Streets of Sin

by Jarvy Jared

VIII: Unsafe Haven

Minx awoke with a strange feeling.

She had been dreaming that she was in her choir class. It was a pleasant dream at first, with her being the center of attention. She was singing something in a foreign language, while the other students looked on in awe of her talent. She had smiled; it had been so long since she had sung.

Then the dream changed. The instructor seemed to morph into something darker, like a creature from the night. It had reminded Minx of what Prose’s last disguise looked like—a monster from Tartarus. Soon the others had begun to change into similar shadowy creatures. It seemed that her singing was the only thing that prevented them from reaching her. But her voice had soon grown tired, and she had to stop; and it was then that the monsters surrounded her, and all she saw afterwards was blackness.

It was then that she awoke, her heart racing, beads of sweat rolling down her face. She blinked, confused.

She felt nervous, for some reason. She glanced around her small room, trying to calm herself with its familiarity. She managed to do so after some time.

She quickly rolled out of bed and headed for the shower, turning the nozzle and letting the water flow out. She washed quickly, then dried just as fast; she looked in the mirror with a slight frown, suddenly and strangely uncertain. She shivered, not from coldness, but in anticipation.

She wondered why.

She walked away from her bedroom, and headed for her kitchen area. She walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out a loaf of bread. Opening it, she took out two slices, and placed them in the adjourning toaster, then pushed down on the switch. The gentle ticking calmed her nerves a little.

She then walked over to the coffee machine and started it up, adding the water and the beans. She placed her mug underneath and pressed the button, letting the coffee drip down. She yawned. As the cup filled, she began to stir it with a spoon. Once the liquid had settled, she ripped open three packets of sugar, dumping the contents. She added her coconut creamer to the mix, and stirred, then tasted it; she let out a low moan, relishing the sweetness.

She placed the coffee mug at the dining table, then returned to grab a plate. The toaster dinged, and she took out the toast, placing them on the plate. She grabbed a stick of butter from the fridge, then spread it across, seeing it melt. Somehow that seemed to reassure her that things were in order.

Her nerves refused to remain fully placid, however. After she placed down her plate, she trotted up to her door to grab her paper from downstairs. A few ponies had left their rooms, heading off to work. For her, it was a break day; her services to the Family were not required.

“Morning, Minx,” the apartment owner, an older mare by the name of Wayward Shine, greeted.

Minx nodded to her. “Good morning, Miss Shine.”

“Lovely day, don’t you think?”

“Can’t say I have; I haven’t looked outside yet.”

“Well, you ought to savor it while it lasts. There’s a scheduled rainfall a little later on today.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Miss. My paper?”

Wayward pushed them over the counter, and Minx caught them. She noticed that there seemed to be more papers added to the mix; she distinctly saw that there was more than five different newspapers. She raised an eyebrow at Wayward. “There’s a bit more than what I’m used to.”

“What, you don’t like reading the news?” She cackled, like an old lady. “Besides, you ought to read the gossip papers every once in awhile. You’d get a real kick out of them.”

Minx couldn’t say she liked the gossip papers, but she couldn’t say she didn’t like them either, so she thanked Wayward and left.

She liked old miss Wayward; she was like a spry grandmother, stubborn and eccentric, yet strangely loveable. Minx didn’t really have much of a family left, so close relations with anypony were cherished.

She reentered her room, and placed the stack on the dining table. She undid the string holding together the papers. Her toast was still warm, so she sat down and grabbed a paper, and began to read while she ate.

There had been another mugging, according to the front page. It had occurred in the eastern side of Manehattan, in the colloquially named “Sport and Science Squares.” The victim was a young filly pegasus. Instead of Prose randomly showing up to save the day, however, it was instead two unicorns and a cyan pegasus. Minx frowned, thinking that the two stallions seemed familiar. No names were given, though.

She sighed. Manehattan may have been relatively peaceful, but that didn’t stop crime from running amuck where it could. She was more angry that the victim was a filly, and not a regular pony. It was just wrong, stealing from a kid. She supposed her own personal experience had led her to that conclusion.

She flipped the page, biting down on the toast, savoring the taste. There was more news on Prose, though it was mostly repeats on what had been reported in the last few days. There were more rumors than facts; he had been seen with a white unicorn at the latest fashion expo, and the idea that the two were a couple circulated throughout the commonfolk. Another rumor was his place of residence at the moment; most pointed to a hotel but, without anything substantial, they could only guess where exactly.

She frowned. Isn’t this the news, not the gossip paper? She flipped back to the cover, confirming it was. Huh. I guess Prose really is a big deal.

She may have followed his example in the Family, but that didn’t mean she wanted to constantly be reminded of him wherever she went. And she doubted even he would want all that attention.

Not that she knew for certain, of course.

Flipping the page revealed more annoying adverts; though, she had to admit, they reminded her that all was normal. Calm. Relatively speaking. Most offered her some clothes to wear for fall, as well as some “contemporary furniture that all homeowners need!” She didn’t understand what made them special or better than any old furniture.

She frowned. The strange feeling was back. She thought it was like she was forgetting something.

She placed the paper down and picked up the gossip magazine that Wayward had suggested. She grimaced almost immediately. Already a large slogan shouted at her, telling her all about “Sassy Saddles’ big booty” or “Fancy Pants’ newest wife, Fleur” or “Shock! The Chilling Story Of A Celebrity Gone Wrong!” or “The Secrets to Success: As Told By Sapphire Shores!”

She tore apart the paper, frustrated and annoyed. That was a mistake. She sighed, biting into her toast; the buttery taste didn’t settle her mood.

I’m forgetting something… what am I forgetting?

She finished her toast, then threw away the plate. She held up her coffee absentmindedly, still confused. Maybe I just feel that today I should be working. It’s not often I get a break. She sighed heavily. Then again, it’s not like I want to always work. There are times when I want to relax for a little while.

She got up, leaving her cup and papers behind. She wasn’t sure why, but she went to the back window, and peered outside. The building next door was sealed with brick; there were no windows to be found. When she first moved here, she found it odd how it was like that. She had investigated the other buildings, but had found that the brick one was the only one like that.

For some reason, it was making her feel uneasy. She decided to put her fears to rest, though, so she grabbed her jacket and headed for the door.

As she walked down the stairs, Wayward looked at her curiously. “Where are you heading off to, dear?” she asked.

“Just that old, brick building next door. I want to see what it’s all about.”

“That building hasn’t been open in years, but you’re welcome to take a look. Meanwhile, I’ve got to step out to buy some groceries. Do you need anything?”

“No, thank you. Good day, Miss Shine.”

“Please, dear, call me Wayward. Or at least Grannie. ‘Miss Shine’ makes me feel like I’m one hundred.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Hmph. Cheeky. You’re lucky I like you. Good day, Minx.”

The door jingled as she pushed it open, and she was immediately greeted by the overwhelming outdoors. She forced herself to keep walking rather than take in the city. She went down the corner, seeing the brick building in her sight. Soon she had reached its entrance. The doors were ebony wood, old, ancient, foreboding; she felt a chill run down her spine, and it wasn’t from the cold.

Something in the back of her mind told her that this was a bad idea, that this was dangerous. She frowned and pushed that thought away. I am the Prime Enforcer. This building is nothing compared to me. Still, though, that whisper remained, trying to goad her to leave while she could. She did her best to ignore it.

She placed a hoof on the doorknob. She frowned; it was still warm. Were there ponies inside?

She twisted the knob, pushing the door open gently. It didn’t creak like she had expected; instead, it effortless rolled open for her. Evidently it had been oiled at some recent time. Her frown deepened; no old building, however abandoned, ever had its hinges that clean. Her own door was not that slick.

The entranceway was pitch black. Even the lights from the sun and city weren’t enough to fully illuminate the building. Stepping inside, her hooves clacked against cold, clay tile. The place seemed barren; there was neither furniture nor furnishings. The only opening was the door.

She squinted, seeing the faint outline of something tall. She stepped further inside, the door remaining open. Her hooves shook, and she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Something about this place utterly chilled her; she felt like a mouse running from a large, dark, unknown cat. She moved closer to the outline and, reaching a hoof out, felt around. She noticed that it seemed to travel upwards in a diagonal. Stairs.

The left side was where the steps began. She trotted up them carefully, somehow knowing that her presence was not welcome here. She tried to keep her breathing low. Her heart beat rapidly. She blinked, stopped, and shook her head, trying to ease her fears of… whatever it was that lay above.

Yet all that was revealed to her was an empty second floor, just as devoid of anything like ground level. Only a staircase stood at the back.

“—see anything—”

She nearly gasped in surprise. Was that a voice? She craned her head and closed her eyes, trying to find the source. Another voice spoke, but it was unintelligible. She guessed male, but they were so faint she couldn’t say for certain.

They must be from above! she thought, opening her eyes.

Slowly, silently, she made her way to the second staircase, and traveled up it. Once again, she was met with a bare third floor. Obviously there were more floors above; she hadn’t counted on there being so many levels.

She glanced at the murky corners, thinking she saw some of the nightmarish creatures from her dream in them. They peeked out at the edges of her vision, but their teeth and claws were still visible.

Her heart raced. Her breath caught in her throat. She gulped.

Why was she so nervous?

She nearly faltered going up the third staircase, and hesitated on the fourth. Each floor was the same. But with each one, she swore she saw more shadow creatures. They were even more scarier than the ones in her dream, faceless and with glowing white eyes. She thought she saw blood drip from their eyes.

She blinked, and they were gone.

What is with this building…

She stopped, listening. Now the voices were much clearer, and definitely male.

“Where’d she go?”

“She left, I think. I can’t tell from this angle. Maybe for groceries?”

“What? But she stocked up only yesterday!”

They were from above. She shivered, eyes widening in shock. They were talking about her.

She felt sick, queasy. But she had to keep going. She had to know what was going on. She had to know what the two ponies were doing.

She locked her jaw and, after nodding to herself, trotted silently up the last flight of stairs.

The two stallions were staring out at a wall. She frowned, confused as to why they were looking at nothing. Then, one of the stallions waved a hoof out front. The wall seemed to morph and vibrate; she realized it was some type of illusion. She noticed, in the dim glow, that they had some sort of visor on them; probably to help them see through the fake wall.

They wore dark cloaks, masking their features. The sharp point at the top meant that they were unicorns. Something about their figures was familiar, but she attributed it to them simply looking vague.

“The old one’s left,” said the stallion furthest from her, looking through the wall. “Probably to get groceries.”

Their voices, now that she could hear them clearly, were garbled and warped beyond any normal pony voice. There was a sort of low hum with their voices. She guessed it had to be magic. Frowning, she continued to walk carefully towards them.

“Oh, where’s she gone now?” the stallion continued, leaning forward, pressing a hoof on his visor. “Goddess… she’s making this more difficult than it needs to be.”

She stopped, waiting for more. She glanced around. She saw what appeared to be canisters lying on the side wall. She frowned. Looking back at them to make sure they weren’t watching her, she carefully stepped over to the canisters and inspected them.

Ruptured? she thought, seeing a semi-large hole in one of them. Her eyes widened. Oh, goddess, what have I been breathing?

She heard a faint growl, and for a moment, she thought she had been caught. She turned, expecting to be called out; but the two did not say anything to her. She remained still inconspicuous.

There was another growl, much closer. Her heart began to beat faster and faster. Her eyes darted around, looking for the source. She tried to resist the urge to gulp.

Something formed out of the shadows, appearing in the corner. She froze in fear, locked in place, as she stared at the phantom form. Its white fangs shone in the room, despite there being no light to reflect off of it. Blood adorned its entire body, dripping onto the ground, vanishing into red puddles. The floor seemed to melt where it stepped.

What is… what is…

She backed up, into the canisters. Any thought of stealth was quickly overrun as panic flooded her senses.

The creature lunged for her, and all she could do was let out a scream.

“What the—” the first stallion whipped his head. “It’s her!”

The second one immediately rushed over as she fought off the phantom desperately. “She must be seeing something horrifying,” he said, trying to restrain her. She fought and kicked the air. He placed a hoof over her mouth to muffle her screams.

She threw him off and made to run, but was caught in a blueish glow. She struggled, absolutely terrified. “Quick, sedate her!” cried the fallen stallion.

The first stallion rushed over, lifting his visor. He lit his horn and levitated out a small syringe, filled with an unknown substance. She didn’t see him, still struggling against the magical hold.

“Shh… it’ll be alright,” he whispered as he injected the syringe into her.

Her eyes widened in shock. That voice! It was familiar, way too familiar… She didn’t have time to think about that, though, as she soon began feeling tired.

She glanced ahead, seeing the creature begin to fade. She let out a breath of relief, letting the substance’s effects take ahold. She relaxed, falling into unconscious.

The stallion released his magic, letting her drop into the arms of the other. “That gas was supposed to deter anypony entering from investigating further,” the he said, frowning. “Why didn’t it stop her?”

“Minx is curious,” the latter responded. “And she is the Prime Enforcer. She’s stronger than most. All the gas could do was show her something terrifying. We should count ourselves lucky that she decided to show up.”

“But why did she show up? Does she know about our plans?”

“Doubtful; she’s been busy thinking about Prose.” He picked her up in his magic. “We should also count ourselves lucky that he’s keeping the attention off of us.” He glanced at his companion. “We’d better leave before ponies begin prying in on things they don’t understand.” The other stallion nodded, and followed him out.

They didn’t leave by the door, though; nopony saw them even leave the building. Wayward returned an hour later, frowning, as she hadn’t heard Minx leave. She shrugged, settling back behind the counter after putting her groceries away, thinking she’d come back soon.

Newt sent the letter away. “Good. Now we wait for our next order.”

Viper frowned. “It seems… almost barbaric, what we’re doing.”

“Kidnapping? Oh, it most certainly is. But that’s what makes it great, right?”

“I suppose…”

Newt frowned. “You sound unsure.”

“Can you blame me? Like I said, we intimidate, not kidnap. Didn’t we fight that all those years ago?”

“We did,” Newt said with a nod, “but this time it’s different. Back then, we were fighting to free Manehattan from an evident evil. Now, though, we are fighting to overthrow an unknown enemy, at least unknown to the public.”

“Well, in that sense, nothing really has changed. The situation remains the same; only the characters have become divergent.”

“History repeats when we need a second chance.”

Viper looked at his friend quizzically. “You sound like one of Prose’s books.”

He grinned. “Oh, he may be our enemy, but even I can appreciate his unique genius.”

They turned their gaze to their prisoner, an unconscious Minx. She lay tied against a post, slumped over, breathing softly. “That ought to destabilize Finch for a bit,” said Newt. “Then, once all has been said and done, we’ll move in and take our chance.”

“If all things have been said and done.”

“Do you doubt the Business?”

Viper rubbed his head sheepishly. “Well, I’ve only met one of them… and, well, she may have been a killer—on the eyes, of course—they don’t seem as… powerful as the Family.”

“That’s because they’re more hidden. But I do understand why you would have trouble thinking that they are capable of doing what it is that they intend to do.” Newt placed a hoof on his friend’s shoulder. “But don’t despair. By the end of this, we’ll all be free of the sins of the Family.”

“And of Prose, don’t forget that.”

“They’re paying us for it. I doubt I will.”

They shared a laugh, before settling back into waiting. A light glowed in front of Newt, teleporting a letter. He read it quickly, “Excellent work. Enclosed is your payment. We’ll keep in touch.” There was another flash, and a medium-sized bag of bits plopped in front of them.

Newt grinned. “Cool.”