The carriage lurched to a stop, jostling Sherry. Seated in the back, she found herself still confined within the cage. Apparently the bandits only had this carriage to use as a roadblock–a fortunate coincidence for Sherry who needed to be here. Even despite that convenient circumstance though, Sherry had a hunch that the bandit leader would have agreed to her participation if she had insisted.
"It's almost time," she murmured, her voice filled with anticipation. Her fingers curled around the cold wire mesh of her cage, hoping against hope that the bandit leader would understand what to do.
Whether it was due to the two days she spent in captivity or her misguided faith in her improv skills, Sherry had decided to get a little greedy. Her end game was to dismantle Shadow Garden from within their little clique, that much was clear. But now, she wanted an appetizer, a prelude to the carnage she planned to serve Shadow Garden with. And partly... she really wanted to give the bandits a fighting chance.
Sherry's mind drifted back to the conversation that had transpired two hours ago.
———
"Here," Sherry handed the bandit leader a small pouch of powder through her cage. "I got enough for everyone." True to her word, several identical pouches littered the bottom of her cage.
"Whatcha got here? Hey, wait, where did you even get these?" the bandit leader eyes darted from the pouch in his hand to the several in her cage.
"Antacids." Sherry refused to elucidate further, opting to instead nervously place her hand on her ear.
"Antacids? The stuff for bellyaches? Thanks, I guess, but how's this gonna deal with Mitsugoshi?"
"Oh, sorry, that I can explain! No, eating these will give you nephrolithiasis. You should throw it at Mitsugoshi. At their... erm... at their slime suits."
"Nephro... Slime suits... They got slimy suits?"
"Yeah, kinda. I think it's forest slime meat extracted into a colloidal gel and further refined with concentrated mana. I'm still figuring out the exact process, but it's rather innovative, not to give them too much credit. But that's exactly why these anta– Mmmph- mmph!"
"Shut up for a second," the boss had abruptly elected to cover her mouth. "So you want me to throw this– these antacids at them? And that'll take care of their slime?"
"Mmhmm!" Sherry nodded her head vigorously.
A pause.
"But wouldn't that be doing them a favor?" The boss let go of her mouth.
"No, they love their slime. It gives them power," she warned.
"Oh, I see what you're saying." The boss nodded knowingly. This however did not provide Sherry with confidence.
Sherry frowned slightly, uncertainty creeping in. "Hey, if things start to look... bad, just... flee, okay?"
———
Presently, Sherry pressed her ear against the wooden floor of the carriage, straining to catch any hint of movement or sound. "Good luck, An'Tye Climato," she whispered under her breath, using the group's name she had picked up during her brief captivity.
Soon enough, the unmistakable clatter of wagon wheels on the gravel road was heard slowly creeping closer. The bandit leader's footfalls resonated in sync with the rhythmic creaking of the cart, each positioning themselves for the upcoming standoff. With the air thick with the scent of dew-soaked leaves and the scratchy rustling of tree branches setting the ambiance, the showdown has finally arrived.
"Evening, gals," the boss spoke in a well-rehearsed tone. "Quite a delightful night for a jaunt, wouldn't you agree?"
"Oh, is it Bandit Wednesday already? Woe is us. How ever shall we cope." The tone, distinctly female, was that of dry ice.
"Aware of the drill, are we? Hold your horses, though. We've got a surprise for you. Something that will add a little sizzle to your evening."
"What are you talking about?"
"This! Antacids!"
A resounding slap of a forehead echoed from behind the bandit leader, originating from the makeshift roadblock. The sound carried the distinct mark of disbelief that comes when one realizes their trump card was just freely being given to the enemy. A surge of embarrassment threatened to redden Sherry's face even more when she realized she may have been overheard.
"Ahem, antacids, you say?" The woman's voice held a note of genuine puzzlement. "Are you trying to threaten us with heartburn relief?"
The bandit leader laughed uproariously. "Ahaha, that's what I said too! But you've got it all wrong. We're not looking for a fight. Quite the contrary, we're here to offer you pleasure. Or are you too bashful about your slime fetish?"
"..."
Sherry choked back a cringe, bile rising in her throat. The abrupt derailment of her plan was a shock unlike anything she's experienced before, and considering her journey thus far, that was saying a lot.
"...Slime fetish? What the hell- exactly- do you think you know about us?" The voice was clearly agitated.
"Oh, just what my consultant told me – that these antacids will give your hobby a real oomph! So how about we make a deal? Or perhaps, you want us to tell everyone how much ya'll are certified slime freaks–"
A sharp swoosh whistled through the air and then a thud like a sack of potatoes hitting the ground was heard.
"Boss!" 2 voices shrieked in unison–one of them was Sherry's.
The world outside the carriage exploded into chaos. Shouts and screams filled the air, punctuated by the clanging of weaponry. Amidst the cacophony, Sherry heard the distinct sound of a pouch being torn open and a soft, almost inaudible poof, followed by an outcry.
"Hey! One of them just threw dust at me. Wait, what the... My slime su– Eeek!"
Two swift slashes sliced through the air in rapid succession, followed by a heavy thud. "At least one of them figured out how to use it," Sherry murmured, biting her lip, wishing she could've witnessed the effects of the antacid.
"Get it together, 568!" a stern voice reprimanded.
"Owie! Yeah, sorry. Thanks, 567," the initial voice responded, still alive apparently. Sherry felt disappointment at the injustice.
The skirmish outside raged on, but even from within her confines, Sherry could tell the bandits were losing ground quicker than she expected. Mitsugoshi, or rather Shadow Garden, has won handily.
Outside, only 3 distinct sets of footsteps remained. Recognizing her cue, Sherry readied herself. In a haste, she mutated her arm again with Chameleon, and this time, she decided to extrude her nose as well. Her original strategy required her to be both a victim of demonic possession and not Sherry Barnett.
She could hear footsteps approaching the carriage, the crunch of gravel under slime boots growing louder and louder.
"Woah, hold up, 567! I sense some mana over here."
"Demonic possession?"
"Could be... It definitely has that vibe."
The other footsteps converged closer, and soon enough, the veil over Sherry's cage was lifted. As Sherry's eyes took a moment to get used to the light, the visage of 3 black blots slowly formed into shapely figures. Three young women, their ages not far off her own, gazed back at Sherry, clad in Shadow Garden's signature ebony bodysuits.
"Hey, you okie dokie?" one of them asked, a peppy voice filled with concern.
Sherry eyes darted across each member. One had short blonde hair, another dark purple, and the last sported auburn locks. The auburn-haired girl, who bore a hastily bandaged arm and was missing a sleeve, was the one who had addressed her. Presumably, she was 568, the victim of Sherry's antacid.
"That's it?!" Sherry felt scorn toward 568's arm.
"What's it?" 568 asked, surprised. Self-consciously, 568 pulled her bandaged arm closer to her chest under Sherry's scrutinizing gaze.
As Sherry averted her gaze to avoid raising further suspicion, she inadvertently caught sight of the battle's aftermath behind them. A macabre graveyard of An'Tye Climato members littered the ground, their bodies strewn about in various states of dismemberment. A sickening feeling welled in the pit of Sherry's stomach. The surreal scene felt like a figurative grenade had just detonated beside her. Her supposed "saviors" had just massacred a group of people, and they were acting as if it was just another day.
"She's in shock."
"But I didn't do anything, did I?"
"What don't you do?"
"Hey!"
"Quiet, you two. We need to move her–"
It was just Sherry's imagination, but the speed of their banter seemed to have sped up. Important-sounding phrases like "safehouse", "confiscate the bags", and "Epsilon" fluttered around her, but Sherry felt her mind slipping away. At some point– apparently– they carried her out of her cage, but this only granted her a more gruesome perspective of the bloodbath, a scene at odds with the nonchalant Shadow Garden conversation.
Seeing the severed head of the bandit leader on the ground, Sherry felt a pang of sorrow. She had been rooting for the boss and his group. In a twisted sort of way, she was glad she got captured by him and not some other bandit.
True, Sherry had purposely placed herself in this situation intending to manipulate the bandits. What she didn't expect, however, was to grow fond of the boss. Sure, he locked her up in a cage for 2 days, but that's because he didn't want her to get lost. And sure, he laid a tarp over her cage the entire time, but she was unsightly. He fed her stale bread– He didn't have to do that. For various reasons, Sherry felt a strange familial bond with the boss, similar to the one she had back at Midgar Academy before her thirst for revenge consumed her. And now, he was dead. "Again."
Sherry should've been absolutely livid with Shadow Garden, and indeed she was. But for a moment, she needed to grieve for the bandit leader. To exhaust the name that felt so familiar when she first heard it back at camp, even if it wasn't a one-to-one match to the name she knew. It was merely a coincidence, but to Sherry she couldn't help but feel the machinations of a bored god who had just played a cruel joke on her. As the Mitsugoshi caravan pulled away from the leftover massacre with her in tow, she offered a silent prayer for the man.
The late bandit leader's name was Luther.