prιnceѕѕ oғ нyrυle (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} herlullaby) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} valarlogs,@ 2015-11-09 19:05:00 |
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What: Three princesses on a mission against a creepy mask salesman
When: Tonight
Where: England
Rating/Warnings: Violence, blood, language
Status: Complete!
It wasn’t that Zelda didn’t appreciate the lead. Far from it - this sort of thing was exactly what they needed to further the case and she was sure Jonathan could weave some kind of story on just how a particular cassette of footage fell into their possession for court proceedings, it was irrefutable evidence, it would make this entire legal mess far more easier. Hopefully even bring this entire thing closer to an end. Leliana had come through for them as a ‘thank you’ to Jonathan (why everyone under Shoegasm had some sort of clandestine tie, the elven princess couldn’t tell you), pulled a couple strings and made puppets dance to deliver them a lead. Someone somewhere across the pond - hidden in plain sight in the UK - had in their possession security tapes of the Hoffman mansion. More specifically, security tapes of one specific night. For leverage. For their own protection.
Yet to know that she could actually watch her father’s murder, the actual events of that night like a movie? It felt surreal. Like an out of body experience that just didn’t settle right, though she always did well keeping that storm within tamed. Considering right now her primary concern was, well…
“You’re sure about this,” she stated, wanting to reconfirm with Midna from the hundredth time that she was sure she could warp them from California all the way across the damn pond. And ‘them,’ of course, being her and one other golden haired princess - Cinderella the spy, as there was no other person she knew that could help execute an infiltration mission flawlessly. “It seems like you’ll be channeling a lot, and I don’t want something to go...wrong, with you.”
Glamoured crimson eyes were troubled. Zelda was Sheik today, dressed in skin-tight tribal garb, physique illusioned for the androgynous look. A disguise that’d been used to infiltrate the cursed Hyrule in her dreams - it only seemed fitting she take the mantle of that persona for this too.
Really was difficult to refute actual footage, and at the very least, what was on the tapes would fully clear Impa’s name - which was what Midna appreciated, in addition to the points in the favor of Team Geek Squad, who were steadfast in their resolve and pretty much dominating the opposition thus far. Crushing them, actually, with the help of intelligence, dry, sharp-as-a-blade wit, cool and collected minds, and a bit of extra ‘oomph’ in the form of special abilities too. Like making portals, which Midna had been practicing and was actually pretty good at by now.
She was in a sleek black catsuit, wanting to try her hand at a superhero costume - kind of sexy, with the boots laced up toward her thighs and hair sleekly pulled back into a ponytail. Cindy looked similarly dressed, a blonde-haired and blue-eyed angel of death - and she was ever so thrilled to get to do this, since she’d been rooting for Zelda ever since the girl told her about the upcoming legal case shitstorm. And it hadn’t disappointed.
“Nothing will go wrong,” Midna insisted. Chin lifted, garnet eyes determined - she was stubborn, sure, especially when it came to the yin to her yang. “I’ve got this, Z, promise. Just tell me where we’re going.”
Cindy chuckled, slipping thin gloves on and flexing her fingers within the constraints of the soft leather. “Never been to England, actually. This will be a first.”
A little hard to sway the Twilight Princess when she had so much conviction, wasn’t it? Cindy might have been in the room but Zelda wasn’t shy when it came to public displays of affection - hence the big fat kiss planted against her mouth, a bit of love to her darling Merlot. “Still, be careful,” she insisted with a smile, and handed Midna over some paperwork. An address, pictures of the location - which was a row of rundown flats, some converted into disreputable shops - and the image of the man in question. Older, though brightly ginger-haired with almond-shaped eyes and a chilling stare.
To Zelda, he looked familiar. Though she didn’t know where she knew him from or when.
Shoulders squared, she pulled the bleach white cowl over her mouth to complete the disguise. “This is my first attempt at legitimate stealth,” she looked to Cindy, almost sheepish. “It’s too bad our visit isn’t the leisurely kind. We’ll have to visit again someday. On better terms. But I’m...ready.”
Muscle memory mixed with actual training - everything she learned here, everything she knew there would be put to the test.
“Have to start sometime, right?” Cindy smirked. “The more you get into it, the more practice, the better off you’ll be.” Though she hoped that once they got what they were looking for, and the proceedings with the trial happened, the slimy, slippery fuckers responsible for turning Zelda’s life upside-down would be incarcerated for a long time. And there wouldn’t even be a need for more stealth. Much of it, anyway. “Once things settle, coming back might be nice - a treat to yourself, for all the hard work.”
Midna agreed with that. She hadn’t been to England either, and wanted to see Zelda’s homeland - where she began, before it all went sour. Everything would go topsy-turvy again, but they’d all handle it, and this time, they wouldn’t be running from the ghosts of their pasts. “I’m ready too,” the Twilight Princess stated, and gave Zelda a wink and a pat on the ass after the kiss that just about made her swoon. And Midna wasn’t really the swooning type.
She concentrated, calling upon her magic, whispers of it, tendrils of it beginning to form a cocoon around her - something in the air, she sensed the allure of it, a give and take. That connection to the magic of her tribe, the Twili people - it was more potent these days, she felt more confident after the Fused Shadow pieces and the Mirror of Twilight arrived. It took only a few seconds for the green and black lines to form and spiral on the ground in the shape of the markings on her skin; the green glowed brighter still, before there was a flash and the swirling portal split open. It looked ominous but since Midna had studied the documents, it’d take them where they needed to go.
“We jump? On the count of three.”
It was familiar energy, Midna’s magic - and she didn’t know if it was because she’d gotten so used to it here, or it was an ethereal pull that brought light and shadow together. Or perhaps both, because why not? Her and Zelda were two sides of the same coin, a connection felt more now that she had actually began dreaming this other timeline, where Twilight ascended and the light had been removed from Hyrule. It was definitely a sight to behold, the conjuration of this portal - the spiral of power, the designs etched into the darkness.
Ominous as it was, maybe, it was still oddly beautiful.
“On three,” she nodded, making eye connection with both women to confirm. And it was best to take their hands too, for the sake of connection. “One, two…”
Three.
They jumped, and to her, it felt like a gravitational pull through a supermassive black hole that sucked them in, and it lasted briefly. Very briefly, because when her eyes opened they were greeted by dark skies, buzzing street lamps and the smell of moisture. Rain. A gentle drizzle, everything around them dampened, and before them was the row dank buildings. Rundown with hazy windows, some with shattered glass.
“My stomach feels like it’s still caught in my throat,” she whispered, mostly in reference to the ride here, but they portal spit them out between buildings, away from prying eyes. Jumping time zones also brought them in at the dead of the night. Ideal for them.
“Wow,” Cindy let out a nervous giggle, clutching her own stomach - which was a chaotic mess of jumping miniature circus acrobats, but then she began to calm and settle now that they’d actually arrived at their destination. She took a look around, breathing in the steamy air; it was a little chilly too, that typical London fog, and it was the type of chill that sunk down into the very marrow of your bones - perfect for nights in, with blankets and a good cuppa and books. Also good for stealth, since it was dark. Mostly, she was taken with how the seasons actually changed here - it was still hot as hell ‘autumn’ in southern California.
Midna opened her eyes, and grinned, because heeeey - not bad at all for her first international ‘flight.’ “This one,” she motioned toward a building at the end of the row, which looked desolate. Probably an old office building, maybe a place for squatters now. But it would have what they were looking for. “You two ready to be a little persuasive?”
Because she imagined that this shady character wouldn’t give up the tapes so easily. It’d be a fun challenge.
“Born ready.” Cindy cracked her knuckles, glad she’d worn gloves - there were also weapons strapped to her person, knives and a sleek pistol tucked away too. Ever prepared, that Mrs. Vakarian.
Zelda’s preferred route was diplomacy. Out of the three, she was probably (definitely) the one with more pacifist-like inclinations. Violence wasn’t always the answer. But she very well knew that being persuasive meant that threats were involved, and there was nothing all that threatening about the Princess of Light. Sweet and soft all around, maybe with a bit of bite, but nothing about her screamed lethal or deadly.
To do this with the least amount of blood spill possible was her goal. Perhaps not realistic, entering a dangerous game like this, but she’d remain hopeful.
“Maybe no one’s even there,” she whispered. Maybe even prayed. Maybe they’d slip in, take whatever tapes, hop into another portal and be done with it. No altercations, no dealing with anyone. A simple and ideal situation, wasn’t it? One Zelda thought could maybe happen, because as they neared the building in question it seemed empty - or at least what they could see from the dirtied window, caked in a thin layer of dust.
Void of movements. Void of inside light. From the dim brightness of towering streetlamps, she could almost make out the kind of shop this was and -
Are those masks?
Her lips pursed. “It’s a mask shop,” she deadpanned, peeling her eyes from the glass to the two ladies. “Looks like no one there, but…” There were other rooms, likely, closed off. The shop must be a front.
“A mask shop?” Midna repeated, lifting an eyebrow - because who the hell went to a shop to actually purchase masks? Unless you were a professional serial killer looking for something to present to the world during your crime spree. Or fond of costume parties. “Seems shady. It’s probably some kind of trafficking ring, all up in here,” she guessed.
Cindy didn’t disagree; cogs in her brain were turning, and she was already working on a way in for them. Worst came to worst, they could always portal into the shop as well, but the old-fashioned way might be best for now. Hence why she motioned toward the back of the building, whispering, “Let’s go around and see what’s what.”
A locked door, big surprise. But good thing about being a professional spy - picking those locks was a learned skill. Just needed the right kind of knife, and the right kind of talent - both of which she had with her now, and it only took a little bit of finagling after she selected the correct small blade and then pop. All done.
“Cover me, you two. And be careful,” she added as she drew her pistol, having it at the ready before cautiously stepping inside to have a look around.
“It’s...a dream thing,” winced Zelda, a comment towards the redhead’s inquiry. Now she realized why the man in the photo seemed so familiar, with his creepy face and copper hair - he was the Happy Mask Man in Hyrule, a man you most certainly didn’t want to see enraged. Merchant of all the strangest masks to ever cross the land.
Now, to follow the example of the actual professional of the trio, her own movements silent and fluid, and her fingers brushed against the Sheikah blades strapped to her thighs. That and magic were her weapons for this in case things went awry, but she’d make sure to have Cindy’s back, absolutely. Not a chance she’d let someone happen to a friend that was so willing to help her. In that sense, she’d be at peace with bloodshed.
With the door unlocked (Cindy made that seem way too easy), it brought them to a storage room. Dusty, mold-smelling, termites eating away at the wood. Considering it was empty, the blonde thought it best to flick on the light. It held inventory, walls covered in masks, some finished, some still needed painting and sanding and little bits of decor added. It had Zelda uneasy - it seemed like there were just faces staring them down, waiting to come to life.
Shady was putting it lightly. It all just seemed...creepy. “If someone has leverage of that extent on Dragmire,” she began, whispering. “It’d...be hidden well, wouldn’t it? This guy’s close enough to him that I guess he’d never thought to look, but far enough to be undetected by his goons.”
There wasn’t much else to the little shack of a shop. Behind another door was a tiny closet-sized office with a computer, a lit lamp (was someone here recently?), tall filing cabinets connected to the front of the shop, where all the finished products were on display for purchase.
Yeeeeah, this was probably not the best example of a stunning Hylian citizen. Midna was ever-so-glad that she didn’t have to dream of whomever was deranged enough to own a mask shop, of all things. “Smells like rat shit,” she observed, quietly, but blended in with the shadows to move quickly and quietly, to see where would be a good place to start looking. “Definitely well hidden though. If he had that tape out in the open, he wouldn’t have lasted this long.” She was already surprised that Dragmire had let it sit for a good chunk of time - just goes to show that, no matter how evil you were, not every villain could cover all the bases.
Cindy avoided the masks for now, but went for the filing cabinets instead - that’d be her first place to look. “Check for false bottoms, beneath the floorboards, things like that,” she advised, while Midna reached up and shook her hair free from its ponytail. If it was going to be necessary to impale a bitch with these fabulous and fiery orange-red locks, she preferred to be ready.
No, he’d be stupid to leave it out in the open. According to Leliana’s intel, the man in question converted himself into a local information broker behind this facade of a business, and he held secrets. Perhaps not many, but the ones he seemed to have were potentially catastrophic if ever brought to light. Such as evidence of that night’s murderous raid meant to end her own life too - the night that brought Dragmire to his throne within the company.
“False bottoms,” she echoed and dropped to her knees, nails digging into the cracks between wood to see if anything would give. There was nothing. Not in the floors, not even in the filing cabinets. All that held was paperwork. Invoices, client contact information, all other sorts of random business shenanigans. Zelda blew air from her lips, frustrating, and pulled the fabric from her mouth. “Computer, maybe? Unless there’s a giant painting we can turn over that’s hiding a saf--”
In front, the doorknob jiggled. Someone inserted keys. Someone also opened the door, bell ringing, and the blonde froze with brief panic. Not that she could see where she was in the back, but it was the very man in the picture (bringing back a bag of food, maybe the cliche fish n’ chips ordeal), and he was humming. Rather happily, pleasant as can be.
“Do we hide or take him hostage?” Zelda winced, keeping hushed. Maybe if they just had a talk with him and told him why they were here, he’d cooperate.
Diplomacy wasn’t always a bad option, was it?
“We’ll see if he’s up for a chat, starting with friendly words and then going from there,” Cindy replied, and she stuck her pistol back in its clever holster for now - if they were going to go for diplomacy, then it wouldn’t do any good to start with intimidation straight out of the gate. Who knew, maybe life would throw them a bone and creepy mask and secret hoarder would cooperate. That would sort of work in favor of all their interests, but she wouldn’t hold her breath. She’d simply remain neutral for now.
Midna snorted a laugh. Who the hell was this guy, anyway? He sounded happy enough to shart rainbows or whatever. Like a deranged unicorn. If grabbing him for a chat was an option, then she’d be polite about it. Sort of.
Hence why those locks twisted into a rope, shot out, and in a flash of well-kept orange hair and with a dash of magic, she’d grabbed Mr. Fish n’Chips and yoinked him back. “Hey there, we just wanna talk,” she said, and was that convincing enough? She even set him down carefully, gently, which was totally awesome diplomacy.
Zelda’s thought process equivalent to keyboard smashing. Literally, the garbled things in her head were a mess of ‘sdfjksdfjkJKSDFJKSFJKjkfsd’ at her girlfriend’s sterling display of what she considered ‘diplomacy’ - in the form of ensnaring the man within her volcanically red strands of hair and reeling him into the back room like a fish.
This would proceed wonderfully. Not.
“I’m sorry,” came her quick apology, another wince with how the situation was handled, and Mr. Creepy Mask Man almost, almost looked like he was ready to scream. In the next couple seconds it also seemed like he decided it was best not to screech when there was someone who could somehow manipulate hair like this. “We don’t want to hurt you, I promise! Like she said, we do just want to talk, okay? Will you talk to us?”
“Once she releases me,” he replied back, calm as could be - but all the pep in his voice was gone. Couldn’t blame the man. His eyes traveled to Midna. “Do you mind?”
“Sure thing,” Midna replied cheerfully, and the hair whipped back - like it was on a spool, the flame-like locks came spiraling toward her and then settled. She didn’t pull it into a ponytail yet, wanting to have the weapon ready as a just in case. “Sorry, but you know, it’s just a thing I do. No hard feelings.”
Cindy almost laughed, but luckily was adept at keeping composure even in the face of...hair attacks. “Alright, so we’re fine now. No weapons, hands and hair to ourselves. Okay? So let’s talk. We came all this way because you have something we’re interested in. And - “ She glanced around quickly, “...it’s not a mask, sorry to say. But hopefully you’ll be up for negotiations, sir?” Or else you might die, but it’d be rude to say that - they needed to know where the tapes were first.
“Not many who’ve tried breaking in were this polite,” quipped the man, adjusting his vest, peeling a stray strand of orange hair from his sleeve, ugh. There was a lint roller in here somewhere - in one of the cabinets that have been so rudely rummaged through. Now that he’d been so politely accommodated by the tallest of the three granting release, his smile returned. An eerie serenity, almost a sinister sort of happiness. “Now how can I help you ladies, if you’re not interested in my wares?”
Hackles rose, but Zelda remained seemingly at ease, arms folded. Words versus fists. Let’s see how well that’d play out tonight. “Over a decade ago you swiped some footage,” she began, leaning against the desk, taking notice of the curious rise of one of his brows. “A little bird told us about you having security tapes of the night the assassination took place, in the Hoffman mansion.”
Happy Mask Man hummed. “A little bird,” he echoed. “You ladies don’t seem like the type Dragmire would employ. This, of course, wouldn’t have anything to do with the lawsuit happening overseas, does it?” All things considered, he was being very casual about this. Didn’t even seem all that alarmed by their presence, but something about him felt…
Odd. Mostly because she knew the temper on the other side, that infamous look of lunacy. Things paralleled. And as much as she’d prefer this to be settled verbally…
The longer they were around him, the more it felt like a time bomb ticking.
Cindy felt prickled also, some kind of icy, ghostly sensation trickling up and down her spine - the kind you got when you walked into a haunted house. Or a trap. But they had no choice, if they wanted the tapes, and this would involve facing down the Mask guy - and whatever backup he had stashed around here. She knew better than anyone that appearances were deceiving, and his merry demeanor was brittle-thin. Which was why she was automatically on her guard, sharp sky blue eyes raking over him and assessing, calculating.
“We could say the same about you,” she spoke up, crossing her arms. “You don’t seem like the type Dragmire would employ either. I bet there’s a story there, no?”
Midna watched with her own unnerving stare - more so, probably, because of the crimson of her irises. “Nah, Dragmire’s employees have been kind of down on their luck lately,” she shared, then her grin turned as casual as their companion’s attempt to be as such. “You know, like Zant. He just disappeared. Hard to find good help these days, I guess, if you’re Dragmire.” And this dude would also suffer the same fate, tossed into a pitch black hole never to be found again, if it came down to it.
His smile grew, eyes squinting because of it, and his stare slowly crept up to Cindy. “You flatter me with such kindness.” And there was a story. A long, sordid type of thing that didn’t end well, but the Happy Mask Man had his connections and intelligence. Sometimes that triumphed over brute force and murder. Secrets were powerful weapons. They did more damage than knives, or even guns. “Footage like that could be detrimental to his...career, though I’m sure that is the point of obtaining, isn’t it?”
“Look,” Zelda sighed, arms dropped. “You have this on him for protection, don’t you? If you give us this, he’s put away and your troubles will be over. Once this goes up in the air, his entire empire will crumble - including those on his payroll, they’ll be too busy being scattered to even think of you. If you want money, I can give you money.”
There was still that lump sum of money she’d saved up over the years for obtaining an attorney, but Jonathan had taken this case without cost and it was set aside for a rainy day. This was, literally, a rainy day - one that could give them something to clear Impa’s name, and no price was too much for that.
“I’m afraid our issues run deeper than just needing protection,” the man so cheerfully informed, sliding in comfortably into his computer chair. Knees crossed, foot dangling in the air. “But I also know violence will follow a failed negotiation, knowing how you three so rudely broke into my shop. I’ll humor you. Even allow you to view it yourself to confirm it’s the right one, as long as you promise to tell your friend here - “ A chin canted towards Midna. “To keep her hair to herself.”
“Deal, then,” Cindy didn’t relax her stance, but her tone was amenable and smooth, neutral in this situation. She’d done some diplomacy in her day (mostly in the dreams) but it usually wasn’t her wheelhouse - in fact, she was kind of terrible at it but in this life, she seemed to have learned a few lessons from her impulsive other self. Thank god. “We’ll view the tape and then talk negotiation - I think ultimately, that would be best for all of us. Even our friend with the hair, who will keep it to herself. Right, Midna?” Those baby blues cut over toward the Twilight Princess.
Oh, totally. Hair to herself. No grabby hands with the orangey locks, sure thing. “For you, I think I can manage,” she nodded. “And can also offer a good price. If being really rich tickles your pickle. You could expand your business - “ A glance around the shop, “Get some fancy shit in here, once Dragmire finds a good ass-buddy in prison.”
Being rich tickled most people’s pickle, didn’t it? Why else would businesses like this exist - it was all for the monetary gain. Influence too, of course. Power. But money, yes, made the world simply spin on its axis and then some. “Excellent,” he chuckled, that smile opening like a wound now. It bled something poisonous, even caused Zelda’s eyes to shift between the two ladies. Tick, tick, tick. That’s what this was, and she knew Midna wasn’t exactly going to keep her hair to herself if things went south.
He rose without tension, ushering them into the storage area. The room of hundreds of faces, watching them with three core expressions: happiness, grief, anger. Through the madness of colors and shapes and sizes, he honed into one that didn’t seem anything striking. It was small, violet-colored, shaped like a heart, spiked around the edges and markings that made it look like eyes, swirls of gold and crimson. “Considering those times we had tapes, nothing all that technologically savvy, I was able to convert it into a different form throughout the years - and duplicate it. If it ever crossed your mind as to why I’m still alive, know that I’m not the only soul with a copy. My death triggers an abundance of secrets to be aired to the public, and no one wants that.”
Oh, so you mean multiple people have seen my father murdered in cold blood? But, no, best to hold the tongue, though muscles tensed beneath her skin and she opted to seethe. Quietly. Let the man flip over the mask, pull a tiny, tiny flash drive, and hold it up with glee. Back into his little hovel of an office, he booted up his computer with a chipper hum, plugged in the device, insert a couple clicks and rapid keyboard strokes, and it all came up - footage, multiple windows of it, from the mansion’s kitchen to the courtyard, from the home office to Zelda’s childhood bedroom. Every angle had been captured.
He even made a point to fast forward to the good stuff, and took a step back. Behind the women. “You can have the chair if you want, I’m sure you’d like to take a closer look.”
Her nostrils flared a bit, but fine, she’d take the seat and watch. They had to make sure it was the right thing, wasn’t it? Morbid curiosity, masochism - whatever it was, it was necessary.
An abundance of secrets, really? Curiouser and curiouser. “How many have a copy?” Cindy wanted to know, and there wasn’t any way she’d give this slippery character her back - so she stood, alert, somewhat tense, sort of near but not entirely focused on the computer screen. She made space for Zelda and Midna to gather ‘round, but she’d be the one watching the watchers, as it was. It was more personal to them anyway. “Roundabout number of people, no names necessary. I’m just wondering.”
Because technically it didn’t really matter to the girls who else had a copy, just the numbers - it would all be aired in court anyway, during the televised case so the secrecy would become a moot point; the whole world would know what Dragmire had done. They simply needed the footage now, to actually ensure it made it as evidence in the case.
Midna placed a hand on Zelda’s shoulder, squeezing gently, then dropped both hands by her sides. This wasn’t going to be a picnic to watch, but she supposed it really was necessary.
Part of those elven ears caught Cindy’s inquiry - a very valid inquiry. How many had this traumatic little piece of her childhood stowed away for their personal gain? Because she was watching it unfold closely, even able to click on a square to maximize the view of her bedroom. A little girl sleeping while silhouettes infiltrated her home like ghosts, shadows to their advantages, gunshots quiet. Enlarging another square would show the killings of the lived-in staff, another of Impa creeping along the hallways towards her bedroom, another of her father’s bedroom -
“Roundabout number,” hummed Mask Man pensively, rummaging through his supply drawers like he was organizing a thing or two. His back to them, hands in a drawer, peeling up a piece of plywood that would was hiding something that fit in his hand. A sleek black pistol. “Ten, give or take. A very close-knit network created as a self-defense towards those who think power’s won by violence.”
Zelda clicked to the next square, when they’d gotten into the master bedroom, then -
“Though,” he continued, wiping dust from a shelf, keeping his back turned and weapon concealed. “I can sometimes see the necessity behind it.”
It only took a half second for him to spin around, happiness gone, a crazed look taking over, pistol revealed and that’s when he went trigger happy, bullets filing senselessly, splintering wood, shattering masks - one whizzed past Zelda’s sensitive ear, burning the very edges, and it hit the screen and electricity sparked.
Shit. Cindy knew it was coming, they were all just experiencing the eye of the storm - but all of a sudden, here they were, tossed into the hurricane. The man was creepy, she’d give him that - but she reacted instinctively, quickly, and she threw herself in between Zelda and the spray of bullets because the last thing they needed was for the heiress to take one - she was tough, but squishy, and it was this blonde princess who was more the tank in the scenario. She could take the hits, that she knew already, thanks to being riddled like Swiss cheese in her dreams - and indeed, a couple of those bullets made their mark. Front of her shoulder, abdomen, and it hurt - yet it didn’t stop her from drawing her own pistol, dead center aim to fire a bullet meant to hit Trigger Happy Mask Man between the eyes.
“Get the flash drive,” she called to the other girls and Midna dove behind the desk, but was frantically reaching for the precious footage, still plugged in. Her hair wasn’t actually kept to itself anymore, because the sunset-colored locks formed a hand and yoink, now that flash drive was theirs.
Zelda didn’t. Probably because she was so engrossed in what she was witnessing; the events of the night that started it all, dominos falling, and she’d gotten right to the point where they’d gotten into her father’s room, and then the screen practically exploded in electric shocks and sparks and everything went to shit. Her ear stung, rung painfully from the sound of gunshots firing and it was all a blur from there - she had ended up on the ground from the jolt of surprise and the mayhem ensued.
Yet it had been brief and for a second, silence. Smoke came from the bullet that seared into Mask Man’s skull - he had hit the floor with his crazed eyes open, lifeless.
“Cindy,” she choked, because did she just - ? Blood, she could see the wetness even through the darkest of clothing, and Zelda scrambled to her feet to help her princess-in-arms stay on hers. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t - are you okay?!”
“I’m fine,” Cindy insisted even while having gone pale in the face and, alright, it probably looked bad. She was bleeding a lot, but it would clot and she would live to see another day. Hopefully. Her arm slung across her stomach, as red dripped from the bullet wound on her shoulder, and Midna slunk over with her hair settling down around her body - it was longer these days, having grown enough to accommodate twisting and braiding and impaling, but she’d stuffed the flash drive into her cleavage for safekeeping. No way in hell were they leaving without that precious evidence. Not when they’d come this far.
She also planned to open a portal and stuff Happy Mask Man into it, but she was worried - and distracted with glancing to and fro from Zelda to Cindy. “Can you heal her? I’ll take care of, “ A nod toward the lifeless body, shot dead,” ...that.”
Dripping red was not fine in her book, but she nodded to Midna - right before briefly assessing her girlfriend with her eyes, making sure she was okay too - and then helped ease Cindy into the computer chair. Blood was a scent that hit Zelda oddly hard; smelled metallic, iron, there was so much of it, and in retrospect it was actually fairly impressive how Cinderella here was still blinking those baby blues of hers after that.
“I’ve got you,” assured the Princess of Light, a determined nod, and her fingers stroked the air - almost like she was playing a harp, or weaving music in empty space - and there was indeed light. Flashes of white and gold, a symbol of linked triangles bright against the back of her hand, and she let her palms rest against Cindy’s cheeks. Magic flowed, healing energies blooming warmth from her neck, to her shoulders, spreading it through every part of her body. She’d focus on soothing her, and it’d be a minute (she wasn’t a miracle worker), but Zelda would make sure she came out of this the way she came in: unscathed, without holes in her.
It felt nice, actually, like Cindy was a cat curled up on the windowsill and bathing in the sunlight - for a moment, she forgot that she’d been shot a couple of times by a crazy fuckface (throwing herself into the line of fire was the right thing to do, it’d worked out, no regrets) and just focused on being soothed, the tingles skittering all up and down her spine while the healing began to kick in, wounds closing, bullet holes disappearing.
“That’s better than Novocaine,” she sighed, hell yeah it was. Even better than Vicodin too, probably. Because it was all-natural, and non-habit forming? Everyone wins.
Midna, meanwhile, got busy with her cleanup - notably, the swirl of green and black, intricate lines on the ground that lit up and glowed, opening to reveal something inky and endless. She didn’t want to touch the bastard so she used her hair again - it was strong enough to use to grab the dead body and toss it down the black hole she’d made. Then the portal closed, and Mask Man was gone.
“It’s the Triforce,” she chuckled softly, mouth curved into a morose smile. Fused with the piece of wisdom, it added a couple extra things to her arsenal - like splitting her soul to grant it to one dying Twilight Princess for example, that wasn’t an easy feat. “You’re sure as hell no princess in distress, for one thing. Thank you.”
Zelda meant it with everything she had. Thank you. If Cindy hadn’t been quick to react it could have easily been lights out, buh-bye world, game over. And if it weren’t for Midna’s ability to dispose things into some unknown location (Hell, hopefully, but she tried not to be too vindictive as a rule), they’d have an interesting mess to clean up.
A breath of relief before glancing between the both of them. “Drinks on me tonight. The least I can do for almost getting us shot.”
Feeling a lot better, Cindy stretched a little bit, flexing muscle, her hand covering the former bullet hole on her abdomen. Hey, not bad. Not bad at all. “Anytime,” she insisted, and she meant that. “We princesses have to stick together, all of us.” Light or Shadows or Fairytale, it didn’t matter - they had a duty to get shit done for each other.
“Drinks sound like a good plan,” Midna agreed, taking another look around the office - it was clean, not much of a mess now that the body had been disposed of. And it probably didn’t matter anyway - she had a feeling Happy Mask Man was full of shit when it came to his death causing the apocalypse or whatever. Things were not that dire. “Since we’re here, how about a quick stop at an authentic pub or whatever? I could go for some fish and chips too.” Mmmm, celebratory junk food.
Drinks it was, then, and she could use some refueling. Her battery of magic wasn’t an infinite source, sadly, and healing magic always seemed to drain energy faster than the rest Sucking in a deep breath of air she stood to assess the room - fallen masks, smears of crimson on the floor, the broken computer. And the lack of body, like killing someone had never happened.
Zelda didn’t want to get used to death or even revel in it, but there was a sense of satisfaction at the outcome. Diplomacy was attempted, diplomacy failed, and if someone shot the first bullet then they had every right to shoot back. Self-defense had been the only option.
Or perhaps she was a bit sour from the footage they skimmed through, but that was baggage to deal with later. This was a victory, no matter what happened. “Pub’s good,” she concurred, a bit more pep to that smile, and she made sure to help Cindy up if needed. “After that, home. Jonathan’s going to want to get this as soon as possible.”
A step closer to Impa’s name being cleared. A step closer to the finish line. Almost there.