long, minus the tail, orange jacket-wearing rat. The creature froze, noticing Link. They stared at one another, blue eyes on red, unsure of what to do next. The rat shook away its stupor and stood on its hind legs, displaying its glaring sex. It bared its yellow teeth, incisors clicking.



“Intruder! INTRUDER!” It squealed, voice rasping from vocal chords barely formed. “Who are you? WHO ARE YOU?”



Link jumped at the first sound of the rat’s voice, beginning to back up slowly. The rat saw the bauble still in the teen’s hands. It bristled and screamed.



“MINE! GIVE IT BACK! MINE!” It leapt at the teen, who had dove behind a pile of sinks and tables. He ran around the rat-made maze frantically, fighting his conscience that didn’t want to kill the talking beast. He secured the ornament inside his shirt, the belt keeping it from sliding through the bottom.



“Where are you?” It called out in a soft, lilting voice. He could it hear it following him slowly, tracking him by sound. “Where are you? There you are.”



The blonde jerked around, pulling out his boomerang. He threw it, ignoring the pang of regret, since it probably wouldn’t return if it hit something. It slammed into the rat’s bulging stomach, knocking the beast onto its back. It squealed in outrage and Link was fascinated when the weapon returned to him.



His gaze flicked about as he navigated the heaps, mindful of the sounds of the struggling rat. The filcher dodged a few items that the thing chunked at him. Irritated that he had to keep a constant eye on it, since it slowed him down a great deal in finding a place to hide.



He could see where the rat came from, but didn’t want to just leave. He needed to clear on the cistern or something. There was no way he was going to return to the cavern if he could help it. Stopping that blasted rat was the primary objective before he could start anything.



“There you ARE!” The rat cried and the teen pivoted, bringing out his shield just as the creature slammed into the wooden barrier. He rode the teen the ground, snapping at his face. “You took it! It’s MINE! Give it back!”



“Shuddap!” He roared into the face. “Ya left it out! It’s mine now!”



The red eyes blinked in astonishment, head rearing back. A nasty look crossed its face and it sneered.



“Thief! THIEF! YOU ARE THIEF!” It screeched in rage, only to have his tirade cut short by the thief in question kicking his boot in the tender area between its legs. It cried out and curled into a ball, slipping off the boy.



Link didn’t hesitate, bashing the rat in the temple with the hilt of his blade. It groaned and slumped, down but not dead. He panted, glancing about the area. The only solution he could see was breaking the pipes…but he didn’t know if he would survive if he did.



The filcher paced around the maze of pipes, hands sliding over them. Link could feel the water rushing strong under the metal. He kept his sword out, trying to decide how to fix the situation. Maybe I should just block the flow from the cistern. I’ll tell Chris and Monk, have them form a crew to deal with the mess.



“DIE THIEF!”



Link ducked thoughtlessly at the declaration, hearing a metallic whirr and streams of air disturbing his hair. A heavy crunch and grown followed afterwards and the blue eyes glanced up through his arms crossed over his head. A multi-bladed disk had buried into the huge pipe beside him. Water began to seep from between the metal and pipe, dribbling into a puddle beneath it.



Staggering to his feet and stopping beside the rat, he stared; slack jawed and uncertain on what to do. He should run, but would he be fast enough?



Cripes, this is a mess.



“Now ya’ve done it.” The thief snapped, smacking the rat on the back of his wedged head since it was still hunched low enough for him to reach.



“I blame you!” The rat replied, teeth clicking in the teen’s face.



The pipe trembled and Link paled, turning and running for the only exit.



“Running is good! Get moven’ lackwit!” The thief roared over his shoulder, sheathing his sword.



The rat thundered past on all fours, Link not hesitating to grasp the wiry, bi-colored fur. The bi-colored rodent turned and growled, but kept moving while the teen situated his body over the orange, sleeveless canvas coat.



Metal shrieked and echoed through the roughly dug tunnel. The rushing roar of water chased them. Link glanced over his shoulder, blue eyes wide as he saw the white crush tearing at the walls a few hundred feet and closing.



“Faster! Come on, Lackwit!” He tightened his thighs about the barrel chest, lying closer to the fur despite the musty smell of death that clung there.



“I DRIVE! YOU SHUDDAP!” Lackwit screeched back over the crash, claws scrabbling as he drifted into a turn without crashing into the wall.



The teen could see a circle of starlight above them and felt hope well inside him. Sadly, the water crushed into them, hurdling the pair faster through the tunnel. Their screams tangled together as they fought the surge, trying not to become swallowed by the dirty foam. The water swallowed them both, sound beyond the rumbling current of churning bubbles and foam encasing them.



Link’s lungs begged for air and his head pounded fiercely. The two tore at each other, desperate for air. Reason had no place in the midst of the panic that consumed them.



The pair was spat into the sky, free from the water and gasping. They both landed heavily on the ledge in front the cavern opening. Link, thankfully, had his fall broken by the waterlogged body of Lackwit. The rat squealed in displeasure and pain, precious air whooshing from his lungs.



The teen rolled off, careful to settle on his side so his equipment wouldn’t bruise his back. He began to laugh weakly, staring through his soggy bangs into the sky that was beginning to gain the kiss of dawn.



“We’re some lucky sons-a-bitches, Lackwit.” The teen wheezed as he finally forced his sore body to rise. The entire cemetery was flooded. Good thing it was in its own bowl. I can’t imagine the shit I’d be in if everyone panicked, thinking the area was flooding again. “We just saved the everyone.”



The rat hissed and shook the wet from his fur before standing on his hind legs to survey the damage. He scratched the back of a tattered ear before replying.



“You destroyed home.” Red eyes accused him, but Link only snorted.



“You threw it, Lackwit. Look at this though, now you have new home.” The teen grinned, inwardly wincing since he’d have to swim back to shore. Diluted or not, there were still dead bodies in there.



“My stuff!” Lackwit whined, punching the shorter human on the shoulder. The boy’s eye twitched, but he slapped the back of the rat’s shoulder and dove into the water.



He did sidestrokes to shore, praying he didn’t sink from all the equipment loading him down. The last thing he needed was to drown with the cure in his pocket.



Or worse, have Monk save him again.

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A/N: Ok, that was one of the hardest chapters I’ve ever written. I won’t say that Assassin’s Creed had anything to do with this. Or Phantom Hourglass. Or Blue Dragon. Or staying out too late at an old buddy’s house from my last ship.



(Shout out to the USS Kitty Hawk, who got screwed out of a port call to Hong Kong!!!)



Heh-heh…Sorry. Those four issues didn’t factor in at all…much. I didn’t get to put all that I wanted into it…but risking me taking another day or two wasn’t an option. I know at least five people who actually like my story(at least enough to review) I feel like crap for taking as long as I did.



I didn’t even get to put in the Omake I wanted to do. Ah, well. I hope that this chapter sits well. I know, I slowed down again. Hopefully I’ll be able to pick up the pace and add decent (read: real) fights in the next chapter. ^-^



Ulforce Diizoid - The Sages, in all their nutty glory, will be explained in the chapter after next. You're welcome for the answering! ^-^ I look forward to you views all the time! Too bad you can't sit in when Bob and I run through the brainstorming process. Then again, you probably wouldn't read the story if you did. ^-^;;;