1
In the dead of night, on the outskirts of Manehattan, a solitary mare sat, hunched over a desk in perfect silence. Her only company was a single candle, flickering defiantly against the cold breeze that escaped the nearby window. A bead of sweat trickled down her face as she put pen to paper.
How can a single letter be this hard to write? she wondered, simply staring at the blank paper. After allowing herself a few moments to gather what precious willpower she had left, she began her letter anew for the sixth time.
July 3rd, 1007,
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Orange,
If you are reading this- and I pray you never need to- you will already know I am gone. This letter is both an apology and an explanation for my actions, though I fear these words will be no justification for what I’ve done, not in your eyes.
Needless to say, my time in Ponyville five years ago was something of an eye opener… though perhaps not in the way you intended. While I was there, I became enamoured with an idea, a concept that Mrs. Orange’s niece showed me -- the ‘Mare do Well’. A defender of the innocent. Suddenly, it felt as if all the broken pieces of my life had fallen back together. I now know why I was spared that night. This suit… no. It was more than that. It was a symbol, and I would use it to make sure no one ever lost another loved one on these streets.
Night after night I would stare at this purple-and-blue suit which had adorned a mannequin, envisioning myself as some hero, somepony able to defend-
The mare shivered in the cold night air, and moved over to the window to shut it. She began to ponder her choice of words…’Broken pieces of my life?’ Seems a bit grandiose. May need changing…’ she thought to herself before resuming her letter.
-the innocent. The filly or colt who had wound up in my position, scared out of their minds. The idea of me saving them from such heartbreak… it was all that let me rest at night. A single scrap of hope to cling on to.
Upon my request, I was given the Mare do Well costume. Miss Applejack had told me that between herself and her friends Ponyville already had more than enough heroes, and didn’t need a cape or cowl to hide behind. After a week of the Apple family’s hospitality, I set out to travel the world, searching for a means to fight. As luck would have it I came across a quaint little village with an extraordinary old stallion living there. He taught me many styles of fighting, and I took to them with relative ease, so much so that I even earned my Cutie Mark in the process. I was born for this life, it seemed.
And now I have returned; no longer the scared little filly that had to run, but a mare capable of so much more. For years the faces of the four ponies responsible for taking my brother from me were etched into my memory, but now I could finally make them feel that fear.
Frost Storm paid for his bravery, and in truth much of my guilt came from knowing I was not strong enough to do the same. But no more. It is my turn to make that sacrifice, to save as many as I can. If I have fallen in this city's defence, at least take solace in knowing that I have no regrets… other than the pain this has caused you.
It is time. The streets are calling, and the night is still young. Know only that I love both of you, and that I hope someday you can forgive my selfishness for having chosen this life.
But I must do this. I am the Mare do Well.
-Snow Storm
For a moment, the mare considered crumpling up the letter and adding it to the pile was already in the basket beside her, but her eyes were too heavy and her legs were too leaden to continue. She simply folded the letter, and tucked it into one of her dresser drawers beneath a layer of clothes.
2
A million little stars twinkled brilliantly in the Manehattan sky, disappearing and reappearing behind thin, wispy clouds, remnants of the night's earlier rainshower drifting aimlessly far above. The moon hung at its apex in the sky, washing the skyline of the city in a silvery, serene glow. Down below, rows of tall lamps lined both sides of Manehattan’s streets, their pairs of downward-curving steel limbs clutching bright orbs and casting the lower levels of the city in artificial orange light.
Snow Storm took a deep breath, and exhaled it slowly. She shifted, trying to get her suit into a more comfortable position and keep it from chafing against her body. I should have worn this more often, she thought, pulling the fabric away from her inner left thigh where it had bunched up yet again. The cowl and oversized hat both sagged off of her shoulder; they were both quite easy to slip on should the need arise, but for now the young mare preferred to keep her face in the fresh air.
Not that such a decision was particularly risky to her identity. Besides the fact that most of Manehattan’s citizens had no need or desire to gaze up at rooftop buildings, few ponies in the city even knew she existed. Just about anyone who would happen to see her face could only describe a white mare with a shocking-blue mane, which happened to be a hundred other ponies in this crowded city. Her only visibly distinguishing feature was the off-center grey streak running the length of her mane and tail, but even that could be easily missed by an unobservant eye.
She looked down from the building’s lip from which she was perched, pushing away the slight sense of vertigo which accompanied the movement. Admittedly, she was a little surprised at all of the activity still going on below -- the nightlife was, apparently, just as active as the day time. Dozens of pedestrians flowed up and down the sidewalks, all completely unaware of the mare watching them. Four lanes of carriage traffic made up the movement of the asphalt street, carrying either passengers or cargo to specific destinations. Most were pulled by a single pony, though a few teams of pairs had passed under her muzzle every now and again. She had even seen a large cargo wagon, taking up both lanes and pulled by a team of four muscular, well toned stallions. If only they had glanced her way…
A horrible crash from the streets reached Snow Storm's ears. She snapped her head to the left. There had been a collision between a private carriage and a flatbed wagon. The wagon had been knocked over onto its side, spilling wooden barrels everywhere into the intersection. Traffic was blocked off for a mile, at least. A number of the barrels had split open in the crash, spilling their contents and flooding the streets.
A thick stallion shook his head after the impact that had sent him reeling. Even from her vantage point, Snow Storm could see his nostrils flared out in explosive anger. He twisted his head every-which-way, looking for the driver whom he had run into, and found the poor pony sideways in the air, still strapped into his harness.
The stallion was on his target before the other could unbuckle himself from the harness, his thick Manehattan accent ringing out into the night. “Watch where ya drivin’!” Snow Storm cocked an ear forward to get a better listen, keeping her other one trained on her flank in case of surprises. She wasn’t expecting trouble… but then again, neither were the ponies down on the street only a minute ago.
“Hey, I’m sorry!” the overturned carriage driver said, finally managing to undo his strap. He flopped unceremoniously to the ground, managing to pull himself up and lean against his wreckage. “My signal turned green! I dunno what you were doing!”
“You accusin’ me!?” The belligerent stallion drew himself up to his full stature, puffing out his chest and glaring daggers into the noticeably smaller pony. “I happen to know how to pull a carriage, unlike some ponies in this city!”
Snow Storm frowned, taking quick glances up and down all four streets. She was out here to find a gang of killers, not play traffic cop for one rowdy citizen. But if the guards didn’t show up soon, she’d have to step in before there could be any bloodshed…
As if her mere thought brought them into existence, a pair of night-guards galloped up to the scene. Snow Storm quickly reached back and pulled the mask and hat over her head, letting her eyes adjust to the slightly filtered view afforded her by the mask. She didn’t dare risk one of the guards seeing her features; with their slitted pupils granting them superior eyesight even in a moonless night, a night guard could make her out quite easily. She pulled back onto the roof, letting only her head peek out over roof’s lip as a precautionary measure; one of the night-guard had taken to the skies, presumably in order to get a more complete view of the wreckage. He shouldn’t have to come anywhere near her, but it was better not to take an unnecessary risk all the same.
In fact, it’s about time I leave. Yes… There was nothing more to gain by staking out this spot - the guards would be crawling all over it for a while longer. Everyone was safe from harm, as she could hear one guard trying to calm the raging stallion down. Even if he was unsuccessful, he still had backup with him.
Snow Storm picked herself up, galloping across the flat Manehattan rooftops and away from the crash scene, jumping into the alleyway and switching out her costume for a set of standard clothing.
It was time to size up the guards up close and personal.
3
“Quiet night,” Pelleas commented, tonguing his fangs out of boredom. Walking at a leisurely pace beside him was the older and much more experienced Lieutenant, who snorted in amusement.
“Quiet nights are always the best…” Lieutenant Flyntt said, sucking in a deep breath of the still night air. “They’re the ones you know could get the most interesting. Every time it’s this quiet, I pray to Luna something big’s about to go down. Don’t disrespect the silence boy. It’s the best part of the job.”
“Come on, sir,” Pelleas responded, rolling his eyes. “The worst thing Manehattan’s seen in years was the homicide of the Orange’s son, which nopony’s ever bothered to even look into after it went cold. Why aren’t we focusing on that? Trying for new leads?”
Flyntt’s eyes narrowed, his smile becoming a grimace.
“You might not want to ask the wrong ponies about that one. We have our suspicions, and if we’re right…” he said, looking away. “I hate to say it, Pelleas, but there are some ponies in this city too big to take down. I intend to change that someday.”
“Oh yeah, some thugs in an alleyway,” Pelleas replied with a snort. “Real big, sir. I’m shaking in my armor.”
“Some day you’ll realize that the biggest crooks around are the ones nobody thinks are crooks… the puppetmasters who nobody can touch. I wish there was somepony out there that could take care of ‘em for us…” Flyntt sighed.
“Why can’t we? Captain Leaf is fearless! We can just storm in on all the big guys’ compounds, one by one!”
“And if we’re wrong? If they’ve hid the evidence elsewhere and broken into the house of an innocent -if wealthy- civilian? Princess Luna would sack the lot of us. No, Pelleas, you need to know that some battles are just too big to fight. For us, at least. Captain Leaf is our best and brightest, and you’ll never see him attempting such folly.”
“Just wait, sir,” Pelleas said with a grin. “Someday, I’ll be the Captain. And I won’t be too afraid to ransack the Red Hoof and his gang.”
Flyntt looked over his comrade, unimpressed. “They were holding bets on how long you’d last out here back at the office. Most of the money was on a week. I bet a day. Try not to embarrass yourself too quickly, kid.”
“You treat all your trainees like that, or am I just special?” the younger one asked dryly, grumbling. It was improper to backtalk a superior, of course… but Flyntt almost seemed to enjoy it.
“You’re growing on me kid… I hope the doctor’s got an ointment for that.” He smirked.
“Pretty sure I know where he could stick that oint-” From down the street came the sound of wood colliding with wood. The two guards stopped, looking back. “Sounded like a crash,” Pelleas said with almost a hint of giddiness. About time something jumped.
“Let’s go show these clowns who the night belongs to…” Flyntt said, baring his fangs in a toothy grin.
“Race you, sir?”
“Alright, on the count of three…” Flyntt said, already in flight before he even began speaking.
* * *
“Halt, criminal scum!” Flyntt shouted. It was an antiquated phrase, but sometimes the old ways were best.
“What’ra ya talkin’ about, ‘criminal’!? This idiot starts pulling his wagon out into the intersection and I’m just here tryin’ to stop! Where were ya, huh!? Useless bats, can’t even be traffic cops I swear!”
At this, a sick grin spread across Flyntt’s face.
“Lemme tell ya a story, it won’t take long, about us… ‘bats’, as you call us. See, we Fulake were here long before you little ponies showed up on these lands, but we let you stay cause’ we’re just that nice. And do you know what us ‘bats’ used to eat?” he said, getting close to the uncomfortable stallion. His fangs glistened in the moonlight, his smile terrible.
“Meat… hey Pelleas, did I have lunch today? I forget.”
“I-I-I-I… screw it!” The earth pony bolted down the street, leaving his mostly-intact wagon behind.
“Hey kid, remember when I said silence was the best part of the job? That’s a load of crap. Now messing with punks like that… that’s the best part,” Flyntt said, smiling smugly.
“Yes, sir,” Pelleas agreed, any hint of his earlier youthfulness gone now that he was on the job. “Seems like a standard collision. Our other ‘victim’ is a pegasus. We should get his side of the story. Would you like to question him, sir?”
“Nah, I’ve handled one, I want to see how you deal with the other. Just yell if you need me to put him in his place- I mean give you some assistance.”
“Yes, sir.” Pelleas trotted up, offering a grey hoof to the wagon puller. He’s barely any older than I am… “I’m Cadet Pelleas of the Manehattan Night Guard, first shift. Can you tell me what happened?”
The other nodded, squeaking slightly as he tried to find his voice. “Don’t worry kid! That last bit was just some stupid myth some of your kind cooked up about us during the rise of Nightmare Moon!” Flyntt called from behind, flashing a very toothy grin. “We’ve never eaten meat. Just fruits and plants.”
“R-r-right… right!” Apparently reassured by the guard, the hauler found a new voice. “Name’s Raindance. I live and work at the alfalfa farm a couple miles from here, and I was just delivering these barrels of water to the train depot when I was kinda blindsided by that buffoon.”
“Barrels of water to the train depot?” Pelleas hadn’t heard of that one before.
“Yes, sir. To be shipped on the midnight freight train and up to Baltimare, to help alleviate their current drought.”
“Y’see kid,” Flyntt added, sauntering up next to his cadet. The kid still had a lot to learn, after all. “Farm pegasi like… er… Raindance, was it? They often produce a little extra rain during crop season every year and generally store it for emergencies.” He gazed at Raindance, offering a warm smile. “What the farms are doing here is nothing short of inspiring. Giving up even a bit of their own water supplies to help Baltimare is extremely generous.”
“Yes sir,” Raindance said, nodding. “The Manehattan farms were able to donate a couple of twenty gallon barrels each. I was pulling about two hundred gallons of water for the relief effort… erm, emphasis on the was. I’d say I lost a good eighty gallons of it from that idiot.”
“It doesn’t look like your wagon is badly damaged,” Pelleas pointed out, spreading his leathery wings and flying to the top, or rather the side, of the flatbed. “Think you could finish your job if we helped you get everything reset?”
“You mind if we have a quick check inside the barrels?” Flyntt asked abruptly, not bothering to wait for permission. “I’m sure it’s nothing, but these days you can’t ever be too careful.”
“Yeah, sure,” Raindance said with a sigh. “The farms are gonna be peeved. Some of their extra stock, gone down the drain! Literally!”
“Well, at least it’s just water,” Flyntt murmured, his voice becoming serious for a second. “I’ve seen these streets run with worse things…”
4
“You did well out there kid, looks like we’re gonna make a great team. Just remember who’s calling the shots…” Flyntt shot Pelleas a mischievous grin. “Unless we screw up, then it’s all you.”
“It was nice of you to offer some of our own stock to fill his quota, sir,” Pelleas said with a touch of awe. “Won’t Captain Leaf be mad, though? Those are our emergency rations. If Manehattan faces the same drought..”
“If Captain Leaf was the kinda guy that got mad over doing the right thing, then he wouldn’t be Captain Leaf. Hell, he’d probably have given them more! Remember kid, random acts of kindness equals increased odds of promotion. It’s why I love this job.”
“Yes, sir,” Pelleas agreed automatically, not sure exactly what to think of that. He shuddered slightly. “I think a goose just walked over my grave… I felt like we were being watched out there.”
“Well then, we better put on a good show just incase they show up again tomorrow! You don’t want to let your audience down, do you kid?” Flyntt smiled.
“I guess not.” Down the sidewalk, a stocky little white mare was trotting leisurely in their direction. Kinda late out, isn’t it? She seemed just like a typical teenaged pony, with her head soaring in the clouds if the look on her face was any indication.
“Kinda weird to see a kid just wandering the streets at this hour…. I’m not sure I like it. What do you reckon, Pelleas? I’ll let you make the call this time.”
I think she’s kinda cute… “She could be lost, sir,” he suggested. “Manehattan is a very big city.”
Flyntt looked over his partner, a gleam of suspicion in his eye, before realizing what was going on.
“Ooooh, I see. Pelleas, as my subordinate I order you to go over there and speak to this filly.”
“Yes, sir.” Almost reluctantly, he trotted up to the lone filly. “I’m Cadet Pelleas of the Manehattan Night Guard, first shift.” Okay, what now? Would you like an escort? No, that’s too much. “Are you lost?”
She blinked, as if only just now noticing him, and shook her head with a smile.
“Oh, right, uh…” Come on sir, I’m going down in a ball of fire here, help me out! “What’s your name, Miss?”
She nodded, sitting down and twisting back to rummage in her saddlebag for a slip of paper with her name on it. Finally she found it and showed it to him.
“‘Snow Storm’, huh? Hrm… are you alright?”
She cocked her head with a raised eyebrow, held herself like that for a moment, and then got it. She tapped her throat three times and covered her mouth.
“Er…?”
“Kid, she can’t speak,” Flyntt said, trotting up to them with a shake of his head. It’s the second time I’ve had to explain things to him! “You really think she’d let this awkward silence hang in the air like this if she could tell you anything? Hang on, I got a pencil in here somewhere… here we go.” He passed it over to the marel. “Make it short, the lead’s about to go out and I ain’t got a sharpener.”
She nodded with an appreciative smile, and wrote down on a pad she had pulled from her bag. “Walking home. Saw a movie earlier. Guess it ran longer than I thought. Brought my pad but not my pencil - go figure.” She tore the note off and handed it over to the bigger of the two guards.
Flyntt grinned devilishly, not letting Pelleas read the note. Instead, he leaned in close and whispered to the youth. “She wants to know where you live.” He smirked wryly.
Snow Storm rolled her eyes, smiling in awkward amusement. Apparently these two had some sort of brotherly friendship despite their difference in rank, if the teasing was any indication. Then again, Fulake were almost always playful sorts.
Pelleas hurriedly snatched the note from Flyntt and read it for himself. “Ah, I see. Well, get home quickly, Miss. Manehattan’s nice enough in the day, but here at night, things can get a little dangerous.”
“Then again,” Flyntt piped up, chuckling softly. “Pelleas here could just give you an escort-”
“Sir, you are behaving inappropriately for a senior officer.”
“You need to lighten up.”
As the pair began to bicker once again, Snow Storm slipped away and out of sight down a nearby alleyway. Her secondary task for this area had been sufficiently completed, and even brought her a little entertainment.
Out of the range of prying eyes, she took off her basic garments and slipped quickly into the Mare do Well suit, stuffing her everyday clothes back into her bags and climbed the nearest building.
After all, there were still thugs to look out for and more guards to meet.