• Published 1st Feb 2012
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Freeze Frame - ToixStory



A young pony named Minty Flower must make her way in the big city of Fillydelphia.

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Episode 5: Paralegal

The sight of ponies in dark suits pointing high-capacity guns in our general direction kept most of the gangs quiet, at least for a time. The figure on the pillar seemed pleased with the cooperation of so many gathered street thugs, and it showed on his face that broke out into a wide grin. Red Rover, meanwhile, was only held back by Scout who kept one hoof placed carefully across his chest.

“Now that I’ve got your full, undivided attention,” the figure said, “let me introduce myself. My name is Malo Caballo, first son to Peor Caballo and leader of our family’s . . . interests in Fillydelphia.” He gave a toothy smile. “I’m sure many of you have heard of me.”

Malo clopped his front hooves together in as close an approximation to glee a pony like him could get. “Now, I bet you’re all just-” he giggled, “. . . dying to find out why I would even take notice of this rather pathetic gathering of lackluster gangs. Well, I’ll tell you, it certainly wasn’t my father’s idea. No, he wanted to simply crush all of you: kill the leaders and lieutenants and anyone else who opposed our little takeover. Luckily for all of you here, I disagreed with him on that point.”

More murmurs spread throughout the crowd in a moment of silence, but the raising of guns by the guards quickly silenced them. “Because you see,” Malo continued, “I convinced my father that our organization needs more footsoldiers if we are to prosper. We lost too many in the aftermath of Pullmare’s downfall; right in here in this city, too! We’ll make those responsible pay, of course, but until then we need recruits.” He laughed softly. “That would be all of you.”

Many of the gang members now seemed interested in what Malo had to say, and began to lean forward in their seats almost eagerly. Even some of the Rebels looked to be paying more attention to the Caballo representative. Worry spread across Rover’s face: he noticed it too.

“Accepting membership into my family’s organization would be, you will find, much more favorable than the conditions you currently reside in. Plenty of food, good housing, even better pay . . . and much less of a chance of being injured in some way. When we take a city, we dominate it.” He paused. “But I also understand if you wish to decline my offer. Be wary, however, that doing so may have certain . . . consequences.”

He cleared his throat and stood tall. “Now, who will be smart enough to join us?”

At first, a few ponies throughout the crowd began to stand up, with the clear intent to move toward the Caballians, but were stopped when a dissenting voice rang out from somewhere in the crowd.

“Smart?” somepony called. “All of you: you think the smart choice is to go with them? If they really intended to give us better living conditions, then why kill our leaders? Why not just tell us that and let us leave our gangs in peace?”

“Who said that?” Malo shouted. “Who. Said. That?”

Any ponies who had started to rise sat back down, and no one cried out in betrayal of the unknown speaker. Instead, some of the braver ponies began to stare hard at the rough types who still held guns to our backs.

Malo grew visibly more angry. “Show your face! I said, show your face or my stallions will start shooting!”

“Now you show who you really are!” the voice called out again. “You don’t care one little bit about us!” Murmurs of agreement rose through the crowd, and some began to stand up again, but not in defeat. More like in defiance.

A cruel smile rose to Malo’s face. He knew he had no chance to win over the gangs’ sympathies, so it looked like he wasn’t going to pretend anymore. “That’s how you want it, huh?” he said. “So be it.” He looked up to his black-clad henchponies. “Capture all of them. If any of them try to resist . . . shoot ‘em.”

The henchponies began to make their way into the amphitheatre, guns held at the ready. Some of the first ponies they got to meekly looked away and kept still, accepting their defeat. A rather young gang member dressed in a red jacket, however, refused to be victimized.

“You guys ain’t the boss of me!” he shouted, standing in the path of two stallions twice as large as he was. For a moment, the crowd held its breath as to what the two henchponies would do. They seemed to hesitate as well, but one look at their boss and they leveled their weapons at the little colt.

Gunshots rang out through the concrete seats of the amphitheatre and then it was quiet again, only broken by the tinkling of brass casings hitting the ground. It was a moment before anypony dared to try and set eyes on the sure-to-be grisly scene. But instead of the bloody body of a colt too young to leave the world, we saw that same colt still standing in defiance, but around him a glittering shield of magic colored crimson. Behind him walked up a larger colt in the same red jacket; presumably the gang leader.

The gang leader and the enforcers stared at each other for one long moment.

That act of defiance was what suddenly sparked a full-out melee as the opposing crowds suddenly broke loose. Bullets flew threw the air and impacted on magic fields. Most of the time, anyway. But in return bolts of magic energy whizzed at the stallions dressed in black.

Meanwhile, in our neck of the amphitheatre, the most pressing issue was finding an exit. Though not mine--despite my wings--the first thought of Starshine and Ivory seemed to be making it for the sky. After seeing several fleeing pegasi gang members crumple to the ground with a few more air holes inside them, they gave up on that idea.

Instead, we made for the tunnel exit below us. Starshine dove down over the railing into the tunnel itself, quickly followed by Ivory. I, however, was not as lucky and had to follow the crowd lest I be trampled underhoof. The flow of panicking gang members grew as those valiantly fighting began giving ground; their magic eventually caving in under focused projectile lead.

The crowd--with me in the middle of it--eventually wound its way through the amphitheatre bleachers and into the tunnel below. The cries of the afraid reverberated around the hollow concrete environment, eliciting even more panic. I tried to spy Starshine or Ivory in the crowd, but couldn’t find them.

As the pace began to pick up, I began to lose my footing. The ponies around me were more fit, and my cloak, cape, whatever kept getting caught on the more tight-fitting outfits of the other ponies. Finally, perhaps inevitably, somepony stepped on the tale of my garment, and I toppled to the ground. Lying there, on the cold concrete floor, I tried to hold my hooves in front of my face as I was kicked and shoved around. For a minute, I thought that was it . . . I was going to meet my end in a tunnel filled with gang members fighting over something that had nothing to do with me.

A hoof landed square on my stomach and the air rapidly left me. I gasped for breath on the ground, and flailed desperately at those who continued to draw near. Just as I thought I was finished, I felt a pair of hooves wrap around my shoulders and suddenly I was pulled away from the crowd and against the tunnel wall.

I expected to look up and find the face of Starshine or Ivory, but instead the identity of my savior was somepony I hadn’t seen before; one of the Neighponese gang members. “We have to get out of here!” he shouted, but over the roar of the crowd I could barely hear him.

I yelled back my agreement, but it was lost in the even louder noise that began coming from the crowd. Looking at the end of the tunnel, I saw a wall of black-suited stallions closing in on the entrance, blocking it completely. Desperately, ponies ran in the opposite direction to try and somehow escape back in the amphitheatre. Those that tried to break through the blockade met with a predictable fate.

I saw no way out, but apparently the Neighponese colt did. With a hoof wrapped roughly around mine, he pulled me along the wall farther away from the tunnel entrance. I tried to ask where we were going, but the crowd--which would still occasionally jostle me further into the wall--was still too loud.

Suddenly, he disappeared from sight, but quickly pulled me along with him. I found myself in a small side-tunnel that was almost unnoticeable unless looking directly at it. It explained why ponies continued to run past it without a second glance. We weren’t the only ones in the smaller tunnel, however.

A little further down the smooth-walled tunnel lit by pale fluorescent lights running along the ceiling, casting everything in a slightly green tint, was Red Rover. He was panting, or shaking, or something inbetween. He looked at me. “Y- You’re that mare with Starshine?” he gasped. I nodded. He looked behind me. “Have you . . . did you see Scout?”

“No, I didn’t see her,” I said. “The crowd . . .”

Rover kicked the wall and screamed in frustration. “So close! I was so . . . so close!”

The sounds of the crowd faded, but were replaced with a new one that was even more terrifying. The tromp of the stallions in black as they advanced steadily up the tunnel. We may have been out of sight to the casual observer, but they would notice us in a heartbeat.

“I hate to break up this moment,” the Neighponese colt said, “but we need to get out of here now.”

I agreed and started to make my way further down the smaller tunnel, but stopped when I saw Rover not following. Instead, he just kind of slumped against the wall.

“C’mon!” the Neighponese youth called. When he got no response, he sighed and ran back to Rover. Doing the same as he had for me, he roughly took Rover by one hoof and started to drag him down the tunnel. I kept pace with them as we made our way away from the amphitheatre and the violence.

The tunnel eventually ended and we emerged into the open air. Bizarrely, the city around the amphitheatre was going about its business as usual, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. The sun still shone, and the birds still sang just as they always did. It was frightening.

Rover finally began to come to his senses after the little trip. “That was some quick thinking there-”

“Shuya,” the Neighponese colt answered. “I’m from the Royales . . .” He looked down. “Or, I guess, I was.”

“Did you lose anypony in there, Shuya?” Rover asked.

Slowly, he nodded. “There’s this filly . . . Noriko. She and me weren’t anything exclusive but, well, you know.” He shook his head bitterly. “The crowd swept her up.”

Rover turned to me. “And what happened to Starshine . . . and Ivory?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “They were the first ones in the tunnel, so they might have escaped, but I’m not sure.”

“If that’s true,” Rover said, “I’m sure they escaped. But I’m also sure that we shouldn’t stay here much longer if we want to remain free.” We all agreed and set out after him as he ran away from the amphitheatre.

The lithe Shuya had no problems keeping up with the more-muscled Red Rover, but I started to lag behind fairly quickly. Part of that was due to my frequent checks on all sides of us, like the Caballo henchponies could close in at any second. When they did slow down to let me catch up, I nearly ran into them.

“Sorry, sorry,” I said, trying to catch my breath. “Where are we going, again?”

“I know a place,” Rover said. “The old headquarters of the Basterds.”

“Oh yeah, and why are we going there?” Shuya said. “Why not to the Royales’ headquarters?”

“The Cabballos aren’t stupid; they’re going to be scouring the known hideouts--and they know all of them--for any stragglers. And you can guess what they’ll do with them.”

Shuya bit his lip but gave no protest when we started moving again. Rover led us down a winding path through sidestreets and alleys in the slum-ier parts of the slums. Because apparently that was possible. Go Fillydelphia.

He didn’t seem to caught up on the conditions around him, however, and led us easily through crowds of jobless and homeless that resided in the backways of the streets. Eventually, we came up to a plain wooden door at the front of a plain rowhouse on a plain street and . . . well, it was all very plain. Best place for a hideout, I supposed.

I was about to ask how we would get inside when Rover simply kicked the door opened, which squealed in protest as it swung open. The inside was dark, save for what light came through the blinds. It was also empty of anypony affiliated with the Caballo family, so I hurried inside.

The grimy interior of the rowhouse looked to have been picked clean, fitting Rover’s description of it being the former hideout for the gang. Still, a few wooden stools had been left over in the middle of the wooden floor, so we were able to sit and take a rest.

I caught my breath on one of them, as did Shuya, but Rover seemed to be lost in thought. I wanted to ask what was wrong but, well, I knew the answer to that question already. Scout. I guess I was the lucky one in the room, given that my friends were still probably free somewhere.

“What . . . what now?” Shuya said eventually. “Where do we go from here?”

“I don’t know,” Rover admitted. “I just . . . don’t know. Before, I had other gangs or even rivals to help out, but now everypony’s either been captured by the Caballo goons or are scattered across the district. We’ve got no backup, no fallbacks, no . . . anything.”

“This is starting to sound eerily familiar,” I muttered. I slumped in my stool, as much as the wooden frame would allow. I don’t know, I guess I just wished for once to not have some crisis to happen every time I tried to work on a story. Was that too much to ask? Worse, that now I was supposed to be the reporter.

“So do you have a plan?” Rover asked me suddenly.

“W- What do you mean?”

“You travel around with that one reporter, Grapevine, don’t you? She’s supposed to be famous or something for her planning. It said so, right in her stories.”

Of course it did. “Well yeah, but that doesn’t mean I think like her too,” I said.

“She mentioned that too,” Rover explained, “but I just thought that maybe, you know, you’d have some sort of idea of what to do . . .”

I looked at both Shuya and Rover, as they gazed back at me in turn, a look of haunting expectation in their eyes. “I- I don’t know!” I said. “Why would I? This isn’t my fight! I just came here for some stupid assignment . . . I’m tired of ponies getting killed, and tired of being in the middle of it! I just want to go home and, and-” I almost added be with Sterling on to the end, but remembered that he would be far away in the sky by now.

They both seemed a little disturbed by my shouting. Not exactly surprised, though. Rover just leaned back and rubbed his temples, while Shuya simply shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “but it’s not really up to you right now . . . it’s not like any of the rest of us want to be a part of this.” He looked away. “We’re all just as worried as you are . . . my friend, Shogo, he was the one that spoke out against Malo. I can’t even imagine what they’ll do to him.”

“But why me then?” I said. “Since when did I become the default hero?”

“Since you made friends with some powerful ponies,” Rover answered. “I guess he hasn’t told you yet, but Ivory’s got him some influence around these parts. And you’re the only one who’s connected to him, so until we can link up with him and Starshine, you’re the leader. Understand?”

Ivory, have influence? That was a thought that made me very sorry I hadn’t spent more time with him as of yet. “Well, I suppose so,” I said, “but where do I start?”

“Where would Starshine and Ivory go in a time like this?” Rover said. “If they knew that some of the Rebels were still out there, they wouldn’t leave the area.”

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” I said. “We just pretty much went right to you.”

“Pretty much?”

“Well, we went to her brother’s apartment, but he’s at work now, and I don’t know where he works, exactly.”

“The Five Points Courthouse,” Rover said. “Tipped Scales: I’ve known him for a while. And if she started talking to him again, then that’s definitely where Starshine would go.”

“And that’s where we’ll need to go, too,” Shuya said. After seeing the look Rover gave him, he continued, “We’re supposed to be working together now, aren’t we? Even if they killed our leaders, our gangs should still be united against the Caballo threat, and right now if those two are what we need to win, then I say we find them.”

Rover smiled approvingly. “And what about you, uh . . . Minty?”

“I- I guess, but do we need to leave so soon? I mean, can’t we just stay here a little while and let things pass over?”

“Every moment we stay here, there is a higher chance the Caballos might show a little less mercy to all those we left behind. We have to move fast; we don’t have a choice.” He laughed softly. “But we will be here at least a few more minutes; there’s something I need to get first.”

“And what would that be?”

Instead of telling me, he got up and walked to the corner of the room against the wall. There, he kicked down hard against one wooden floor board, which suddenly became unlatched. He shoved it to the side to reveal a little space beneath the floor.

Shuya and I walked over to see what he revealed. Beneath the floorboard could only be described as a supply officer’s wet dream. A variety of guns, clubs, and knives littered the little crawlspace lined with hay.

“Where did these come from?” I gasped.

“Well twenty years ago projectile weapons started trickling in from the supply trains coming from Germaneigh and Prance-”

“No, I don’t mean the history of guns, I meant where these specific ones came from.”

Rover briefly looked away. “Um, Ivory got them for us.”

Shuya interrupted our conversation by reaching down at pulling out a weapon that was not quite a sword, but not quite a dagger either, but rather somewhere in between. It came with its own scabbard even, which he wore around his middle with the weapon’s handle sticking out to his left.

“I think this will do just fine,” he said.

“How exactly do you fight with that thing?” Rover asked.

“With the hilt in my mouth.”

“Sounds hard.”

“It is.”

Rover chose for himself a shotgun that was pumped not by pulling on it, but by pumping a lever designed for a hoof to fit through. The wood was worn and mottled, though still had the look of good maintenance to it. “Got this one in a bet with stallions from a Royal Guard contingent out West,” he said. Then, he turned to me. “What about you? Feel free to try out a couple until one feels right.”

I looked down at all the shiny, and very deadly, weapons and chose one of the biggest and shiniest of the bunch. It wasn’t a revolver, but rather a big, black pistol with its own holster. I wrapped the holster around my shoulders, feeling a little more secure with it against me. Enough that it made the pit in my stomach stop growling that I had no idea on how to fire a weapon, or if I even wanted to.

“One of the newer models, huh?” Rover said. “Back when we kept this as our hideout, that little number was the most expensive on the market. Good choice.”

I tried to smile. “Th- Thanks.”

“If you two are done, can we go ahead and go?” Shuya said. “We’re on a time limit, remember?”

“Right, right,” Rover said. “Just follow me and try to stay inconspicuous; the Caballos could be anywhere.”

I snorted. “Inconspicuous with a giant gun strapped to my side. What’s the worst that could happen?”

* * *

After a whole lot of boring walking through scenery I’d already seen before, we arrived at what Rover referred to as the Five Points. Cleverly, it had been named so as the point where five streets met . . . which really meant it should have been called One Point or Five Streets, but I wasn’t going to argue.

The actual area was a large square with many shops encircling it, and in the very middle stood a large, old courthouse. Again according to Rover, it had been one of the buildings saved from the Parasprite infestation, and was one of the oldest buildings in the town. It certainly showed, too. The ancient masonry were cracked and faded, and the belltower that topped the building leaned and for the most part seemed impossible that it was even still standing. In contrast, the shops and curios that surrounded its base had a shoddy, new look to them.

“Well there’s the courthouse,” Shuya said, beginning to trot over to it. “Come on.”

Rover grabbed by the shoulder and pulled him back to the shadows near the back of one of the shops, where I followed. “Not so fast; look up at the top of the courthouse stairs.”

I did, and spied a couple more stallions in the same black uniforms of the Caballo enforcers. They were keeping a heavy watch on the square.

“How are we going to get past them?” I asked.

“Well,” Rover began, “every mansion has a servant’s entrance, right? Shuya and I will create a distraction while you sneak around and fly up into the courthouse towers. Then, you’ll open the doors from inside and we’ll-”

“Hey, what’s Shuya doing?” I interrupted.

Rover followed my gaze to watch Shuya walking over to a particularly bulky shopkeeper who was arguing with a customer over his prices. Shuya tapped the stallion on the shoulder.

“Whad’ya want?” the shopkeeper growled.

Shuya gave him a big smile. “That stallion over there,” he said, pointing to an equally bulky shopkeeper with the same range of merchandise over near the courthouse entrance, “paid me to come over here and claim that your prices are horrible and quality even worse. But I figured you would pay me more if I told you, so . . .”

The shopkeeper’s eyes narrowed and he gave Shuya a hooful of bits. “Take these and scram,” he said. “I’ve got some business I need to take care of.” With exaggerated movements, the burly shopkeeper slammed down his hooves on the wooden counter of his shop and stomped over to the rival shopkeeper.

We moved in a little closer to watch the action. The first shopkeeper walked up to the second one. “So are you really stooping that low?” said the first. “Hiring ponies to talk bad about my shop?”

“Now just hold on there a minute,” said the second in a drawl. “Don’t go accusing me of things I most certainly didn’t do.”

“Oh, of course you would say that,” the first replied, getting up even closer to the second, “but I already know the real answer.”

“Oh yeah? And if you already knew the answer, then why did you come over here? I thought we already settled this a long time ago.”

“Then it seems,” the first said icily, “that it’s high time we settled it again.”

Before our very eyes, the two shopkeepers began a terrible melee of flying kicks and blocks and tackles that was quickly enveloped in the dust of the street. A few ponies tried to get in close and stop the fight, but ended up bickering so much with each other that they started to fight as well. A full-on brawl quickly filled the area below the courthouse steps.

We watched as the Caballo henchponies at the top of the steps looked at each other, and then seemed to decide that a fight in front of their post might attract some undue attention, so they raised their weapons and proceeded toward the melee to put a stop to it.

“Now’s our chance!” Shuya hissed.

Keeping as close to the wall as possible, we edged our way to the stairs and then quickly flew up them. The wooden doors were heavy, but with the three of us we easily got them open and quickly ran inside, making sure they didn’t slam behind us.

* * *

Inside, the courthouse showed off the original craftsmanship much better than the exterior. The floor was made of marble tiles and the air was cool and smelled clean. The walls were unadorned and a uniform white that stretched far back to a pair of massive oak doors. Various doors lined the hallway, leading to parts unknown. A large wooden desk stood in front of us, helmed by a bored-looking colt.

“Can I help you?” he said, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. If he saw the weapons we had around ourselves, he didn’t seem surprised. Then again, in a neighborhood like Five Points, he probably was disturbed.

“Uh, yes, actually,” I said. “I wanted to know where I could find one of your lawyers. He goes by the name of Tipp- er, Common Law.”

The secretary raised an eyebrow. “There’s no lawyer here by that name,” he said, “but if you’re looking for a paralegal named Common Law, then I can help you.”

“A paralegal?”

“Look, if you want to find Common Law, he’s down in Mr. Estate’s office; it’s the third from the last door on the left. You can’t miss it.”

He looked away like the conversation was over, which I supposed it was. Not much else to talk about with a stranger. Though Tipped Scales would definitely have some explaining to do with his sister . . . if Starshine wasn’t there already.

Our hoofbeats rang out on the floor as we walked down the long hallway, feeling fully out of place among the ponies in suits who scurried by. Again, nopony made any comment about the weapons strapped around ourselves. I felt particularly silly, wearing what amounted to a cape, an almost-empty camera bag--filled with a still-blank notepad--and a holster.

We reached the plain wooden door and let ourselves in. The front office had a simple desk against a maroon-painted wall, and sat underneath a large painting of the San Palomino Desert. The flag of Equestria hung limply on a flagpole in one corner, and next to it was a doorway leading into an inner office. Sitting at the front desk, however, was Tipped Scales.

He was leaning back in his chair boredly. “So you made it,” he said. He looked behind me. “And you brought friends.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Were you expecting me or something?”

“Starshine called from somewhere. Didn’t say much, but said you’d find your way here eventually if you were still free . . . whatever that means.”

From his demeanor, I could tell Starshine hadn’t told him exactly what had gone down at the amphitheatre. “Well here I am, mister lawyer,” I said.

He cringed. “So you found out, huh?”

I nodded. “They told me you’re a paralegal . . . what is that, anyway?”

“A paralegal is like a, uh, junior lawyer,” he explained. “I follow around a real lawyer and do all the dirty work for him, and even occasionally take a very specific case.”

“Sounds familiar,” I muttered.

“What was that?”

“Alright, alright, so you’re not a lawyer,” Rover cut in. “But if Ivory and Starshine aren’t here, then how are you supposed to help us?”

It was then that Scales seemed to notice the weapons we were carrying around. He gulped. “Well, uh, Starshine said that Ivory would want Minty to stay here, so I guess the same goes for the two of you, right?”

Rover nodded. “If Ivory said it, then yeah.” He walked into the back room belonging to the real lawyer in the office, and after a moment of quiet thought, Shuya followed him. When they left, I plopped down on a small chair in the corner.

“Nice friends you got there,” Scales said.

“They’re not my friends; we just met. They’re more like . . . comrades.”

He shrugged. “Eh, same thing in my book. But then again, that doesn’t count for a lot.”

“Why, because your sister thinks you’re a lawyer?”

He sighed. “Yes, part of that. I don’t like lying, you know. It’s just . . . I used to run with the wrong crowd, and things got tense for a while. So when I found a way out, I may have, uh, over exaggerated a little to her.” He smirked. “So she’d be proud of me, you know?”

I smiled. “I definitely know that feeling.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah.” I paused. “I mean, back in Derbyshire--where I’m from--after I got out of school I told my brother and sisters I worked for our town’s newspaper instead of just walking around in the woods or staying at the library all day.”

“If you didn’t work for a paper, how did you get on the Chronicler?”

I laughed. “That’s the funny part; it was an accident. I used to take pictures on my trips through the woods. Heck, I got my cutie mark when I took a really good one on top of a hill; I used to tell myself it had more to do with reporting than that, but I knew.

“Anyway, I used to take pictures and make little panoramas in my room, right? Well, one day I was mailing off more reporter applications to more newspapers--really at the bottom of the barrel at this point--and I must have accidentally slipped in a couple pictures instead. Which got me hired as a photographer instead of a reporter like I wanted.”

Scales smiled a little bit; a smile that tugged at the wrinkles around his eyes and lips. “So you still keep in touch with your family, right?”

“A few letters, yeah,” I said. “They’re proud of me and all, I guess. I mean, besides my older sister, I’ve never been close to them. And sis’ been gone for years . . . she’s in Canterlot now, and doesn’t really talk. Nothing like you and Starshine.”

“Well, you grow pretty close when life forces you to,” Scales said.

“Yeah, I guess so.” I laughed again. “And I guess sometimes it’s nice to get it out to a stranger in a similar situation than someone closer who might judge us.”

Scales grinned slyly. “I think you might be right.”

We held like that for a few seconds before Shuya poked his head in from the outer office. “We’ve got trouble,” he said.

Scales and I scrambled into the back room, which was similar to the front except everything was, well, bigger. Bigger painting on the wall--this time a panorama of Canterlot in Celestia’s Golden Age--and bigger flag on a bigger pole. The only main difference were the large windows that looked out back onto the street of Five Points. Rover stood in front of the windows, looking worried.

“Look,” he said, pointing outwards. When I squinted, I spied not only several black-clad Cabalo guards, but Malo Caballo himself angling toward the front steps of the courthouse. My heart felt as if it was going to stop.

“Oh no no no no,” I moaned. “Not here, not now!”

“What’s wrong?” Scales said. “It’s just one of the Caballo sons . . . Mal or something. His dad’s in court right now; they should be out any moment.”

We all turned and stared at him.

“What?”

Shuya shook his head. “We need to find a way out of here: now. Your friends can find us somewhere else; staying here would be insane.”

“Agreed,” Rover said. He turned to Scales. “Is there another way out of here?”

“Yes, but close to the front of the building,” Scales said. “You can make it if you hurry.”

Without further ado, Rover galloped out of the office, followed closely by Shuya. I, however, hung back for a moment. “Are you going to be okay?” I said.

He waved a hoof. “Don’t worry about me; I’m just the hired help. Nopony’s gonna notice me, and certainly not when they’re chasing the three of you. So go, now.”

I nodded and hurried after Rover and Shuya. They were already halfway to the front desk, and I tried not to get left behind. It was then, however, that the front doors burst open and I realized we were too late.

Everything seemed to slow down right then. Rover and Shuya skidding to a stop near the front of the hallway. Malo walking in all cocky. Him noticing Rover and Shuya, and realizing who they were. Realizing he was looking at gang members who had somehow escaped his grasp. The shouted orders to his guards. Shuya and Rover managing to dive into two different offices in the front, but leaving me standing in the middle, exposed.

Still in exaggerated slow motion, the henchponies around Malo raised their weapons and prepared to fire. Without thinking, I dove into the nearest office just as bullets started chewing up the tile where I had been standing just moments before.

Luckily, the office I chose to dive into had its door open, and was unoccupied. For the most part, it was a carbon copy of Scales’ office, which suited me just fine. Fumbling, I reached down and pulled out the gun from its holster and tried to hold it in my trembling hooves.

I heard more gunfire being exchanged--presumably between Rover and the henchponies--but stayed put in the doorway. I realized a few moments later that my ears had started to ring from the sounds being echoed off the high ceilings of the courthouse. Then, the gunfire stopped for a second and I took a chance to peek out.

Rover was tucked in a doorway with his back to the door, seeming unhurt. The black-suited Caballo stallions were hiding behind the big desk out front. I didn’t see the secretary, so I didn’t know whether he was alive or dead.

Without warning, a large crash reverberated through the hall and an entire desk skidded out into the middle of the hall. The henchponies must have been as surprised as I was, because it took them a second too long to react when Shuya dove out of the office he had been hiding in and behind the desk. Splinters flew in all direction as bullets from the Caballo guns chewed at the wood, but the desk held.

With their fire focused on Shuya, Rover chose that moment to also dive for cover behind the desk, pulling his shotgun with him. By the time the henchponies had shifted their fire, he was already safe. With most of their ammo expended, then, the henchponies dropped behind their own cover to reload as Rover took a potshot at them, blowing a vase on top of the front desk into a thousand pieces.

I watched the battle go on for some time, the pistol still heavy in my hooves. Could I shoot it? Would I shoot it? I looked down at the little black weapon in my hooves. So tiny . . . so small. To think that something so small could do so much was terrifying. My mind drifted back to Chemiker. Yes, terrifying. Still, I had to do something.

I took a deep breath and held the weapon up to eye-level. I pointed the barrel in the general vicinity of one of the henchponies. Just . . . pull the trigger, right? I mean, he was shooting at my friends. It wasn’t wrong to return the favor, was it? No, it wasn’t. I was sure of that.

With one last held breath, I pulled the trigger and closed my eyes. Nothing. My ears were still ringing, so maybe I hadn’t heard it. But when I tried to shoot again, I got the same result. Meanwhile, Rover yanked the lever forward and back again and blew off a chunk of the front desk. I started to wonder what all the government employees were thinking.

I crouched back in the doorway and let out what amounted to somewhere between a laugh and sigh of relief. I hadn’t cocked the pistol; it was still waiting to be fired. I looked down at it again, but shook my head. I had to shoot; for Rover and Shuya. Especially Shuya, who crouched behind the desk and seemed to be mentally kicking himself for bringing the sword instead of a gun to a, well, gunfight.

Before I could raise my weapon again, however, the court doors at the back of the hallway burst open. Inside, I could see ponies in suits cowering behind benches. But not the three ponies who walked through the doorway. One was an older stallion with slicked-back hair and large glasses who had a sour expression on his face. Flanking him were two more stallions in dark suits, just like the ones in the lobby.

“Just what’s going on here?” he shouted.

I could see Shuya’s eyes widen at the sight of reinforcements as he realized that he and Rover were once again exposed to fire. On what looked like instinct, he grabbed the sword from it’s scabbard and, with a toss of his head, flung it through the air. For a long moment, it hung in the middle of the hallway, it’s deadly steel flashing as it spun end over end. It flew towards the elder Caballo, but one of the henchponies pulled him of the way into one of the side rooms, but wasn’t fast enough to prevent a long cut along the older pony’s flank.

The other henchpony dove to the other side of the hallway, and right towards my door. I must have been more hidden than I had thought, because he didn’t seem to notice me. I scooted back as he dove to cover behind my room’s door.

I could hear my own breathing quicken as I tried desperately to scramble away from him. He loomed so close . . . I could smell his breath and hear the sound of his suit as he panted from the dodging. It was a long few seconds until he noticed me.

When he did, his eyes alit and he pushed himself as far backwards as he could. I couldn’t tell . . . was his hoof reaching for a weapon, concealed in his clothes? I didn’t have time to think. Only to act. Swifter than I thought possible, I raised the gun to him and then, as if on automatic, I cocked the pistol, pulled the trigger, and all I saw was red.

My hoof kept slapped against the enlarged trigger a few more times until the gun finally jerked itself out of my hooves and fell to the ground. I didn’t even remember seeing it fire, just hearing the noise . . . and then I looked up.

Slumped against the wall was the Caballo henchpony. I’d missed one of the shots, and the other two had gone wild away from his chest, but I’d still gotten him. One had slashed across his flank, while the other left a nasty hole that oozed red in his back leg. He moaned pitifully and sank to the ground.

My stomach sank with them as I looked him over. He didn’t have any weapons on him . . . he was defenseless. With a gulp, I kicked the gun away to the other side of the room and rushed over to his side.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” Like a broken wind-up doll, I kept repeating that as I stood next to him, not sure what to do. I was vaguely aware of the gunfight still going on outside the office, but all my attention was focused on him.

He grunted and shifted on his side. “S- Sorry,” he said weakly.

“No, no, don’t be sorry,” I whispered, looking at my hooves helplessly. “Is there . . . is there anything I can do?”

He coughed. “My jacket. The wound . . . needs pressure . . .”

I grabbed his jacket and pressed it against the literal holes in him. I pressed as hard as I could, even when I saw him wince. Whether it was to fight the thought that snaked into my mind that it was I who had done that or if I was just being careful, I didn’t know. Or, I did know, but didn’t want to admit it.

Outside, the gunfire ebbed, suddenly and briefly increased, and then went silent. I couldn’t see who’d won, and at the moment it didn’t matter. It wasn’t until Starshine suddenly appeared in the doorway that I figured out we had won.

“They told me you’d be in here,” she said. “Me and Ivory, we brought the police. Malo slipped out during the fight, but we got his father. We won.” Then, she suddenly seemed to realize exactly what I was doing, and a look of concern stitched itself across her face. “What happened here?”

“I shot him,” I said simply.

“Oh.”