The toughest thing about forming plans, was how well they held up to complications.

Fiona reasoned it was better to get rid of the complications. They were taking these guys all out with stealth–up until the moment her giant hammer started ringing with the sound of impacting bodies.

But for now, super sneaky time. With her sneak thief partner, Bonnie, clinging to the cavern wall with a magical goo that let them crawl along on all fours with no one the wiser.

The urge to start humming the Mission: Impossible theme might be a temptation that could get them killed, in this instance.

"Why are we doing this plan?" Bonnie whispered and moaned softly as the goo stuck to her fur. "You know this one sucks for me, it clings to my fur!"

Fiona kept pressing forward over the ceiling, keeping to the shadows, and speaking in a whisper. "Because this totally worked for raiding the cafeteria during the 'gold tier members only' dinner at the Guild."

"We could have just walked in and out the door!" Bonnie said with a light growl in her voice. "But no, you said we had to leave no trace, and no one's ever going to check the ceiling for footprints. You are the elf on my shoulder, you know that?"

"Pssh. Don't you mean the devil on your shoulder?"

"No. You're a whole other thing, Fi," Bonnie said with a grin. "Besides, Darla might be offended by that statement. With you as a baseline? That makes her a celestial by comparison."

"One of these days, I may receive a punishment," Fiona said with a smirk. Bonnie stifled a snerk, while they worked to get into position.

Jake and Darla were already in position, lying low by the outskirts of the encampment. Doug had flapped upward silently and taken a quiet perch, clutching on a stalagmite. Fiona found it rather strange that a mini-dragon could be stealthy. Then again, most of the kobolds she'd read about in fiction were sneaks that relied on trap-making to make up for their lack of physical power.

They planned to subdue them without any permanent harm done. That made it somewhat more difficult, but, these guys didn't exactly look like hardened killers. They did look twitchy, however. Bonnie had already prepared alchemical potions that were meant for just that–effectively, tear gas and locking foam.

Fiona did ponder if the Bahn hammer could hit someone hard enough with the 'humiliate' mode enabled that she could cause a life-threatening injury. She doubted it, but the last thing she wanted to find out was that the magic had a limit.

Going inverted on the ceiling still felt unsettling, but they eventually worked their way into position, just above where they were unloading the boat. The mercenaries were relatively quiet and only grumbled complaints about the schedule.

With a quick flip, she and Bonnie landed as quietly as cats on the deck. Or kitsunes, as might be her friend's case. Bonnie was the best snack-thief-in-arms she could ever ask for.

Stranger still, the fully unloaded boxes were not being brought to the same tunnel Fiona and her team had come in from. They were going toward another tunnel, and there were rails laid out for a motorized cart, not unlike what they'd seen in the other tunnel. They'd waited a few minutes after a cart left, and timed their strike to be synchronized.

If all else failed and this got difficult, she'd let Greg know that her teleporting to the shop was a sign that things had gone horribly wrong. On the other hand, they'd also need to put these perps somewhere, and it was a long walk back through the tunnels.

Suddenly, one of the lookouts went stiff, just as Fiona pulled the pin on a locking foam grenade. "Yo, guys? Who raided a bakery?" the wolven asked, sniffing around with his snout in the air.

Fiona motioned to Bonnie, flicking one ear to peer around the side. The wily kitsune peeked over the cargo container they were huddled up against on the boat, eyes narrowed. The wolven was still sniffing around, pointing at one younger wolven with short, dark fur. "Hey, no eating on the job!"

"What are you on about?" he asked, glaring at his accuser.

"I smell cinnamon. C'mon, fess up, where are you hiding the sweet roll?"

Fiona's eyes widened, and she took a sniff of her clothing. Not that she'd skipped laundry day, but–

Oh no.

She did smell like a bakery. And she hadn't even eaten a sweet roll today. Today was the much maligned carb skip day. But apparently, the dab of cinnamon scent she put on daily had finally come back to haunt her.

Bonnie slunk low, glaring at Fiona. "If we get busted because of your daily dose of perfume, I'm gonna kill you, Fi."

"Why didn't you say something?!" she air-whispered, flapping her hands while carefully holding her alchemical grenade.

"Because I'm around you all the time, I'm inoculated against that scent!" Bonnie pulled out a small spray bottle and sprayed her–yep, right in the face, and soaking through the armor.

Meanwhile, the men continued to converse about where the young guy was stashing the sweets, and the older one flicked his ears in irritation. "Weird, I don't smell it anymore."

"You're just daydreaming of food, Eddie. Let's finish unpacking and get the shipment in." he pointed at the crate, arching his brow and looking wary. "Uh…is it supposed to smolder?"

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Fiona glanced at Bonnie, whose ears had gone on end. And Fiona's did, too, though less pronounced, because she did hear an ominous hissing sound nearby. And she smelled something noxious. Worse, it wasn't the deterrent spray Bonnie had blasted her with, either.

"Ah, fiddlesticks, dump it in the river!" the authoritative one shouted, grabbing the crate as the package continued to smolder. Fiona watched as the smoke leeched out from inside the crate, and the long-furred wolven calmly carried the crate. The rest of the mercenaries scattered and ducked for cover.

One of them just so happened to choose their location and to enter their hiding spot, much to her displeasure. He ducked low, covering his head with his hands. Then, he looked to his right, finally noticing her and Bonnie. Both of them wore edged smiles.

His reaction was notably slow. "Uh…hi there," he said, eyes filled with terror as Fiona's hammer materialized to full length. "You might want to–"

Fiona heard a splash, the sound of someone running full tilt, then an ominous bubbling sound coming from the water.

Oh. Duck.

Her heart of the shield went up and covered her, and Bonnie, just as whatever was tossed in the river violently disagreed with its exceedingly poor handling.

Which was to say, it threw a plume of water, debris, shattered stalactites, and rocked the boat about as violently as a kid smashing his toy floatie in the bathtub. Bonnie and Fiona slid down the deck, screaming somewhere between excitement and terror. The minion next to them was shrilling like he was about to die.

The minion next to them should count his lucky stars that her shield kept him from becoming a workplace accident statistic–

Her thoughts and mood plunged into the icy-cold river, the boat bouncing violently back into position, as more crates capsized, splashing into the water around them. Fiona stared in dismay around them as the crates started hissing, while a very soaked and infuriated kitsune sputtered next to her.

"Good fortune my ass, Fi!" she screamed, and looked like a–well, a drowned fox, just about. Fiona pointed at the hissing crates, and Bonnie's ears went on end, her eyes dilating to an almost comical proportion. "Fi? We should not be here."

"Bonnie? Minion? Hold onto me.Tightly." The sputtering wolfman had no objections to grabbing her arm while Fiona grabbed Bonnie, and that hissing became a violent bubbling sound all around them.

Poof.

One flash of light later, and one ponderance on if Feo'thari would be pissed about a repeat house call later, the shop materialized around them. All three of them flopped to the wooden floor, sprawled out in a pile, soaking wet.

Fiona realized she'd been holding her breath for way too long and let out a gasping exhale, and her body wouldn't stop trembling. "Bonnie, you alive?" she asked shakily.

"I'm soaked, Fi!" she screamed as she shoved Fiona off of her, her fur matted across her body, and water continued to drop off of her. "Who the hell transports pyrogel in substandard packing crates?!"

"So, you're saying this isn't my fault?" Fiona asked in an edged tone.

"Yes! No! Stop doing that, Fi! Hell hath no fury like vulpine soaked!" She ran her hands over her face, with rivulets of water running down. Fiona would correct her that Cepalune had some weird takes on phrases from Earth, and she pondered which idiot summons got them all wrong.

"Where are we?"

Both of them glared at the temporarily forgotten minion, currently clinging to Fiona's bicep, his eyes darting all around the room and babbling incoherently. This was really killing her image of Wolvens as big, strong warriors like Jake, because this guy wasn't.

"This is hell, Minion. Retail is hell," Fiona uttered deadpan. His expression faded into a blank stare for three seconds, his muzzle quivering.

"No! No! This really is hell, isn't it?! I'd rather die twice than work in retail again!" he wailed.

"Minion? Let go of my arm. Before you lose the arm," Fiona growled. She ignored the fact that there seemed to be a lack of people around the shop, and it wasn't closing time yet. Or Greg's yelling at them about leaving a growing puddle on the floor. "Also, Minion, you're under Guild Arrest. For transporting pyrophoric materials without an alchemical license, gross negligence, smuggling, and ruining the kitsune's fur. That last one carries a death penalty."

"Fi! Focus, Jake and the others!" Bonnie shouted and punched her shoulder. She wasted no time putting a zip coil around Minion's hands and hog-tying him, ignoring what must be just an average Fiersday in her shop.

"Bonnie, we're going in for another swim, hope you know that!" Fiona called out, grabbing the drenched enchantress, who let out a distressed growl. She was about to blink them back when she heard a slow clap.

She turned her head to look for the source, that slow clap still going strong. When she saw the source, she let out a sound of disgust. Bonnie also turned and bared her fangs when she saw who it was.

"You know, Fi? I'm questioning your fortunes right now."

[I resent that. This isn't my fault either.]

Varith was slow-clapping from the counter, with dark hair, steely eyes, and grinning from ear to ear. Strangely, the outfit Bianca had been wearing earlier had adjusted to his form, including his height. "Hi, guys. Guess who's back?"

Greg stood adjacent to the counter, wearing the look of someone who had just royally shit the bed. "H-Hi, guys. We've been meditating. The store is still standing and intact, for the record."

Fiona hit her break point, pointy elven canines bared. "I was gone for three hours, Greg! You had one job!" she bellowed out. "What the hell happened?"

Varith/Bianca shrugged. "Someone did an oopsie with the mana cell. Well, all of them. Now you get me for the day!" he called out with all the glee of a terror child.

"Dragon crap, those cells last for a week–" Fiona started to argue, but Bonnie hit her breaking point, letting out a shout of frustration.

"Enough! Fi, Jake and the others! Let's take this walking disaster with us!" Bonnie called out, marching toward Varith, dripping water the entire way as she grabbed him with one clawed hand, and then grabbed Fiona's hand, for an impromptu teleport chain. "Three things, Varith! One, try to hurt us, and I'll melt you with alchemical acids! Two, there's a fight, and I need these guys alive! Three, I hope you can swim!"

Varith's face scrunched in puzzlement, then a lecherous smile emerged. "I like you when you're angry."

"So does Greg," she snarled. Said accountant found a keen interest in the ceiling as she said that. "Hold on tight!"

Fiona couldn't suppress a groan. Getting Varith out of the shop and away from people was likely the least dangerous option. "Yep, this is how I'm gonna die this time around. Hold on tight, walking disaster."

Poof.

Greg stared in dismay at the fading energy trails as Fiona, Varith, and Bonnie teleported to whatever fresh disaster they'd come from. "Oh, she's so pissed," he sighed.

The fact that impromptu meditation lessons helped keep Bianca from going fully manic after Varith showed up behind the wheel was a testament to his skill, and not, in fact, the failure of their contingencies. He had no idea how he was going to explain this one.

A soft cough from the shop floor got his attention. He gave a contemptible look toward the source, then walked over. He came to a stop a few steps later, looking at the man known as Minion. "I trust there's an explanation for this?" he asked, folding his arms and leering at the hogtied wolven.

"Never take dodgy jobs from fugitive dragons," he groaned. "Can you untie me, pretty please, with a sweet roll on top?"

"No. I'm making you work off the janitorial duties of cleaning this mess."

"Oh, gods," the man groaned. "This really is hell."

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