ToT: The Good, the Bad, and the Idiotic

David looked up at Don Kapon’s office. It was near the outskirts of the town, which conveniently happened to be in the coolest parts, avoiding the hot desert wind. It also looked completely wrong for the setting, without the Tabiran bank’s excuse of needing to maintain an image of security. Most of the buildings David had seen here were simple houses made of wood and adobe. Solid, durable, great for keeping the elements out, but battered and rustic- in short, the kind of building Prier would never set foot in without complaining loudly. The Don’s office was a two-story building made out of exquisitely carved sandstone, with a freshly painted door and brass window panes. Through those windows, David could see green potted plants and the fountain Vander had mentioned.

David found himself readily agreeing with Vander’s assessment of the bastard.

Teams Lancer and Guang had both been promoted into the Tracker's Guild proper after that unpleasant business in Darkhowl Woods. They'd been at the conference, and seen Prier exposed... and then not punished nearly enough, in David's opinion. Then, the guilds had shipped out to Ywaru Canyon to help deal with the water shortage.

He and about a half dozen trackers were waiting outside the building. They’d come as guards for the guild’s delegation, but the man sent to greet them had insisted that only a certain number of guild guards come in, and Topaz and Gemma hadn’t had much of a choice. So they’d been put on rotation, and David had had the ‘honor’ of being in the first group to stand in the blazing sun.

Some of the Don’s thugs were also on guard, at points around the building. Most of them looked no better than the kinds of bandits and killers David, Samara, and Aveline typically went after for the guild. David mentally hazarded that some of them were the kinds of bandits and killers they went after. But there were definitely a couple of professionals there. A couple of Dugtrio patrolled the perimeter like clockwork. A Gliscor sat on the roof, watching for intruders, not even blinking. And then there was a Bisharp standing near the door, his general demeanor saying: “don’t even think about it”. If it came to a fight, that one in particular was going to give them trouble.

“Hey” said the Gliscor. “Guild guys.”

David looked up at her. “What do you want?”

“There aren’t any more of you supposed to be coming, are there?”

“I don’t think so” said a Sawk- Artemis, that was his name.

“Then who the hell are they?” She pointed a claw towards the desert.

At first, David didn’t see anything. Then, indistinct shapes appeared on the horizon. They slowly grew more and more distinct, eventually resolving into a group of about twenty people. David noted Cacturnes, a Gabite, several Sandslashes, and so on. Leading them was a large Krookodile. Judging by how much they all looked like Don Kapon’s thugs, they were probably bandits.

The Krookodile swaggered up like he owned the place. Guild member and hired thug alike paid him no interest.

“This the place?” said the Krookodile, arms crossed.

Nobody answered.

The Krookodile glared, and then stamped his foot on the ground. “Hey! I said, is this the place?”

“You’re going to have to be a bit more specific than that” said the Gliscor.

“The place with the water.”

“That is no concern of yours” said the Bisharp. “Leave.”

“Take that as a yes” said the Krookodile. “We’ll just be taking that water now, if you’ll be so kind as to get out of our way.” He made for the front door, and was suddenly intercepted by the Bisharp. The Krookodile glared at him, and then tried to muscle past.

“You don’t want to do that” said the Bisharp. “Don Kapon takes a very dim view of trespassers.”

The bandit stopped shoving long enough to sneer. “Oh, really? And what are you going to do about it, shiny boy?” He raised a claw as if to swing it at the Bisharp.

Suddenly, there was a flash of white light, and a loud bang. The Krookodile was thrown about a dozen meters away. He staggered to his feet, and glared at the Bisharp. “Have it your way.” He tossed his head. “Alright, boys. Let’s get ‘em!”
______________________

Samara looked at Lin Lin and Birch. “Have to say, you two are among the last people I’d expect to be involved in a heist. Whatever happened to that honor thing you keep talking about?”

Lin Lin grinned at her. “Honor is reserved for those who display it themselves.”

Samara shrugged. “Probably explains why I never see any for myself.”

“Everyone, listen up” said Vander. “Kassi’s taken care of the guards in the front, so we’ll go over the plan one last time. Sybil will lead the scouts in first. They’ll clear out any guards in the passage, and make sure no messages get to the Don. Then, they’ll send a runner back, and the rest of us will go in and start ferrying the water out. If the next shift of guards shows up, hide. If you can’t hide… well, do what you have to do.” He nodded to Sybil. “Good luck down there. Try not to make too much noise if it comes to a fight.”

Sybil rolled her eyes. “Noise is your prerogative.” She gestured at the others. “Scouts, with me.”
Samara and four others walked over, and they started down the passageway.
________________________

Aveline looked at the river and tried not to gag.

“Are we sure these tablets will do the job?” she asked.

“We’ll need a lot of them” said Sinclair. “One tablet only cleans up a few gallons of water.”

“It looks like there’s more muck than water here” said Aveline. “Even if we do clean it up… how much water is going to be left in the end?”

Sinclair grunted, and handed Aveline a bucket. “You’re a pessimist, aren’t you? Just take it a barrel at a time.”

Aveline nodded, picking up a barrel. She dipped it in the river and let it fill, then tossed a tablet in, sealed it, and put it with a small pile of other full barrels.

One gallon down, five million to go.
_________________________

To call the fight hilariously one-sided would have been putting it kindly. The bandits had clearly been hoping to just intimidate their way in, and were completely unprepared for an actual fight.

David flicked his kunai at the throat of one of the Sandslashes. Not even bothering to see whether the foe went down, he leapt at the Gabite. Artemis shrugged, and proceeded to quietly, efficiently and politely wipe the floor with the group of Cacturne. The Gliscor dive-bombed a Drilbur that had lagged behind the group.

As his gang fell apart around him, the Krookodile’s already shaky composure fell apart completely. “Run, boys! L-let’s git outta here!” The bandits that could still stand ran for the desert. The ones that couldn’t tried to crawl.

Three of the bandits were dead. Two of the Don’s thugs started dragging the bodies away.

All in all, it had been the most boring bandit attack David had ever seen.

The Gliscor spat. “Blasted scavengers. They keep showing up and trying to muscle in. I don’t think any of them actually get who owns this water.”

David tried not to fidget. The infiltration team should have been reaching the spring right about now…
___________________________

Samara became aware that the tunnel was lighter than it should have been. And the smell of cigar smoke.

She sighed. “Bossa, put that thing out.”

The Murkrow grinned and lazily blew a smoke ring. “Nah.”

“Now.”

“Cigars are important” said Bossa Nova. “Good for my nerves.”

“Getting on my nerves” said Samara. “Now put. It. Out.”

“Make me-” Bossa jerked his head back as a needle of ice sheared through his cigar, leaving roughly an inch of rolled-up tobacco hanging from his beak. Samara stamped out the still-lit end on the ground. “Smoking kills” she said, sweetly. “And it also gives away our position.”

“Um… Samara?” said Salsa, looking over the Weavile’s shoulder. “Too late.”

Samara looked behind her, and saw a Druddigon stomping towards them. He looked angry. “Bossa,” said Samara, in the same sweet tone of voice. “I’ll deal with you later.” Bossa shrugged and lit another cigar.

The Druddigon growled, and charged at the group. Bossa, Salsa, and Bou dove off to the sides. Samara jumped straight up, grabbing onto the ceiling. The Druddigon passed under her, staggered to a halt, and glared up at her. Samara let go of the ceiling as the Druddigon sprang up at her. Samara landed on her back and immediately thrust her foot straight upward.

The Druddigon landed squarely on it. Tears trickled from its- his- eyes, and he curled up. Samara quickly knocked him out with a strike to the base of the skull. Then she looked at Bou, Bossa, and Salsa, who were still staggering to their feet. Salsa looked at the unconscious Druddigon, which was still in a fetal position. “Well… shit.”

Samara shrugged. “I was aiming for his gut.” She dusted herself off. “Spring’s just a little further ahead. This should be the last guard; go on ahead.” When they had set off, she looked at the unconscious Druddigon. “Alright” she muttered, digging through the guard’s pockets. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”