Chapter 13: Connections
A weary sigh slipped its way past Fleethoof’s lips as he stepped out onto the porch of Clydesdale Manor. The orange sun had just begun to slink its way toward the horizon, signaling the coming evening. It was almost ironic; the one time he saw the sun shine over Thatchholm was once Dandridge was gone.
It had been a long day of processing everything in the manor. Dandridge and his staff were taken into custody; a total of twenty-eight arrests for the RIS. Within an hour of Dandridge’s apprehension, the entire manor had been locked down, and by another, dozens of RIS agents were swarming the building like parasprites. The bodies were documented and cleared from the property. Everything was confiscated and taken in for evidence—every scrap of paper, every painting, every last book on the massive shelves. The RIS left no stone unturned and no clue left behind.
Once the scene had been processed, the first thing he and Bentgrass had done was break into Dandridge’s desk and secure the record book. On an initial look through, he estimated a total of at least a hundred black market transactions had been recorded, all with names, dates, and numbered accounts. The agent was then escorted off the premises to receive medical attention, struggling against the unrelenting medics the entire way.
The rest of the day was spent searching the rest of the manor for anything else that could be claimed as useful. Now here Fleethoof stood, the high of action long since gone; the adrenaline had run its course through his system and he was coming back down to earth. The humid air tasted wet on his tongue with each steady breath while he leaned against the weathered, mossy balustrade on the porch, looking out across the lush fields of Thatchholm County for what could have been the last time.
The last of the agents made their way out of the manor past him. Fleethoof watched them go with their plunder, standing in awe of the tenacity the federal agents had. He had a newfound respect for Bentgrass’ unit, not that he had ever doubted them in the first place. They worked thoroughly and cohesively in a way that reminded him of his team. Fleethoof’s thoughts turned back to his ponies—to Midnight in particular. Though he fulfilled his commitment to Bentgrass, he didn’t stop thinking about her for a moment. Now that they were done, his first order of business was to go check on her.
Fleethoof stepped down off the porch behind the last of the agents, following them back into the town at a slow trot. His mind felt blank and foggy, like he had just woken up. Everything seemed so surreal. He walked up to the bed and breakfast as the remaining agents had begun to collect the last of the intel on Dandridge. Ponies in fine-pressed suits all walked out with saddlebags filled to the brim with notebooks, photographs, and plans. Fleethoof slipped past a couple as they exited and glanced around the empty lounge. He paused in the vacant space, his brow knitting together. He cantered upstairs to the bedroom. Empty as well, save for one last agent collecting the last of the photos from the wall.
“Midnight?” Fleethoof called out into the air. Of course, silence answered him back. “Excuse me, agent. Where was the bat pony that was here?”
The pony blinked in surprise. “Oh, she left a while ago, sir.”
“What?”
“She just kept pacing around, and then she started saying something about going back to Canterlot. She was so restless, I let her go with the first team and the detainees.”
Fleethoof turned tail and ran out of the bed and breakfast as fast as he could. He dove off the porch, backflipping into the air and gliding to the train idling at the station. The whistle blew right when he dove through the doors, a dozen questions and worries buzzing in his head like a swarm of angry hornets. He had to find Midnight.
Midnight Dasher’s apartment was more or less what Fleethoof had been expecting. From the outside, it looked like every other building in Canterlot. The structure sat tall and majestic, situated between the upper districts of the city. Midnight lived on the top floor, also not to Fleethoof’s surprise. That filly always did love being on top of things.
He stood outside the plain door marked by nothing more than her apartment number. He rapped on the wood, mumbling a silent praise that she had been prudent enough to update her local address when she had transferred to Skyfall. He wouldn’t have put it past her to blow off her paperwork entirely. As it turned out, Midnight just kept surprising him again and again.
He waited, glancing up and down the narrow beige hallways. The bitter air smelled like they had recently painted the walls. Warm yellow lights lit the corridor, making it seem as if the hall was illuminated by candlelight. It was an interesting effect, one Fleethoof couldn’t decide if he liked or not. The synthetic Gothic feel felt odd to his tastes. He briefly wondered if that was something Midnight was used to back home in the Hollow Shades.
He waited some more. Midnight didn’t show up. He knocked again, louder and more deliberate this time. Midnight still didn’t come. There’s no way she didn’t hear me that time… Fleethoof thought and pressed an ear to the door. It was dead silent inside, no buzz of a radio or whirring of a fan or anything.
“Midnight?” he called out through the door, knocking again. “Midnight, it’s Fleethoof. Can you hear me?”
Several minutes passed with nopony coming to acknowledge him. Fleethoof scowled and tried the handle.
“Midnight? Let me i—”
The handle turned with ease and the latch clicked open. The door swung inward. Midnight hadn’t bothered to lock it, it seemed. Confused, Fleethoof pushed the door open the rest of the way—and froze in the entryway.
Midnight’s apartment was a wreck. An orchid plant lay knocked over at his hooves by the door, damp spots of soil and water soaking into the cream carpets. A mirror just beside the entrance was shattered, leaving shards of reflective glass littering the ground with sparkles as far as he could see. He stepped further inside, closing the door quietly behind himself. It looked like somepony had tossed her apartment looking for something. He took a tentative peek into the kitchen as he walked into the lounge. A broken glass lay on the counter, letting a deep red liquid spill down the surface. He paused and gave it a hesitant taste. The bitter flavor of alcohol greeted his tongue; wine.
“Midnight…?” he called out with much more apprehension than before, his hoof sliding for his gun while he worked his way through her lounge. Photo frames were all pushed down onto their faces, hiding the memories contained within. The blinds weren’t drawn over the windows, showcasing the darkness of night within the window frame. From the top floor, the streetlights of the city seemed so far away. There was only one other door he could go through and it was shut. Fleethoof swallowed his nerves back and pushed it open, dreading what could be on the other side if the apartment’s common space was in such disarray.
Midnight’s bedroom lay on the other side. The room was in as much of a state as the rest of her apartment. The bedsheets were tossed about in a messy pile of dark blue and cream fabric. Dozens of photographs covered the floor beside an old vanity dresser. Only one still clung to its home in the frame of the mirror. He stepped over and pried it out. The glossy image was of him when they were searching the Everfree, sunlight pouring through the canopy and glistening through his flaxen mane. His sapphire eyes stood out the most, focused and intense with a lingering fire blazing behind them. He remembered that moment. As much as he hated to admit it, she had taken a really good photo of him.
The sound of water running was the next thing he focused his attention on. Another door spanned off from the side of the bedroom. Light spilled out from beneath it, along with the sound of flowing water. Just out in front of it was Midnight’s indigo dress, stained with her blood and frayed from the struggle with Dandridge. Fleethoof stepped carefully past the strewn photos and picked it up, running the silky material through his hooves several times before setting it down on the bed as if it were made of woven gold. Then he turned to the last door.
Fleethoof opened the door with great care, keeping one hoof on his gun out of habit more than anything. The light spilled into his eyes, temporarily blinding him as he leaned in. His eyes adjusted, and a bright white bathroom greeted his sight. Unlike the rest of the apartment, the bathroom was in immaculate condition. It was hot and humid inside, like someone had tried to turn it into a makeshift sauna. Steam had already fogged up the mirror beyond any hope of a reflection, and it was difficult to breathe right.
He turned to the shower next. A wall of frosted glass made up the shower, but he could still see the blurred mass of gray on the other side. Fleethoof let his hoof drop from his weapon and walked over to open the shower door. Midnight sat curled up on herself beneath a constant stream of water from the shower head, staring at the floor and off into space. She didn’t move an inch and she scarcely blinked. Fleethoof couldn’t even see her chest move as she breathed.
She looked up at him after a moment, her eyes bloodshot and broken. Her lips were parted, but just a slight break, like she was on the verge of saying something, yet no words left her mouth. Her mane hung down the side of her face and neck, soaked and dripping over herself, and her drenched tail lay scattered in a careless mess behind her in a puddle of water by the drain.
Fleethoof’s heart broke in an instant. Pursing his lips together in a fine line, he unfastened his vest buckle by buckle and slipped out of it, letting his gear fall to the floor with a clatter until he was bare. He stepped into the shower and over to Midnight. The second the water hit his chest, he gasped and shivered. It was freezing cold. Midnight had apparently burned through all the hot water. How long had she been in there?
He sat down beside her, noticing how she shivered every now and then under the icy spray from above. His mane melted into a river of gold and plastered itself in an unflattering fashion down his neck and face, mimicking hers. She looked up from the void to him again, meeting his eyes up close. He didn’t smile at her. He didn’t offer her any advice or ask her any questions. He didn’t behave like the captain she knew him for.
Instead, Fleethoof reached a hoof around and pulled Midnight close to his side, holding onto her as tight as he could. He had seen that look in her eyes before. It was one he had worn once upon a time. Midnight resisted at first, not even acknowledging he was trying to comfort her. She sat like a rock, unmoved and emotionless. But after many long moments, she untangled herself and wrapped her hooves around his chest and back, burying her face into his shoulder. Fleethoof felt Midnight tremble and choke back a sob. Wet warmth touched his skin through his fur.
“Shh, it’s okay, Midnight… You’re safe…”
“I-I’m s-sorry…” she choked out an apology. “I let you down… I messed up… I’m sorry…”
Fleethoof shook his head with vigor and held her all the tighter, his hoof rubbing her back to soothe her. “No, no… You didn’t do anything like that, Mid. You made me so proud of you…”
Midnight sniffled and swallowed thickly. “I just keep reliving it… I can still f-feel him all over me… I couldn’t do anything…”
“I let you down, Midnight… I should have been faster…” Fleethoof clenched his eyes shut and mentally chastised himself. He had let this happen. “I knew something was wrong, but I still let you go in… It’s my fault, and I’m sorry…”
Midnight broke down again. Her shoulders shook each time her chest heaved with inaudible sobs. Fleethoof hated seeing her like this. The lively, spirited bat pony that had turned his world around now lay curled up in his hooves, broken down to a state he didn’t think he would ever see her in. It was everything he feared when he enlisted her. He continued to calm her with gentle shushes and an unrelenting embrace. Fleethoof lost track of how long they stayed there like that. He was willing to wait in the shower with her all night if he had to.
To his relief, she did come to a gradual stop after some time had passed. Once Midnight had cried herself out to the point of exhaustion, her breathing settled back down to a normal rate and she slumped against his side. Fleethoof reached up to shut off the water and got up, ushering Midnight to her hooves with him. She took her time, her body tired and sore. She leaned on Fleethoof’s shoulder for support all the way out. Fleethoof rummaged through her cabinets until he found where she kept the towels, wrapping one around her and running it through her coat until he had whisked away every drop of water.
Both ponies were silent as they made their way back into Midnight’s bedroom once they were dry. Fleethoof helped her into her bed and set about clearing up the scattered photographs and setting them in a neat pile on her dresser. She watched him all the while from beneath the covers.
“Why are you here?” she asked while she watched him work. He paused for only the briefest of moments before he was back at it again, tossing her ruined dress out of sight.
“Because I was worried about you.” His answer was blunt, yet honest. “I look out for my ponies. That includes you.”
“You broke into my apartment to make sure I was okay?”
“Technically, you left your door unlocked. But yes, that is the long way of saying yes.” He laughed and looked up at her with a ghost of a smile. “Consider it payback for the times you broke into my room.”
The most faint of twitches lifted the corners of Midnight’s mouth, but just barely. Her hooves tangled in the blankets, winding and unwinding them anxiously while she debated asking him her next question. “…Can I ask you for a favor then?”
Fleethoof set the last of the pictures down, his gaze settling on her. “Of course.”
“Could you… stay for the night?” Fleethoof’s forehead creased and Midnight looked away shyly. “I mean, I get it. You’re my commanding officer, it’d be weird and stuff, but… I’d feel a lot better if you stayed.”
Fleethoof asked the question before he even gave himself a moment to consider it. “Why?”
“I dunno,” she spoke with a timid shrug. “You make me feel safe…”
Fleethoof waited to see if Midnight would make eye contact with him again after admitting something like that. She didn’t, instead just twisting the bed sheets in between her hooves again and again. Her vulnerability put him off and made him realize just how shaken up she was.
“This goes against every code and protocol in the book… but okay.”
Midnight didn’t look up at him, but smiled all the same. The tiny grin was just noticeable as Fleethoof trotted over and sat on the edge of the bed beside her. Midnight’s eyes were glassy and red, and she looked like she was fighting to keep from falling apart again. Fleethoof admired her for her tenacious strength of character. But he had learned from a wise pony that keeping your emotions and trauma bottled up inside your mind led to self destruction.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked after a long period of silence passed. He kept his gaze tethered to hers.
Midnight looked uncertain, the doubt clouding her watery eyes. “Will it do me any good to…?”
“Yes, it will.” Fleethoof shifted on the bed to face her better. “A very good friend once told me that the first step to recovery is letting go of what’s hurting you. She helped me. Now I can help you the same way.”
Midnight dropped her gaze from Fleethoof, staring down at the blankets bunched up in her lap. Her body reclined into the pillows with a sigh. Fleethoof saw a tremor run through her body, her wings tensed at a memory he didn’t dare try to imagine.
“You know, I wasn’t afraid of dying, or what he was going to do to me…” She paused and tipped her head to the side with a wince. “Well, that’s not entirely true. I was afraid, but I was more scared that I had failed, and…”
She drifted off. Her eyes seemed fixated on the patterns woven into the sheets swaddling her body. Fleethoof knew better though. He had seen that distant look glazed over in many eyes in his lifetime—his own included. The thousand-yard stare was impossible to mistake.
“And what, Mid…?” he asked. He lingered, apprehensive about asking the next part. “Did he…?”
“No, no he didn’t… But I was scared you wouldn’t come in time before he did…”
Fleethoof felt like a steel knife had been thrust into his windpipe. Breathing became a chore as the emotion choked his lungs and punched him in the gut. He blinked in rapid succession, taken aback. Midnight shook her head after a while and chuckled to herself, her voice beyond weak.
“I don’t know why I thought you wouldn’t… You’ve never given me a reason to not trust you. All I could think was ‘Fleet will come. He’s coming right now.’ But… I was cocky. I thought I could handle it all on my own. I guess I thought it would be justified or something… Like I deserved it for being reckless and not listening to you… I thought maybe I’d just be left there…”
Fleethoof didn’t say a word. He got to his hooves again and moved around to Midnight, climbing on top of the bed beside her. She looked at him with surprised eyes as he settled down next to her and wrapped his hooves around her shoulders to pull her into another comforting embrace.
“I would never abandon you, Midnight…” he whispered with such indubitable vindication, his husky voice sending pleasant shivers through her.
Midnight exhaled slowly and let herself sink against his side with her head resting on his broad chest. She wrapped her hooves around his side and closed her eyes, enjoying being surrounded by the warmth and security of his presence while she listened to his heart beat. Fleethoof rested his chin above her forehead, his hoof stroking her back to soothe and calm her nerves.
“You are a part of my family now, Midnight. Family means the world to me,” he said, emphasizing each word with slow pronunciation to make his point all the more powerful. “We don’t have many rules, but one that never gets broken is ‘we don’t leave our family behind’. No exceptions, ever. I will come for you when you’re in trouble. I promise.”
That was all it took to unravel Midnight’s resilience. The filly fell into soft sobs and whimpers against his chest, her tears dripping down her muzzle to soak into his coat. Fleethoof shushed her and rubbed her back while she let all the emotional buildup pour out. He didn’t know how long it took Midnight to cry herself to exhaustion, but when she finally did stop shaking, she lay still across him, her chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm with her breaths. He glanced down to see if she was still with him or if she had slipped away. Her eyes had drifted closed, and though she had gone limp and heavy against his side, her hooves clung to his body like a life preserver in a turbulent sea.
Fleethoof gave Midnight a tender smile and brushed a lock of her indigo mane behind her pricked ear. She mumbled once, then lay still. With the mare asleep on top of him, he was left immobilized. His eyes strafed to and fro around her bedroom, noting a distinct difference in the furnishings to her personality. It seemed like none of Midnight’s flamboyant demeanor had been translated over. The walls were a stark gray with only a few candid photographs of friends and fellow bats pinned to them. Her furniture was plain and simple: functional without any exuberance. In the year that Midnight had lived here, it seemed like she had purposefully gone out of the way to keep it feeling like a temporary stay as opposed to a home.
His eyes dipped down to the nightstand beside the bed, making note of the sole object sitting on the small surface. A tiny silver box decorated with fine Gothic etchings sat alone and isolated off-center on the stand. It was a curious thing to imagine Midnight leaving just one personal item so exposed. Fleethoof reached over with a slow hoof, careful not to disturb the sleeping pony on top of him while he picked it up and examined the intricate metalwork up close. It looked like a small jewelry box of sorts. A lot of care had gone into each deliberate fold and etching.
Fleethoof flipped the lid open with one hoof to find out what it contained inside. A soft melody began to fill the room, making the stallion jump in surprise and shut the lid as fast as he could. The music died as quickly as it had begun. He risked a glance down at Midnight to make sure he hadn’t disturbed her, and then leaned over to set the box back down.
“Don’t stop it,” Midnight spoke in a soft, pleading voice. Her eyes remained closed, but the way she tightened her hooves around him let Fleethoof know that she was, in fact, still awake. Her tired voice begged to question how long that would remain. “Can you put it back on? Please, Fleety?”
He didn’t bother to correct her this time. “Sure thing, Mid.” He opened the lid. The dulcet song flowed through the compact bedroom again. “What is it?”
“A music box my mom gave me when I joined the Nightwatch,” she murmured into his skin and snuggled herself closer to the pegasus’s warm body. “It’s my lullaby she used to sing when I was a little filly…”
For the duration of the song, Fleethoof sat in quiet contemplation and absorbed the little piece of Midnight’s history. He knew so little about her, yet just listening to the song from her past spoke volumes to him. The light and playful melody was somehow refined and perfect in its own way, yet still a little sobering. It was a flawless fit to her personality and reflected more about its owner than her entire apartment did put together. Fleethoof listened to the song with a trace of a smile until it faded into silence.
“Again…?” Midnight asked.
Fleethoof closed the music box and opened it again. Once more, he listened to the entire melody, memorizing each note and nuance in the piece. When it ended, Midnight mumbled incoherent words into his side. He took that for a repeat request and played the melody again, and again, and again until he was humming along with it. Midnight didn’t speak another word after that. Fleethoof smiled down at his sleeping friend and let the music box play one last time. This time, he relaxed into the fluffy pillows with Midnight and let the lullaby fill his head with soothing serenity.
He didn’t even notice his eyes close when he fell into a calm sleep, clinging on to the tiny silver box and the peaceful filly at his side.
In the solitude of his cell, Dandridge listened to the quiet contained within the stone walls of Canterlot prison. The once powerful aristocrat and congresspony sat alone in the corner of his cell. His body lay slumped against the cold walls with his head pressed to the rough stone, eyes narrowed to vicious points as he fumed. He had gotten himself into this mess. But he had done it with pride and tenacity.
So where the hell was his backup?
Where were the ponies he had sworn to protect if they protected him? Where was the cavalry coming to rescue him from the hangman’s noose? Where was his saving grace? Even his bloodsucking lawyer had yet to show up. Dandridge Clydesdale, the bulletproof powerhouse of Thatchholm county, was all alone.
Dandridge weighed his options on his own while he waited out the clock for his trial and his inevitable execution. There was only one way he could see out of it: cut a deal. But could he spurn them to save his own skin? If giving the authorities the information they wanted to hang his ‘friends’ instead of him, why not give them up? Why should he have to die for their crimes, too?
As much as it pained him to even think of doing so, he entertained the idea of spilling his guts to that agent in the suit. He could just see the stallion’s smug grin as he came clean and surrendered. But what did he care? Rule one of good business, he recited to himself in the solitude of his cell. Always make sure you walk away with the profit…
The more he thought about it, the more Dandridge had begun to revel in his loneliness. When he was being processed, several of his fellow politicians had come with their phony sympathies and pledges of fealty. He spat in their faces and cursed their names. Then came the journalists; the carrion birds circling for a scrap of a story to slake their lusts and make him a laughingstock the second he had been escorted off the train. He was certain they were still hanging around outside the prison trying to find their way inside.
“Dandridge Clydesdale… How the mighty have fallen.”
Dandridge’s ear flicked up when he heard that voice—that smooth, polished voice. He spun around. The amber-coated stallion standing by the door gave him a sad, sagacious smile as he ran a hoof through his slick charcoal mane. Dandridge met his eyes with shock.
“How did you get in here?”
The stallion shrugged. “When you invent the anti-teleportation spells in the prisons, you tend to know how to get around them.”
“I can see that, but what about the guards?” he hissed, turning fully to face his guest. “You can’t let them see you in here!”
“Never fear. I’m holding a projection spell in place. The guards will only see you sleeping in your cot and hear nothing. We are free to talk.”
A relieved grin appeared on his lips and trotted over to the unicorn pony. The stallion was smaller than he was, standing on the short side for a fully grown pony, with slender legs and a slim build.
“Oh, you have no idea how glad I am to see you, my friend,” Dandridge sighed. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
The stallion laughed and gave Dandridge an inviting smile as he straightened his sleek black blazer to his chest. “Silent teleportation. One of Star Swirl’s many lost spells. I am sorry, friend. You know how it is, climbing the political ladder and all that good stuff.”
“Oh, believe me, I do. So how have you been?”
“Quite well. I’ve secured everything according to plan. Everypony is in place and everything is going smoothly. Yourself?”
Dandridge motioned around the dingy prison cell with a look that oozed sarcasm. “Comme ci, comme ça.”
The stallion laughed again and wandered over to Dandridge’s cot to inspect the tattered and stained bedspread with mild-mannered indifference. “I’m sorry to hear that. Have they been treating you well?”
“They’ve certainly made me realize how much I miss my housekeeper.” Both ponies laughed this time. “That mare was a saint compared to these ruffians…”
“Anypony who works with you and walks away alive is a saint, Dandridge.”
“Okay, enough foreplay. You’ve come to bail me out, right?”
The pony looked back at Dandridge with those piercing arctic-blue eyes that seemed to stare straight through his soul. The stallion’s expression was warm, but the look in his eyes was cold as could be. “I’m afraid not this time, Dandridge.”
“What do you mean?” Dandridge asked with great trepidation. Then calming realization settled on his features. “Oh, I see. You mean for me to go through the motions of a trial and you’ll pull some strings for an acquittal.”
“Wrong again. I mean you’re in much too deep. I cannot get you out of this one. You’ve played your part. Besides, your sacrifice was all part of my plan.”
“Part of the—?! We had a deal, remember? We had a deal!”
“Yes we did, Dandridge. And the deal has expired.”
Dandridge snorted and stomped his hooves on the ground hard enough to kick up a cloud of dust around himself. He glared across the way at the stallion, anger flaring up in his chest. “What, I’m not useful to you anymore so you get rid of me?! I was plenty useful when I was following all your instructions with the Sarcidanos and that griffon psychopath you seemed so fond of.”
“No, it’s not that…” His visitor never broke eye contact with him, surprising Dandridge by putting him on edge. Nopony had done that to him before. “It’s that I can’t have any loose ends coming back to hang me. And you’ve become a very dangerous loose end, Dandridge.”
“How the hell am I a loose end?!”
“Because you’re thinking about going to talk to the RIS and the Royal Guard about me and my compatriots.” He tsked and shook his head. “Oh, don’t look so surprised, Dandridge. I know you well enough. Hell, I taught you everything about this world. That’s just being insulting now. And that also makes you a liability to me.”
“I’m no liability, I-I swear I would never tell a soul!”
The pony’s smile faltered a tad as he nodded his head. Dandridge could see his cunning mind working behind his unyielding eyes. “I want to believe you, Dandridge. You’ve been a friend for years, and proven yourself very reliable so far… Can I continue to trust you?”
“Yes!” Dandridge was shaking his head so fast it was making him dizzy. The prospect of freedom and escape to a faraway country was too great to pass up. “Yes, of course you can! Hell, I’ll even make myself disappear to keep you anonymous. You know I’d never betray you of all ponies.”
He seemed to consider his proposition for a moment. His lips pursed together into a tight line, and then popped together as he thought. Finally, he looked up at Dandridge with a grin that split his face.
“All right, Dandridge. It’s a deal.”
He trotted across the way and offered his hoof out to Dandridge. The relief was overwhelming to the anxious Earth pony as he graciously took his guest’s hoof in his own and shook it. Dandridge opened his mouth to speak, to thank him for this second chance, when he felt something wrap around his throat and squeeze.
Dandridge gave an inaudible gasp. He felt the ground disappear from his hooves, and then he was hanging in the air. The pressure around his neck constricted further, cutting off any oxygen from reaching his lungs. His hooves scrabbled at his neck, yet nothing was there. He couldn’t breathe. The stallion beneath him just smirked up at him, cold indifference in his eyes. The unicorn’s horn was glowing with his magic, the same magic now suffocating him in midair.
“Sorry it had to be this way, old friend, but I can’t leave anything to chance this late in the game. You understand, of course. It’s such a shame, but don’t you worry. You can pass on knowing you helped benefit my cause. And the best part? Nopony will care about your death, what with you being an untrustworthy snake in the grass… It will look like you took your own life to avoid the public humiliation and disgrace.”
He walked past Dandridge without so much as a glance, humming to himself while Dandridge kicked and flailed in the air above his head. Dandridge was taken aback by the cold and callous nature of the pony he believed to be his ally. He wanted to do something. He wanted to scream and lash out at him, but no sound could escape him. The pony’s vision blurred and darkened, his lungs burning as they cried for life-giving air. It only took a few moments more before Dandridge’s muscles went limp and his mind shut down.
“Goodbye, Dandridge. Thank you for all your help.”
The pony grinned, and then vanished in a burst of scarlet magic.
Fleethoof and Midnight walked down the precinct hallway to the Skyfall lobby together. Neither pony spoke as their hooves echoed each heavy clop across the tile and mosaic floor. The heavy mahogany doors sat sealed and imposing before the two as they approached, eyes focused forward and steeled for the day. Coming back to reality from the almost-fantastical haze of a mission was a sobering feeling, one Fleethoof knew too well. Midnight was getting her first taste of that sensation at last.
He turned to her as they reached the doors, an uneasy gleam in his eyes. “Are you sure you don’t need some time to recover?”
“No,” Midnight said with a firm shake of her head and put on a brave smile. “I’d be better off here than sitting in my apartment alone.”
He had to concede that to her. He knew the sentiment well. With a nod of his head, Fleethoof pushed open the doors to the squad room. The rest of Skyfall Unit were all in various stages of activity. Echo was busy reorganizing the items on her desk by feel, the hallmark bandana still wrapped tight around her eyes. The mare wore a new badge bearing Skyfall’s insignia pinned to the lapel of her uniform. Fleethoof grinned. She had passed her entry test.
Sharp Shot was, much to his surprise, working on paperwork. He never thought he would see the day he didn’t have to shove the unicorn’s nose into a stack of pages before he got to work. Responsibility is making him more mature, he noted in his head with a proud nod. He turned to Valiant and Cupcake next. Both ponies were locked in what appeared to be a very intense game of chess. Judging by the expression on Cupcake’s face, the larger pony was getting crushed by his smaller opponent.
Blue Shield had been buried in one of his medical textbooks until the doors opened. He glanced up and beamed at the two ponies. “The captain’s back! Midnight, too!”
Everypony looked up at them and welcomed them back as they returned to their respective desks next to one another. Midnight slouched into her chair and spun around once, staring up at the ceiling as she twirled. Fleethoof grabbed one of the mission report files and set it down on her desk for her to fill out while he grabbed her personnel file from beneath a stack of papers.
“Where’d you two go, boss?” Sharp Shot asked with his permanent lopsided grin plastered to his face. “Oh, I got Echo all inducted in while you were gone.”
“We were working with the RIS on a case. And I can see that. Congratulations, Echo. Welcome to the team.”
Echo gave him a shy smile and bowed her head. “Thank you, sir.”
Fleethoof lifted a quill in his teeth and dipped it into an inkwell, beginning to fill out Midnight’s evaluation form for her entry test. No detail was spared. Her incredible dedication and effort to infiltrate Dandridge’s syndicate, her ability to convince him of her cover, and her hand in defeating and detaining him all went into the report. He gave Midnight a glowing review and closed it with his flourished signature and seal of approval. Midnight Dasher was in.
He unlocked a drawer in his desk and pulled out the Skyfall patch and insignia pin and placed them in front of Midnight on her desk. “Congratulations to you too, Midnight. You’re both official members of Skyfall now.”
Midnight looked up at him with proud and appreciative eyes. She dipped her head in a courteous nod, but the smile on her face said it all. “Thanks so much for all this, Fleet.”
“You two earned it. Thank yourselves for the year of hard work and dedication.”
Midnight grinned from ear-to-ear and bounded over to Echo, the two whispering excitedly amongst themselves. Fleethoof smirked and rolled his eyes, and then returned to his desk. He still had a lot of forms to finish with the new recruits, and then more on the way with the RIS.
I know what I’m gonna be doing for the next month or three…
“Yo, boss! That creepy albino pony is back.”
“I am not an albino.”
Fleethoof’s head snapped up at Sharp’s unusual message. Bentgrass limped through the open doors, the signature impassive look on his face replaced for a stern frown. It put Fleethoof on edge. He had only seen Bentgrass like this a couple times before. It never spelled good news.
“Agrostis,” he greeted when the pony marched up to his desk. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in the hospital recovering?”
“There’s never any rest for the weary, Captain. I have grave news you need to know.”
His humor was clearly put aside. Fleethoof’s demeanor switched on a dime, his smile dropping to an austere neutrality. “What is it?”
“I returned to RIS headquarters last night to follow up with the investigation. My fellow agents and I immediately began to dig through Dandridge’s records,” he explained, rubbing at his bloodshot eyes.
“You look like you’ve been up all night, my friend.”
“That’s because I was. It was a good thing I was too.” He dropped a folder down in front of Fleethoof’s nose. “I started my search through Dandridge’s transaction ledger. It led me to a goldmine of illicit activity that will bury him without any doubt. There were dozens of names of international criminals and terrorist organizations. However, there was one name that raised a red flag in my head the moment I saw it. I knew you would want to see for yourself.”
Furrowing his brow, Fleethoof turned with narrow eyes down to the folder and opened it. Inside were photographic copies of pages from Dandridge’s ledger. A name was circled in red ink for his eyes to find with speed. But even though he saw it and read it, and re-read it, his mind refused to register what was on the page. His jaw fell slack. Cold terror slowed his heart in his chest until his hooves went numb.
His anxious gaze shot up to Bentgrass. “This can’t be right.”
“That’s what I wanted to think,” he continued, turning the photos away for Fleethoof to see the next set of records. “So I followed the dates on the transactions with detailed records he kept of his sales. It is no lie, Captain. Dandridge provided these assets to him.”
Fleethoof read over each transaction receipt with nothing short of pure dread. Each one accounted for a load of weapons from around the world, both foreign and domestic. It totaled up to the armaments for a small army, and all of them were made out to the same buyer.
Alaric Dawnbreaker.
“It can’t be…” he muttered to himself. His hooves grasped the edge of the desk to stabilize his spinning vision. “It can’t be possible…”
“It appears exile hasn’t made him any less dangerous,” Bentgrass mused. “It’s a pity you didn’t have the chance to kill him.”
“So Dandridge must know how to get to him.” Fleethoof’s hopes began to soar as he sought out the silver lining to the storm cloud. “We can use him to locate Alaric and stop him before he tries anything.”
Bentgrass hesitated in his response. Fleethoof winced inwardly; he hated when Bentgrass did that. It also meant good news wouldn’t follow.
“…What?”
Bentgrass lingered for a moment longer, and then said, “Yes, I agree, Captain. But he gave Alaric more than just weapons.”
“What else did he give him?” he asked.
“Being a politician, Dandridge had access to all of the princesses’ itineraries and public appointments. It appears he sold that information to Alaric as well.”
“What’s that? Alaric’s alive?!” Sharp Shot chimed in from across the room.
“What?”
“Huh? Alaric is return?” Cupcake all but fell out of his chair.
All at once, the entire squad room had tuned in on their conversation. All heads and eyes were turned in their direction.
Midnight cocked her head to the side. “Uh… I’m confused.You mean the griffon Alaric? The crazy one that disappeared during the war?”
“Disappeared doesn’t mean dead,” Sharp Shot remarked, then glanced with dark eyes over at Fleethoof. “He’s one mean son of a bitch. And the captain’s nemesis.”
Fleethoof and Bentgrass remained oblivious to Skyfall’s gawking and passive comments. Both stallions held each other’s gaze tense and attentive. “He’s targeting the princesses,” Fleethoof surmised with dark revelation. “You think he’s going to go after the ones he thinks are responsible for bringing him down?”
“That is precisely my line of thinking, Captain.”
“Then we need to go on the defensive. Prepare for his initial attack while we work Dandridge for his location.”
“My department can handle that. The princesses’ security falls into your realm, however,” Bentgrass said.
Fleethoof gave a brusque nod of his head. “Then we’ll handle that. If Alaric is coming to us on our turf, we’ll be ready for him.”
“Another agent has already been sent to the princesses to inform them of our discovery as well.” Bentgrass smirked a touch beneath his grim expression. “I expect you’ll be getting a summons any minute now.”
No sooner had the pony finished speaking, two armor-clad stallions came sprinting into the squad room, panting and out of breath. “Captain Fleethoof! Princess Celestia requires your team’s presence at the castle right away!”
Fleethoof’s eyes flashed a hint of humor at Bentgrass, even while his face remained expressionless. “Let’s move, team!”
“I should have expected Alaric would attempt something this drastic…” Celestia sighed and sipped at a steaming cup of tea. The hot liquid did little to soothe her agitated nerves. “I did pray that he would find reconciliation in his exile. This was not what I wanted…”
“Nopony wanted any of this, dear sister,” Luna said and placed a comforting hoof on Celestia’s. “But Alaric is too far gone to save now. There was nothing you could have done to redeem his soul.”
Fleethoof stepped closer to the two princesses seated out on a balcony overlooking Canterlot. Beside him, Shining Armor did the same. To their rear, the six ponies of Skyfall stood attentive and alert. “With all due respect, your majesties, now is not the time for personal blame.”
“Fleethoof is right,” agreed Shining Armor with a fast nod. “What matters is the present. Right now we need to focus on your security. If Alaric is going to make a move, he’ll be targeting you at one of the public events on your schedules.”
“We have many engagements throughout the year,” Celestia said, her voice calm, yet her eyes reflected the same concern Fleethoof felt in his heart. “It would be impossible to predict when such a strike could come.”
“Then we bolster your security until it does.” Fleethoof’s suggestion sounded more like an order than an idea. “Divide up the available special forces to add to your personal security until we find Alaric or until he comes to us. But we cannot leave you exposed to him.”
“I have plenty of Marines still hanging around waiting for a task,” Shining said. “We can put our attention in protecting Princess Celestia.”
“And I can divide my team and reinforce both Princess Luna and Princess Cadance’s security detail,” remarked Fleethoof.
“We still do not know when such an incident could occur,” Luna pointed out tersely. “This increase in security could last the remainder of the year.”
“Yes, your majesty, it could.” A smirk crossed Fleethoof’s lips. “But my team’s not doing anything more important.”
Shining Armor stood at attention. “Neither are my soldiers.”
Celestia and Luna exchanged looks for a long while. Fleethoof observed the silent conversation going on behind their eyes. He was envious of siblings that could communicate through a pseudo-telepathy via gazes alone. Finally, the regal alicorns looked back to the captains, and Celestia nodded.
“Very well, officers. Divide and conquer. Captain Armor, I expect your Marines to be on their best behavior.”
Shining Armor saluted. “Of course, your highness.”
“And Fleethoof,” Luna said, turning to her officer. “Which members of your team shall be joining my Nightwatch?”
Fleethoof looked back at the six ponies standing in wait, carefully considering and weighing the options. “Sharp Shot, Echo, Blue Shield, and Cupcake, your majesty.”
The ponies stepped forward as he named each one and saluted the princess. Luna looked over each soldier with a nod of approval. “Very well. And you shall be escorting Princess Cadance?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Why am I not surprised?” he heard Sharp Shot murmur behind his back.
“Do be careful with our niece, Captain,” Celestia warned him with a wry smile. “Cadance can be a bit of a free spirit.”
“I am aware, your majesty. Don’t you worry, ma’am. She’ll be safe with me,” Fleethoof said and saluted. He turned to Shining and nodded his head. “But first, I think we need to go have a chat with Mister Clydesdale.”
“This pony killed two government agents?” Shining Armor asked while walking the wide gray hallways of Canterlot Prison beside Fleethoof. “And wounded another?”
“Those are only the crimes we know of. I think he’s killed more that we don’t know about,” said Fleethoof as they rounded a corner, following close behind the jailer leading them through the labyrinth of cells.
Shining Armor snorted and tousled his messy mane. “I call dibs on stringing this son of a bitch up myself.”
“Be my guest.”
“He’s just up here,” the jailer said, motioning to a cell with his head. “I gotta say, he’s the best prisoner I’ve seen in a long time. Been super quiet all night. Just keepin’ to himself.”
The ponies stepped up to the cell. Fleethoof and Shining peered inside at the lump of pony beneath the stained sheets of the cot. The jailer lifted a club off his belt and rattled it against the bars of the cell. The clanging of metal broke the otherwise quiet morning.
“‘Ey! Pretty boy! You gots visitors!”
Dandridge didn’t stir beneath the blanket. Fleethoof exchanged a look with Shining Armor. He could see the question mirrored in his friend’s eyes.
“Open the cell,” Shining ordered.
“You sure about that, sir? I mean, he’s a dangerous criminal and—”
“I said, open the cell.”
The jailer gave a conceding look and unlocked the door for them. The stallions trotted into the cell—and froze dead in their tracks. As soon as he stepped past the gate, Fleethoof felt electricity in the air that made his hair stand on end. He wrinkled his nose and tried to shake it off, but the residual static remained palpable in the atmosphere.
“You feel that?” Shining Armor asked.
Fleethoof nodded. “Yeah. What is it?”
“It’s magic. Residual magic. It’s like a leftover energy field from some kind of spell, or one that’s still in effect.”
“I’ve never felt anything like that before, and I hang around with you screw-heads all the time. What sort of spell leaves residual magic?”
“The powerful kind. Hang on, lemme see if I can...” Shining muttered and ignited his horn.
The cell in front of them began to distort and shift before vanishing in an explosion of sparkles. Fleethoof and Shining froze when they saw Dandridge Clydesdale. The pony was dangling from the end of his bedsheets, tethered to a makeshift noose where he hung from his upright cot. Shining immediately leapt into action, tearing the fabric from the stallion’s neck and checking his pulse. Fleethoof clenched his jaw tight, staring with a mix of rage and resentment at the deceased criminal. He knew there would be no hope of saving him.
“You didn’t make sure there was no way he could kill himself?” Fleethoof shouted at the jailer. “He was quiet through the night, huh? Did you even bother to check on him?!”
“I… I… But he was… You just saw...”
Shining Armor shook his head and muttered, “He’s gone.”
“And so are our hopes of finding Alaric…” Fleethoof snorted twice and paced with heavy steps in a tight circle. “Whoever left this energy field probably convinced Dandridge to kill himself.”
“It doesn’t make sense...” Shining said. “The entire prison is covered by an anti-teleportation field. No unicorn can get in or out with magic, and nopony was allowed in to see him. Whoever he’s protecting, they must be a hell of a lot scarier than you are.”
Fleethoof growled and stomped a hoof against the hard stone floor. “So what do we do now? We have no intel and nopony to interrogate.”
“We’re just gonna have to do this the old-fashioned way. We guard the princesses and be ready for anything.”
He sighed and glanced over at Shining Armor, still scowling, but his eyes held that familiar look of purpose. “Just like being a recruit again?”
Shining nodded. “Yeah, like walking those patrol routes and pretending to be a statue. You still remember how to do all that, right?”
“I’m not the one who’s been stuck behind a desk,” Fleethoof quipped, making for the door. “Hey, if we’re lucky, maybe Alaric will hear about Dandridge and back off.”
Shining Armor rolled his eyes. “When have we ever been that lucky? And where are you going?”
“To get my team,” Fleethoof shouted back, already heading down the hall. Shining took off after him.
“Don’t you want to at least alert the RIS?”
Fleethoof shook his head. “They can’t do anything from here. They’ll find out soon enough.”
“Well, we should at least tell the princesses, the Minister of Defense, the Secretary of National Security, the heads of the local Guard and police...”
Fleethoof’s face sneered like he’d tasted something sour. “I hate bureaucracy…”
“It’s what keeps our chain of command running, Fleet,” Shining remarked. “Politicians aren’t that bad, bud. Some of them can be your best friends if you cozy up to them, especially with your sneaky sorta stuff.”
“Nope, and I intend to keep it that way. Bureaucrats and I don’t mix.” Fleethoof cast a look at his friend. “And since when did you become one yourself?”
“Har har. It comes with the job,” he said amidst a motion of sarcasm. “Okay, I’ll deal with the politics then. But you owe me for covering your flank.”
“When don’t I owe you?” Fleethoof laughed, then looked at Shining with a serious expression. “Look after Celestia, my friend. We know what Alaric’s like. If he’s really coming back, be prepared for anything.”
“I promise if you do the same,” Shining bartered with a confident grin. “Plus we’ve gotten stronger over the years. I think we could take him down now.”
Fleethoof’s dark eyes smoldered a touch. “Believe me, Shine. I intend to.”
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Fleet and Mid get closer and closer, its only a matter of time
Keep up the good work
That scene with Midnight and Fleethoof... It would have been so awesome if this was a romance story. It's almost wasted here. But this is military fiction. And it has appropriately left me with feelings of whether Fleethoof should be with Midnight or Cadance at war in my heart.
Even with Midnight and Fleethoof becoming as close as they are, Cadance is not far away.
I can see here the connection being made between the trauma Midnight is feeling now and what Fleethoof felt during the Griffon War. But still Fleethoof didn't seem as bad as Midnight seems. I don't know if it borders on insulting by subconsciously suggesting Midnight can handle these things as well as Fleethoof because she's a mare. (Kind of like the movie Gravity.) But then again, Midnight almost got violated! That has the potential to be existentially worse than anything Fleethoof has ever gone through. In the end, it's nice to see Midnight as vulnerable as she is here.
Silent teleportation. Silence?
Griffon psychopath? I can't be...
Oh my gosh! It is Alaric!
I'm not surprised either. This should be interesting as Fleethoof has just assigned himself and Midnight to guard Cadance. And she's going to see how close they are and potentially get jealous and stuff.
I'm kind of surprised this wasn't the last chapter. I'm left wondering what's coming next. Will this story end with the dastardly return of the Mad King of the Griffons Alaric making another attempt against Equestria? Or will it merely set up Fleethoof and his team doing a bit of long-term protection detail for the Princesses leading to awkwardness for Midnight over Cadance that will set up the next story? Well, whatever comes next, I eagerly await it. Keep up the good work.
Ughhhh this was so much at all at once and so good! I love what you're doing and where you're taking this, Dusk Quill.
It's 3:25 am (4:01 by the time I finish writing). Midnight's lullaby nearly put me to sleep. Of course, what kind of rabid mad-pony would I be if I didn't take this opportunity to write more adventures of Studley McBeefcake III and Nancy?
4132275
I can't breathe.
This was a wonderful chapter. I'm really affected by music, so the two songs you had were absolutely wonderful. They provided great background noise to help build the mood.
I'm also really excited to see what our favorite mad griffin king has been up to since he lost power.
Okay, so lemme' get this straight. They know for a fact that this incredibly dangerous guy who's likely trying to assassinate the princesses has their itinerary for the next year. And they're not changing it in any way? No one even suggests it, or offers a reason why they couldn't. That seems like it'd be one of the first things they should do is just completely rearrange the itinerary behind closed doors, then make sure as few ponies know it as possible. I'm not even saying have the princesses shut away or cancel everything, but just taking the existing events and drastically rearranging when they'll happen throughout the year (preferably in as inefficient a travel path as possible so it's hard to predict) would really hurt his ability to act on the events in the schedule unless he can get access to the new one.
You flankhole!
You finally gave us the death of that slimy bastard and you made it as bloody unsatisfying as remotely possible. 
Also, the music in this chapter fit blindingly well. I'd advocate this happening in the future.
4147958
I've got my strategy hat on but maybe they didn't change anything on purpose so that they could draw Alaric out of hiding?
As crazy as this sounds, sometimes, the best way to deal with a trap, is to spring the trap.
After all, unless he is a complete moron, your adversary will be expecting countermeasures. Appearing to take the bait or actually taking the bait, while risky, may throw your enemy off balance.
It's not a strategy I would personally use myself, but it could be useful in this situation.
Silver out!
We have the unnamed, amber-coated unicorn stallion that has yet to offer his vision of what he really wants Equestria to become. He might want to destroy Equestria and then rebuild it as Princess Platinum’s vision of Unicornia as seen in the episode “Hearth's Warming Eve”. After all, there may be living unicorns that see themselves as inherently superior to all other species. And then, there is the dangerous Alaric Dawnbreaker. These are two big threats to the safety of the Equestrian nation. I will love reading how the Skyfall Team deals with these two threats.