Midnight Dasher chewed on her bottom lip as she steadied her swaying hooves. The paper figures standing still dead in front of her terrified her more than any of the other tests her grueling training had forced her through. She sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, holding it to try and steady herself as she aimed down the narrow sights of her handgun.
“Take it easy, Midnight,” Fleethoof instructed her, standing just behind the bat pony. “Remember, it’s not about speed in this test. It’s about making every shot count.”
“I know…” Midnight grumbled, taking another deep breath.
On the other side of the table, two paper targets of standing ponies had been set up, one almost entirely obscured by the other in front of it. One had a hoof wrapped around the other’s neck, pointing a crudely drawn weapon back downrange at her. Midnight could barely see the head of the target peeking out from around the ‘civilians’.
Midnight lowered her aim, looking back at Fleethoof with pleading eyes. “Is this really necessary?”
“More than you know,” said Fleethoof with a terse nod. “In our line of work, you need to be prepared for any situation. What if that was one of the princesses, and they were about to be executed? What would you do then?”
Turning back to her target, Midnight took a third deep breath and lifted her gun again. She took a few more seconds to line up the sights, putting every ounce of faith she had into a silent prayer as her hoof tightened around the trigger.
Bang!
The gun went off, one round sailing downrange. Midnight set her gun down on the table while Fleethoof made a gesture to a nearby unicorn. With a burst of magic, the target began whizzing down the rail it hung on, inching closer and closer. Midnight strained her eyes, searching for the telltale mark that indicated a clean kill. It was only once the target reached the bench did she finally spot it. A single hole ran neatly through both silhouettes’ necks.
Fleethoof cocked his head to the side slightly. “Apparently, you would do the terrorist’s work for them.”
“Fuck it all,” she muttered, tearing her targets down while Fleethoof replaced them. “I still don’t see the point in making this so hard.”
“Tell that to the grieving family of the hostage you just killed,” he replied coolly, poking his hoof at the hole tearing through the target’s aorta. “We make it this hard so that if this situation comes up, you’re ready for it, regardless of the difficulty.”
Midnight grumbled as she crumpled her targets into a large paper wad and returned behind the firing line with Fleethoof.
“Well, why don’t you demonstrate then?” Midnight challenged.
“Ooooooh,” Sharp Shot crooned from the sidelines, an amused grin plastered to his face. “She’s calling you out, boss.”
Fleethoof cast a look at Midnight. The mare simply responded with a daring smirk and a flick of her head toward the two targets. For a moment, neither side spoke. Then Fleethoof drew his pistol and approached the bench.
Taking his stance, Fleethoof trained the sights downrange at the two targets. The forms almost blended into one big mass, making distinguishing where to aim more difficult. His hooves flexed over his weapon, letting his patience run its course. He knew one wrong twitch could mean the difference between life and death.
Midnight approached the bench beside him, a cocksure smirk on her lips. “So, got any sage advice for the rest of us, or are you just gonna take a shot in the dark?”
Fleethoof licked his lips and exhaled slowly, keeping his hooves held steady. He trained the sights over the barely visible head of his paper enemy. Everything had to be just right.
“Pretend it’s somepony you care about. Then you’ll force yourself to make the shot.”
He sucked in a deep breath and held it for a few seconds. Fleethoof’s eyes closed and he released the breath. When his eyes snapped open again, he pictured his hostage, and squeezed the trigger.
Bang!
The single shot rang out, and Midnight eagerly watched as the target was returned to them. Fleethoof set his gun down and waited much more patiently. The closer it got, the more he could see Midnight’s self-satisfied grin, and soon saw why. One lone bullet hole had torn through the side of the hostage’s face and ran through the enemy’s eye.
“Dammit… I really thought that one was clean…” muttered Fleethoof, swapping out the targets with a frown.
“Not quite so easy, is it, Captain?” said Midnight, nudging the pegasus with her shoulder.
Fleethoof shot an affronted look at the bat pony smiling with coy amusement at him. He glance over at the range officer and gave a nod of his head. The unicorn nodded back and made a few adjustments on a console. The target flipped to the side, completely obscuring the silhouettes. A few seconds later, it flipped back for a fraction of a second before turning away again.
Midnight gaped at the impossibly moving target. “Oh, come on, Fleet!”
“If we dealt in easy, Midnight, we wouldn’t be very exclusive. Try again.”
“If we dealt in easy, we wouldn’t be exclusive,” Midnight repeated in a deep, gruff voice, punctuated with a giggle. “That’s what you sound like.”
Fleethoof sighed and rubbed his forehead with a hoof. “Just shoot the target, Corporal…”
“When can we start doing real jobs?”
“When you’re ready.” Fleethoof pointed to the two targets downrange. “But right now, you need to save your hostage.”
Midnight puffed out her chest and gave a disappointed huff. It had been almost a year since she and Echo had been recruited, and so far, all they had seen was Skyfall’s top secret labs and training courses. No real action or task had demanded their attention, and whenever something minor popped up, Fleethoof always sent one of the other stallions, claiming the two fillies hadn’t completed their required training yet.
She snatched her gun up and pointed it at her targets. She squinted her eyes a little, focusing on which target she was supposed to shoot. Think about somepony you care about… she thought. She placed a face over the blank hostage—and Midnight froze. She could feel her heart pounding slow and strong in her chest, and all of a sudden she didn’t want to risk taking the shot, lest she miss.
Fleethoof saw the hesitation cross Midnight. “Remember, you probably won’t have this much time in a real situation.” Still, Midnight held steady. “Midnight, take the shot before he kills the hostage, or you.”
Midnight bit her lower lip, rolling it between her teeth gently as her hoof tightened around her gun. Her body tingled with a foreign numbness. She felt like she was being taken out of her body, out of the situation. She didn’t notice the other pony approaching from behind her.
Bang!
The gunshot beside her made Midnight jump out of her skin, pulling her roughly back into reality. She spun on her hooves, nearly smacking the stallion next to her with her wings in the process.
A tall and slender Earth pony stood beside her, an inscrutable look glazed over in his eyes. He had a coat as white and pristine as freshly fallen snow. His platinum blonde mane was combed and styled with the neatness and intricacy Midnight expected a king to carry. But what struck her most about the stranger were his eyes: one a pale, clear gray and the other a vivid yellow, slitted in the fashion of her kind.
He stared back down at her with a cool, calculating look, as if he was trying to read her mind, while he slid a sleek, black pistol inside a finely pressed black suit jacket. Midnight was speechless, too taken aback by the pony’s sudden appearance out of nowhere and by his unusual eye. He, however, seemed to have her summed up in a matter of seconds before averting his gaze to the rest of Skyfall Team.
“Bentgrass, what a pleasant surprise,” Fleethoof greeted the pony, approaching with a smile. “Trying to show my recruits up?”
“I wouldn’t call it that,” Bentgrass replied coolly, a southern twang accented his lyrical tone while glancing downrange at the swaying targets. “I was merely rescuing your… hostage.”
Sharp Shot let out a loud whistle as he inspected the target. “He got him, boss. Clean shot, right across the side of the bad guy’s head.”
“I… But— Guh…” Midnight sputtered incoherently, casting a bewildered look at Bentgrass. “How did you do that?!”
“Years of experience.”
“Lucky shot,” Fleethoof teased.
“I would not be very proficient in my career if I relied solely on luck, Captain.”
Fleethoof tipped his head, conceding the point. “This is true. Fillies and gentlecolts, I’d like you to meet Special Agent Bentgrass, a friend from the Royal Investigative Service.”
“Division Six,” added Bentgrass.
“Ha! Yeah right…” Sharp Shot cackled. “Aren’t you ponies all spook agents, hunting ghosts and other things that don’t exist?”
Fleethoof closed his eyes against the mounting frustration. “Sharp—“
“Oooooh, do you all sit up on the roofs with antennas trying to talk to aliens? Oh no, wait, you’re the guys that do Slender Mane’s taxes, right?”
“The RIS is where we receive our intel from,” Fleethoof said in explanation, cutting off any further banter from the loudmouthed sniper. “Division Six is at the top of the pyramid, so to speak. Everything crucial we’ve ever learned has come from our friends in those offices.”
“So you were the ponies that uncovered the whole terrorist threat here in Canterlot a few years back?” Blue Shield asked.
Bentgrass gave a terse nod, barely casting his gaze at the sniper for more than a second before continuing to look around his surroundings. “That is correct. I cannot personally take credit for that discovery, but that was Division Six.”
“Well, you really helped us out with those lunatics. Thanks, pal.”
“Think nothing of it.” Bentgrass turned his attention back to Fleethoof again. “Captain, may I have a moment of your time?”
Fleethoof nodded. “Of course. It’s not very often we get RIS agents visiting us. Usually you just send over files and pictures.”
“Yes, but this is a matter of… personal interest.”
“Whatever it is, boss, I swear I didn’t do it!” Sharp Shot called from across the room.
Fleethoof rolled his eyes and motioned with a hoof to the range. “Everypony set up your targets and save your hostages. I want clean kills. No killing, maiming, or wounding the hostage—not even a scratch.”
In a heartbeat, Skyfall Team was rushing to get set up. Fleethoof watched his team work efficiently for a few seconds before motioning with his head to Bentgrass. He took the pony aside, away from the gunfire and into privacy.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, Agrostis,” Fleethoof spoke in a murmur. “It’s been… what, a year now?”
“I could say the same for you, Captain Fleethoof.”
“I’ve been kept busy.”
Bentgrass made a soft sound of acknowledgement. “Such is the way of the world.”
“I take it you didn’t come down here to compare cryptic asides with me.”
A long pause passed between the ponies. Fleethoof glanced sideways, staring at the stallion at his side. Bentgrass was watching the ponies of Skyfall at the shooting range, his eyes distant. Fleethoof could see the trouble behind them.
“Two Division Six agents have gone missing,” he said after the moment had passed. “They were working a field investigation and have failed to report in three days. They aren’t answering their communicators either. The Director fears the worst, and wants me to check in on their status.”
Fleethoof mulled over the information for a moment, listening idly to the pops of nearby gunfire. “Missing field agents is definitely something to raise a red flag… What were they investigating?”
“A potential threat to Equestrian security. Several weeks ago, we received an anonymous tip regarding some very sensitive material. It insinuated a high-profile family was involved in organized crime of the violent variety, as well as weapons trafficking to our enemies amongst other crimes. We sent two agents out to investigate the lead, but they’ve just disappeared.”
“Definitely a red flag.” He looked back at Bentgrass again. “Do you think they met with some trouble?”
“I don’t know.” Bentgrass’ answer was quick, short, and simple. Fleethoof didn’t buy it.
“What do your instincts tell you?”
That made the agent hesitate a moment. “I feel as if they met some ill fate. It definitely doesn’t feel right, but I have no evidence of the contrary that would suggest they were in any danger.”
“Well, go find out then,” said Fleethoof with a calm shrug. “If anypony can find an answer, it’d be you.”
“That’s why I’m here. I want you to come with me.”
“Say what now?”
“I need you to come with me.”
Fleethoof was very confused. “Why? I thought you agent types liked to work alone, you especially. When’s the last time you had a partner?”
“I do, but my shield only gets me so far, and if these rumors of weapons dealing and violent crime are true, I would like to have somepony who doesn’t mind… bending the rules. I’ve found teamwork does have its benefits.” Bentgrass looked over at Fleethoof finally. “I know your ponies don’t mind breaking a few laws or ethics. The RIS… we don’t have all the luxuries you do.”
“Tenebris a lucem…” murmured the captain. “Who’s the target?”
“The suspect”—Bentgrass put special emphasis on the word—“is Dandridge Clydesdale.”
A hard laugh left Fleethoof. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Dandridge Clydesdale IV? The sole surviving member of the Clydesdale noble family? The representative of Thatchholm county in the Canterlot Senate? You’re trying to investigate him? He’s virtually bulletproof. His ancestors helped found Equestria. Not to mention nopony can get near the residence or him to even get an interview.”
“Now you see the dilemma,” Bentgrass muttered darkly.
“Now I know why you need my help. Nopony would permit you to invade his residence and privacy for a witch hunt.”
“If it is imperative to locating clues and revealing the truth, then it is a risk I am more than willing to take.”
Fleethoof dipped his head, staring down at the floor. He understood the sentiment. If any of his ponies were in danger, he would move heaven and earth to rescue them. He had bent and broken rules in the pursuit of justice and preservation before. Leniency of the law opened so many doors.
“Do you really feel that Clydesdale is somehow behind your agents’ disappearance?” he asked in a husky tone.
“They disappeared when they began investigating him as a lead. I don’t believe in coincidences. If he’s behind it, I’m going to find out and get him… but I may need help getting enough evidence to pin him to the wall.”
Another slow nod from the pegasus. He had made up his mind. Lifting his head again, he looked back to Bentgrass with a crooked smile on his face and a glint in his eyes.
“Then what are we waiting for?”
In the darkness, all Dawn Glimmer could see was an endless black void. It crushed her soul and made her chest tighten, the claustrophobia almost too much to deal with. Even though her vision had been impaired, she kept her head bowed, staring at where she knew the floor was. She couldn’t bear to lift her head knowing the body of her partner was decaying somewhere else in the room with her.
Dawn grimaced as bright light spilled directly into her weary eyes with the opening of a door. Hooves clopped across the wood floor, approaching her with a leisurely gait. She didn’t need her vision to know who it was.
The sickening smiling face of Dandridge appeared before her face when her eyes had finally adjusted to the new light. He made a soft sound that sounded like a chuckle crossed with a purr and softly patted her cheek. Dawn flinched away from his touch.
“Ah, good, you’re still with us, Miss Glimmer,” he said, stepping away to grab a glass of water and lift it to her lips. “I do apologize for not visiting you sooner. I had to make sure you wouldn’t try to fight against me anymore. Thirsty?”
Dawn was positively parched. Having had nothing to eat or drink in days, she felt fatigued and spent. Despite her needy thirst, she refused to give in and take any inch from the madpony. Dandridge was patient, however, and simply shook the enticing glass of cool liquid in front of her face.
“Equestria to Miss Glimmer… Come in. Aren’t you thirsty?”
With a flick of her head, Dawn defiantly knocked the glass out of his hoof, hearing it shatter with a satisfying crunch of glass. Dandridge simply tipped his head and lowered his now empty hoof again.
“Very well, then… That seemed a little extreme. You could have simply declined.”
“You killed my partner and left me chained to a wall for Celestia knows how long,” snapped Dawn aggressively, a rebellious fire burning in her eyes. “And you’re calling me extreme?”
“For your knowledge, it’s been three days, Miss Glimmer—and this can all end if you’ll cooperate with me.” Dandridge unstrapped Keen Eye’s corpse from the chair and pushed it carelessly to the floor. Dawn’s teeth gnashed together and she gave an instinctive jerk against the shackles, her body jerking in place. He then dragged the chair across the floor, letting the wood scrape noisily together as he took a seat calmly in front of his prisoner. “I want you to answer a few questions for me.”
Dawn scoffed, trying to put up a tough front when she could barely even keep her head held up. “What the fuck makes you think I’ll ever cooperate with you…?”
“Incentive,” he said, tapping his hooves against the floor. “If you do well and answer truthfully, I’ll let you live. If you don’t, or if you refuse, I’m going to have to punish you.”
“Fuck you, you psychopath.”
Dandridge sighed sadly, then stood up from his seat and made his way across the room. A panel of switches lined the wall. He glanced back at Dawn as he pulled one. Dawn’s body jumped as sharp electric bolts ran through her from head to toe. She tried to cry out in agony, but no sound left her lungs. Every muscle in her body seized up, locking in place and giving short spasms as the excruciating pain ripped through her.
Stars exploded before her eyes. Dandridge left her writhing about for a few moments before turning the switch off again. He calmly made his way back to his seat, watching the mare hang limply against her restraints, gasping for breath.
“Now you know I’m not playing around. I take my business very seriously, Miss Glimmer. So when somepony like you comes around threatening it, I won’t spare any expense to protect it.” He paused, letting his words sink into the shock-addled pony’s brain. “I want to know how long you’ve been investigating me. How much do you know? How deep does your case go?”
Dawn glowered up at Dandridge, slowing her breathing down enough to speak. “Go fuck yourself…”
“Oh, please, Miss Glimmer, don’t make this harder than it has to be. Just tell me.”
A scoff left the battered mare’s lips, glaring daggers at the stallion smiling so passively mare inches from her face. “Hard…? Oh, you don’t know hard, not until you’ve met my colleagues. They’re gonna find you, and when they do, they’re gonna bend you over backwards and drag you through the mud.”
Dandridge rolled his eyes as he walked back over to the switches.
“You want me to tell you something? You’re nothing more than a sociopathic degenerate whose sole purpose in life is to end up in a ditch at the side of the road! Your mane cut looks like something out of a high school yearbook and you look like your mother never dressed you a day in your life— AAAAAAHHH!”
With another flick, Dawn was thrashing against her restraints. Every muscle in her body squirmed against her will, fighting to get away from the pain. She could deftly hear the machinery in the wall whirring away, operating at maximum capacity to send streaks of blinding agony jolting into her brain. The lights became more and more distant, blackness creeping over the edges of her vision.
Dandridge left the torture device on longer this time, only speaking once he had shut it off. “Tell me what you know. Who else knows about this case? How high does it go?”
Dawn swallowed back the bile rising in her throat. The RIS had required all agents go through a basic form of torture resistance training, but nothing in all her life could have ever prepared her for a situation like this. She forced the hopelessness out of her mind. She had to keep fighting for herself, and for her partner.
Don’t tell him anything… she repeated like a mantra in her head. Don’t tell him anything…
The electricity was turned on again. This time, Dawn was able to scream as she flailed and fought against an invisible force. The electricity was shut off just as her vision began to black out.
“How high does it go?” Dandridge repeated, the lethal anger in his voice becoming much more evident. “The Director of RIS? The Royal Guard? The princesses?!”
“It goes nowhere… just like you…” Dawn muttered, barely able to give strength to her voice.
Dandridge growled as he slammed the switch back on. The acrid smell of something burning hit her nostrils. It took Dawn a few moments to realize the smell was her own flesh.
“One last time, Miss Glimmer… Who knows?”
He heard Dawn murmur something, her words barely audible. With a frustrated groan, he trotted back up to her, bringing his face right up to hers. In the stallion’s citrine eyes, Dawn saw the euphoric gleam of a demented madpony. The look in his eyes reminded her of a junkie chasing after a high. He was deeply enjoying inflicting pain on her.
“What did you say?”
Dawn lifted her head, looked Dandridge in the eye, and spat in his face. Dandridge recoiled in surprise, wiping the spittle from his cheek. A deathly dark look clouded his bright eyes. Dawn gave a weak laugh as she watched him head back for his switchboard, and then crumpled into cries of anguish when the torture resumed. The pain had become numbing to her agonized body. It felt like a tingling burn was radiating throughout her, tearing her apart from the inside out.
When Dandridge finally calmed down enough to switch off the machine, Dawn was barely conscious. He slowly sauntered back over to her, looking the limp mare over with grim satisfaction.
“I am very disappointed in your behavior today, my dear…” he said, his words cold. He chuckled and kissed her cheek gently. “We’ll have to try again tomorrow…”
Dawn gave a quiet whimper as she heard him walk out, and then the darkness consumed her again.