//------------------------------//
// IX: Striking Hard 
// Story: Streets of Sin 
// by Jarvy Jared 
//------------------------------//

	“It’s been a pleasure, gentlemen. But I really must be off,” said Grifford, shaking the stallion’s hoof.

“The pleasure’s all ours,” he responded, looking back at the other leaders of the Family. “Now, you had better delay no longer. Who knows what sort of trouble Manehattan may have cooked up in your absence?”

“I have little reason to think anything cataclysmic has happened,” Finch said. “But you’re right, of course. We will meet again?”

“The usual time and place. Good day, Mr. Finch.”

“Good day.” He grabbed his coat and left, with Swol following behind.

“Happy to be going back to Manehattan?” Swol asked.

Finch grinned. “Definitely. Baltimare’s nice, but I’ll take Manehattan any day.”

“Hopefully the business contracts work out.”

“They should. We’ll be able to profit nicely if they agree to the terms.”

They trotted to their hotel, feeling the wind from the ocean fly through their faces. Grifford tasted something salty; he found it oddly pleasant. They reached their hotel shortly, and quickly made their way to their room. They began to pack their belongings together.

“I imagine there’s going to be a ton of paperwork for me to fill out, once I get back,” said Finch as he placed the folders inside his suitcase.

“Well, if our secretaries have done your job, it will only be just a ton,” said Swol.

“Mm. Work is work, and paperwork is the worst kind of work.” He glanced at the golden-yellow stallion. “I still don’t understand how you enjoy that.”

“I don’t. My Mark is for organizing papers, not doing paperwork.” He snorted. “If it was, then I’d be bored out of my mind.”

“Well, that’s what comes with working in government.”

“Paperwork?”

“Boredom.”

They finished packing. “Let’s head over to the train station. We’ll get our tickets there.”

After saying goodbye to the front desk, they left the building and traveled towards the center of the city. Grifford kept his hat on but had removed his coat, tucking it in his case safely. They approached the booth. “Two tickets for Manehattan, please.”

“Ah! Mr. Mayor! Already leaving?” said the teller.

“Sadly I am. I have to take care of my city. I love it to death, but sometimes it needs help staying stable.”

“Still, it was nice having somepony famous show up in our fair city. Here are your tickets.”

Grifford thanked him, then walked up to the bench and sat down, waiting patiently for the train. Swol sat next to him, quiet.

“Still thinking about what could happen, I see,” Finch said with a smile.

“Can you blame me?” Swol shook his head. “It’s a strange world we live in, when assistants have to act as bodyguards, and Mayors have to be Bosses, and authors have to vanish…” He sighed. “The world’s suddenly become different from the one five years ago.”

“Change is necessary. The world won’t always be the same. It’s up to us to live in it, and carry on in it.”

“Maybe… but sometimes I think things were much simpler in the past.”

“They were. But this is now. This is more important.”

They fell silent, waiting for the train. Eventually it arrived, screeching to a halt. Unlike the usual steam locomotives, this one was fit for the modern world. Stainless steel wrapped around clear-blue windows. The front car was in the shape of a cone structure. It ran on fuel and electricity, a combination of the traditional with the contemporary. Finch smiled as he saw it stop; it amazed him how far Equestria had advanced in these few years.

The doors slid open, and a conductor stepped out. He called for their attention, telling them that they could board. Grifford and Swol got up, and the older stallion handed his friend a ticket. They approached the conductor who, after a quick look at their tickets and belongings, allowed them on. They took a seat in the middle car in a booth, with Finch taking the window seat. A few other ponies gathered on the seats around them, chatting excitedly.

There was a small foal in the seat next to them, and he was looking at Grifford and Swol with wide eyes. Swol gave a small wave, while Finch nodded at him, a soft smile on his face. He then placed his hoof in front of his mouth in a shush gesture. The foal nodded, turning back to his parents.

“Still want to remain somewhat incognito?” Swol whispered with a smirk.

“Can you blame me?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Don’t talk to your Mayor like that.”

“Without me, you’d be unable to do any sort of paperwork!”

“… I’ll concede to that.”

The train doors closed, and the engines rumbled. Ah, how I missed that. There was a hiss as the brakes released. The train began to buzz as it roared with electricity. The engineers up front gave a final wave, before pressing the lever. The train began to back up, before suddenly launching into high gear, accelerating like a bullet.

Soon Baltimare became little more than a speck in the distance, and Manehattan was fast approaching. Grifford smiled, happy he was coming home.





“Is that a blimp?” one of the passengers asked, looking outside the window.

Indeed it seemed to be. The large zeppelin floated over the towering skyscrapers slowly, casting a huge shadow across the steel frames. They weren’t a common sight for most ponies; and Grifford had only seen a few of them in all his years. He remembered that it was a pleasure for some to ride in them, especially for ponies who couldn’t fly. Sightseeing from above was quite attracting.

Hmm… aerial tours. I wonder if there’s business in that.

The blimp flew past the city, slowly, as they approached from the south. The outside world was strangely silent, apparently kept away by the train’s exterior. For a moment one could stare outside, seeing the vast ocean to the east, and fall into deep thought. Grifford stared out the window, simply letting his mind wander, letting himself have this brief moment of peace.

He saw a small boat out in the middle, untouched by the modern city that it was exempt from. A pony sat, his hat down, the fishing rod slackened. Perhaps not all things change.

He wondered briefly what Prose would have said.

Soon, the skyscrapers and numerous offices ran past them at breakneck speed. The train made a sharp turn to the left. The wheels screeched as the brakes were applied, slowing the locomotive, and it carefully settled in into the station. With a hiss, the train came to a full stop, light-grey smoke billowing out from under.

The passengers stood, gathering their belongings, and began shuffling out of the cars. Grifford and Swol were caught in the middle. They exited, and Finch breathed the air in deeply. He looked around, seeing that they were in Ponyopolis Station, the place where ponies coming from out of Manehattan often arrived in. He let out a sigh. “We’re home.”

“But we’re not done yet,” said Swol, gathering next to him. Several ponies were already brushing past them, and a few even bothered to greet the Mayor. “We’d better head to our office.”

“It’s a little ways ahead. You up for some walking?”

“So long as I have a friend.”

They moved, drifting through the crowd, a pair of stallions eager to get right back to their kind of work. As the doors swung open leaving behind the station, Manehattan flooded their eyes and ears. They recovered quickly, trotting down the marble steps, stopping at a nearby crosswalk.

“Morning, Mayor.”

“Hello, Mr. Mayor.”

“Good day, Mr. Mayor.”

“Hello, good day, hi,” he would respond to the passing ponies. He had yet to grow tired of the constant greetings.

After some time had passed, they finally reached the Mayor’s Office. “Ah. Home sweet home,” Finch said. “Did you miss me, office?”

He pushed open the doors, and was greeted by the workers all standing up and clapping vigorously. “Welcome back, Mayor,” said the secretary at the back.

He raised a hoof, signaling for them to stop. “At ease. I trust that work has been easy?”

“Seems like there are some ponies who are doing our work for us,” said another pony. She handed him a small stack of newspapers. “You can read them in your office, sir.”

He nodded, a bit surprised, taking the stack. “Come along, Swol,” he said.

Entering his office, he unpacked his belongings while Swol took a paper from a stack. As Finch placed his hat on its rack, Swol’s eyes widened. “Boss,” he exclaimed, “it’s Prose!”

“What?” Finch turned on him, eyes wide. “What do you mean?”

“Prose! He’s here! He’s in Manehattan!” He handed him the paper. “It’s from a few days ago. He stopped a mugging!”

Finch read the article quickly, a frown forming. “Interesting. Not a day in Manehattan and he’s already performing splendidly.” He suddenly chuckled. “It seems his good heart had not been as well as hidden as he was.”

Swol read another paper. “It’s the same story, but with the victim’s account. She said he looked absolutely terrifying when he slammed the mugger into the wall. Quote, ‘eyes as red as a demon’s.’”

But his are pink. “Hmm. Looks like he hasn’t lost his touch. Does it say what he did after?”

“Not really. Just that he apparently left and—” Swol furrowed his brow. “—came here.”

“Here? The Office?”

One of the secretaries leaned her head in. “Yeah, Amethyst was the one who greeted him at the desk.”

“Could you call for her?” Grifford asked.

“Right away, Boss.” There was a clatter of hooves, followed by a low voice. Shortly after, the secretary in question entered the office, a bit surprised to see that she was needed already.

“What did he want?” Finch asked.

“He kept saying that he needed to see you. Naturally, I told him that you weren’t here at the moment.” She shook her head. “Honestly, I didn’t even look at him. If I had, I might have recognized him sooner.”

“He was disguised?” Grifford frowned. Why would he be disguised?

“He had his hood up, and kept his voice low.”

“Odd. I thought he knew he’s welcome here?”

“Wait, he is?” she asked, cocking her head.

He looked at her. “Well, of course. If we were hostile, then it would be much harder to convince him to rejoin.”

“If we were—” Her eyes widened. “Oh, goddess. I—I have to go.”

She abruptly turned without waiting to be dismissed. Swol made to go after her, but stopped, deciding that was a matter for another day.

The first secretary poked her head in. “Were there any other ponies who saw him?” Grifford asked.

“Actually, yes. I believe it was Minx?”

“Our Prime Enforcer? Oh, dear.” Swol sighed. “Please don’t tell me she threatened Prose.”

“Actually… she seemed a bit shocked to see him even there.”

“Send for her,” Finch said.

The secretary left. Swol and Finch shared a look. “Not ten minutes back and there’s already something stirring,” Finch said.

“It’s Manehattan. Something always stirs.”

Finch read a bit more of the papers, while Swol busied himself with fixing up the office. It was slightly dusty, so he grabbed a sweeper and began to remove the dust, dumping the contents in the nearby trashcan. He organized the files a second time, then a third, then moved on to organizing the folders. He finished just as Finch finished the last paper.

“Efficient as always,” he said, smiling.

“Any news?”

“Prose was seen at the fashion expo. The gossip magazines were calling it a date, apparently.”

“He found somepony?”

“I think he’s too busy for dating. But I could be wrong. Secretary!” he called. “Is Minx here yet?”

She trotted into the room, nervous. “I-I’m sorry, Boss. But I can’t seem to contact her.”

“You can’t?” His voice was sharp, and slightly incredulous.

“It’s just… she hasn’t been seen since yesterday.”

Swol quickly grabbed a file, grunting as he read the entry. “That seems about right. It says here that yesterday was scheduled as a break day.”

“But she is supposed to be here today,” said Grifford, rising from his desk. “You’re certain she’s not here?”

She nodded. “You’re welcome to check her workspace. We haven’t found anything that might say she was here anytime after yesterday.”

She led them out and to the office area. They approached a small cubicle—Minx’s workplace. Finch saw a miniature microphone standing on a wooden base; he guessed it was an award of some kind. He frowned as he saw that nothing seemed out of place. He leaned forward a little, seeing that the desk was still dusty.

Meaning that she hadn’t been here, he thought.

“That’s odd,” said Swol. “Minx has never missed a day. Is she sick?”

“We were wondering that, too, but her landlady said otherwise. She went out, and hasn’t been seen since.”

Swol leaned towards Grifford’s ear. “Do you think she ran?”

“Doubtful. We may have disagreed from time to time, but aside from you, she’s the loyalest member of the Family.”

“Sirs?” another pony trotted up to them. “We found two other ponies missing.”

“Ours?” asked Finch.

“Yes. Newt Ginger and Viper Navy. They haven’t been seen in a few days. We thought they were on assignment.”

“But they weren’t,” he clarified, looking at her. “Their last assignment was two weeks ago.”

“That’s right. Now they’ve gone and disappeared on us.” She cocked her head. “Forgive me for asking, Boss, but is that at all normal?”

He closed his eyes and sighed. “Well… Prose sometimes went quiet on us. But that was usually because he was writing his next story.”

“I know Minx liked to sing,” said Swol. “Maybe she decided to take a break to improve that craft?”

“If she did, she wouldn’t have left without notifying us. And that doesn’t answer what happened to Newt and Viper. Those insufferable—” He stopped himself short with a shake of his head. “Well, I trust that we’ll hear from them soon enough. I doubt any harm could come to them.” He looked at the two secretaries. “In the meantime, I think we’d better resume working.”

“Right away, Boss.”

After they left, Finch and Swol returned to his office, still thinking about the matter at hand. “I suppose there’s no point to dwell on that,” the Mayor said aloud. Swol nodded, and left to help organize the other paperwork. Finch sat in his chair, releasing a sigh.

Home sweet home isn’t all that sweet, I suppose. Not that it’s entirely unexpected. Prose’s return, and now some of our members gone… He grunted darkly. Well, it wouldn’t be our Manehattan without a few strange occurrences.





“Two more days! Two more days!”

“Yes, Sweetie Belle, I know, I got you the tickets!”

Prose was half tempted to duct tape the young filly’s mouth shut. Unfortunately, there was no tape in the hotel room, and he hadn’t bothered on bringing any. He considered using the Mud, just as a paste, but, after realizing that one, the chemicals were likely bad to ingest, and two, it tasted horrible (he shuddered at the memory), he eventually conceded to letting her run her mouth off.

That of course did not mean he was enjoying being constantly reminded of the concert.

“I understand that you’re excited, Sweetie,” said Rarity from the room over, “but you have to be patient. Two days is a short time away.”

“But it feels like forever!” she wined.

“That’s what patience is for, Sweetie. Now, could you come over here and help me put some of these items away?”

Sweetie grumbled, but nonetheless stopped jumping around Prose’s room. She trotted over to Rarity’s. Opacare let out a sigh. Oh, thank goddess that’s over. While he loved Sweetie’s energy, she could become quite bothersome—an idea that was shared by her older sister.

He wasn’t sure what to do now, though. His nerves were shot, and he kept wanting to leave, mostly to see if Finch had returned. At this point, anything could go wrong, was what he reasoned. With two muggings already on the record—something that he was constantly reminded had not happened in years—he was certain that something awful was about to happen.

He just wasn’t sure what.

And that, along with the fact that he still had no plan after confronting the Mayor, very much irked him.

He let out a tired groan. Curse his anxiety! If only he could do something instead of wait! He fell onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, impatient.

“Prose?” he heard a voice call. He suddenly felt on edge.

He shifted, glaring at the source. “What?” he asked, his voice short and not in the mood for a talk. His gaze softened slightly as he saw Twilight standing in the door frame, shocked at the tone of his voice.

“I was just going to ask if you wanted to go out for a bit,” she said, stepping back slightly. “I’m sorry, were you busy or anything?”

He sighed. “No, I’m sorry, Twilight. I’m just…” He sighed. “I’m just… thinking.”

She approached him slowly, and he sat up, staring at the opposite wall. She bit her lip. “Is something bothering you, Prose? You’re awfully tense.”

He was; only now did he notice how stiff his shoulders were. He wrapped himself with his hooves, avoiding her gaze. “It’s nothing, Twilight, really.”

She stared at him, before narrowing her eyes. “You’re not that great at lying, Opa.” She pressed a hoof on his shoulder. “Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

She waited patiently as his shoulders slowly relaxed themselves. Finally he looked at her. “… Fine. I’m worried.”

“What about?”

“That’s just it. There’s seemingly nothing to be worried about. And that worries me.” He furrowed his brow. “Technically, Grifford hasn’t made a move yet. I haven’t seen any of his workers out and hurting anypony. In fact, those last two muggings were likely little more than petty crimes, with little reason behind them other than selfish needs.” He glared angrily at the bed. “All I can do right now is wait. Wait for something bad to happen. But I shouldn’t do that! I should be out there, stopping him, but—”

“But you’re worried that you have nothing to stop him with,” Twilight finished softly.

He nodded. “So when he makes his move, I’m worried that I’ll be caught off guard. I can’t risk that; but at the same time, there’s nothing else I can do.”

Twilight was quiet for a moment, before saying, “Maybe it’s for the best that you can’t do anything at the moment.” Seeing his reproachful glare, she hastily continued, “I mean, maybe Finch doesn’t want to do anything while you’re here. If you haven’t heard from him or from this ‘Family,’ then maybe they’ve realized how much it matters that you’re in Manehattan, and don’t want to risk losing their position of power. Especially since you know enough about them to have them all locked up.”

“That’s quite a stretch, Twilight. I doubt they would be worried about little old me.” He rose suddenly from the bed, standing tall and angrily. “They killed Raven, which shows that they don’t care who gets hurt, as long as it prevents them from being found out!”

“But that’s still up to debate—”

“Precisely! There’s next to no evidence of their involvement; which makes the Family the biggest suspect!” He stomped his hoof. “And they know that I can’t do anything because I have no evidence! The only way I’ll ever be able to stop them is by letting them do something, anything, that would undermine their position. Which is something that they won’t do, and also something that I can’t risk letting them do. Or else…” He looked away for a brief moment. “Or else someone else might get hurt.”

His shoulders sagged as he finished his rant. His entire body was shaking. Twilight gave him a worried gaze, before stepping closer. He flinched as she approached him, but relaxed somewhat as she placed a hoof on his shoulder.

“I just… I don’t want to risk all of you getting hurt by my inability to do anything,” he murmured.

“You aren’t,” Twilight reassured him. She moved forward and gave him a hug. “You can only do so much, Opa. You can’t do everything, especially when life doesn’t want to give you anything to work off from.”

“I still feel that I should be doing something…”

“I know, I know…”

Eventually they broke from the hug. Prose looked away awkwardly, while Twilight smiled. “You know, my offer still stands,” she said. “It might help put you at ease.”

He took some time to consider the offer. His gaze shifted from the dull room to Twilight, her face earnest and welcoming. Maybe I should go. A walk in the city might do me some good.

“Hey, Twilight?” he heard Applejack call from the door. “We’ll be heading out now!”

“Alright, girls. Stick together!”

“Come along, Sweetie Belle,” Rarity said. He saw them trot past his door. Fluttershy and Pinkie followed behind them.

He looked back at Twilight. “Where would we be heading?”

“I have no idea.”

“In that case, I suppose a walk would be nice.”





Hours passed, and they still wandered. Everything to Prose was a blur, a swirling mess of the city. He welcomed it, though, finding a temporary sense of peace in the wandering and random nature of it all.

It only occurred to him now, though, how much time had past. It was now late afternoon. He and the others were currently traveling around the southern district, a place famous for its foliage and parks. They had stopped at a few shops beforehand, where Rarity had bought quite a large load of items. She had left with so many bags her entire body was covered, and she couldn’t help but giggle sheepishly as Opacare rolled his eyes at her.

“Oops, I might have gone a bit excessive,” she said.

“Might?”

She ignored the jest, turning to the others. “To be honest, I think it would be better if I return to the hotel with my purchases. No sense in carrying them around forever.”

“Can I come to, Rarity?” Sweetie asked. “I’m feeling kinda tired, actually.”

“Certainly, Sweetie, if that’s what you wish.”

“Do you need anypony to go with you?” Twilight asked. “I’m sure I could. Or Prose—”

“It’s fine, dears,” Rarity said, smiling gently. “We’ll be okay.”

He looked at them, eyes slightly narrowed. “… Alright. Don’t get into trouble.”

“We won’t, Opa. I promise.” Rarity then gave him a hug, followed by Sweetie, before they parted ways.

Rainbow, Applejack, the remaining fillies, and Pinkie decided to move ahead, while Twilight, Fluttershy, and Prose decided to travel to the nearby Central Park of Manehattan. Not that many ponies were in the park, as today was a work day and most were busy in the office. They stopped at the entrance gate, looking at all the trees and plants.

“Mother and father often brought me here in my childhood when I didn’t have school,” Opacare said softly, taking a step forward. “They would tell me about how these trees grew from seeds planted generations ago by ponies who originally settled in Manehattan. Back then, the ponies were free to plant what they wanted, which is why you can see several plants from across Equestria and even from other nations.”

They followed him, remaining silent as they took in the scenery. He pointed to a blue, bell-shaped flower. “That one is from Zebrika.” His hoof shifted to a pink-red blooming flower. “That’s from Griffonstone. If you look closely, you can see that the two actually are quite close, despite the two nations being oceans away.”

His hoof swept around the area, showing that the entire flower bed was filled with both types of flowers. “They were here even when I was a child, meaning that they they had to have been brought over and planted around the same time. Apparently, though zebras and griffons were not the friendliest with each other, here in the nubile city of Manehattan, they had the decency to contribute to something beautiful. A garden.”

They continued moving through the park, Prose remembering the names of each type of plant. Twilight wrote down a few notes while Fluttershy added in a few words. Soon they reached a tall oak tree. Its branches spread across the center of the park, providing them a dark shade. Prose reached out and touched it, feeling the cool bark.

He stepped back. “Amazing to see that it still remains untouched, even after all these years.” His gaze drifted around the park. “Just as beautiful as it was twenty years ago.”

He looked at the ground. “You know, this was my first real taste of a greener world, outside of these steel buildings.”

“Really?” Fluttershy asked. “You must really like nature, then.”

He shrugged. “Not exactly. I like the peacefulness of it. I feel that one can comfortably be alone here, with their thoughts, and simply think on how to improve the world.” He looked back up the tree. “Sometimes when my parents and I went here, I would sit on the benches while they walked around. I would often think about what made this place special, and what I could do with the knowledge of the plants and flora that inhabited the park.”

“Did you figure it out?” Twilight asked.

“No. I never did. Life got in the way.” His face darkened. “And death, too, became all too familiar.”

He breathed deeply, relishing that familiar scent. It smelled like how he imagined freedom smell; clean, open, and pure. It was odd, considering it was in the middle of a city filled with so many scents; yet none of them even came close to the park’s.

“Opa?” Fluttershy called softly. “Are you alright?”

He did not answer. Instead, he walked away from the tree and over to a bench, sitting on it. He had on a thoughtful frown. “I wonder if Finch ever came here?” he murmured. “To think about what life was, how the world worked, how to make it better… like our parents wanted us to do… I wonder if he sat here, and decided to go against everything we fought for…”

“Prose?” Twilight asked, concerned. “Are you—do you want to leave?”

He shook his head, but continued staring past them. “If only there was more I could do…” His voice trailed off, but his gaze slowly focused on them. It was alarmingly intense. Rising from the bench, he trotted past them, and stood in the middle of the brick walk.

“I’m surprised that this place hasn’t been bulldozed by now,” he said, looking around. “Perhaps the Mayor recognizes its worth, its innate freedom. Its independence, away from the city, working as it does, operating, growing, living, as it does.” He turned, looking at Twilight and Fluttershy. “That is what I’ve always wanted ponies to have. Independence. The ability to do as they see fit. The ability to fail, then try again.” He stamped his hoof. “And Grifford Finch has taken that chance away from Manehattan.”

They didn’t say anything, confused and intrigued by what he said.

“A world where free will truly is free, and a city that is a shining example of that freedom.” He let out a slow breath, looking up. “I think that was my parents’ wish. To give them that freedom. The ability to choose.”

He looked back down. “Is that why I became an author? Why I wrote what I wrote? Because that became the core of my own freedom, the only thing that the Family couldn’t take away from me?”

He received no answer, and expected none. They stood, looking at each other, silent.

“This is what I want,” he said finally. “For a world to be free. To let ponies choose to make mistakes, and to grow even more. Finch fears ponies’ free will. Because of that, he must be stopped.”

He turned away, walking towards the exit, leaving the two to be alone for a little while. They exchanged worried looks.

“Twilight? Do you think Opa will be alright?” Fluttershy asked.

The unicorn looked to her timid friend. “I’m not sure, Fluttershy. I’m not sure.” She then looked to where Prose was beginning to fade into the distance. “Let’s just hope nothing bad happens from here on out.”

Fluttershy nodded, and together they followed after him.





Sweetie went to her room to put away her things, letting out a tired yawn. With all the walking and haggling they had to do, it was no surprise she was feeling already beat. Rarity, after watching her sister go, placed her items in her room for the time being.

Leaving her room, she grabbed the paper that had been delivered a few minutes before. She levitated over an already-prepared cup of tea, and sat herself down on the sofa. Taking a sip, she flipped to the front page. Her lips contorted into an upside-down crescent shape.

She placed her cup down. “Hmm. I have a feeling Opacare will want to know about this as soon as possible.”

“What will Opa want to know?” Sweetie asked, entering from the side. She took the seat adjacent from Rarity.

The alabaster unicorn pointed a hoof out at the front page. “Mayor Grifford Finch has returned to Manehattan. He arrived only a few hours ago.”

“Really? Wow, we didn’t even see him!”

“He came in from the south, according to this article. That’s why we hadn’t heard until just now.” She mused, “I suppose that makes sense. Manehattan’s quite large, so news spreading must be a somewhat slow process.”

Sweetie took the paper from Rarity, reading further. “It says he had been on a business trip to Baltimare. I thought only business ponies did business trips?”

“It’s more than that. Business isn’t just for buying and selling products. There’s more to it—”

Sweetie stopped her with a gasp, before her own face contorted into a frown. “But wait a minute. That doesn’t—no, that can’t—”

“Sweetie Belle? What’s wrong?”

“Do you think—well, maybe if—oh, I don’t know…”

“Well, what was it?”

Sweetie kept her lips shut for a moment, before sighing again. “I-It’s just… I’m just now remembering what Opa said during his trial! What Mayor Finch was! What he was a part of… And what that organization did! What if… what if the reason why Finch left had something to do with him being part of that organization? What if it was more than a business trip? What if it was a Family trip?”

Her words were tumbling out of her mouth. Rarity placed a hoof on her, concerned. “Slow down, Sweetie! Take a deep breath!

Sweetie placed a hoof on her chest as she struggled to calm herself. Soon, the rate at which her chest rose lowered, and she managed to give Rarity a grateful nod. “Now,” Rarity said, looking directly at her.

“What exactly are you worried about?”

“Something bad could happen, like Opa said! Like-like—” She scrambled for an example. “Like, some ponies could get hurt! Or kidnapped! Or-or-or—”

“Darling, stop.” Rarity placed a hoof on her sister’s mouth, stopping her rambling. Keeping a neutral frown on her face, she continued, “Now, listen. Nothing bad is going to happen. What Opa has said, no matter how scary, is simple superstition. I doubt that the Mayor would be so callous and rude as he makes him out to be.

“That means that whatever Opa has been saying is likely untrue. And I would encourage you to think the same way. Regardless of how much we like him, his word has so far not held up as credible.”

“What about the muggings?”

“Hardly the work of an organized crime family, I would think. Just desperate ponies doing desperate things.”

Sweetie slowly nodded. Rarity continued on, “Even if something were to happen, do you really think we wouldn’t do something about it?” Rarity smiled. “I don’t mean to sound pretentious, but we’ve a student of Celestia on our side. Not to mention the rest of the Elements of Harmony, and the backing of one of Equestria’s greatest authors.”

She leaned forward, hugging Sweetie. “Nothing bad is going to happen while I’m around, Sweetie Belle. I promise.”

Sweetie sniffled, hugging Rarity back. “I’m sorry, Rarity. I guess Opa’s words kinda got to me, that’s all.”

“To be honest, they’ve been on my mind as well. But I doubt they’ll ever come to fruition.” She smiled once more. “Manehattan is better than that.”

They hugged for a little while longer, before separating. “Do you feel better now, Sweetie?”

“Uh huh.”

“Good. Why don’t you take a short rest, while I fix up the place?” She looked around. “Heaven knows it could use a dapper fixer-upper.”

Sweetie nodded, letting Rarity leave the couch and go grab her belongings. Soon the young filly’s eyes drooped, and they closed, and she began to breathe softly.

Rarity resumed cleaning, though her mind was preoccupied with what had been said. She wanted to comfort Sweetie, and she had done so; but a lingering feeling of doubt still clung to her, a nagging sense of dread. She tried to ease her nerves by humming a short tune, but found that it hardly helped her. She sighed, putting down the duster, before going over to the sink and washing her hooves clean.

I’m going to have to talk to Opa about his paranoia. She closed her eyes, remembering his face. In the image she saw his eyes; brilliantly pink and intelligent, yet behind them, she saw anxiety and apprehension. Her brow furrowed, and she stopped moving altogether, her thoughts surrounding her.

Click.

Hmm? What was that? Eyes snapping open, she glanced around. Sweetie was still asleep, and she had not moved. She frowned, thinking it was just her imagination—

Tap tap.

Or not.

It sounded like it was coming from outside, from the window on the opposite wall. She clenched her eyes shut, listening for it one more time to confirm her suspicions.

“Sspss…”

Unintelligible garbish, quiet, near imperceptible, but definitely there. She glanced back at Sweetie, before carefully trotting over to the window. She didn’t lean in, though, simply waiting to see if the sound would be heard again.

She pressed up against the wall, fur standing on end, though she had no idea why. She listened.

Nothing.

She waited—

“Ah!” she yelped as the glass suddenly shattered, instinctively throwing herself back. Something hit the floor and began to roll. It stopped against the side of the couch, giving the unicorn a moment to recover.

“W-wha? Huh?” Sweetie woke with a jerk, eyes bleary. “Rarity? What’s happening?”

“I-I’m not sure,” Rarity said. She leaned close to the object, seeing that it was cylindrical. “Some hoodlum just vandalized our hotel room!”

She was about to speak further, when the object let out a hiss. A smoky substance billowed out, smoggish and thick. Rarity coughed, accidentally breathing in the gas. “Wh-what the—”

As she coughed, the smoke made its way from her lungs out her mouth, blinding her and making tears gather in the corner of her eyes. The gas did not let up, and the capsule continued spewing it, seemingly endless. “S-Sweetie Belle! D-don’t breathe—”

It was too late, she realized, as she saw her sister also coughing. Her frame became blurry, the smoke filling every edge of her vision. Coughing with even more intensity, she bent over. What is this stuff?

Her thoughts were abruptly cut short, as she felt something heavy hit the back of her head. She careened forward, blinking dully and coughing still. Almost immediately her vision blackened; she couldn’t find the strength to stand. She heard a cry, and recognized it as Sweetie’s, before it was followed by a similar crack—and then eerie silence.

N-no… She tried to raise a hoof, but found she was too weak. Desperately, she tried to call for her sister, only to be met with her own silence, and the still gathering smoke. She was vaguely aware of a movement to her side, escaping.

Then her vision collapsed into a sole singularity of darkness.





“Oh, my head…”

Rarity arose slowly, feeling very disoriented. The back of her head felt like it had been slammed against the wall repeatedly. Pressing a hoof lightly against it, she let out a strained breath, pain coursing from her skull to her neck and down. 

Her knees wobbled. She tried shaking her head, but found that made her disorientation and pain even worse. She frowned, unable to think straight. What had happened? It must have been a dream, caused by stress and tiredness—

No, it was no dream; she saw that now. Just in front of her was that capsule, empty. She had no idea how much time had passed.

“Sweetie?” Her voice was hoarse and dry, the smoke’s effects still lingering. She coughed, trying to walk around, looking for her sister. “Sweetie?”

She stopped. There, on the floor, right next to the couch, were drops.

Not of water, not of sweat, nor of tears.

But of blood.

She pressed a hoof against her head again, then brought it to her face. She saw that there was no liquid running there.

Then whose blood—

Her eyes widened as everything suddenly connected at once. All the pain and dizziness vanished, replaced with vast and frightening clarity. No…

The blood, the clang, the smoke, the capsule, that tap, that noise…

Rarity screamed.

End Of Part One