The Fifth

by Dconstructed Reconstruct

They Find Their Own Order—Part Two

Eight more hours pass by without a single sound from either one of us. Occasionally, I chance a glance over to the filly, noting her now increasingly weakening state. My lashing at her simple question had increased her fright. It was now taking a heavy toll on her. I feel myself grimace at the sight.

You made this mess. You fix it. One part of my mind furiously demands.

You. Do. Not. Care! You. Do. Not. Care! Another side of my mind repeats over and over like a mantra.

I groan and give a soft shake of my head. I quickly stand, saying “screw you” to both voices. I give a soft exhale and walk up to the filly. As expected, she shrinks back at my presence. I pause momentarily, my gaze softening as guilt starts to eat at me. I close my eyes and steel myself for what’s to come. “When was the last time you fed?”

The filly hesitates at first, but eventually answers me in a stuttering voice. “Ab-about a—a week… ago.” Her gaze does not meet mine. “It… it was… love I—I got from an old couple living near the train… yards. It-it was pure and—and beautiful, not like the… fake and horrible love—from upt-uptown ponies…” She continued to shrink back with every word, almost as if she was ashamed. “I—I thought… it would last me… a… a good week and a half. I-I guess I was—was... wrong.” She shrinks even further into the floor.

I close my eyes and concentrate on the most recent source of love I had felt: Sapphire Shores. Her affection was exquisite, and above all else, sincere—quite the rarity in this day and age. I concentrate as much as I can. Seconds later, I cast all that affection as a hot-pink miasma roughly the size of my head. I open my eyes to wonder at my work. I notice how the filly also looks on at the miasma with incredulous wonder. I can see her mouth watering at the mere thought of such a feast.

“This was originally something I was saving for a special occasion,” I say, struggling to keep the sadness out of my voice. “But seeing as you’re practically starving, I see no harm in you having it.” I hesitantly float the miasma towards the filly, who quickly takes it with her own magic. I have to stop myself from visibly emoting as I give away what is essentially the sweetest of desserts someling like myself can ever hope to have.

“Don’t eat it all at once, kid,” I tell the filly, not quite meeting her gaze. “Save some for later. You never know when you might need it.”

A voice suddenly and furiously shouts in the back of my head. It once again torments me with what I’m supposed to be, and what I’m not. Instead of heeding the voice, I use it to fill me with determination. I made this mess. I’m going to fix it.

The filly’s fear quickly dissipates soon as she has the miasma in her hoof. Sadness then takes its place; sadness borne not of negativity, but of gratitude. Before either of us has a chance to speak, she absorbs the miasma. She regains her coloring—I can feel her power returning. I have to stop myself from being left wide-eyed and open mouthed; I’d forgotten how much power a changeling can gain from love. Seeing her eat fills me with a pleasant sensation that dissipates some of the bitterness in my mouth. It also fills a void that I hadn’t felt filled for almost ten years. Yes; I made this mess; I’m going to fix it, I again tell myself. I close my eyes and sigh in resignation. “You can thank the Crux Nato for who I am today.”

My unexpected statement earns me a look of confusion from the filly, so I elaborate further.

“You asked me why I wasn’t starving because of all my hate. The reason’s because those bastards picked me to be one of their so-called ‘preferity.’ ” I pause, recalling the anguish the process put me through. I give the filly a weak grin, but it doesn’t dispel her sudden horror-struck look. “I still don’t know what they did to me, exactly. All I know is that it hurt like Tartarus and it turned me into a hate-consuming monstrosity.” I omit the part about the procedure killing just about anypony else who underwent it.

“Hatred became my new source of strength and nourishment, while fear became that which gave me resolve and bliss.” I grit my teeth at the words. “Yes, I am an affront to our race. I broke the third and most sacred of our laws: never allow hate to rule your life. Hatred is death, hatred is ruin. Hatred is the ultimate affront to life itself.” I gaze to the floor in shame. “I’m corrupt and evil—to be executed by the changeling guard on sight.” I look back up, a sour smile forming on my muzzle. “Or, I was evil, once upon a time. I’ve re-learnt how to feed on love in the last ten years. It provides a fair amount of strength and nourishment. But honestly, why bother with it? The world’s getting darker and crueler with every passing year.” My brow furrows at those horribly truthful words. “Much as I loathe admitting it, kid, the Crux Nato gave me a gift. As you are probably aware, I’m not quite done paying them back for their generosity yet.” I feel a grin spread on my lips at the end of that statement. It makes part of me utterly sick.

The filly gives me a look that mixed concern, understanding, and disgust. She lets out several deep and thoughtful breaths before asking me something I hadn’t really expected to be asked. “What does hate taste like?”

I hesitate. Part of my mind’s ready to snap another defensive shout at the filly. Instead, I really think my response over.

“Hate’s…” I start hesitantly. “…Hate’s rotten and foul. You’re better off eating actual manure than hate. Hate rots your heart and soul. It’s terrible and loathsome…” I close my eyes. “…But, it’s powerful, euphoric, and addictive.” I give my situation more thought, and realize that I can’t describe it in any other form. Hate’s like a drug to me. I know it’s slowly destroying me from the inside out, but it’s about the only thing that really curbs my appetite. Love, while truly delicious, doesn’t quite nourish me. If anything, it makes me drunk.

“Then, there’s fear,” I continue. “Fear that every single individual emanates; whether fear of trivialities, fear of disappointment, fear of pain, or fear of death.” I pause and think back to the damnatorum’s last moments of life. In those last few seconds, I was filled with a sense of debauch satisfaction. I catch myself almost smiling. Instantly, I feel like scum. “I’d say fear’s worse than hate. Hate already exists in the air; fear, on the other hoof…” I falter, just barely managing to hide my growing sneer. “…Fear… has to be sown.” I look away from the filly and close my eyes. Had I still a mother, I would be begging for her forgiveness right about now.

The room falls silent as neither one of us say a single word. My captive seems to be racking her brain for understanding, while I do my best to try and ease the bitterness growing in my gullet. I’m just about ready to magic the bottle of sweet cider from the kitchen table when the filly side winds me with another unexpected question: “Why’d you do it? Why’d you spare my life?”

Beneath her black chitin was something more; more than just a mere cultist, more than just a mere tool. She might be Crux Nato, but she isn’t a part of this mess willingly. “I already told you, kid; I don’t like to kill,” I quickly answer. My wings again vibrate at the outright lie I’ve just repeated.

The filly continues to gaze at me intently. It’s as if she’s searching for some deeper answer. I return the gaze, watching for even the slightest movement. She remains perfectly still for a second, then closes her eyes, bitter smile growing on her lips. “Then, I really should be dead,” she meekly professes. She gets off the bed and walks towards the nearest window. “Why was I spared, but Gerard, Bedlam, Thrall, and Gooze weren’t?”

“So, that’s their names…” My guilt quickly multiplies now that the corpses I’d made had names attached to them. “I guess…” I pause, unsure as to what to actually say. In the end, I settle on meekly saying, “I’m sorry about killing your friends.”

“They weren’t really my friends,” the filly unexpectedly affirms. “Well,” she suddenly adds, her voice growing warm, “maybe except for Bedlam and Bustle.” Her lips turn to a nostalgic smile at the mention of the two names. “Bedlam and Bustle were the only ones that were really nice to me. That said a lot about them, considering they are damnatorum. Everyone else in the cult either saw me as a ‘rookie’, or a waste of space.” She let a bitter chortle. “Bedlam was the one who convinced the arch-mages to let me tag along on her assignment.” She suddenly lets out a sniff. “Bedlam was a… unstable draconequus, but at least she was nice to me.” She turns to face me, eyes shimmering with tears. “And you killed her; cold-bloodedly killed her…” She averts her gaze, a small trail of tears flying out. “I… I don’t know what to feel. I can’t hate you since you only did your job and you spared my life. But I can’t praise you either. You could have let her live…” She gives a dry heave. “…You could have let her live…”

I don’t say anything. I really can’t. Instead, I let the filly’s words sink in. I think carefully about my next words, but I find it almost impossible to say anything other than another weak apology. I turn back to her, but she isn’t facing me anymore.

“Your friend, Bedlam… she… uh… she… fought well. She—” I start, but decide to omit the fact that she died quickly. “—Again, for what it’s worth… I’m… sorry…” It’s good fortune that the filly isn’t facing me. I doubt I would have been able to say the words directly to her face.

From the feelings, I gauge that the filly’s somewhat accepted my apology. Still, she holds to a deep resentment that she’ll no doubt carry for the rest of her life. That negative emotion, however small it is, starts to empower me. The sensation’s filling, but it leaves me with an incredibly bad taste, both in my mouth and in my soul.

I decide it’s time for more sweet drinks. The filly needed time to herself again. I didn’t even take more than two steps towards the kitchen when the filly starts to weep again. I sigh in misery. G, you really are a monster…

---

---

It’s close to midnight when the filly speaks again. This time, her question’s direct and to the point: “Why did you join the Crux Nato, and how did you leave it?”

I take a seat on the table across from the bedroom and give the filly a wry smile. “Not so fast,” I quickly say, putting a hoof up for emphasis. “You want to hear my tale of woe and misery? Then you need to tell me what you know about your assignment. Why were your associates torturing me, and who put you all up to it.”

The filly’s surprised by my request, but nods in agreement nonetheless.

“I’m afraid there’s not much I can tell you. I really wasn’t part of the mission briefing. I only heard about it after the fact from Bedlam, who brought me along to show me the ropes…” She trails off for a moment, looking at the ceiling in remembrance before continuing. “She only told me that it was a ‘fear and information extraction’ job. We were to trail a detective who had been snooping around, rough him up, extract some information from him, and then leave him so broken that he would drop the case and maybe even skip town.” She grimaces at the memory. “When Gerard brought you in from the Golden Vision, Bedlam became ecstatic. She changed the plan to outright killing you, which the others had been more than happy to be a part of. She never really told me why she wanted you dead, only to stay out of it for my own good.”

“Is there anything more specific you can recall, maybe something from other Crux Nato members before your ill-fated operation?” My face hardens. “Anything to do with the five murders in the last two weeks?”

“Murders?” The filly asks with genuine shock. “That can’t be; the Crux Nato hasn’t killed anypony! Bedlam’s plan to kill you… it was wrong—not to mention against the Arch-mage’s orders! I—I think she might have been executed for her defiance had she—had she…” she frowns at the coming thought.

“Killed me,” I quickly finish the filly’s words. She nods.

I feel my brow furrow. “Listen, kid, five ponies have been murdered in the last two weeks using magic known to the Crux Nato.” My voice grows graver with each syllable. “Your cult has been murdering innocent ponies!”

At my words, the filly grows visibly angered. “Look here detective, the Crux Nato is a lot of things, but murderers they aren’t! The current arch-mages would never authorize murder. It goes against the very laws of the cult!”

“New laws?”

The filly nods. “It’s a system of twelve laws created by the survivors of the Liberation Wars. They detail what we heed, and what we should never do. Among those laws, the most sacred is the one that forbids us from killing!”

“If that’s true, then why’d your arch-mages want me out of the picture?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at the question.

“Weren’t you listening? We weren’t supposed to kill you! We were supposed to extract information from you and keep you quiet with intimidation! That was a decision the arch-mages made only after they realized there was a detective snooping around.” Her face softened. “They didn’t really know the full details of the murders, only that it was incriminating them. They also didn’t know that the detective doing the snooping was, in fact, you. They would have come seeking your aid had they actually known you were on the case…” Her voice doesn’t really hold any deception, and neither do her eyes. “All the arch-mages wanted was to keep things quiet, avoid a repeat of ten years ago…”

I lean back on my chair. The filly’s revelation shattered what little information I had about the case.

What struck me the most, however, was what I’d just learned about the new Crux Nato. If what she just said was correct—and I didn’t feel any deception in her emotions—then the cult might actually not be responsible for the five murders at all. On top of that, the cult could potentially be a victim itself.

It’s a fact I find hard to believe since every death had the calling card of the cult. There was also the undeniable fact that I had been directly attacked by one of them.

But maybe that was the point.

A chill crawls through my chitin and up my spine at that. I rack my brain for an answer. If the Crux Nato isn’t responsible for the murders, then somepony else is framing them—somepony that knows blood magic. I consider for a second the possibility of there being a splinter cell in the cult, but the Crux Nato’s a single entity that once answered to a higher authority…

All of a sudden, that higher authority comes to mind. I shake my head at the idea. We wiped them out ten years ago, I tell myself. No way they’re still around. I gulp. No way he’s still around...

I needed more answers.

For now, though... “You kept your end of the bargain, so I’ll keep mine.”

The filly snaps back to attention at my words. She gives me an odd look at first before smiling with genuine anticipation. For some reason, her smile doesn’t irk me in the least. It’s actually rather refreshing to see her perked for something.

“I guess I should start at the beginning.” I clear my throat. “Tell me, what’s your origin?”

“My… origin?” The filly repeats my question in an incredulous tone.

“Yes; your origin,” I repeat. “Where did you come from and where were you raised; all that information.”

I cross my forelegs in anticipation, hoping he filly would remain oblivious to my little ploy.

“Well,” the filly starts, clearly racking her brain for memories. “I came from one of the hives in the Badlands, close to the town of Salty Shores, but technically still within changeling territories. I was born to modest parents and lived in the hive ‘til I was fifteen.

“Being a hive changeling wasn’t really for me, though—that’s why I took the job of scout as soon as I turned fourteen. I did a year’s worth of work, and during that time, I saw many things in the outside world that made me fall in love with the idea of traveling. But it was in Salty Shores—which, as you know, is a mixed town—that I saw what I believed to be the true face of Equestria.” She sighs. “I was wrong, of course. When I turned fifteen and a half, I bid my family and old life farewell and took an airship to Dodge City. There, I took a train to Appleloosa to start anew. Soon as I stepped out of the train, I came face to face with the horrible reality—Equestria wasn’t at all like Salty Shores. I barely made it out of Appleloosa in one piece.

“From there, I took a train to Los Pegasus, only to find myself stuck in the same situation. That’s pretty much how it went; I ended up being driven from town to town either because of what I was, or because I had no real employable skills. I was often referred to as a migrant, which meant I was treated like garbage most of the time.

“It wasn’t long till I ended up disillusioned and utterly moneyless in Fillydelphia, wasting away, regretting my life. That was when Bedlam and Bustle found me. They took pity on me and offered a chance to not only be a part of something greater than myself, but also to get back at society as a whole. I decided it was better than starving, so I joined them, and they introduced me to the Crux Nato.”

I give the filly an understanding nod, taking in her story completely. I myself take a deep breath and lean in closer to her.

“Far as I go, I was never really was part of any hive.” I can already feel the weight of the tale to come. “My parents left their hive two years before I came to this world. From what I know, the hive was in the continent of Tharntos, very close to the country of Neighpon.” A faint smile formed on my lips. “The whole of changeling culture in Tharntos didn’t actually function with the authority of a queen like it does here in Equestria, but rather with warlords. The warlord in charge of our hive ended up going to war with the nation of Gryphos. He was personally killed by Prince Ragnar of the griffons, who then annexed the hive into Gryphos. Many of the changelings from my old hive settled in the capitol, Midgard. Others chose to live in the Jägerwald Forest. Still others, like my parents, boarded airships bound for Equestria.

“Once they got here, they settled down in Los Pegasus. Two years later, I was born.” I reached into my vest and levitated out a beat-up wallet. I take out a faint and age-faded picture of a changeling couple dressed in fine tailored suits.

“Mother and father raised me well, even though they worked most of the time. They made sure I was ready for a hard life, but if you take away the expected indifference found in youth, I can’t say my formative years were that bad.

“The good days lasted until I was fifteen; that’s when the manure hit the fan.” My face grows grim as the bitter memories flood back in. “A group of bigoted gangsters, part of the Rosalinos mob—who quite literally ran the Los Pegasus strip at the time—came to our home one night and demanded we leave town on account of our presence being ‘disruptive’ to their business.

“See, my father became a prosecutor specifically to take on the corrupt element of Equestria. This was because after arriving here, he learned of how the changelings lived under the rule of the Solari Regime, and their three sacred laws. He took the second law to heart: ‘protect ponykind from any of its enemies. It is our duty to act as silent guardians and stalwart sentinels for all equinekind, for we too are part of equinekind.’

“The last case he took prior to the Rosalino’s warning was to indict Russo Rosalino for fraud and illegal racketeering. My father came within inches of winning the case. Naturally, the mobsters promised physical retribution for my father’s defiance. A few nights later, they attacked our home while we all slept.”

I close my eyes. I can practically hear the scream of that horrible night.

“My parents told me to run away while they fought off the thugs as best they could. I just barely made it out when the house went up in flames.” I felt my brow lower. “For ten days, I ran away from the mob. I ran faster and further than I ever had; ran until the lights of Los Pegasus were but a beacon in the horizon. My body eventually gave out and I collapsed from fatigue. When I woke up, I found myself lost in the middle of the San Palomino Desert. There I lay, unable to do anything but wait for death. With what little voice I had left, I looked to the stars and begged for the chance to avenge my parents. When I next woke up, I was in the care of the group that would let me extract my vengeance, as well as shape me into what I am today: the Crux Nato.”

“You… spoke to the stars?” the filly asks me in a shocked voice.

“Maybe. I was half dead at the time. Perhaps the stars did hear my plea and led that group of scouts to find me. Maybe I was just lucky,” I shrugged. “Whatever the case may be, I was saved. More importantly, I learned what the Crux Nato could help me accomplish. Without hesitation, I joined up and was put under Arashi’s command.” I smile, but look sideways. “He helped me kill Russo. Russo’s blood served as the ink with which I penned my oath to the Crux Nato. Five years later, I was one of the top cult operatives. It wasn’t long after that I became a preferity and was turned into the monster I’m today.”

I quickly lose my smile. “A year after my alteration, the arch-mages decided they were better off getting rid of all of the preferity; something about us not living up to the standards needed to move on to the next phase of some ancient operation that only the old fools cared to keep alive. Their cleansing of the preferity was absolute, all the way up to the highest levels of the Caelestibusque.”

“The what?” The filly vociferously asks in confusion.

“The Caelestibusque,” I repeat. “Don’t tell me you don’t know about that group of bastards.”

“I’ve never heard of them.”

“You’re Crux Nato, yet don’t know a thing about the Caelestibusque?”

“If it has to do with the old ruling sect before the Liberation Wars, then it was scrubbed from the records.”

I smile. “I guess I can understand that. Let me give you a bit of a history lesson then.

“The Crux Nato, at least before the end of the Liberation War, had never really been just the ‘Crux Nato.’ Instead, it was an arm of the Caelestibusque’s military force. Every arch-mage of the Crux Nato was in fact part of the Caelestibusque by default. The lower ranking members weren’t part of the Caelestibusque till they proved their worth by becoming preferity.

“The Caelestibusque had, in fact, been running the Crux Nato since the feudal days, long before Luna returned to usher the Equestrian Republic. Back then, the cabal went by the simpler name of the ‘Caelestis’ and acted as the land’s greatest religious institution before rising to become its absolute governmental body after the crusades were ended. That’s when they took the name ‘Solari.’

The filly gasped at the name. I knew well why. I kept on going.

“Most of the crusades against the zebra and griffons during the feudal age were in fact perpetrated by the Caelestibusque as a way to gain territory. It was because of the Caelestis that the Griffons were driven off Vindrigoth and into Tharntos, where they came into conflict with the diamond dogs and dragon nomads.

“At any rate, in the eyes of the Caelestibusque arch-mages, Arashi and the other high-ranking preferity—Ude, Silver, and Caleb—” I hiss the name. Just saying it pissed me off. “—had become a liability due to our failure to become their new instrument of domination: ‘The Fifth.’ ”

“What’s this ‘Fifth’?” the filly asks.

“Don’t know, to be honest,” I reply. “I’ve only heard whispers about it; something about being the one true master of Oblivion or some nonsense like that.” I give a shake of my head. “Older-than-dirt superstitious nonsense if you ask me. None of the preferity ended up becoming this Fifth individual, because it’s all nonsense. But due to that ‘failure,’ we were all possible threat to the arch-mages. Arashi, being an arch-mage himself, was viewed as the greatest threat of all. He had the power to rally the other preferity to his cause and take control of the Crux Nato. Problem was the other arch-mages couldn’t publicly brand him a traitor due to his large following. So, a trap was set instead.

“Arashi was ordered to neutralize Princess Luna, who had already been waging war on the Solari Regime for five years. He gathered all of the other preferity to take on the mission, over a hundred different members, including me.” I close my eyes at the bitter memory. “We all galloped right into the trap. The rebellion had been forewarned of our arrival by an informant. They showed no quarter. Out of all the preferity that Arashi had hoof-picked, only himself, his lover Ude, and the fell deer twins Caleb and Silver escaped alive.”

“Wait a second,” the filly suddenly says, interrupting my narration. “What about you? You just said that only four out of over a hundred made it out alive. You…” She leaned in closer. “We-were you—?”

“Killed?” I give a bitter smile. “Yes; yes I was. Though ‘killed’ is a bit of a stretch, if you ask me. I guess technically I was killed—ten times, if you want to be scientific about it.”

As expected, the filly covers her mouth to hold back a gasp.

“I had a blade pierce my carapace and puncture a lung; several heavy bolts buried themselves on my back, damaging my kidneys and liver, and I took about a dozen blasts of magic to every part of my body, shattering just about every piece of chitin on my skin. The only organs that weren’t damaged in the attack were my heart and brain, though my heart stopped beating a total of nine times before I gave the final croak.

“Luckily for me, not only was my thick chitin able to absorb the worst of the punishment before finally giving out, but I was brought back from the brink of death those nine times by Silver, who was our group’s designated mage and healer. Not that it mattered in the end—I was too much of a bleeding wreck to keep on fighting, so I decided to stay behind and cover the other’s escape. That’s why Arashi and the other four got out. After another brave but futile stand, my body finally gave out, and I fell dead for the tenth and what should have been my final time.

“I awoke a week later in the Palace of Justice’s forensic lab, greeted by Sun Beam—or ‘Grave-keeper’ as most other doctors know her.” I can’t help but scowl. “She’s the absolute last pony on earth you want see after being medically dead.

“As I soon found out, she had repaired my damaged body using a specialized formula synthesized from a mixture of my blood and several other sources, including dragon’s blood. She had dubbed her little ‘revival spell in a bottle’, Reanimator.” I bitterly chuckle. “Don’t let her looks fool you. She’s one hell of a necromancer.” I sighe. “It wasn’t long before I discovered that Sun had been commissioned by the Solari to revive and ‘enhance’ me.

“On learning that, I did everything possible to escape. I ended up damaging parts of Sun’s laboratory, destroying most of her research and the only known sample of Reanimator. I escaped from the Palace of Justice soon after. Or rather, I was allowed to escape.” I rub my chin. “I haven’t quite figured out what really happened, to be honest. All I know is that it took me about a week to get back my mental faculties; had to hide in the Canterlot’s sewers till that happened. When I finally did, I tracked down Arashi and, together with the other four, plotted our retribution against the Caelestibusque.”

“Dead ten times…” the filly repeated. Her voice’s full of incredulous shock. “I’m afraid of dying just once…” she adds. Her eyes suddenly light up. “Did you see the other side?” She recoils a bit. “Did… did you see Tartarus?”

“Kid, I wasn’t dead enough to get to Tartarus. I mean, I probably was, but I honestly don’t remember.”

“But how could you not have been dead dead? You just said that the tenth time should have been your final one.”

“I guess Sun found a way to cast a stabilization spell soon as I ‘died’; kept me in stasis until she could work her necromatic magic on me.” I tap my skull once. “So long as the brain doesn’t die from lack of oxygen, you are still technically alive.” I give the filly a somewhat awkward smile. Then, it quickly fades as I move on with the narration. “You probably know what happened next.”

“Yeah...” the filly hesitantly replies. “You and the other four returned to the Crux Nato and took out the arch-mages.”

I nod. “Though, it was more complex than that. We took out the arch-mages of the Crux Nato first, and then we moved up to the Caelestibusque. It was one of the toughest fights of our lives, and I still don’t know how we won in the end.” I lied. I knew damn well how we won, and just who we had to fight to do so. I still have nightmares about it.

“When the last Caelestibusque scum was a bleeding mess at our hooves, we rested. Little did we know that by carrying out our revenge, we severed the chain of command the Caelestibusque had had with the military. This break in the link was all it took for Luna to successfully lay siege to Canterlot, which fell only after two days of surprisingly bloodless battle.” I took a light swig of my cider. “You won’t find this in history books kid, but I ended up being one of the reasons we have a free Equestria today. Not that I’m actually proud of it, considering it was a total accident.” I bitterly smiled. “Also, it doesn’t look like we’ve really made any progress. We have a senate and congress now, but they behave just like the Solari.

“After Equestria became a ‘republic,’ all five of us were hunted down like dogs by the newly formed E.B.I. We didn’t put up a fight, seeing as we were all tired of running and fighting. We also felt partially responsible for the Solari, considering what we had been.

“We were taken to trial without a fight. The Supreme Court found us all guilty of treason and conspiracy. Just as our sentence was to given—death of course—Princess Luna stepped in to veto the judgment. I’ll never forget her face as she stood tall in front of all Equestria to give us all an offer: rot in jail for the remainder of our natural days, or join the guards and E.B.I. and help fight vice and sin. It should be obvious which one I picked.” I feel a smile form in my muzzle at the memory. “The rest, is silence.”

“Why would the princess pardon you all, especially if you tried to kill her?”

I shrug. “I’m not entirely sure why, to be honest. I like to believe it was an act of mercy on her part, or maybe it was because we destroyed the Caelestibusque. More than anything, it might have been because we reminded her of something. Or somepony.” I take another swig of cider. “Today, I’m still technically a member of the E.B.I. even if I mostly work freelance. Arashi is still a captain of the Equestrian Guards. His wife, Ude, serves as a member of the E.B.I’s battlemage division. I hear their kid was just accepted into the School for Gifted Unicorns—quite the achievement, if you ask me.”

“Wait, one of your friends has a kid?”

“Yes. Is it that surprising?”

“How did he escape the Crux Nato’s wrath if it was deemed you were all to be eliminated?”

“The kid wasn’t with the Crux Nato at the time of their betrayal. In fact, they didn’t know about it; few did. Arashi and Ude kept their relationship a secret. When the child was born, they decided it was best to raise the kid away from the Cult. Ude’s sister cared for the foal till the age of five. By then, the Crux Nato arch-mages were no more.”

“What’s his name?” the filly asks.

“You mean, ‘what’s her name,’ ” I correct her. She blushes and gives me a meek flustered smile. I take a small sip of my cider and continue. “Her name’s Meghan. She fancies herself some kind of cowpony; wears a stetson hat and red scarf. Maybe she’s outgrown that by now, or maybe she hasn’t.” I smile. “Either way, she’s turning fifteen this year. Still hasn’t really gotten her cutie mark yet.”

“What about the rest of your friends?” the filly asks. “What became of them?”

“Well,” I start, “that bastard Caleb left for Ponyville after serving five years as a special operative for both the E.B.I. and Zebra Legion.” I take another sip of cider. “That means he went back to his old ways of torture and mass killing, only now in the name of Equestria and Zebrica. Unlike some of us, he never outgrew his blood-lust. I hate that bastard.” I lightly shake my head. “Last I heard of him, he left with a strange book in tow. He never really said what that dusty old tome was for, only that it could hold the key to solving many riddles about our world, including the biggest of all: ‘Equestria’s twisted state,’ or so he claimed.” I smile. “See, Caleb had this crazy belief that somehow, something called ‘The elements of Harmony’ got altered when a spell meant to change fate itself was accidentally cast by a powerful-enough unicorn. The effects were so drastic that it apparently distorted history itself, leading to this crap-sack world of ours.” I can’t help but laugh. “He believed this so much in fact, that when he wasn’t killing, he was seeking a way to alter the world back to its ‘rightful order.’ He vanished from the face of the earth soon after arriving in Ponyville. I’m sure he’s still living there.

“Now, Caleb’s twin sister, Silver, is another story altogether.” I suddenly find myself smiling as a warm sensation spreads over my body. “Sure, she’s ten years my elder, and sure, she’s a bit of an ice-queen, but damn if I wouldn’t give anything to wreck that—” I stop myself before more than just my enthusiasm rises. I clear my throat. “Anyway, she became curator of Manehattan’s History Museum after reaching the rank of major in the Equestrian Intelligence Division. She still serves the princess part time as an advisor.” I let out a sigh and a smile.

“That’s quite the tale,” the filly tells me with great esteem. “From Crux Nato history, you are still quite the monsters, so much so that being referred to as a ‘preferity’ is an insult.”

“That’s exaggeration,” I say with annoyance at first, but then grow amused at the label. The irony’s stunning. At that, I remember the situation I’m in.

The filly—my captive—while turning out to be more or less innocent, in this case myself being the aggressor by the sound of it, was still technically Crux Nato. With my word, I can have her put in jail for the remainder of her natural days. I could even have her silently executed and scrubbed from public records. She’s an outsider, after all, and as much as it pisses me off, no one’s going to miss a changeling.

Just as easily, I can have her set free and put under the witness protection program, though how much good that would do is up for debate. I guess I could start by first getting to know who this filly actually is. I tell myself. Maybe then, I’ll have a better idea of what to do.

“Alright, I’ve just have one last question for you,” I suddenly start. “What’s your name?”

“Oh,” the filly says. Suddenly, she sounds bothered. “It’s… well… it’s…” she’s visibly torn by my question.

“You don’t have a name, do you?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Of course I do!” The filly answers rather angrily. “It’s a changeling name,” she says, putting a hoof on her chest in a show of pride.

“What is it then?”

“It’s Shi’Arma.” The filly puts on a wide smile at her answer.

I roll my eyes at the reply. “That changeling name’s too cumbersome. Do you have a pony name?”

“Uh…” The filly rubs the back of her head. “…no,” she finally admits. Her earlier enthusiasm deflates as shame seems to take over.

“Can you pick one you like?”

“What’s wrong with my given name?”

“It’s too cumbersome. You want a name that ponies will remember without having to refer to a translation book.”

The filly thinks about it for a second before her face brightens. “How about ‘Joy’?”

“ ‘Joy?’ ” I repeat. “Are you sure? It doesn’t seem that befitting.”

“Like ‘G’ is any better,” the filly says. She gives me a look that borders on indignation. “What does ‘G’ even stand for?”

“It stands for—” I start, but cut myself off with a chuckle as the name comes back to me. “My name’s no longer something I like to recall, for it’s stained with much wrong. It’s not important, really—G is just that: G.” I quickly bury the emotions tied to my name and move on.

“Well, if you can be named after a single letter of the alphabet, then why can’t I be named after an emotion?”

“I never said you couldn’t use the name ‘Joy,’ just that it doesn’t befit you.”

“In that case, then, I’m Joy; end of story.” The filly’s tone is a mix of bashfulness and, to my delight, joy. The irony, I think to myself. Okay, I’m not going to have her removed from the official records and killed, nor will I have her put in some witness protection program. Once this is all over, she is going to go on and live a happy, average, cult-free lif—

A sudden chill runs down my spine.

I turn towards the window as I feel the frigid air. I can sense a hateful presence in the atmosphere; faint, but unmistakable. It is very near. It feels like it’s watching me and Joy…

“Something wrong?” Joy asks, likely sensing a fraction of what I feel in the air. I say nothing, instead gesturing with one hoof while slowly strapping my repeater on the other.

Joy, instead of arguing as I had expected her to, drops on into a prowling position. I’m not too sure how good she would be in a fight, but she at least has the right idea.

I stand up slowly, trying my best to look casual while keeping my weapon concealed. The dull lamp above the motel door doesn’t really have much of an effect on the now heavy gloom outside. Its sickly yellow glow only serves to strengthen the darkness it try to dispel. With careful motions, I stop by the window, casually parting the curtain and taking a look outside. Nothing but blackness and the shadowy outline of the trees stared back at—wait, there’s something else out there…

I stand perfectly still, trying to make out the shape in the shadows. A feeling in the back of my mind tells me that, whatever it is, it must be the shadowy king in this lethal chess game I seem to be stuck playing. I move slowly toward the door, never shifting my gaze from the alleged figure. Seconds creep me by as I barely breathe. I keep watch and wait for the right moment to strike. Without moving any other parts of my body, I gently undo the deadbolt and lock on the door. I glance rapidly towards Joy, and then back to the shadow. At that moment, it moves, streaking off deeper into nearby bushes and buildings.

In a blur, I swing the door wide open and aim my repeater. Without giving it much thought, I run into the night air using only three legs and fire five shots into the darkness. The muzzle fire briefly illuminates the murk as the echo of my shots ring in the night before they all but fade away. The only sound that reverberates in my ears after that is the unmistakable crash of splintering of wood.

“Great, just great!” I half-shout as I replace my weapon back its holster. I run my free hoof across my face in exasperation. “Somepony or something now knows we’re here…”

“Is that a bad thing?” Joy asks. I turn and glare at her. She takes the hint and retreats a few hoofsteps.

I sighed with guilt. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s just that these last few day or so have been nothing short of Tartarus to me.” I try to keep as much irritation out of my tone as I can. Joy still gives me a bit of a glare, which I fully understand.

I look around. It’s now dark enough to more or less start the journey to the Palace of Justice undetected, but whatever’s been watching us is bound to still be out there, probably with friends.

I give it a bit more thought and my ransacked office once again enters my thoughts. Something about it keeps bugging me.

Perhaps it’s time I listen to my gut.

“Time to head back and clear out my office,” I declare in a not-too-enthusiastic tone. “Whoever or whatever that was will probably be expecting it, but my place is easier to defend than this motel.” That is, IF we survive removing whatever traps were set there first, I think to myself.

I look to Joy, and suddenly realize she’s quite exposed and vulnerable. She’s not even wearing any clothes, though a lot ponies tended not to wear anything most of the time. That was something I couldn’t have on my watch. Joy needed some protection, and I knew just what.

“Come with me. You need a vest and a weapon or two.”

“I hope it’s not a firearm—I don’t like them.” She gives me a somewhat wicked smile. “I much prefer hoof blades.”

I roll my eyes. “Your call, kid.”

We return to the motel room. This time, we won’t be staying there long.

---

The events in our lives happen in a sequence in time, but in their significance to us they find their own order; the continuous thread of revelation.

Comments

[Perteks]

Aw yeah, great storybuilding. I love that idea with elements of harmony.

[Dconstructed Reconstruct]

3523594
that's only the beginning. Pretty soon, you'll see that everything if far larger. Far, FAR larger.

[Dconstructed Reconstruct]

3527608
I'll see about fixing the "cop" issues. I capitalize then because they are treated like names, but I guess it doesn't make much sense to do that in the end.

Far as the voice goes, Thank you! I must confess though, I've sort of cheated in a way. I say that because the voice is actually the kind of voice I would like to have in real life, but can't quite master sound-wise. I speak like this to myself very often. I don't know if that counts as self-insertion or not. Still, in the end, if the voice works, it works.

(also, one of the benefits of first-person narration is that you can actually focus on the voice! It's so fun to do so!)

Thank you for reading. You'll enjoy the chapters that are to come.

[Dconstructed Reconstruct]

3527678
Maybe...

[Dconstructed Reconstruct]

3527707
Heh, can't pull one over you, can't I?

At any rate, the reason G is dealing with this now is because he's never really had a client die because of his direct neglect. Joy also doesn't help matters much, particularly since she's more precious to him that even he knows. That's something that will get explained later, but not before it all ends.

I hope you keep on reading, because things are about to get REALLY good. Which means that everything's about to go bad for G.

[chrysoprox]

What's with the bolding of proper nouns once, then never again?

[Vitae]

3533984

Can't wait til this is over and joy hits that legal age mark so G and her can bump uglies and make horrific terrifying children.