Chapter XXVIII - Among the Shadows

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"Anyone care to explain?" Florinok put her hand to her mouth as she scrunched her nose at the half a dozen people lying around unconscious.

"Well, we've got to infiltrate, don't we?" Zablaron replied, running a hand through his hair. "We needed their cloaks and masks... and their identity coins."

"We are just four people," Florinok said.

"You should have informed us sooner about 'new girl.' We had already knocked out a group of three," Beralaxon explained. "Then we had to knock out another group of four when you told us."

"So, you're saying... I'm responsible for all this?" Glacia asked, raising her eyebrows.

"No. I'm saying Florinok is." Beralaxon shrugged.

"I didn't want to come anyway," Glacia said, looking away.

"Why not just knock out a fourth person? Instead of four more people?" Florinok complained.

"Because we must impersonate an entire group," Beralaxon replied. He wore a short-sleeved, turquoise, pinstripe dress shirt with cerulean dress pants held up by white suspenders. His shoes were gleaming white loafers. His VBP, supplied by Zablaron, was strapped in front of his belt buckle. It was shaped like an electric-crimson spiral galaxy with a sapphire screen. "The Cabal records the codenames of all the members in each group."

"And relax," Zablaron said. He wore a maroon, leather topcoat with a silver zipper and dangling belts and buckles. Underneath, he wore a light-gray shirt with dark-gray cargo pants. His leather boots were dark-red and extended up to his knees with three buckled straps at intervals. "We used some Qwoiseene gas. They didn't know what hit them, but they will be fine after a couple hours... or three."

"Fine. I suppose there's nothing else left to do but to wear these?" Florinok asked, looking suspiciously at the cloaks.

"Right," Beralaxon agreed.

They set to donning the black, oversized cloaks, embroidered with gold trimming around the hood, cuffs, and hems. Then each of them put on the white masks that were completely devoid of any features except for a pair of eye-slits. Finally, they secured the identity coins from the victims' pockets.

"Ah, let's see. So, my name is now... Gold Dragon," Zablaron said as he squinted at the inscription on his gold coin. "Wait, is this the name of this sleeping lout or the coin itself?" he wondered, flipping it around.

"I guess I am supposed to be... Jasper," Florinok said, reading hers. "Anyone willing to exchange?"

"Wolfsbane... ooh, I like it," Beralaxon said. "Doesn't sound too good for Redwolf, does it now?"

"What's yours?" Zablaron asked Glacia.

"I'd rather not say it," Glacia replied.

"C'mon, we need to know each other's names," Beralaxon said.

Glacia sighed. "Chaos Seeker."

"Good grief," Florinok said. "Jasper sounds better now."

"Alright, then, why don't we head out now?" Beralaxon said.

They moved out of the cover of the jutting cliff face and emerged onto an enormous dune. An arid desert spread out as far as the eye could see, the sand looking like a velvety, wrinkled carpet glimmering under the moonlight. Barren, rocky cliffs and mesas in all shapes and sizes dotted the landscape. A slight, chilly wind tugged at their cloaks as specks of sand flitted about.

Far below the dune, a group of hooded figures could be seen after every few minutes, making its way through the dark to an unassuming butte before seemingly disappearing.

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