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Moon light illuminated the way to El Pueblo de Nuestra Señora la Reina de Los Ángeles. The name translated to The Town of Our Lady, the Queen of the Angels. This name and beautiful country belied the reality of its citizens. The persecution Don Nacho Torres faced was inexcusable. Monastario had lancers searching for the Don, as one would hunt for a convicted criminal, however, the comandante had not yet discovered Don Nacho. On multiple occasions, Zorro found refuge in the shadows to avoid being spotted by the soldiers.
He eyed the town square to see it was vacant and entered the Comandante’s quarters. Monastario slept as Zorro entered through the open window. Zorro shook his head as he eyed the comandante. How can he sleep knowing what he’s done to these good people? Zorro brushed the tip of his sword over the Comandante’s goatee. Monastario woke with a start. “Good evening, Señor!” Zorro smiled as he held the tip of his sword to the Comandante’s chest.
“Zorro!” Monastario sat up in bed and scowled when he saw his sword against the wall and out of his reach. Of course! The one night my pistol isn’t under my pillow.
“I came to speak with you on behalf of Señor Torres. I would not cry out Comandante. I could run you through before your lancers could save you.” Zorro noted that his words had the desired effect. Monastario closed his mouth and glared at the masked man. “Now, I want you to drop all the charges against Don Nacho. Everyone in the Pueblo knows these charges are false!”
“Everyone in this backwards pueblo is an idiot!”
“Comandante, you flatter yourself!”
Monastario fumed. “I do not consort with outlaws!”
“In this instance, Monastario, you do not have a choice. Don Nacho and his family are nothing, if not loyal, to the King of Spain. Tomorrow you are going to drop these charges.”
“I am, am I?” Monastario said. “No outlaw tells me what to do!” Monastario hurled his pillow, followed by his candlestick. He jumped out of bed and grabbed his sword.
Zorro caught the pillow and used it to block the candlestick. Still, it distracted him enough that he couldn’t stop Monastario from reaching his weapon.
Their blades clashed, the sound echoing in the small space. “Oh, why does that idiot sergeant have to be such a sound sleeper?” Monastario growled. “Sergeant Garcia!” He yelled. If he could only wipe that infuriating smile off the bandit’s face!
Zorro parried each of the Comandante’s attempts at running him through. He enjoyed the chance to exercise his abilities with the blade. As he heard the soldiers running through the cuartel, he knew it was time to take his leave. Monastario had yet to give his word that he’d drop the charges. It was best to live to fight another day. A flick of his wrist sent the Comandante’s sword into the ceiling.
Monastario yelled as he tried to pull it down and continue the fight. Giving up, he lunged at Zorro, intent on trapping him until the soldiers could come. Zorro put his blade between himself and the comandante. Monastario stopped himself as the tip of the outlaw’s sword came towards his chest. “We shall have to continue this at another time, Comandante.” Zorro saluted. As the soldiers broke through the door, Zorro let himself out the window to race off on Tornado.