One fateful night in Equestria everything changed. The princesses were gone, and a new ruler had taken their place. Years have passed since that event. Ponies have grown up, aged, and changed with the times. Tonight their story begins.
It was a night that will forever be burned into the memories of everypony. One fateful night in Equestria everything changed. The princesses who had ruled over the world with kindness and heart were gone, and a new ruler had taken their place. Years have passed since that event. Ponies have grown up, aged, and moved on with their lives. Equestria has become a very different place over the span of these years. Our story begins when a face resurfaces in Equestria. When a weathered, scarred, but familiar face steps into the light.
This is the fanfic based on Astringe's Bad Future series on DeviantART. He did some great designs of the characters, so make sure you give that gallery a peruse before you read the fic.
Also worth mentioning, he's been nice enough to plop any pics he does based on chapters I've written into this separate gallery, so there will be less spoilers for readers just jumping in to the story.
NOTE: The canon of my story picks up at the start of Season 3, where it begins to diverge away from the canon of the show. I've never read the IDW comics nor have I seen Equestria Girls, so the events of my story aren't canon at all with them.
The owner of The Agistment was slumped behind the bar, resting his head on one hoof while impatiently tapping his other on the varnished mahogany surface. Being a bartender he had seen his share of slow days, but the boredom he had endured today had bordered on torture. His quaint place was devoid of any customers and had been all day, giving him nothing to listen to but the slow tick of the clock on the wall and the sound of his spiritless tapping. The sun had had set completely outside and most of the ponies in town had finished work and were looking to relax and unwind. On a normal day his beloved bar would be alive with pleasant chatter and clinks of liquor glasses as the place filled up with customers. Except—
—Except for that blasted patrol that’s due to pass through town.
Not only was The Agistment the only bar in town, but it was also a place to get a decent meal. The Royal Guards knew this and always stopped by for a quick meal and to tie one on before moving on. The trouble is, is everypony in town is well aware of this as well. Any day when a patrol was due to head through town, that patrol was the only business he would get all day. Between the scoundrels who’d prefer to stay as far away from the law as possible and the general townsponies who simply were afraid of them, he wouldn’t get one single customer that wasn’t wearing a breastplate of black silver alloy.
“Shouldn’t have given them the day off…” He said aloud for nopony to hear. By now he found himself wishing he had kept at least one of his staff on with him. He was well able to work the counter and grill by himself for a patrol, and rather than pay one of his workers to basically do nothing he had decided to save the bits and do it himself.
At this point, a full shift’s pay for some company would be worth it.
Sugarcane the chef was downright hilarious when he had nothing on his hooves but time and would have been excellent company, but he would have even settled for that obnoxious new waitress who’d only worked a week so far, and whose name escaped him at the moment—
—and CREEEEEEEEEEEEAK!
The bartender was jolted from his boredom-induced stupor. He knew that sound; that most wonderful sound of his doors stubborn hinges whining in protest of a customer.
Please be the stallions from the construction company, or those downright pleasant folks from Environment Equestria who moved here last month…
He threw his eager gaze at the doorway to find a pony he had never seen around town before holding the door at hooves length. It was a yellow mare, dressed in an odd kind of button-up gray vest that looked worn and aged from travelling. She wore a dusty sun-bleached Stetson hat pulled low over her forehead, which obscured her eyes and most of her bright-pink scraggly hair from the bartender’s view. This mare, this stranger hesitated for a moment, raising her head just enough to cautiously survey the room before entering. Seemingly satisfied with the lack of customers, she entered.
Is she wanted? Or just some random paranoid reprobate? Either way, you sure picked the wrong day to come looking for a drink.
She entered slowly, stepping short on her front left leg with a noticeable limp as she walked. Her steps were accompanied by a quiet jingle that reminded the bartender of the sound of keys; she had some kind of small metal blades strapped to her rear legs the likes of which he had never seen before. Mid-stride she raised her limping leg and adjusted her hat, not slowing down at all as she continued to walk confidently on three legs. As she turned and headed for a table, he saw it on her side.
A gun…?
The Bartender had only heard about guns and never seen one in real life. They were quite the common commodity in countries overseas, to the point that just about everypony carried one, but were completely unheard of in Equestria. The stranger slumped down on a pillow at the table in the corner, and the bartender stretched and approached. He had heard a few nasty stories about these ‘repeater pistols’, particularly about a civil war over there that was still raging on.
He reached the table and leaned on its polished surface. “What’ll it be, ma’am?” He said pleasantly, hiding his nervousness beneath a veneer of polite courtesy.
She didn’t even bother to look up at him. “Cider.” She said coldly from beneath the brim of her hat.
“Comin’ up.” He said as he headed back to the bar to pour her drink.
He came back with her drink and leaned casually on the table to strike up a conversation. He was a nervous of this one, but she was the only customer to come by so far and he desperately wanted to talk to somepony. Besides, he was rather fond of foreigners: he loved nothing better than to meet somepony from another country and just make small talk. He would do it for hours if they would let him, and he wanted to know more about this mare. Unfortunately, she didn’t seem very interested in chatting. She took the cider and, as if she hadn’t even noticed him, downed half the mug in one noisy gulp. As she raised her head to drink, he couldn’t help but notice the rather large scar on her cheek and felt his curiosity flare up.
“So… new in town, right miss?”
She took just a sip this time. “Passing through.”
She was a tough nut to crack, but he’d get a conversation out of her yet. “Well, you won’t find a better cider anywhere, ma’am.” He said proudly, “The recipe’s courtesy of the Apple family what used to live around these parts.”
She raised her head slowly and just glared at him with what could have only been hate in her orange eyes. Less than a moment later she looked away once more and, after a mirthless chuckle, continued drinking. He didn’t know how, but he had clearly struck a nerve with her.
I’m better off being bored.
He knew better than to try and force a conversation with the wrong pony, and this one just reeked of bad news. With blades on her legs and a gun strapped to her, she seemed like the wrong kind of pony to irritate. He salvaged what was left of his composure and turned to walk away—
—and he almost walked headfirst into another customer. “I beg your pardon miss… ter?”
The pile of rags standing in front of him could have been a mare OR a stallion; he honestly couldn’t tell. This… thing was one of the tallest ponies he had ever seen; even hunched over the way it was it stood a full head taller than him. It was draped in a filthy and frayed brown cloak that was wrapped haphazardly around it’s otherwise unknown form. It’s face was completely obscured by randomly colored pieces of cloth wrapped carelessly around the entire face, and with large sunglasses to hide it’s eyes. The ‘pony’ didn’t respond to his awkward greeting; it didn’t even take the time to look at him. Instead it shuffled silently to the table where the stranger was drinking and sat down across the table from her.
How did it open the door so quietly…?
“You’re late.” Said the stranger with noticeable irritation in her southern twang of a voice.
“Took the long way to avoid some guards.” The thing in rags replied in a seductive tone, “That being said… we might want to wrap this up quickly and leave before they get here.”
The stranger glanced at the three wanted posters displayed near the entrance. “Wanted or not…” she said as her gaze returned and looked her partner up and down with disapproval, “Ah told you to lose the mask. Ah don’t fancy with masqueraders.”
The ‘masquerader’ chuckled briefly. “I’m pretty sure you of all ponies can understand why one might want to keep their identity hidden.”
The bartender listened closely to their conversation from behind his bar, not out of boredom but out of sheer curiosity. Although nervous, he couldn’t help but be intrigued by these two. A lifetime of serving ponies from all manner of locations had given him an ear for accents, and he could detect a definite Appleoosan drawl in the stranger’s speech. The thing in rags, on the other hoof, was a complete mystery to him. Other than sounding extremely female under those rags, he had no clue where to place her silky purr of a voice.
The masquerader waited momentarily for a response before reaching out of her cloak with a small bag draped across her pale pink hoof. She dangled it midair in front of the stranger and let it drop with the recognizable clatter of money. “Perhaps this will change your mind?” she said in a sing-song tone.
The stranger eyed the bag with disinterest, and continued to stare with unrelenting disapproval. Although her statue of an expression hadn’t changed, it was clear the mare wasn’t pleased at all with what was sitting in front of her. For the first time in his life, the bartender found himself actually hoping the patrol would show up. He had seen his share of bar fights start like this, but one of them had a gun and who knows what the other had stashed in her cloak.
Come on guards, get a wiggle on and get here already. Keep these two peaceful.
After what felt like an eternity, the masquerader broke the silence. Her pleasant tone had turned cold and business-like. “Don’t be like that. It’s an easy job. And I know you: you need the money.”
“You don’t know nothing about me.” said the stranger, her drawl deepening into a near growl.
“I know more than you think.” Said the masquerader, leaning close to the unmoving mare as she spoke, “I recognize the vest; Now, I wonder what a conscripted soldier would be doing in a completely different country chasing bounties for a living?” She looked directly at the wanted posters on the wall, and back to the pony. “I don’t suppose you got into some… trouble… over there and had to flee?”
Click.
The bartender felt the blood drain from his face. Although he had never heard the sound that had just come from beneath the table, his fear told him exactly what it was. He moved down the bar slowly to get a clearer view, and sure enough the stranger’s holster was empty. She had readied her gun.
The raw fury on her face was matched by the poison in her tone. “Ah don’t like what you’re implying.”
Don’t shoot please don’t shoot…
The masquerader raised her front hooves in an inoffensive gesture. “I didn’t mean to imply that,” she said, once more in a pleasant purr, “I meant to imply that it must be difficult, having to drop everything and go to a different country.” She made no effort to hide that she was studying the mare’s cutie mark, an apple being pierced by an arrow, as she spoke almost sympathetically. “And given your innate talents it must be so hard to find honest work. And I wasn’t lying, it’s an easy job: one pony, alive, payment in advance.”
Another soft click came from beneath the table, and the bartender let out the breath he just realized he’d been holding the entire time.
Let’s hope that meant she put it away.
He wasn’t afraid to admit that the very concept of guns absolutely terrified him. He had seen fights; ponies struck with magic, cut with blades, bucked and kicked, and even killed. Somehow the idea of a tiny pellet of lead moving like lightning and punching through a pony like a needle through fabric seemed worlds worse than anything else he had seen. He took another deep breath to calm himself down; the mare still didn’t seem pleased with the proposal, but at least she had lowered her gun.
“Really?” Said the stranger cynically. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch. I just need her alive. I can’t stress that enough. You see, this pegasus—”
“Ah don’t rightly care about the details.” Said the stranger, raising a hoof as she spoke, “Now, where might Ah find this pegasus?”
“About a four hour trot from here. Canner Canyon I think it’s called… Last I heard she was headed through there on hoof. It’s—”
The stranger’s eyes lit up with intrigue and she raised a hoof to silence the masquerader. “Ah know Canner Canyon. It’s north of here. What Ah’d like to know is why a pegasus would travel on hoof.”
The masquerader managed only a shrug. After staring silently at her for a moment, the stranger grabbed the bag of bits, shook a few onto the table, and slipped the rest under her ragged vest.
“Excellent…” the masquerader purred, in a voice so pleased the bartender could hear her smile underneath her makeshift mask. “Now, this pegasus wears a purple bandana around her eye like an eye patch; never takes it off. You’ll have no trouble recognizing her.”
The stranger finished her drink in one big gulp before making her way to the door. A loud creak from the door announced her exit, and she was off to hunt down a pony like an animal. The bartender watched her every step of the way and let out an uneasy sigh when she had vanished. If it wasn’t Royal Guards driving away his customers, it was criminals and bounty hunters putting bits on the lives of ponies.
And some days it’s both. What I wouldn’t give for just one day where I served nothing but decent folk.
He put the thought out of his head and did what he did best: serve his customers no matter who or what they were. “So, might I get you something to—”
—but the one he was speaking to had vanished. He stood alone in his bar, silenced and dumbfounded. There was one door she could have gone through; a door with hinges that protest loudly anytime somepony opens it. The only evidence that the masquerader had ever been there at all were the bits left on the table. She had arranged them into the shape of a heart. He walked over and stared down at the dissonant leftovers of the two pony’s bargain, then scooped up the bits and headed back to his counter.
At least the scoundrels have a sense of humor. He thought as he resumed his undignified slouch behind the bar. And at least they leave tips…
Two faint echoing pops came from the direction the stranger had headed, and the smirk on his face melted away. Somehow he knew those pops could only be gunfire.
The door to the quaint little bar opened with a loud creak as Apple Bloom held it at leg’s length and froze in grim anticipation. Right on cue a rush of cold nighttime air flowed around her and seemed to cut right through to her bones. She had only been back in Equestria for three months and wasn’t used to the temperature yet; the land overseas, which had been her home since that terrible night all those years ago, was much hotter and drier. It was a climate that had been harsh on her as a filly, but one her body had become accustomed to as it grew. Stepping out into the cold and away from the warmth of the bar, she looked around as her eyes adjusted to the low light. The narrow streets were bathed in darkness and there were no ponies in sight. Nearly every window was black, save for the faint flicker of a lantern or candle in one or two of the buildings. It was a common sight for small towns like this: They tend to come just short of rolling up their sidewalks and putting them away for the night.
Her gaze narrowed and she began walking down the wooden sidewalk, making no attempt to walk quietly. Her hooves clumped loudly while the boards of the sidewalk creaked and groaned as to protest, and her spurs jingled like loose bits being tossed from hoof to hoof with each step. Equestria still felt wrong to her, as it had seemed ever since the day she stepped off of the ferry and back onto the soil of her homeland. Perhaps it was how much had changed in her absence and how different things were in the East, or perhaps it was simply memories of that night. She had yet to decide.
Her thoughts turned to the job at hoof; she had to decide the best course of action to capture her quarry. She had only a vague idea of how far away Canner Canyon was, but she figured with a comfortable pace she could make it there in about three hours, when the sun would be rising. She’d easily be able to pick up the trail of a lone pony on hoof in the morning light, and if she were particularly lucky, she might even overtake them while they still slept. The alternative was to sleep here and head out in the morning. With a fast pace she could make it there a little after sunrise. Her two options were be tired from lack of sleep or tired from running the entire way. Neither was a preferable choice.
Aim’s worse after a sprint.
She gave it no more thought than that: she had worked without sleep before. She cut between two buildings and down an alley that would take her to the edge of town. Not far ahead of her was movement in the darkened path that she could just make out as two stallions under the moonlight. Apple Bloom could feel their eyes on her as they went quiet and seemed to pay her a creepy amount of attention. Not caring the least about them, she walked right between the two as they watched closely.
“Hey yellow pony!” called one of them from behind.
Apple Bloom said nothing in return and continued walking as if she hadn’t even heard him. Thugs or hobos, she didn’t care. She had no time for either of them.
“Hey, I’m talking to you!” He said in a much ruder tone as he pressed his hoof into her shoulder to stop her. “Look, me and my pal here—”
Apple Bloom swatted his hoof away without even breaking her pace or making eye contact. “Don’t touch me.”
The pony tried to stop her again. “You wouldn’t happen to have some cash on you, would you? Don’t suppose you could spare a few bits for a couple of unfortunate stallions?”
His tone was almost threatening, and enough to get under her skin. “Ah said don’t touch me.” This time she put her hoof on his side and shoved him into the wall. She wasn’t looking for a fight, but these two were this close to getting one.
“Who do you think you’re messing with you…” slurred the stallion’s friend, his string of vulgarities lost to something he held in his teeth. Apple Bloom stopped dead in her tracks; she could hear him running from behind and waited for him to attack. The instant his hooves left the ground she sidestepped and let him pounce past her. Her repeater was drawn by the time she heard his hooves clump into the soil and she canted it sideways, firing once. Her gaze was off of him before she saw the fine spray of crimson; it followed her repeater which swung around from the angled recoil. She let her body spin and follow her aim until it had found the pony that had grabbed her and she fired once more into his shoulder, dropping him instantly.
She scoffed quietly and holstered her smoking repeater, then turned to look at her would-be muggers. The pony that had grabbed her was writhing on the ground, clutching his shoulder and mumbling gibberish in a quiet panicked voice. The other had crumpled into a heap face-down in the dirt, not moving, and with a knife a few inches from his breathless mouth.
“Get a job.” She said gruffly to the writhing mugger, and tossed one bit on the ground in front of him.
She ignored the delirious pleas for help from the wounded mugger and stepped over his fallen friend, continuing on her way. She had only so much time to reach Canner Canyon, and that time was not going to be wasted on muggers stupid enough to bring knives to a gunfight. She also had little interest in explaining herself to the law that had no doubt heard the gunfire and was on its way. She sprinted to jump over the small fence at the end of the alley and looked up at the stars to get her bearings. Satisfied she was heading north, she broke into a light gallop across the dark, nondescript field in the direction of her next paycheck.
Sparse bushes and the occasional tree, all indistinguishable from one another, flew past her as she moved at a comfortable pace. Before long the constant thump of her hooves on dirt and the jingle of her spurs had lulled her into a relaxed state and her mind began to wander free. Her thoughts returned to the freak in rags that had hired her for the job. Apple Bloom hadn’t been interested in any of the ponies so far that had hired her to track somebody down, nor had she been interested in any of the ponies she had collected bounties on. Somehow, though, this one had rooted itself in her mind like a creepy little weed and refused to leave. She had gone to such a ridiculous effort to mask her identity, so over-the-top that it was actually funny.
Yet she just tossed me a small fortune for one pony.
That thing was either loaded or had some serious connections to be able to just drop that kind of money in front of a perfect stranger and trust them completely to succeed, and it was a thought that was giving Apple Bloom some trouble. She had been in Equestria for three months now, maybe collected a hoofful of bounties at most, and had made a conscious effort to avoid attracting attention to herself for it. She wasn’t notorious in any way; she could hardly even be considered a bounty hunter, and yet this masked weirdo had gone out of her way to hire her.
And she acted like she knew me. And she recognized the vest. Ah don’t like this one bit.
Light in the sky caught her attention and she slowed to a stop. The stars above her had been lost into a pale blue that was slowly being swallowed by the rising sun that peeked from above Canner Canyon in the distance. Apple Bloom thought about the freak no more and ducked down at the tree line. There was only one path to take, about a few hundred feet ahead, and although stealth was not her strong point she was not about to let her target spot her first. She crouched low, watched, and listened.
Ah’ll worry later. Got a job to do.
She could hear birds singing in gratitude of the sunlight in the distance, and a very gentle wind whistling through the tall grass that lined the canyon. Ahead of her was the road to her target: a not often travelled dirt path that sliced cleanly through the rocky canyons. Moving low and studying the ground closely as she moved she found what she was looking for. Shallow hoof prints no doubt left by the light frame of a pegasus ran down the path, following the trail of her quarry. Much of the print had already been blown away by the wind, meaning her target had probably passed through here early yesterday.
No need to be quiet.
She stood up tall and began following the hoof prints up the trail. As she walked she was constantly on alert for any movement around her. As the path dipped into the canyon it became narrow and was surrounded by sheer rock wall on both sides; it was the kind of path that must have been cut through the canyon to create a road. The way the path snaked back and forth limited her vision, and the high walls put her at a definite advantage against a pegasus who heard her coming and decided to attack from above. There were a few trees growing along the path and none of them were very big, suggesting to her that the trail may not even be as old a she was. One which she walked under had a nest of baby birds which went silent as she past under, upset that she had come so close to their home. The path snaked around almost a corner and widened into a larger area which was home to a few trees, rocks, and bushes.
And the trail of hoof prints stopped there.
Apple Bloom kneeled down and studied where the trail ended, right under a tree just off the path. The soil where the hoof prints ended had been flattened down as it someone had slept there, but there was no sign of the trail picking back up. After a moment of reflection she frowned and almost hit herself for being so stupid; the pegasus had camped here, heard her coming, and flown off!
Wastin’ time. Gotta get to high ground and spot her.
Apple Bloom took off down the path as fast as she could run, rapidly scanning back and forth between the sky and the canyon walls in an effort to try and spot her target or find a place she could climb up to take a look. She took a running lunge at a low spot on the cliff and managed to make it three feet up the wall before her momentum ran out and her belly slapped into the cold rock with a loud grunt. She pulled herself the rest of the way, almost slipping and falling twice, but made it to the top and sprawled onto stomach in the grass above, tired from the climb.
And movement caught her eye from the campsite behind her.
She kept herself low and spun to look: Over the rock wall near a fallen tree was a scruffy cerise pony’s tail just slithering out of view.
Clever pegasus.
Apparently her target had assumed Apple Bloom would expect her to fly, and had instead laid low and decided to stay bound to the ground. Apple Bloom tipped her hat in honest respect of a ruse that almost worked.
Sorry, sugar. Luck’s just run out.
Apple Bloom moved in a slow and deliberate manner, keeping her belly as low to the ground as possible. She couldn’t see her target but she could hear her just fine. The sound of a pony sliding through the tall grass was so easy to follow that she could actually tell her target was swerving back and forth as she moved. The pegasus obviously had some experience at this: She was keeping low to stay out of sight and zigzagging to make pinpointing the source of her sound difficult. Unfortunately she didn’t have enough experience to do it right: All she was doing was broadcasting to the entire world exactly where she was in there.
And the noise you’re making in there’ll make sneaking up on you too easy.
Apple Bloom trotted swiftly, stepping lightly to keep her spurs quiet, and crept in a straight line parallel to the grass field. She stood just tall enough to see the grass rippling as the pegasus cut through the grass, creating a wave that was following her every step of the way. She followed the din created by her prey in the grass, using it to keep from being heard, and moved behind a large boulder which separated the grass field from a path of solid shale and gravel.
Couldn’t ask for a better ambush than this.
Apple Bloom leaned her side into the rock and drew her repeater. She could hear her target moving almost right toward her and pulled the hammer back…
Come to mama…
Purple and orange shot into view around the border and ran right past Apple Bloom. Her hoof moved on its own, guided by razor-sharp reflexes honed from years of gunplay. In a flash she took aimed and pulled the trigger.
The gunshot echoed through the field, the sound silencing the singing birds in the distance.
Beneath a lone tree just off the path through the canyons, a lone pegasus let out a dozy sigh and a yawn, and stretched as she awoke from a deep sleep. Warm, comfortable, and half-lost in a dream, she forgot where she was for a moment and, as far as she could tell, was tucked into a snug bed with her head nuzzled into a fluffy pillow. Lost in the moment, she couldn’t decide if she were home and had woken up just moments before her alarm clock rang, waiting to silence the shrill sound and have her mother’s voice from outside her room holler at her to get up for school. Perhaps it was a weekend and she was in her old clubhouse, cocooned in a warm sleeping bag between her foalhood friends…
Or you’re in the dirt. Alone.
Reality hit her as if she had run full speed into a wall as she awakened fully and opened her eye. Scattered rays of early morning light bled through the leaves above, casting their speckled shadows across her body. No bed, no pillow, just her old cape folded into a crude pillow and her tattered scarf stretched across her body. She stared skyward as she usually did when she first woke up, but this time found herself overwhelmed with a rush of sad nostalgic memories biting at the back of her throat. It had been years since she lost everypony, and although she did miss them from time to time she had, for the most part, made peace with the fact that they were gone and never coming back. Somehow this time, for no real reason that she could find, she found herself fighting back tears as vivid memories returned to her.
Stop it. You’re a grown mare, and they’ve been gone for well over half your life.
Her thoughts cut deep, but reminded her not to dwell on the past and pushed the building dolor out of her heart. She stretched once more and her bad wing popped loudly as it always did when she spread her feathers. She yawned loudly and rolled onto her side, folding her wing over her face to shield it from the dots of sunlight that had awakened her. With her face buried in her warm feathers she closed her eye once more and dozed. She had no destination in mind for the day, and no real motivation to go anywhere other than to find something to eat. There was a nearby town south of here; with a swift pace she could be there in a little over an hour and no doubt do some odd jobs for a bite to eat.
“Maybe I’ll get lucky and find an apple tree.” She said quietly to herself.
With that thought in mind, she looked to the sky once more and could just see the glow of the sun peeking over the cliff. This area was due for good weather for some time, and even at night it was warm enough to sleep outside. If she was lucky enough to find something to eat here, she could stay in the canyons quite comfortably and rest her hooves for a while.
“Please let me find apples.” She said aloud once more, “Or daffodils.” She was silenced by the hungry grumble of her stomach, which she patted gently, “I’d even settle for some good grass…”
The more she thought about it, the idea of camping out for a while instead of staying on the move was actually sounding better and better all the time. Every night for as far back as she cared to remember she had slept in a different spot; usually wherever she could find that was warm and out of the way, be it in a town or otherwise, was what she would call her bed for the night. It would be nice, if only for a while, to find a place to call her own; a place away from towns and strangers. It would be just like when—
Like when I went camping with Dashie and the girls.
She squeaked quietly as she abruptly remembered happier times. She told herself again not to dwell on the past but to no avail. Vivid memories of her foalhood returned to her: Of her times with Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, with Rainbow Dash, of her mother, and she could feel warm tears trickle from her one good eye.
“For the last time, Scootaloo. Stop it.” She said to herself in a cold tone.
It was rare that she would be moved like this by the past. It had been so long ago, and she had long since steeled herself against it and tried her best to just focus on the future. However, every so often something would bring a surge of memories onto her and she found that talking to herself as she would scold a young foal would put her tears to rest.
“You have one eye left, Scootaloo,” She said in a much softer tone than before, “If you keep looking back you won’t be able to see ahead of you.”
It was a saying she had heard from a drunken vagrant many years ago in a town she could no longer remember, but somehow it had seemed so wise that she had never forgotten it. Scootaloo picked up her goggles and looked at the ghost of her reflection in the lens. She could just barely make out a scraggly purple blob that was her mane, and one purple eye staring back at her. She couldn’t make out her bad eye on her makeshift mirror. An eye that would forever remain closed: sewn shut by a rough scar. It served as a grim reminder of the night when everything truly changed. Images of that night came to mind, of Fluttershy gripping her tightly and carrying her away while Rainbow Dash stayed behind to fend off the trio of thugs that had pursued them. She had seen only their silhouettes against a full moon, but she will never forget their leader’s voice. It was a cruel mare’s voice, full of hate and spite.
‘Sparkle wants the yellow one too! You two after her; Rainbow Dash is mine!’
Scootaloo’s memory of that night becomes hazy after that voice. Her next clear memory is daylight. Daylight, cold, wet, and pain, lying sprawled on a river’s edge with no sign of Rainbow Dash or Fluttershy, and left for dead with a broken wing and unable to open her left eye.
Lucky Goggles she thought with a smirk as she ran her hoof over the broken lens. Although it had actually been a piece of the lens that had robbed her of her eye, she was well aware that whatever had broken the lens may very well have killed her had she not been wearing them.
“Besides,” she said as she slipped them around her neck, “They were Dashie’s.”
Homeless and always on the move, Scootaloo had little time or need for belongings. Including her goggles, she had only three possessions which she carried with her. She picked up her old cape in her mouth and roughly shook it back and forth to shake the dust off of it. It was faded and tattered from years of wear and tear, but somehow it had survived with its patch intact and still looked every bit as brilliant to her as the day she put it on for the first time. Scootaloo found herself smiling as she tied it around her forehead, and then carefully pulled it down to cover her bad eye. She may have outgrown wearing it as a cape, but it was the perfect size for a bandana.
Unmoving, she stared down at her old scarf which still lay in a heap on the ground. It was her most precious belonging, as it had once been her mother’s scarf. Scootaloo had never met her father; he had left her mother before she was even born, and she saw very little of her mom. Always working long hours and seldom home, Scootaloo often only saw her for a brief moment in the mornings before school. From a very early age she had found herself walking to and from school by herself to arrive at an empty house and fix her own meals. As a foal she always felt that her mother hadn’t thought much of her, and had tried to fill the void with her friends and her self-proclaimed big sister Rainbow Dash. It wasn’t until she was much older, and far too late, that Scootaloo came to understand just how much her mother had loved her and how hard she worked to provide for her as a single mother. With one deft move of her leg she grabbed the scarf and tossed it loosely around her neck. It had been used to swaddle her as a baby, and now served as a blanket for her when she slept. Somehow, it even still smelled like her mom.
She stood for a moment, with her eye closed, and tried to lose herself in the delicious warmth of the scarf. Somehow she just couldn’t; something didn’t feel right. She stayed as quiet as possible; trying to understand what was missing to put her on edge…
No birds.
She had noticed a nest full of baby birds on her way along the path just the other day, and could hear them sing long into the evening and all morning since she had woken up. Suddenly they had gone dead quiet. Scootaloo didn’t like this. For reasons she couldn’t understand, her instincts were screaming at her to hide. Always one to trust her instinct, she did just that: She took a brief moment to make sure she had left as little evidence of her stay behind as possible and leapt with all her might onto a nearby fallen tree. She ran across it looking for a place to duck out of sight and, noticing that the log was hollow, crawled inside of it. She was almost able to see her campsite through a small knothole in the log.
Nothing at first. There was nothing but the faint sound of the wind slipping between the leaves for only a moment, until she heard it in the distance. A sound not unlike jewelry clinking, but following a discordant off-beat rhythm and somehow threatening enough to press Scootaloo’s ears flat against her head. Eventually the sound made it into view, following the uneven hoofsteps of a pony. The pony was moving slowly and staring at the ground, and stopped at Scootaloo’s campsite.
A chill trickled down Scootaloo’s spine when it occurred to her that the pony must have been following her hoofprints in the dirt. For whatever reason she was being followed or perhaps hunted by this pony. Scootaloo wanted, needed a better look at the hunter, but stayed put. He had moved out of view too quickly and she wasn’t willing to risk blowing her cover just to satiate her curiosity. She listened as the threatening jewelry sound clattered down the road, this time much faster. Having lost her trail, the hunter must have had no choice but to follow the road.
Now’s your chance, Scootaloo! MOVE!!!
Scootaloo wasn’t one to pick a fight for no reason. There was no reason in the world for this pony to be tracking her, but she definitely wasn’t about to confront him just to ask why. The last time she had caused trouble was months ago when was out of money and had broken into a veterinarian’s office for some first-aid supplies to treat an infected cut. There was no way that was the reason this pony was following her; knowing her luck, it was some random bandit who thought he had come upon an easy target.
And what a way to start my day. You could have at least let me find breakfast first, you jerk.
Resisting the urge to just stay huddled in her log, she crept from the hiding place and began to backtrack. If her follower was an experienced tracker it wouldn’t be long before he realized he had lost her trail and backtracked himself. If not, he’d hopefully keep going down the path trying to pick her tail up. Scootaloo would take a third option: her plan was to climb the rock face and head east from here. There was tall grass to hide in up there until she reached solid gravel and shale, which she could travel on without leaving a trail. From there she’d sprint as fast as she could south to that settler’s town and lay low for a while.
The rock face was uneven with plenty of spaces to hook her hooves into, and only went up about twenty feet. Tempered legs from a lifetime of running and her light frame made the climb easy: she had no trouble getting to the top and, once there, she flattened onto her stomach to keep her follower from spotting her. Keeping low to stay below the surface of the grass, she careened left and right to disguise her movement. It was a technique used by the Wonderbolts that Rainbow Dash had told her about, used to lose the sound of their flapping wings to the wind. With the breeze that was gently blowing the grass about, it would hopefully work to hide the sounds her body made as she slipped through. There was no way he knew where she had gone, but she wasn’t taking any chances.
She felt the crunch of loose gravel amid the grass and took a deep breath. Bursting out of the field of grass she pushed her body faster than she had ever pushed before. She dodged a tree and passed a large rock and—
—and BLAM!!!
—A loud echoing burst the likes of which she had never heard before roared mere inches from her ear, making her lose her balance and sending her stumbling into a rough impact into gravel. The sound was loud enough to send a ringing pain jolting through her ears, enough to disorient her long enough for something small and hard to be pressed against the back of her head.
The hunter… It’s not possible…
“You so much as move, so much as breathe in a way Ah don’t like, and the next one makes daylight through that scruffy head of yours.” Said the unfeeling voice of a mare behind her.
It wasn’t until the smell reached her that she came to realize just how much trouble she was in. It was a faint smell of burnt sulfur, no doubt from the thing that had made that terribly loud sound; the thing that was now held against her head.
Everything had gone wrong so quickly that her mind was scrabbling, trying to understand what had just happened to her. Today was supposed to be a good day; the weather was fine and the only thing she had set out to do was find a bite to eat. For the first time in a very long time she was planning to stop running for a while and take a much needed rest. She was a vagrant; a homeless drifter with no family or friends, and she had done nothing wrong to anypony.
Camping. It was supposed to be like camping.
Her blood had turned to ice as she lay still on the loose gravel. Cold, hard metal was pressed against the back of her head, held by a pony that had tracked and ambushed her like an animal and was intent on harming or even killing her. Her heart was trying to beat its way out of her chest, and she was feeling faint from the quick shallow breaths of raw fear. The only thing keeping her conscious was the threat of death if she so much as moved an inch. She was absolutely helpless; completely at the mercy of a pony that was willing to kill her, and it took every last ounce of her will to keep from screaming out. She was out of options; she tried to speak but no words came out. With effort and the fear of her life on the line, she managed to force a weak plea.
“I didn’t do anything.” She whimpered.
“Ah’ll bet.” Said the voice from behind, every bit as hollow as it had been when it made the threat. “Ah know a certain someone what’s paying a lot of money to have a word with you.”
“You’ve gotta have the wrong pony!!!” She said, almost yelling.
“You match the description.”
Scootaloo wanted to curl up and cry. “But why?! Why do they want me so bad?! What did I do?!”
There was a soft sigh and a deep exhale from behind. “Beats me, sugar,” Said the hunter, this time with a note of pity in her otherwise heartless tone, “Ah don’t ask questions. But one way or another you’re coming with me, we clear?”
Scootaloo let her forehead rest on the gravel. There was nothing else she could do. “A-alright, I’ll go.”
“Atta girl. Behave yourself and Ah won’t have to shoot you. Get up; time to go, sugar.”
She did as she was told and stood up tall. The cold steel nudged her head gently, and she started walking slowly across the shale path in front of her. The terribly loud thing the hunter had was no longer being pushed into her head but somehow she could still feel it pointing at her. It felt almost alive, staring at her with malice like the eyes of some horrible predator and reminding her that one false move would end her.
“That’s right, just keep following the path. We’ll be there before you know it.”
Scootaloo didn’t answer. She made sure to follow the path nice and slowly, taking deep breaths to calm herself down and begin thinking straight once more. With her panic subdued, she had quickly decided she had no intention of going where this pony planned to take her. She knew she definitely didn’t want to meet this certain somepony that had sent a killer armed with whatever-the-heck had been used to subdue her. That thing was the problem: that weapon she had never seen or heard of before that made deafening almost popping sounds gave this hunter a nasty advantage over her. Scootaloo needed a plan. Something, anything to take that advantage away. Her eye darted left and right looking for anything she could use but only saw trees and their leaves dancing on the wind; her ears remained perked but heard only the gentle crunch of gravel beneath their hooves.
Crunch-crunch crunch… crunch-crunch crunch…
Scootaloo had to fight the urge to stop and listen. Something was very wrong with the sound her captor’s hooves were making as they walked.
Crunch-crunch crunch… crunch-crunch crunch…
Three hooves…?
She had spent her life running. Always running. Always accompanied by the uniform sound of four hooves clopping on rock or soil or splashing through water. It took her only a moment of counting the stride of her captor to realize she either had only three legs…
Or she’s holding that blasted popping thing in one of her hooves.
She had a very definite chance of escape, if she played her cards right. A pegasus could hold a weapon in his hooves just fine by flying, and unicorns of course would use their magic. Her captor was very obviously an earth pony that had taught herself to grip a weapon in one hoof and walk on the other three. Scootaloo still had no clue what kind of weapon it was, but as long as it was gripped in a hoof her captor would be off-balance. She just needed the right time and place to take advantage of it.
The gravel began to thin beneath her hooves as the path they travelled on cut through a grassy field and neared the tree line. Scootaloo recognized this area; they were headed in the general direction of Broncton, a small town near Fillydelphia, and no doubt this path would get them there by nightfall. Scootaloo wanted to turn and laugh in her captor’s face but held herself back; she had a plan.
Just have to shake this pony in the woods, then sprint to Fillydelphia and just get lost in the crowds.
Crunch-crunch crunch… crunch-crunch crunch…
The instant her captor stood unevenly Scootaloo moved. She spun and whipped her captor in the face with her tail, then dodged to the side and out of the way of the weapon’s first deafening pop. She grasped her captor’s foreleg against her body and rolled her back into her captor’s belly. With a deft twist she rolled her opponent over her shoulder and the captor was hurled to the ground at her hooves.
Now, fight or flee?!
Scootaloo had no time to decide; her opponent had instinctively travelled with the momentum of the throw, rolling out of Scootaloo’s view and no doubt back onto her hooves. She still gripped her weapon.
Flee!
Scootaloo turned in the other direction and sprinted as quickly as her legs would carry her, making a desperate beeline for the trees to get out of view before her opponent oriented herself.
BLAM!
And something had punched the dirt before the echo had faded, missing Scootaloo’s hoof by mere inches. She shook off the panic that almost overtook her: the weapon had serious speed and distance. Scootaloo began hopping to the left and right as she ran, zigzagging to make herself a difficult target.
BLAM-BLAM! BLAM!
Scootaloo dove behind a tree, getting something between her and her opponent’s weapon just in time. One of the pops had punched a hole clean through her mother’s scarf while another had struck the rock near the tree with a loud PWANG. The third that had punched into the tree and sent shards of bark twirling to the ground would have been a direct hit had she been a split second too late. She wasn’t safe for long; she needed cover and to get out of sight. Her opponent was far too accurate with that weapon to just run for it; sheer luck had kept those pops from hitting her. Now wasn’t the time to think. She let her instincts take over and dove below some bushes near the tree, crawling as low as she could. Behind her she heard the pony’s hooves clump loudly to the tree, then go dead quiet.
“You’re playing games with the wrong pony!!!” The hunter hollered angrily, “Ah don’t need you alive and well, just alive!”
The raw animosity in the pony’s voice was enough to make Scootaloo shiver. This pony was fully intent on injuring her to near death just to drag her back to town for some complete stranger. That wasn’t going to happen. Scootaloo knew her bright coat of fur would give her away if she stayed still; She crawled slowly on her belly, with the knowledge that she was being actively hunted weighing her flat against the ground and keeping her as quiet as possible. She made it to another tree and flattened behind it, then risked a peak around the tree to try and locate her attacker.
She could see the pony through the leaves, facing the other direction. She was a rough-looking yellow mare with a scraggly pink mane and tail, dressed in a cowpony’s hat and vest. As Scootaloo had guessed, she stood on only three hooves. The fourth hoof clutched the deadly popping weapon against her pastern, keeping it pointed skyward at head-height. A thin trail of smoke crept from the skyward end, much like it would have from a cigar left to smolder. There was barely any movement from the pony; her head was tilted upward and slowly panning across the skyline with eerie determination.
Of course!
No wonder she hadn’t been found in the bushes: the pony was hunting a pegasus. No doubt she had assumed that Scootaloo had taken to the sky rather than crawling away on the ground, and was waiting to catch a glimpse of her trying to escape or attack from above. Scootaloo knew she couldn’t run easily: that weapon was effective at a distance and the pony that held it had tracked her twice already. If she could sneak close and knock it from her hoof though…
I’ll lay the beating of your life on you for this.
Movement from the pony stopped Scootaloo’s train of thought and set her plan into motion. Her opponent was moving parallel to the tree line, using the canopy of the trees as cover from an airborne attack; Scootaloo snuck low, moving like a cat stalking an unsuspecting mouse. Keeping quiet, she slipped silently along the dirt using the bushes as cover. It was now or never; she took a deep silent breath and reminded herself that it was this or surrender, and tore out of the bushes at full speed toward the pony’s blind side.
The attacker reacted much quicker than Scootaloo had hoped, but she was still too fast for her. She twirled on her front hooves and bucked the weapon, hearing the satisfying sound of its dull plop as it hit the dirt, and let the force carry her in a full circle and reared onto her hind legs. She punched once, twice, three times, yelling with pure fury each time her hoof connected with the yellow pony’s face. Her fourth punch was blocked, shrugged off by the pony’s leg as the pony spun and tried to buck Scootaloo in the stomach.
Scootaloo let out a loud grunt of pain from the attack; she had turned and taken the hit in the obliques, but the pony had kicked hard. She fell onto all fours and pounced behind her foe, trying her best to stay out of view and land attacks from the pony’s blind side. Her opponent was tough; Scootaloo had her more than outclassed in speed, but the pony was strong and could seriously take punch. As the pony turned Scootaloo kicked her hard in her left hock and punched her again in the side of the head, sending her to the ground with a rewarding thwack.
The pony wasn’t down for even a second; she leaped back to her hooves and swept her rear leg across the ground at Scootaloo’s legs. Scootaloo jumped back and dodged it by mere inches; small round blades strapped to the pony’s hind hooves whisked cleanly through her mother’s scarf. The attacker turned and, despite now sporting a nasty limp in her rear leg, ran for her weapon with a surprising burst of speed. Scootaloo wouldn’t let her reach it first and ran for it as well. The two ponies ignored each other: the only goal was the popping weapon. Whoever reached it first… Scootaloo pushed the thought from her head and ran harder than she ever had. She was faster, but the attacker had a head start. It would be close.
Too close.
They both dove at the same time, but the pony had the dexterity to grip the weapon. She stood in time for Scootaloo to leap at her and throw her left leg into the pony’s throat and her right into the weapon to keep it from taking aim. They struggled and locked eyes for the first time—
—And Scootaloo felt all the blood drain from her face.
Suddenly there was no fight anymore. Scootaloo did the unthinkable and shoved the pony away, taking a leap back as she did it. The pony aimed her weapon, but didn’t fire. The two just stood and stared into each other’s eyes for what felt like an eternity.
Time had come crashing to a halt for Apple Bloom as she stared into the face of her target for the first time.
For the entirety of her short tenure as a bounty hunter and stretching back to her former life as a soldier, Apple Bloom had always been a professional; never once had she let her personal feelings interfere with what she did on the battlefield. Such sentiments would be locked away deep within her heart and forgotten about, as such emotions could get one killed. As time went on, it had become easier and easier to rationalize pulling the trigger until one day, a day where it happened completely unnoticed, she no longer had to justify herself. Since that day she has never once hesitated in the heat of battle—
—Until today.
The face that stared at her as she stared back down the sight of her repeater pistol had paralyzed her, sending a wave of emotions crashing over her. Her hoof trembled: suddenly her pistol had become far too heavy to hold. No longer able to lift it, she let it slip from her grip and fall to the ground. The face belonged to a scruffy orange pegasus who, judging by her tattered effects and broken goggles, had seen her share of hardships and dusty lonely roads. Her bright fuchsia mane was messy and unkempt, the obvious product of her own attempts to cut her hair, and hung down over a very familiar tattered bandana which had been tied into a makeshift eye patch. Her one good eye, bright and purple and as wide as could be, was locked onto Apple Bloom.
Can’t be… she’s dead…
Apple Bloom couldn’t care less about anyone’s hardships or past, and this pony should not have been an exception. Except she was a facsimile of a very precious pony who had died long ago along with Apple Bloom’s family and friends. It had been so long that Apple Bloom had trouble recalling exactly what their faces looked like, and although time had turned the face of that brash tomboy filly into an adult, she still somehow recognized it. She couldn’t have fired her repeater even if she still held it; it took everything she had in her to even speak the pony’s name.
“Scootaloo…?”
As if hearing that word spoken aloud had set time moving once more, the scruffy facsimile lunged at her. Apple Bloom made no attempt to even move. Her friend hadn’t died; she was here and like Apple Bloom was very much alive. Scootaloo pounced and wrapped her warm front legs around Apple Bloom in a tight embrace, burying her face into Apple Bloom’s neck and sobbing loud, ecstatic tears. Apple Bloom still stood unmoving; her mind was everywhere trying to take in all that had happened in the few eternal seconds since she had stood face to face with the dear friend she thought had died years ago. Her breath grew short as she felt a surge of forgotten memories tear through her heart, and she was finally able to move.
Apple Bloom grabbed her beloved friend and hugged her as tight as she could, letting tears flow free through her clenched eyes. Everything around them was gone and long forgotten; she was a filly again, hugging her dear friend and crying the innocent tears of a foalhood friendship. Nothing existed in this moment but two dear friends and vivid memories of happy times long past. Scootaloo trembled in her grasp and she held tighter, cradling her old friend’s head under her chin. All she wanted, all she needed, was right here in this hug that she wished could last forever.
Words finally came to her, “Ah thought you died!!!”
“I thought YOU died!!!” cheered the happy pony, gripping tight enough to make Apple Bloom struggle to breath, “I thought I lost all of you!!!”
Scootaloo’s words cut like a knife and brought them back to reality; everything they wished could stay away forever came back to them. The two reunited friends cherished the moment for a few seconds more before they separated and looked over what the years had done to each other. Apple Bloom cringed as the pain from their fight began to snake through her body once more. She rubbed the side of her cheek in an attempt to drive the pain back and spat on the ground, leaving a small patch of blood in the dirt. She prodded one of her teeth with her tongue and felt it give ever so slightly, “Urgh, where’d you learn to fight like that?”
Scootaloo only blushed and looked away with a cringe. It was the same sheepish expression she would make as a filly whenever she embarrassed herself.
Apple Bloom spat once more and her gaze became somber, “Ah get it. Been bad for you too, huh?”
Scootaloo nodded slowly. Apple Bloom ran her hoof down her face, tracing the familiar ridge of the large scar that ran down her cheek: The leftovers of one time she came this close to losing her life but somehow managed to scrape through. She reached out to touch Scootaloo’s makeshift eye patch, but stopped herself when her friend recoiled on instinct like an animal.
Apple Bloom knew the answer and did not want to hear it, but for some reason just had to ask anyways. “What happened to everyone? Where’s Sweetie Belle? What about my sister’s friends? We can’t be the only ones that made it out!”
Scootaloo shook her head and looked away, obviously not wanting to talk about it. She fell to her rump and sat on the ground, and stretched her wings with a painfully audible pop. “I don’t know what happened to Sweetie Belle.” She said in a tone so uncomfortably desolate that it sent a chill through Apple Bloom. She wiped a tear from her eye and continued, “I don’t think she made it. Believe me, I looked. Everypony got split up when Ponyville was destroyed. I don’t know what happened to any of the others, I escaped with Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy, and… and…” she twitched as she spoke the final words, “Dashie and Fluttershy are dead.”
Apple Bloom gasped quietly as the words echoed in her head. Somehow it was easier to accept that her friends were only ‘gone’ or ‘missing’. Hearing Scootaloo say with absolute finality that they were dead was like having a dagger buried in her heart.
“Why’d this have to happen?!” Scootaloo said on the brink of tears, “Why did—”
Apple Bloom hushed her friend and put here foreleg around her shoulders. “It’s okay, sugar. Remember the day we met? We promised we’d be friends forever. A lot of time’s past but Ah ain’t goin’ back on that promise. Ah’m here for you now, and Ah’ll never leave you behind again.”
“This doesn’t even feel real…” Scootaloo said as she leaned her head into Apple Bloom’s vest. “I keep expecting to wake up or something, but… but you’re really back, aren’t you?”
Hearing that almost foalish question put a smile on Apple Bloom’s face which quickly began to fade as she thought. She had enough things to say to and ask of her friend to fill an entire week, but just didn’t know where to start. Her entire life had changed in the mere blink of an eye, drawing her back to a life she had almost forgotten. She wanted nothing more than to throw her pistol away and run off with Scootaloo on some inane adventure to find their cutie marks. Except…
Ah found it already.
She had found her cutie mark years ago, with the help of the one who had taught her to use a gun. Apple Bloom’s eyes became stern as such memories snapped her back to reality and finally forced a chilling thought on her she had been fighting away this entire time. She finally came to realize just how close she had come to harming a dear friend. Scootaloo, her, and Sweetie Belle had been close, so close they might as well have been family, and the pony in rags had made Apple Bloom hunt one of those friends down. The image of a bullet tearing through her friend’s body and that body dropping limply to the ground forced itself on her, the sound of a gunshot and her friend crying out in dying pain saturated her thoughts, and it was enough to make her sick. Unbeknownst to her, she had picked her repeater back up and was gripping it tightly. Her thoughts had become rich with hate and rage, and she quaked with it as she held her friend tighter as if to protect her from some nonexistent threat.
“You… you weren’t really going to hurt me, were you? Before?”
The voice snapped Apple Bloom out of her trance. She looked into the almost fearful eye of Scootaloo and forced a much softer expression. “‘Course not. Ah was just trying to scare you.” The truth, of course, but she could only hope that her friend would believe it. “Now, Ah don’t know about you, but Ah’m thinking of continuing on to Broncton. There’s a pony gonna meet me there that paid a small fortune for your hide. Me and this pony? We’re gonna have words.”
Scootaloo cringed at the way she said her last word, and rightly so. “Apple Bloom, I swear I didn’t do anything to anypony! I swear—”
“Ah know, Scoot, Ah know.” Said Apple Bloom, almost with a chuckle. “But this pony is after you. Why, Ah don’t know, but bad enough to dump this on me for you alive.” She patted the bag of bits in her vest.
“But why?!”
Apple Bloom frowned. “Ah say the two of us go and find out. Nobody puts a hit on my friends and gets away with it, y’hear? NOBODY!”
Scootaloo flashed a peek of fear at Apple Bloom’s outburst. “What are you going to do?”
“We’re gonna get some answers. Ah wanna know why this pony wants you so badly. Believe you me, there ain’t nothing gonna happen to you as long as Ah’m around.”
A big smile came across Scootaloo’s face. “Before we go,” she said as she gently clutched her stomach with a blush, “I kind of missed breakfast. You don’t have any food on you, do you?”
“Ah travel light,” She said apologetically, “but you’re in luck, Scoot. Ah saw an apple tree on the way here that ain’t too far out of our way.”
Scootaloo sighed with relief; a sound that somehow brought Apple Bloom to peace inside. Scootaloo was the obvious product of a harsh time and a harsh upbringing: a pony that had been raised on years of loss and hardship. She was scruffy, rough, and scarred from such a life. However, the sound that she had made, a simple sound of joy over something as common as breakfast, told Apple Bloom that she was the same pony they had been friends with in their foalhood. She had become somewhat skittish; Apple Bloom couldn’t help but notice a vulnerableness in her friend that had developed over the years, but inside, not buried very deep at all, was the same tomboy with the fuchsia mane Apple Bloom had met at Diamond Tiara’s cute-ceañera all those years ago.
Apple Bloom took a few steps forward and gestured to Scootaloo to come along. With almost a skip in her step, Scootaloo bounded to her side and matched her slow limp of a pace. As they walked, Apple Bloom watched her friend walk so happily that she almost sang. She should have been that happy as well, but simply couldn’t shake the guilt that was nibbling at the back of her throat. No matter the reason and no matter the excuse…
…Ah shot at my best friend…
Her sorrowful look went unnoticed by Scootaloo, who continued to bound happily alongside her like a young foal. Finding the pony in rags and getting answers would never be good enough. She’d never be able to atone for coming so close to harming the pony that might as well be her sister.
Scootaloo… Please forgive me…
Her head hung under the weight of her sorrow as the two of them continued on their way to Broncton.
The dull sound of a knife stabbing into an old wooden table sliced cleanly through the silence normally found in the desert ruins south of Canterlot. A lone gray mare pulled the knife from the rotting wood with her teeth and, in her frustration, thrust it into the table once more.
“What is keeping you?!” said Silver Spoon in a near holler, trying to ward off the eerie silence that seemed to be creeping all around her like the invisible tentacles of some shapeless demon from the darkness.
The candle on the table, the only source of light to be found now that the sun had set, danced from the force of her outburst. The shadows of the ruined building she had taken shelter in wobbled with the light as if they were excited to finally have company and only added to the feeling of dread that had overtaken her. Silver Spoon was not afraid of the dark, over the years she had learned to mold the darkness and shadows into her greatest ally, but she simply could not shake the feeling that something was very wrong with the ruins she was in.
“If you don’t show…” she muttered in a spiteful whisper, “If you dragged me out here for nothing I’m going to kill you.”
There was nopony to hear her threat. As far as she knew, no pony had set hoof in these ruins since before she had even been born. She couldn’t even imagine why this pony had asked to meet with her here of all places. She had no friends; the only ponies that ever met with her were the ones that wanted to buy some random trinket she had robbed from some rich pony, or to put her on the tail of a pony that they wanted dead for a reason she couldn’t care less about. She preferred to have such meetings in a back alley or the edge of a city, preferably within range of a bar, rather than the moldering ruins of a city that had been abandoned for decades.
Once again she stabbed her knife into the table and looked around the room with a sneer. No doubt this place had once been a thriving city inhabited by well-to-do ponies. Worthless slobs that waddled and chortled about, spending the undeserved bits they had inherited from their rich grandparents on whatever they felt improved their hedonistic existence and turning their muzzles up at those below them. In her foalhood she would have called such a place home, but today it would have been a place where she could have had a field day: one hour of pick-pocketing and threatening and she’d be set for life. Except now…
Now it was abandoned.
All that was left now were broken windows, cobwebs, and boarded up doors found on buildings that were rotting and half-collapsed. The streets outside were littered with what had tumbled off of the buildings as weather, nature, and time let out its anger on them with nopony around to repair or clean up the mess. The building she waited in was no doubt a restaurant: Numerous round tables, most of which had already fallen apart from the ravages of time, were strewn about the room and each accompanied by a pair of damp and moldy pillows. A once beautiful grand piano sat in the corner of the room, still boasting a page of yellowed and unreadable sheet music and an old plant pot filled now with nothing but dirt. Beside the piano was the remains of an old bar which still had several kegs lined up that had been forgotten along with everything else in the room.
“Too bad it wasn’t alcohol.” Said Silver Spoon with a slight smirk, “I’m in the mood for something vintage right now.”
Even the air itself in the room seemed as if it had sat there undisturbed for who knows how long; the room smelled stale and lifeless, like what Silver Spoon imagined an ancient tomb or mausoleum would smell like. When she had first kicked the boarded door open, the stale forgotten air that flowed over her and made her lungs sting was almost enough to make her turn and leave. Even as she entered she felt immersed in an ancient stench that seemed to almost drown her. Only one thing had made her force her way into that air and wait: the belief that whoever had hauled her out here to this crypt had something big in mind. Holding onto that thought, she took her knife in her mouth and rocked the blade gently up and down, letting it tap the round scar above her right hoof.
“Forgive my—”
THWACK!!!
In the time it would have taken to blink Silver Spoon reacted; she had spat the knife onto her hoof and thrown it at the voice. It succeeded in cutting off the sound of the pony that had somehow snuck up on her and struck something solid. She turned and looked, readying another knife in her teeth as she moved.
“—tardiness.” Finished the unfazed pony who had casually sidestepped the knife in time for it to embed itself in the wall not an inch from her head.
With the knife gripped firmly in her teeth, Silver Spoon lowered and bent at the knees, ready to fight at the first chance of a threat from the tall pony that had entered the room. She hadn’t met the pony who had asked to meet her in person, and all she knew right now was this pony was good enough to sneak this close to her without alerting her.
“You can relax.” Said the pony in a calm, liquid tone. “I’m—”
Silver Spoon thrust her knife into the table, cutting the pony off mid-sentence. She already knew what the pony was about to say, but couldn’t decide exactly what was standing in front of her. Every last square inch of the pony was covered; wrapped in a random assortment of rags and covered in a threadbare cloak. All she could determine about this thing was that it was a mare and definitely a unicorn. She had gone to great lengths to hide everything about herself, a fact that made Silver Spoon more than a little wary of her, but couldn’t easily hide the horn on her head that the cloak was wrapped carefully around.
The cloaked unicorn giggled quietly. “A little on edge, are we?”
“A little. Yes.” Said Silver Spoon in a sarcastic tone. “Are you going to tell me why you dragged me all the way out here to this dump?”
The cloaked unicorn nodded gently and let herself collapse into an exhausted slump on the pillow across from Silver Spoon, which sent a cloud of dust and mold spores into the air which laced the stale scent of the room with an awful earthy miasma. She said nothing, making exactly what she was thinking hard to determine. Even through her darkened glasses Silver Spoon could feel her eyes running up and down her body taking note of everything about her.
“You’d better get to the point, you raggedy freak. I don’t have time for this.” Growled Silver Spoon, still remembering the threat she had made earlier. “Get on with it!!!”
A sigh came from within the otherwise motionless cloak. “I’ve heard from a far less than reliable source that you’re one of the best thieves in the country. I’m just trying to make up my own mind.”
Silver Spoon kicked the other pillow away from the table and dropped to the floor across from the cloaked unicorn. “I’m the best, freak. Got something in mind I might be interested in?”
“Perhaps.” Said the cloaked unicorn, cocking her head to the side in a way that somehow telegraphed a cruel smile through her mask. “I doubt this needs an introduction.”
Silver Spoon’s eyes widened as she stared at the crude sketch that had been placed in front of her. It looked like it had been scrawled by a five year old, but there was no mistaking what was on the crumpled sheet of paper. There was only one thing in Equestria that looked like it. A delicate-looking tiara decorated with rounded sapphires polished to sheer grandeur, and topped with a perfectly cut six-pointed purple diamond. It once belonged to the Queen of Equestria, and had been passed onto her protégé many years ago. It was the most valuable hunk of gold in the country, drooled over by every thief and bandit to have ever lived but so valuable and recognizable that one would never be able to sell it.
“This crown belongs to the Princess of Equestria. I want it.”
Silver Spoon stared into the shaded glasses in front of her for just a second, before bursting out into rude laughter in the cloaked unicorn’s face. “You want me to waltz into the royal palace and steal that? I’m done here, but thanks for the laugh.” She stood and began to walk away.
“This is so heavy. Too bad I have to carry it all back.” Said the cloaked unicorn in a seductive tone, followed by the easily recognizable clunk of bits being dropped onto the table.
Silver Spoon didn’t bother to turn or look. She stopped briefly to adjust her glasses and aim a vulgar gesture in the direction of the voice, then continued moving.
“Such a shame. I suppose my source was wrong about you. Not that I expected much from you, I mean, look at you.”
Silver Spoon turned back, grinning ear to ear at the cloaked unicorn. “Are you honestly trying reverse psychology on me? Too bad your ‘source’ didn’t tell you I have a brain in my head.” She pointed her knife at surprisingly large bag of bits on the table. “And you’d have to pay at least twice that to get anypony to try. Me?” She paused long enough to estimate how much was in the bag, “I might think about it for thrice.”
“Four times as much.” The cloaked unicorn said in a completely humorless tone.
The corner of Silver Spoon’s grin quivered as she repeated it in her head. “Ooooh… that’s a lot of money.” She said, licking her lips as she spoke.
“Yes… it is... So what do you say?”
Silver Spoon hemmed and hawed for a moment. She loved seeing exactly how much she could squeeze out of a pony in exchange for a job, but this time she honestly hadn’t expected to be dealing with somepony who would just casually throw money around. That was an absurd amount of cash, even considering what her target was. Slipping into Equestria’s palace and stealing from a princess, especially that princess, what not very high on her to-do list, and yet for such an obscene amount of cash it was almost worth it.
“I’m not going to lie, it won’t be easy. But…” The cloaked unicorn trailed off, looking Silver Spoon up and down once more, “my less than reliable source did nothing but praise your abilities to slip into places unnoticed. I figure if anyone can do it, it’s you…”
The bag on the table must have held more money than Silver Spoon had ever seen, as a bandit or as the spoiled brat of a rich Canterlot unicorn. Four of them were up for grabs, and she wanted the money so badly she could actually taste it. She stood motionless, wondering if she actually could pull it off, and her mouth crept into a cruel smile.
The cloaked unicorn tittered in a tone that rivaled the eeriness of the surroundings and sent a chill down Silver Spoon’s spine. Although dripping with cash, this… thing was giving her a serious case of the creep. She had experience dealing with bad ponies in the past; ones so corrupt and cruel that it frightened and even disgusted her. It was just par for the course for one with her lifestyle and no real standards to attract such company. But this thing, from its always calm and seductive tone to its inequine clothing somehow redefined creepy.
“So I take it you’ll do it?” said the cloaked unicorn and, taking Silver Spoon’s silence as a yes, she continued, “Good. Now take a look.”
The thing flipped the crude drawing over, revealing an equally crude map sketched on the back. Silver Spoon wouldn’t have been able to make heads or tails of it had she not once lived there: It was a map of Canterlot’s upper west side, near the palace. Her lip quivered with mild irritation when she recognized the street on the map where she had lived as a filly, but the bad memories of her foalhood were cut off by the circle marked in one of the alleyways.
“Listen very closely,” Said the cloaked unicorn in a suddenly professional and serious tone, “There is a sewer entrance here. You’ll be able to get into the caves beneath Canterlot. They are abandoned and long forgotten, and won’t even be guarded. You’ll be able to get right into the inner palace without any problems.”
“Long forgotten, huh?” said Silver Spoon with a raised eyebrow, “Except by you? Isn’t that a touch too convenient?”
She sighed deeply. “Yes. Let’s just say I spent some time down there. More time than I would have preferred, actually.”
The vague answer was good enough for Silver Spoon. As odd as it seemed that this thing knew about caves that nopony else knew about, nothing else about her was normal. Somehow Silver Spoon just accepted it and gave a small nod of approval.
“Once you’re inside the palace, of course, you’re on your own. However, you shouldn’t have too many problems. Trust me; the inner palace has very few guards.” Her voice turned sly and she giggled as she spoke, “And you’re the best. You should be able to handle it.”
And how, pray tell, would you know what the palace interior is like?
She didn’t bother to ask; she honestly didn’t care. “As long as there’s as much cash in there as I think.” Said Silver Spoon as she reached for the bag of bits on the table.
“Uh uh uhhh.” Said the cloaked unicorn playfully as she scooped the bag up and stuffed it into one of the countless folds on her cloak. “If you don’t make it, I’ll need this to pay somepony else. I’m not made of bits.”
Silver Spoon glared in silence for a moment before flexing her pasterns and cracking the joints. “Fine. I only hope your ‘source’ was reliable enough to tell you what happened to the last pony that tried to stiff me.”
The cloaked unicorn nodded and ran her hoof across her neck with a grim gagging noise.
“Looks like we have a deal, freak.” She stood and walked across the room to retrieve her knife which was still embedded into the wall. “It’ll take me a solid day to reach Canterlot from here. I’ll slip into the city by daylight, get some sleep and a meal, and then head out after curfew to make the grab. Where are we making the trade? I’m not about to carry that thing around any longer than I—”
And she trailed off as she turned around, letting the knife fall to the floor with shock. The freak in the cloak had vanished; somehow she had left the room silently and without Silver Spoon noticing, and in only a matter of seconds. She picked her knife up and cautiously surveyed the room with it in her teeth. There was nothing: no sign whatsoever that the freak had ever been there except for what lay on the table. Along with the map that had been left behind was a messily-written note, held down by a hoofful of bits.
‘I’ll find you in Broncton when you have it. Have a meal on me.’
Below that was the address of an al fresco diner which Silver Spoon still vaguely remembered from her foalhood, and a scrawled drawing of a heart.
“Why not?” she said with a shrug. “I’m not too proud to refuse charity.” Silver Spoon stuffed the small sum of money and map into her pocket and left the ruined building, eager to turn her tail on this eerie place once and for all. As she left the building she found herself wondering why such a sneaky creature that obviously knew its way around the palace couldn’t simply steal the crown for itself.
Just as the weather ponies had promised, the weather had been just perfect for their trip. The wind was soothingly warm and blew just gently enough to make the surrounding trees wave gently, and the sounds of birds singing in fond gratitude filled the air. The sun was beginning to set in the sky, dyeing the unfamiliar landscape in a rather peaceful orange ambience. The two reunited friends had been walking for hours now, stopping only twice to eat, and yet somehow not a single word had been said between them the entire trip. Scootaloo had so many things she wanted to say, and so many things she wanted to hear, but for some reason she couldn’t get a single word out.
Ten times. What is wrong with me?!
It was all too apparent what a lifetime of living as a transient had done to her ability to make small talk. She rarely socialized with others anymore; her tattered appearance and drifting lifestyle tended to make others see her as a hobo and dismiss her without even a word. Sometimes ponies would take pity on her and give her money, and sometimes ponies would listen long enough for her to offer to do odd jobs for a bite to eat or a hoofful of bits, but it had been years since she had actually sat somepony down and had a conversation. This was no random pony, though. This was her foalhood friend, not a pony she had to be quiet around. Not being able to speak was troubling Scootaloo so much that she had started keeping track of how many times she simply couldn’t open her mouth and do so.
Eleven times.
Apple Bloom hadn’t said a word the entire time either; she was being unusually quiet. As far as Scootaloo thought, at least. Admittedly she had trouble remembering exactly what Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle had been like. Simply too much time had passed. Despite this she seemed to remember that Apple Bloom had been a rather outspoken little spitfire in her youth, and this silence was more than uncomfortable.
And I know exactly what it is…
She had caught the look of pure sorrow Apple Bloom had sent her way earlier, but had acted as if she hadn’t noticed. It was obvious their fight was eating her friend up inside, and she just wanted to leap on her friend with a big hug and tell her it was okay and she was just glad they were together again. And yet…
Twelve times.
Even if that had never happened, Scootaloo couldn’t help but wonder if they still would have made this trip without saying a word. Time had left a rift between them: a wound in their friendship that would take time and care to heal. Her friend was no longer the bouncing filly she had once been; the happy little earth pony that always seemed to have a skip in her step now moved slow and deliberately, with a very noticeable limp in her left foreleg. The familiar accent she once spoke with, a high-pitched southern drawl, had deepened and now had a faint rasp to it. Even the accent had somehow changed, at least as far as Scootaloo could remember. It sounded almost foreign now.
The ambience of nature began to fade and give way to the scattered sounds of hooves on cobblestone streets and the faint chatter of ponies as the duo entered Broncton. They passed a pair of Royal Guards standing near a sign. One of them, a unicorn with what may have been a toothpick in his teeth, looked the pair of ponies up and down with cold disinterest before nodding sternly when Scootaloo made eye-contact with him. The other, an earth pony, continued to stare off into space with a scowl on her face.
Scootaloo nodded back to the pair while Apple Bloom stared forward and didn’t break stride. Feeling relieved that the two guards hadn’t shown any interest in them, she slowed her pace and let herself fall somewhat behind her friend. Apple Bloom knew where she was going and what she was going to do, and Scootaloo was content to fall behind and be the follower. Somehow it was a strange feeling: she had been alone for so long that it just felt odd, though not at all bad, to let another lead the way. Even knowing that their destination was a ‘pony that had paid a lot of money’ to get her hooves on her did little to quell the serene feeling that came from travelling with a friend—
—Until Apple Bloom, without so much as changing her expression, turned abruptly and walked up the path to a small house. Scootaloo stopped and tried to believe the sight before her eye: they were confronting the pony that put a bounty on her head… in a single-story cottage? A quiet click snapped Scootaloo out of her stupor; Apple Bloom had pulled a key from her vest and unlocked the door.
It’s her house. Of course.
And suddenly an overwhelming urge to scream out loud came over Scootaloo. She had walked past this very house not much more than a week ago. The sudden realization that she could have reunited with Apple Bloom much earlier and avoided the fight completely had she just stayed in Broncton a little longer fell on her like a pile of bricks, and an exasperated groan escaped her.
Apple Bloom looked over her shoulder and looked eyes with Scootaloo, with a look of utter bemusement for Scootaloo’s outburst. “Be it ever so humble.” She said with a faint wisp of humor. She took several steps inside and, seeing that Scootaloo hadn’t moved an inch, she looked back once more. “Sorry, sugar. Ah didn’t get the chance to sleep last night. Don’t be shy, make yourself at home.”
Smiling at the sound of that, Scootaloo entered and was hit by a wall of heat. The deceptively small steam-radiator in the corner of her quaint home must have been cranked to full but somehow Apple Bloom let out a sigh of pure relief as she stood in the middle of the sauna she called a home, stretching and cradling her head back under the blanket of heat they had entered. She wrenched her head back and forth with a loud 'crack' each time, unbuttoned her vest and let it drop to the floor, and slumped down on a pale pink cushion near a small table. She uncorked and guzzled from a bottle of brown, syrupy liquid while Scootaloo looked around curiously. It was a small bachelor suite, honestly not much bigger than their old clubhouse from their youth, but with a door at the rear of the building that no doubt led to a bathroom. The home was nearly devoid of furniture or personal effects; there was no doubt that Apple Bloom hadn’t lived there for very long. The corner of the room was home to the world’s most inviting bed, which Scootaloo practically leered at for a moment. It wasn’t made and had been left in a heap from its last use, but any bed looked good to Scootaloo: she hadn’t slept in one in years. Across the room from the bed was the table where her friend sat drinking, and a small kitchen area. A ways away from that was a large green duffel bag that lay amongst some assorted clothing on the floor. ‘A. Bloom 07031992’ was stenciled on the side in bright yellow paint, which Scootaloo stared at lost in thought—
—And out of nowhere a glass bottle sloshed in front of her face. Almost flinching away she turned to see her friend holding whatever she was drinking out, silently offering a sip with a friendly expression. Suddenly realizing how thirsty she was, Scootaloo gulped back a mouthful and nearly choked on the unholy thing she had just inflicted on her body. It was a taste like nothing other she had endured, like burnt toast with molasses that somehow stung at the same time. She fought back a wretch and managed to swallow what could have easily been mistaken as poison while Apple Bloom watched with a small but thoroughly amused grin on her face.
“Eeyup…” she said, chuckling lazily. “Your first bourbon’ll do that.”
Scootaloo coughed and croaked out an indescribable raw vocalization of disgust, and somehow kept from throwing up. “’Bourbon’?! You mean it’s alcohol?! Apple Bloom!” She hollered in a thoroughly disappointed tone.
Apple Bloom simply shrugged unapologetically and somehow took a large clean swig from her bottle of poison.
That’s one way to break the silence…
“What happened to you, Apple Bloom?” Scootaloo blurted out stupidly, having been given the will to speak from Apple Bloom’s swill. “That night, I mean. You and Sweetie Belle just… vanished.”
Apple Bloom took one more long drink from her bottle and locked eyes with Scootaloo. Her expression hadn’t changed, it was the same stern look that had been on her face since they were reunited, but somehow Scootaloo could feel sorrow radiating from it like smoke from a fire. She sighed sadly, and began to speak…
Many years ago
Ponyville, Equestria
Apple Bloom’s eyes were bolted shut in pure terror. She held as tight as her young legs could to her brother’s back as he ran, burying her face into his mane and holding her sister’s hat over her head. It was all around her: horrible sights and sounds and she wanted them to go away. She couldn’t see, wouldn’t see, but all around were the sounds of blasts and screaming ponies. They were the same ponies that had been so happy and calm only a few hours ago, and now they were screaming in fear for their very lives.
She didn’t understand what was happening. So many things had happened so quickly and everything had been turned upside down. The adults had tried to shelter her and her friends from what had happened: some had minced words and tried to soften the blow while others had simply avoided the topic altogether, but Apple Bloom was old enough to see through to the truth. Princess Celestia had passed away. She didn’t know how or why, but somehow after thousands of years of watching over them and leading them with kindness Princess Celestia was gone. Applejack’s friend Twilight Sparkle had stepped up and was doing her absolute best to help Princess Luna preside over Equestria, and of course Applejack and her circle of friends were doing their best to support Twilight in what was a difficult time for everypony. All of that she understood.
What she didn’t understand was why Twilight Sparkle and Princess Luna were now fighting. It was late, and she had just been tucked into bed by her brother when it started. The two titans were clashing in the center of Ponyville, throwing everything they had at each other and so blindly intent on killing one another that they were ignorant to the damage they were causing. She didn’t know where Applejack or Granny Smith were; Big McIntosh had grabbed Applejack’s hat and shoved it over her eyes before scooping her up and tearing out of the farmhouse with her as fast as his legs could carry him.
She felt her brother zigzag left and right and heard terribly loud ‘BANGS’ beside them, so loud that she had felt them in her teeth, but didn’t open her eyes. He jumped and hit the ground, and she could only pray he wasn’t jumping over a pony that hadn’t quite made it. He ran only a bit farther before his heavy hooves slowed from a dead run to a gallop, and finally to a stop. Apple Bloom still couldn’t open her eyes; they had outrun the terrible blasts but they were still happening in the distance.
“Thank goodness yer here. Ah can’t think of a faster way to get out of this place.” Said her brother.
“I figured you’d come this way. Where’s your sister and grandmother? There’s no way I’m staying any longer.” Said an unfamiliar voice.
Apple Bloom felt herself be lifted by Big McIntosh’s strong legs and was placed on the ground. He gently pulled Applejack’s hat back and away from her eyes, and she cautiously opened them to find her brother’s face staring back at her.
“Apple Bloom.” He said, his normally lazy voice shaky and full of concern, “You listen an’ you listen good. Yer gonna get on this boat an’ he’s gonna take you all the way to the docks. Yer gonna get on the next ferry to leave. You understand?”
Apple Bloom whimpered quietly between words. “But… what’s going on, and where’s Applejack?! And Granny Smith?! And what about you?! Aren’t y’all coming with me?! I don’t wanna go alone! I—”
“Shh. We’ll be right behind you. Ah’m gonna go an’ get ‘em. We’ll all follow along after you. What Ah need is for you to be a big mare for me, and go on ahead by yerself. Ah’m not risking you getting’ hurt.”
She didn’t want to go. She was so afraid and she didn’t want to be alone, but her brother always knew best. She did her best to nod amidst her fearful trembling and he scooped her up, cuddling her tight against his huge chest.
“Ah love you, Apple Bloom. Always will. So does yer sister an’ yer granny. That’s why we’re sendin’ you on ahead.”
She wanted to stay in his chest until it was all over, even as he carried her and placed her on the small boat with the stallion she had never seen before. The boat began to move and she watched her brother slip into the distance as the current carried it down the river. As the river snaked around the tree line and he faded from sight, she could see tears streaming down his huge red face.
Present Day
Apple Bloom interrupted her story long enough for one more drink of her alcohol. “Ah never saw any of them again.”
“But where did you go? Who took care of you?”
She hesitated for a moment, and finished her drink. “Let’s just get some sleep, Scoot. You can have the bed if you want, Ah saw you eyeing it.” She corked the empty bottle and turned to face Scootaloo with a teasing smirk. “Shower first, though. You smell like you need one.”
Scootaloo felt her entire face turn red, to Apple Bloom’s obvious amusement. As much as she wanted to hear more, Apple Bloom clearly didn’t feel like talking and, admittedly, a hot shower would feel amazing.
Just don’t think you’re getting off that easy. Once I’m done in that shower you’re talking, so get ready.
She nodded in agreement and Apple Bloom gestured to the room at the back. She stripped off her clothes and deliberately turned her face away from Apple Bloom as she headed to the bathroom, not wanting her friend to see her bad eye. The door she went through led to a small, nondescript bathroom with nothing but the bare essentials and a lingering scent of cheap soap in the air.
Heaven.
Scootaloo hadn’t had a proper bath or shower in years. She kept clean, of course: there was always a creek or river or even a fountain to scrub up in, but a proper shower with hot water sounded like just about the greatest thing in the world.
She was absolutely right.
The hot water rained down over her, massaging her weathered face and rolling over her back while it coursed through her mane and tail. It was like everything had washed away with the dirt, leaving a new mare behind. She felt reborn and, as she hurriedly dried off so she could get back to her old friend and catch up, she found herself making eye contact with the one-eyed mare in the mirror and felt a surge of pride take her over. She stopped just quickly enough to spread her wings in a quick pose and admire herself. With a skip in her step she exploded from the small bathroom ready to sit her friend down and properly catch up—
—Only to find that Apple Bloom had dozed off. A surge of disappointment shot through Scootaloo at the sight of her friend curled up on the floor and cuddling a pillow, with her hat pulled over her eyes. She wanted nothing more than to reacquaint with her friend, but simply couldn’t bring herself to disturb her friend’s slumber. Instead she pulled one of the blankets off of the bed and tucked it around Apple Bloom.
“Good night, Apple Bloom.” She whispered gently. With a proper reunion to look forward to she, for the first time in years, crawled under the covers of a proper bed and fell asleep in moments.
As the dark of the night laid its cool blanket over the land, the normally bustling city had grown quiet and still. When the sun began to set, the populace of ponies closed their businesses and quit work for the day, and headed for hearth and home and to the families that awaited them within. The only ones left on the streets were the Royal Guards as they made their rounds and patrolled the streets, reminding those indoors of their leader’s grip over the land. A city-wide curfew was in effect from sundown to sunrise in Canterlot, effective for anypony that was not employed by Equestria’s government. On the now abandoned street, the door to the Royal Equestrian Air Force’s office opened and let the light from within spill into the darkened city.
“Ugh. We missed curfew.” Said the pale yellow pegasus with the blue mane.
“Yep.” Said the pale blue pegasus with the brown mane, rolling his eyes as he spoke. “Got your ID?”
The two pegasi walked out into the street, both lamenting that they had to work late and didn’t get home before curfew. They hadn’t even changed out of their gray flight suits, hoping the time they would save not fighting their way out of their unit’s issued drab uniforms would be enough to get home before sunset, but it was a futile gesture. They both knew they would be halted and forced to show their identification to every guard that spotted them.
“Why do they insist on carding us?!” Said the yellow pegasus. “We’re in bloody uniform! They know who we are!”
The other chuckled and patted his friend on the shoulder. “They have their reasons, Pinstripe. Apparently a couple of those Rainbolt clowns got their hooves on some of our uniforms a ways back and wreaked some serious havoc.”
Pinstripe pulled his goggles down around his neck. “Seriously, Sandback?”
“I don’t know the details. You remember Windswept? She told me about it.”
“Who?”
“Right, right, you replaced her, I think.” Said Sandback, who then patted his stomach. “Hey, you hungry? Let’s grab a bite.”
“Where?! Everything’s closed!”
Sandback pulled his goggles off and hung them from the small loop on his chest. “Not Lacey’s. She lives on the second floor of the place and keeps it open late for us and the guards.”
“Blast it, Sandback!” Yelled a clearly irritated Pinstripe.
“Yep.” Chuckled Sandback. “Lacey’s daughter is in our sister squadron.” His chuckles erupted into laughter. “We even get a discount!”
“Why am I just learning this now?!”
Sandback scoffed and swatted Pinstripe’s goggles. “Because you’re the rookie?”
“I’ve been in this unit for a year now!”
“Like I said. Rookie.”
Pinstripe forced a mocking laugh. “Eat it, Sandback.”
“Speaking of eating, are we doing this? C’mon, I’m hungry.”
“Lead the way, jerk.”
The two pegasi let the door close, shrouding the streets in darkness once more. They took to the sky and flew south toward a hot meal and out of sight, and the streets were silent once more. Then, from amongst a pile of trash in an alleyway, came movement.
“So much for stealing a uniform.” Muttered Silver Soon, as she brushed a wet scrap of paper from her shoulder. “Won’t do me much good if the guards are checking everypony regardless.”
Silver Spoon had held herself motionless in an inequine shape and kneeled in the shadows, letting her green hoodie and gray vest render her invisible against the trash that had been strewn against the side of a building and listened to the two pegasi talk. Her plan was simple: rough up an airpony as he left their headquarters and, thanks to the darkness hiding her lack of wings, pose as one of the R.E.A.F. and walk nonchalantly past any guards and to her destination. She knew the best way to enter a place where one didn’t belong was not to be unseen, but unnoticed. As long as she looked and acted like she belonged there, nopony would pay her any mind.
“Good thing you have a big mouth, Pinstripe.” She said cruelly. “You probably just save both of our lives with that yap of yours.”
Plan A was ruined, but she thought little of it. Instead she’d simply slip in and out without being seen at all, which she was more than prepared to do. Other than mugging a Canterlot snob of her dress and giving herself a makeover, she had slept all morning to get ready for tonight. After trying—
And enjoying—
—the recommended diner, she had spent her afternoon gadding about the streets in her stolen dress and carefully watching guards do their daily rounds. Even now at night, despite their dutiful effort, they were poor sentries at best who obviously enforced curfew through presence and intimidation rather than actual seek and arrest. The unicorn guards were the main force; they walked the streets casting beams of white light from their horns to illuminate wherever they aimed it, which also announced to the world where they were making them easy to avoid. Using that light also kept their eyes from adjusting to the dark; they’d never see anything in their peripheral vision. The pegasi guards were busy flying overhead, but everything from awnings to carts and even narrow alleys would keep them from seeing her at the speed they were moving. The only real threats were the earth pony guards: For the most part they were stationary sentries but some roved the streets. They would have an easy time spotting her under only the light of the stars and were at ground level where they could easily slip up on her if she didn’t watch her back.
She sprinted across the street and ducked behind a souvenir stand, flattening against the wall to stay out of sight. She had timed this guard’s patrol; he took almost two full minutes to walk his route, and with perfect timing she saw a crisp beam of light turn the corner and heard his armor clink past. Silver Spoon waited until he was a ways ahead of her on the street and followed him with slow, relaxed movements which would be difficult to see or hear in the dark, skirting the buildings to stay out of sight from the pegasi above. The guards all had timed routes that rarely intersected; Silver Spoon knew if she followed this guard she ran no real risk of being seen, and his route would take her right past the sewer entrance she needed to reach.
The guard stopped ahead of her, waved his searchlight left and right in a half-hearted manner, and turned left down the street. Silver Spoon forced herself to wonder if the guards inside the palace were this lackluster; she had to keep her mind off other thoughts as she slipped down this street. Halfway to her destination, she couldn’t help but stop in front of a familiar building. Once, in another time, when she had been a different pony, this had been her home. It now obviously belonged to another family: she could hear faint but pleasant chatter coming from the illuminated windows, accompanied by the rather jolly giggling of a young filly. Lost in the moment a downpour of memories flooded through her mind. Constant criticisms from her unpleasable father and endless whining from her gasbag of a mother echoed through her head like taunting laughter from the shadows and an angry grimace appeared on her face. In one instant she forgot where she was and lost control, and an angry feral growl came from deep within her chest.
“Who’s there?!”
—And she was diving out of the way. Instinct took over and hurled her body to her belly, guiding her into a roll under a clothed table outside a coffee shop. Less than a heartbeat later a blade of light slashed through the darkness and illuminated the very spot where she stood, wobbling as the guard she had been tailing kept it as steady as possible while he ran to investigate. Silver Spoon quietly thanked the powers that be that she had been tailing a unicorn; an earth pony or pegasus would have spotted her leaping under the table for sure. Her relief was short-lived and she cursed herself silently for being so stupid while watching the dancing silhouette of the guard against the tablecloth where she sought refuge.
Wrong place wrong time. Pull your head out of your rear and shape up.
Silver Spoon had been caught red-hooved on the job before. She had been surrounded by sentries, beaten to within an inch of her life, but always managed to escape, albeit scathed, but still in one piece. This scenario was different, and if she could she would give herself a beating for dropping her guard for such a stupid reason. She had no doubt she could beat two, probably even three guards in a straight fight, but not without causing a ruckus. She’d have reinforcements on her tail and would have no choice but to turn and run. Normally even that wouldn’t be an issue, except this was no normal job. She was sneaking into the palace of The Queen. The same Queen who was willing to turn on her mentor, her friends, and even her own family just to sit her butt down on the throne. Silver Spoon had made quite a reputation for herself over the past few years, and if she was spotted trying to sneak into the palace they would recognize her for sure. Even if she got away, she would be marked and her life would be forfeit.
It’s not worth it. It’s not too late to just take off.
Silver Spoon felt like she had a revelation, as she sat there and watched the guard’s silhouette follow him back to his patrol route. She took a brief moment to make sure the coast was clear, darted after him silently, and ducked down the alley where she would gain access to the sewers. For the first time since she agreed to steal the crown, she truly questioned what she was about to do. She was about to steal a symbol of the country itself from a royal family that had nursed itself on the blood of two entire kingdoms. From a queen that had fought Princess Luna one on one, and won, and from a princess that was well known to be a chip off the old block despite being adopted.
And you’re about to make an enemy of both of them. Tell the freak you aren’t doing it and go home.
As quickly as her revelation had come, her nightmares returned to her as well. Ponyville residents strewn about, dead and dying, on that night all those years ago. Young, old, male, female, it didn’t matter. She had walked through a gallery of murder that night, and it had taught her exactly how cheap life truly was. You could spend your life slaving away and working hard to make an honest bit like those who lived in Ponyville, you could spend your life being a hedonistic ass with your inheritance like her parents, or you could shoot for the moon and spend your life doing and taking whatever caught your fancy and killing anypony that tried to stop you. No matter how you toiled away your existence, your time would come when it was meant to and there was nothing anypony could do about it.
With that thought she smiled. She somehow felt at peace with that thought in a way she could never explain, not even to herself. The feeling wrapped around her like true love’s embrace and she happily lifted the ponyhole cover and jumped into the sewers below.
Splash!
Silver Spoon shuddered inwardly as she sank just past her shoulders in the cool, murky water that flowed lazily through the confined sewers. Her landing had kicked up a musty stench that, despite knowing it wasn’t sewage, made her gag regardless. She forced herself to remember that it was just a storm drain and all she was walking through was runoff from the streets, and began a slow trek in the direction she had been told about. Moving through water silently, though simple enough and well worth it to avoid the guards, was a painstaking effort because of how slow she had to move to keep from splashing. If the guards heard her traipsing through the sewers, she would be trapped and have no choice but to surrender. Not an option.
“…wanna ask her out.”
“The Inspector?! Are you kidding me?”
Silver Spoon stopped and peered up through a storm to find two guards either on break or slacking off, and chatting pleasantly.
“Yeah.” Said the one guard, who watched his friend’s reaction for a moment before continuing. “What?”
“Well… She’s… you know, big.”
“So?”
“You two!” said a third guard, a pegasus, as he landed in front of them.
“Starlight! What’s wrong?”
“We’ve got trouble.” Said Starlight. “A pegasus and a unicorn were spotted in breach of curfew. The Captain wants additional roving patrols in sweep formation, and twice the sentries at the Palace Exterior. We’ve been reposted to Point Six.”
Silver Spoon had to fight the urge to laugh out loud; she might as well have won the lottery with this turn of events. The guards could waste their time fortifying and searching the exterior for those two morons while she slipped easily into the unguarded Palace Interior and stole the crown. And perhaps a bonus for herself, if the opportunity presented itself.
And I get the loot while those two take the blame.
Escaping afterward could be tricky with the extra guards, but nothing was stopping Silver Spoon from hiding out in the sewers and waiting after she made the grab. The crown would be noticed missing, the guards would start a hunt for the pegasus and unicorn assuming they already hadn’t captured them, and Silver Spoon could practically dance out of the city in broad daylight dressed in stolen clothes. The freak in rags could wait the extra day or two; after all it was the Princess’ crown.
“Is it really that serious?” Said one of the guards.
“Serious enough that the Captain himself is on his way to head the search. Word is, it might be them.”
Silver Spoon felt a rare rivet of fear anchor itself in her stomach, not from the way the guard said ‘them’ but at the thought of their captain spotting and recognizing her. She had heard more than a few unsettling rumors about this ‘Captain Rumble’ alongside the usual horror stories told in dark alleys about the Queen and Princess. Unsettling enough that if even half of them were true, she’d rather face an entire phalanx of guards than even come face to face with him.
Screw waiting. Get in, get out.
She moved on, vaguely aware of the fading sounds of hooves and flapping wings as the guards above scrambled to their posts. Her progress was slow, but steady, and eventually she came to the place she had been told about. In front of her where the passage split off left and right was an otherwise unassuming spot on the wall where the brick had collapsed to reveal the dirt behind it. Just as she had been told the dirt dug away easily and revealed a tunnel behind it, just wide enough for her to fit through. She shuddered at the thought of crawling through it, but without any hesitation she bent low and pulled herself through the narrow passage.
“I think… I think we… made it…” said Rainbow Dash between deep gulps of air.
Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy slowed to a trot a fair distance from Ponyville, and looked over their shoulders to make sure Scootaloo was keeping up. They had to make their escape on the ground since Scootaloo couldn’t fly yet and it would have been far too dangerous to try and carry her the entire way.
Scootaloo was near exhaustion, but still somehow found the strength to pounce and hug Rainbow Dash’s leg. “Dashie!!! I’m scared!” she cried, “Where’s mom?! Where is my mom?!”
The two mares didn’t answer her. They only exchanged sorrowful glances through teary eyes before looking back in the direction they had come from. In the distance they could still hear the battle ensuing in Ponyville. It had slowed down as Twilight Sparkle and Princess Luna were wearing themselves down and injuring one another in such a long fight, but bursts of magic and explosions continued to roar in the distance and ignite the sky with terrible fireworks.
“C’mere, kid…” said Rainbow Dash in a caring tone. Her face was scuffed and dirty from their escape but somehow managed to wear a calm, compassionate smile. She sat flat on the ground and rested her hooves on Scootaloo’s shoulders, kneeling down to meet her eye-to-eye. “Everything’s going to be okay. I promise.”
Her sisterly face dissolved into the blur of tears that overtook Scootaloo. “What’s happening?! So many of them were just lying there not moving! Why’s this happening?! WHY?!”
Fluttershy took Scootaloo in her trembling front legs and held her to her chest with a quiet ‘shh’. Scootaloo wasn’t at all calmed by her heartfelt attempt; she could hear Fluttershy’s heart sputtering quickly through her chest. Everything had all happened so abruptly that she was disoriented and couldn’t understand what was going on. It had started as a normal enough day. She and her friends had spent the afternoon trying to earn their cutie marks at cross-country skiing, a task that no doubt would have been successful had there been snow. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle had both headed home, and Scootaloo stopped by their clubhouse to rest before walking the rest of the way home. Somehow she had fallen asleep and not awakened until after the sun had set, and began a sprint for home as fast as she could move.
Then it began.
A loud blast rocked the entire town and was followed by many more to come: countless explosions dotted the town while panicked ponies ran screaming every which way, shaking the very core of the normally serene town with chaos. Out of fear she had huddled underneath one of the bridges to stay hidden and had watched in horror as Princess Luna and Twilight Sparkle tore through the city locked in a vicious battle. Only luck had kept her alive long enough for Rainbow Dash to spot her and lead her away.
Fluttershy locked eyes with Rainbow Dash. “Rainbow, why is she doing this?! Why did—”
“DOWN!!!” screeched Rainbow Dash as she leaped onto Fluttershy and pulled both her and Scootaloo flat to the ground. A rogue burst of horrible bubbling black and blue roared above them and hit the ground about ten feet away from the trio, close enough to kick dirt and leaves all over them. Rainbow Dash held the other two down until she made sure it was clear and then let them stand up. Scootaloo cringed at the sight of whatever went past them: It almost looked like magic, but her heart told her it was something too terrible to be magic. She had never seen anything like it, and it horrified her.
Fluttershy stared at the crater it had left in the ground. “We… I… should have done something.” She said in a breaking voice, “She’d been acting so strange lately… and her horn… yesterday her horn was…”
“Fluttershy, take it easy.” Said Rainbow Dash. “We have to stay calm. We don’t know why this is happening, but we don’t have time to think about it now.” She looked over her shoulder at the chaos they had somehow outrun. “All we can do is let the princess stop her.”
Fluttershy wiped the tears from her eyes. “Y-you’re right, Dashie. But what can we do?”
Rainbow Dash stood tall and unfurled her wings. “We get as many ponies as we can out of Ponyville! They’re aiming at each other, not the townsponies; if we stay sharp we’ll be fine.”
Scootaloo wriggled free of Fluttershy’s scared grip. Dashie was right; this wasn’t the time to be afraid. Of course she was terrified, but Rainbow Dash always said it took true courage to stand up when you were afraid. “I’m coming too!”
“Scootaloo…” said Rainbow Dash in an almost motherly tone. “I need you to do something very important, okay? I need you to find a safe place to hide and guard it for me; we’re going to need a hideout for the ponies we save, okay?”
“But Dashie!”
“I know you’re brave, squirt. That’s why I can count on you to do this for me.” She took her goggles, the same ones she had been given after joining the Wonderbolts, and strapped them to Scootaloo’s forehead. “Here. This way everypony’ll know they can count on you. Right, Scoot?”
Scootaloo nodded fiercely and saluted. “Yes, ma’am!”
“Atta girl!” said Rainbow Dash proudly. “Hey Fluttershy. Are you ready to go?”
Fluttershy was still trembling, but nodded nonetheless. “L-let’s go.”
“RAINBOW DASH!!!”
The three pegasi looked every which way, trying to locate the source of the voice that was lost to the storm of terror that still roared over Ponyville. As if on cue, a blast from the town lit up the sky, illuminating the silhouette of a lone pegasus up on the hill.
Fluttershy sighed with relief. “Thank goodness. Somepony else made it.”
“It’s been a while, eh wingpony?” Said the pony in a colloquial tone as she walked into view to reveal herself as a pale blue pegasus with bright golden hair. “How’re the Wonderbolts treating you?”
Scootaloo hugged tight against Fluttershy’s leg. She wasn’t too young to realize that no pony should be this calm considering what’s happening. It was making the friendly tone of the pegasus’ voice seriously threatening.
“Lightning Dust…? Why are you here?” said Rainbow Dash.
“Been busy.” Said Lightning Dust, her tone turning from friendly to cold. “You know, even though you got me thrown out of the Wonderbolts and all.”
Rainbow Dash stepped in front of Scootaloo and Fluttershy. “This isn’t the time for that! If you’re looking to start something, that’s fine! Later! Can’t you see that ponies are suffering?! We have to help them!”
“Oh, don’t worry.” Chuckled Lightning Dust, as if she hadn’t even heard Rainbow Dash’s speech. “I’m past all of that. I’ve found something to keep me occupied. Made a few friends, too.” Another well-timed blast illuminated the hill once more, this time revealing the silhouettes of two more pegasi. The only detail Scootaloo could make out about the duo was that the thinner of the two seemed to be wearing a flight cap of some kind. “And one of those friends sent us out to go and find you, Dash. Ready to go and see her?” “Fluttershy.” Said Rainbow Dash quietly. “Take Scootaloo and get out of here. Now.” “But..” “Just do it.”
Fluttershy clutched Scootaloo to her chest and wrenched herself into the air as fast as she could, while Scootaloo struggled to break free and stay with Rainbow Dash. She heard three sets of wings flap furiously, headed straight for them.
“Sparkle wants the yellow one too!” yelled Lightning Dust, “You two after her; Rainbow Dash is mine!”
Doing as they were told, the two pegasi chased Fluttershy and Scootaloo as Rainbow Dash and Lightning dust faded into the darkness below them. Fluttershy gripped Scootaloo tightly as she flew with all her might, but was simply no match for the speed of the two pursuers who caught up quickly.
“Hey, c’mon!” taunted the flight cap pony, “We’se just gonna take you to your friend! You don’t gotta make it hard!”
Fluttershy twirled and kicked him in the face, sending him spiraling downward with a loud cry of pain. The other one, a gray stallion with an orange mane, grabbed Fluttershy from behind in a headlock trying to subdue her. The flight cap pony managed to bring himself around and grabbed onto her wing to pull her to the ground. Screaming with fear, Scootaloo lunged and bit onto the flight cap pony’s face. She ignored his holler of pain and sunk her teeth deeper into his eyebrow, tasting the unmistakable iron of blood. He pulled away and with a grunt of anger punched Scootaloo hard in the face—
—and she was falling. Out of one eye Scootaloo saw the three writhing ponies sailing upward into the sky above her as she plummeted helplessly to the ground. Fluttershy desperately screamed her name as she broke free and flew furiously toward her. The two pursuers didn’t give up; one of them hurled himself at her and tackled her far to the left, far away from saving Scootaloo. Lost in panic she flapped her wings as hard as she could, but could barely even slow her fall. She had only enough time to scream out loud before everything went black.
“MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!”
Scootaloo’s eye tore open as she screamed, only to find she wasn’t where she thought she was. She had only hit a hardwood floor after falling a couple of feet from the bed that had been given to her by the friend that had reappeared in her life. She was safe.
“A nightmare…” she mumbled sleepily, “Just a nightmare… just a nightmare…”
She fumbled to stand and fought the blankets that had cocooned around her as she thrashed in her sleep, and found that she was literally drenched in sweat. She threw the blankets off of her and spat loudly trying to get the taste of blood from her mouth: she had bit her tongue in her sleep. She stood in the room motionless, staring at nothing until her breathing had slowed down. The dream was already gone, exiled to that place where dreams go to be forgotten, but somehow the raw fear of death lingered on to haunt her.
Scootaloo shook her head and walked up to her still-sleeping friend to check if she had awakened. Apple Bloom hadn’t moved from the spot she had fallen asleep from, only turned onto her belly with her blanket held tight around her as if she was cold. Her hat had fallen from her head, with a trio of photographs poking out of the tattered lining within. Her fear almost entirely forgotten in an instant, Scootaloo curiously scooped them up.
The first of the three photos was tattered, weathered, and showered pure happiness over her, enough to wash away the terror left behind by her nightmare. It was a brand-new barn on Apple Bloom’s farm, with her entire family standing before it in a crowd. In the middle she could easily pick out Apple Bloom’s older brother and grandmother, and lying casually on her side in front of them was Apple Bloom’s sister. Scootaloo only had vague memories of the three, but what memories she had were all pleasant. Beside the trio was a lineup of fillies, led by two very familiar young ponies. One was Apple Bloom in her youth smiling and care-free with her ridiculously oversized bow, a sight which made Scootaloo laugh happily. The other was Apple Bloom’s cousin Babs Seed, who Scootaloo could only hope was still out there somewhere living a happy life. Still giggling, Scootaloo wished she had managed to keep a few photos herself and flipped to the next one—
—And found an image that only confused her. It was in much better condition than the last one, and featured a young Apple Bloom that couldn’t have been more than a couple of years older than she had been in the last one. She was smiling happily with her sister’s oversized hat on her head and her bow tied into a loose ascot around her neck, and standing beside two young zebras that appeared to be the same age as her. The one in the middle, a colt, was grinning ear-to-ear with his front legs wrapped around Apple Bloom and the other zebra’s shoulders, and the other, a filly, smiled warmly and wore a neckerchief similar to Apple Bloom’s . The odd trio stood on what would have looked like a farm if not for the odd metal contraption that sat behind them, riddled with pipes and hoses that ran every which way.
Trying to make sense of it, she flipped to the last photo and was only more confused by what she saw. It was obviously the most recent of the three photos; Apple Bloom didn’t look much younger than she did right now. Apple Bloom stood in the center wearing a faint ghost of a smile with a large bandage on her cheek, with her head leaning gently into the neck of the now much older zebra colt from the last photo. Beside the duo was the zebra mare from the last photo, lost in thought and glancing in the direction of the camera, and a large griffon with his beak somehow twisted into an almost geeky smile. They were all four wearing pale green coats, obviously uniforms of some kind, and Apple Bloom and the two zebras were all carrying the same odd popping weapons that Apple Bloom still carried with her today. The griffon had a similar weapon, though much longer and far more menacing in appearance. The group was posing in front of a large machine the likes of which Scootaloo had never seen: It was a large vehicle on treads, like a crane from a construction site, but covered in metal and fitted with a huge cannon which gave it a rather sinister and obvious purpose. Not a single thing in the photo looked normal, as if it had been taken in another world altogether.
Scootaloo stood for a moment, looking at the photos over and over until, like having a mountain fall on her, it all of a sudden hit her hard. Apple Bloom had left Equestria, she had found a family, and there was only one reason why she would have come back. Only one reason why her friend had so obviously avoided talking about it. Her new family was gone, and judging by the last photo they had left her very recently. Scootaloo’s stomach felt as if it had fallen into her legs, and she felt almost sick with guilt as she put the photos back and gently patted her still-sleeping friend’s head.
She didn’t want to think about it any longer. She slumped back to the bed and curled up under the covers. “Give me a good dream this time…” she pleaded as she rolled over and slipped off once more into slumber.
Silver Spoon felt absolutely sick to her stomach. The tunnel she slithered down was barely wide enough to accommodate her frame, and consisted of wet clay that slurped and sucked at her sides as she pulled herself through it. She felt like she was being pushed down the gullet of some horrible massive monster that had been dead long enough to make its innards cool and smell repugnant. Silver Spoon held her breath as best as she could, only taking in small puffs of air as sporadically as possible half out of fear of suffocation, and half to keep the foul odor out of her lungs.
Almost wish I do get caught for this. I deserve notoriety for enduring this.
The tunnel continued on seemingly into infinity, greedily swallowing her deeper and deeper into the bowels of Canterlot and Silver Spoon could only pray she was getting close. She had a vague idea of how close she was to the palace before she entered the tunnel, but by now it was like the pitch-black maw had devoured her concept of time and distance along with her. She had no clue if the tunnel was even straight, of how big these ‘long and forgotten’ caves were, which left her with absolutely no idea how long she would have to endure this. Her hoof slipped and her face fell directly into the cold wet clay, and her loud curse was consumed by the walls of the tunnel that seemed to grow tighter with each passing second. She stared at the imprint she had left in the clay, realizing she could somehow see the vague mold of her face in it, and looked ahead. From what appeared to be a gentle bend was a faint ray of light trickling into the tunnel.
About. Time.
She fought her way to the end to find rotten wood between her and freedom from the awful gullet she had spent too long squirming through. She gave it a solid punch with the sole of her hoof and managed to buckle it a good two inches despite the lack of room to rear up a proper strike. Twice and thrice she hit it, and on the fourth it collapsed and released a flood of dull blue light over her that seemed to cleanse her. She crawled out into freedom and took a quick glance at the barricade: it had been very carefully covered up and disguised to keep anypony from realizing there was a tunnel there.
An odd thing to do in a ‘long and forgotten’ cave.
After giving the crumpled barricade one final kick for good measure, she turned to have a look at this alleged shortcut into the palace and her jaw fell. She had expected a dilapidated tunnel, or perhaps an old waterway or underground river that fed one of the countless waterfalls that flowed from the lower parts of Canterlot and down into the valley below. Instead she found herself in a massive yawning cavern with numerous sprawling tunnels that travelled every which way and into the darkness that lingered in the distance. The area she was in was bathed in blue shimmering light reflected from some unseen source by the solid crystal that lined the walls that appeared to dance with faint flickers of white and purple as she turned her head and caught the glow from different angles. Looking straight up she couldn’t even see the ceiling; it was lost into darkness that lingered high above like black smoke.
For the first time in her life Silver Spoon was speechless. All she could muster was a genuinely astonished whistle which was thrown all around her by the towering cave walls before returning in an almost haunting echo. It wasn’t real; it was something out of a Daring Do novel. She half-heartedly expected to see torches burning in sconces on the walls, but at this point would not be at all surprised to encounter a pit of snakes or to find the crown on a pedestal and be chased by a massive rolling boulder for taking it.
Alright. Enough apprehension. You’re up to your withers in danger so get in and get out.
Silver Spoon flipped through her journal, rifling past old photos and notes until she came across the cloaked freak’s map. It was crudely and vaguely drawn to the point of being incomprehensible, with a single line marked ‘route’ leading to a crosshatched line labeled ‘M.C.T.’ She took a few steps and looked for the route to take, making no effort to keep quiet. Her hooves clacked loudly on the crystalline floor, making a sound reminiscent of pool balls ricocheting off of each other, and echoed loudly through the cavern. Nopony would ever hear her this deep underground especially with the acoustics of the cave reverberating her hoofsteps. Despite the size of the cave she quickly spotted an obvious route: the decayed ruins of what was probably a mine cart track that followed a tunnel that gently curved upward.
Pay dirt.
She jogged lightly up the tunnel, almost slipping twice on the slick glass-like crystal, and slowed to a stop after the second near-slip to marvel once more at the underground world she had discovered. She kicked the wall to dislodge a particularly bright red gem and pocketed it, knowing it would be a nice bonus to supplement the fortune the freak was going to give her, and briefly considered just ditching the job and instead making off with as many of these clearly valuable crystals as she could carry. The thought was quickly shrugged away; she knew nopony would simply abandon and forget a goldmine like this without a good reason.
Probably worthless. Or toxic. Or both, knowing my luck. All the more reason to hurry up and get this over with.
The tunnel coiled around and opened up into another oversized cavern like before, and Silver Spoon found herself with nowhere else to go. The tracks that led her up the tunnel ran clear off of a sheer drop and spiraled down into the blackness of a deep chasm, and there was no way she was attempting to descend it. Other than the tunnel she had just come from, the rest of the subterranean gallery she had found herself in seemed to have no exit. Walls of solid, window-like sheets of crystal reached upward and held up a grand ceiling of stalactites that hung down over her. The area was quite uneven, with almost unnatural cavities dug out of the crystalline floor and with large piles of shattered gems stacked into neat and very intentional piles.
And that smell…
She curled her nose up; she could smell something she didn’t like. It was a faint acrid odor in the air; an almost medicinal scent that lingered as if it belonged but was definitely not natural. Nothing in these caverns seemed ordinary, but this area was setting off alarm bells in her that told her to turn tail and run. That’s when it came, an echoing metronome that could only be the sound of hooves clapping slowly.
“I have to admit. I am genuinely impressed that somepony found their way into these caves.” Said a taunting but cheerful voice from all directions that followed the ominous clap.
Silver Spoon dropped low and twitched head around quickly in an unsuccessful attempt to locate the speaker. “Show yourself!” She yelled back in desperation, forcing her voice to sound confident to hide her unease.
“Who might you be?” Said the ponyless voice, sounding sterner than it had before, “Could that be what is left of Silver Spoon buried under those rags and that reprehensible mane?”
“Come out from behind the curtain and find out.” Said Silver Spoon, making every effort to keep her anger from getting the better of her. She knew better than to fall victim to this taunting; she could very well be in deep trouble and had to keep her composure until she knew what she was up against. Movement caught her eye and she looked: a ways above her on a small ledge stood a unicorn mare. The pony was pale violet, nearly matching the coloring of the surrounding crystals, with an almost golden mane that had been side swept over the left of her face and obscured a large round eye patch. Most of her body was covered in elegant clothing, all boasting the red-gray-black color scheme that Equestria had long-since adopted as it’s royal colors, and a number of scars only partially veiled by her clothing veined up and down her limbs and flank. On top of all this was the very regalia that Silver Spoon had been hired to steal. The crown.
Princess.
“You are quite famous lately. The real you, though, is no match for the legend if you will forgive my rudeness.”
Silver Spoon forced a chuckle. “Big talk for a pony that doesn’t even know me.”
The princess laughed warmly. “Oh, but I do. I still remember when you were Diamond Tiara’s little fawner. I remember the time I was one of the few ponies to attend your cute-ceañera because my mom forced me to.”
Silver Spoon tossed that thought around for a moment, and all of a sudden felt like she had been hit by a wall. Faded memories of a foalhood past came to her, filling her mind with images of that filly. The one that was always smiling and had that infamous nutbag for a mother. Silver Spoon rejected the idea that the princess, the one that had been mentored by the Queen and personally led the army that razed the Crystal Empire to the ground, was that pony. “Dinky Doo is the princess? I suffocated in that tunnel, didn’t I?”
The pony that claimed to be the now-grown daughter of Ponyville’s daffy old mail carrier curtseyed elegantly with a warm smile on her face.
Silver Spoon stood in near awe of the pony before her, juggling acceptance and denial that Dinky Doo was the princess she had been afraid of running into, before a cruel smile came onto her face. “You look like somepony took a cheese grater to you.” She said in a heckling tone. “What happened? Running with scissors? Lose a fight with a desk fan? Cut yourself shaving?”
Dinky’s demeanor didn’t change. Her pleasant smile widened just enough for her teeth to peek down from her lip. “Something like that.” She said with a quiet giggle. “It’s a rough road to the top, you know. No, I suppose you wouldn’t know.” She jumped blindly down in Silver Spoon’s direction, falling for what must have been close to thirty feet, before her horn glowed and slowed her descent into the gentle landing of a feather onto the spiraling mine cart track that vanished into the chasm. Fearlessly standing in the center of the abyss, she ran her hoof through her mane and smiled once more.
“Get yourself a tightrope and a clown nose, and you’ll be set for life. That’s a cute trick.”
“I am set for life, thank you very much. And I have had lots of practice. You would not believe how much time I spend down here practicing my spells. It’s the crystals; I love crystals. Their molecular arrangement makes them so… responsive… to magic.”
Her horn began to glow with a purple hue and one of the loose crystals rose upward and hung in the air before Silver Spoon’s face. It vibrated and glowed with an angry mauve, and burst in a small blast that blew Silver Spoon’s hood off of her head and overwhelmed her with that same acrid stench from before. She glared at Dinky for a moment, and pulled her hood back up.
“I found this place not long after my coronation,” Dinky continued, “and it became my little sanctuary from the pressures of everyday life. I have done everything in my power to preserve it as such…” her voice trailed off, becoming low and almost guttural with barely suppressed anger, “…so you’ll understand that it greatly irritates me that you decided it would be a convenient shortcut. I am not stupid; I know exactly why you are here. You are so full of yourself you honestly thought you could rob my palace.”
“Oh it’s your palace now? I thought you just cleaned the restrooms.”
Her voice was pleasant once more. “Funny mare.”
“Thanks. I’m here all week.”
“I hate to rain on your parade, but you will be lucky to see the dawn. You enter my sanctuary uninvited, and then have the sheer audacity to talk back to me. And yet, that thought gives me pause.”
“Ah. I had that once. There’s a special cream for it; fixes it up in less than a week. You might want to try washing down there more often.”
Dinky Doo’s lone eyebrow rose up; she was clearly unimpressed. “There are very few ponies that know of these caves, let alone of any way to enter them. Allow me to be blunt: You are not smart enough to find your way into these caves, and you are not stupid enough to try something like this on a whim. You had help getting in here. A little puppet master out there pulling your strings and making a very successful attempt at irking me. I want a name.”
“Yeah, alright.” Said Silver Spoon in a voice that dripped with sarcasm. “Said his name was Mark Mane. He’s stuck writing a book and needed a good setting for the Mysterious Stranger to reveal himself to Seppi.”
The very moment Silver Spoon finished speaking, Dinky was gone. She had moved like a ghost; vanishing silently like a blink. Before Silver Spoon could even move a silk-laden hoof rested gently on her shoulder and held her to the ground with an unexpected bolt of fear. “Please do not be like that.” Whispered a voice so close to her neck she could feel its breath. “Just tell me. For old time’s sake.”
Discomfort broke Silver Spoon’s composure and took control: she pulled free from the warm covered hoof with a loud shudder and drew a knife. In the time it took for her to turn around, Dinky was a good twenty feet away and standing casually with a smile.
“Somepony is playing games with us.” She said calmly. “If you tell me who, the revelation might just be so shocking that it would make me turn my back to ponder such things.” She turned around and looked up at the stalactite ceiling, “You just might have enough time to slip out the way you came and slink back into the gutter where you belong. Now, who told you?”
“John Swaybeck.”
“Make no mistake. Somepony is going to die for this. Slowly. Painfully. And it will be you, if you do not tell me exactly what I want to know. Last chance. Who sent you in here?”
“Your mother.”
An angry flicker sputtered from Dinky’s horn with a sound not unlike crumpling paper. “We may have had a passing relationship as foals, but do not for one second think I am a pony you can take lightly.”
Silver Spoon broke down into mocking laughter. “I’m not afraid of some pampered pansy of a princess. Here I was the entire trip down here worrying that I’d run into this infamous princess. I was actually scared of running into her. And then I do, and it’s just…” she interrupted herself to spit on the ground. “Dinky. Doo.”
Dinky ran her hoof through her mane once more with a heavy sigh. “Please do not say I did not try to be nice.”
Silver Spoon abruptly retched and gagged, and was wrenched violently off of the ground. She pawed frantically at her throat trying to rip free from the unseen force that dangled her in the air and held her windpipe shut, but there was nothing to grab onto.
“It did not have to end like this, but no matter. I would say it was nice knowing you, but quite frankly that would be a lie, which is wrong. Good-bye, Silver Spoon, and be a peach and say ‘hello’ to Diamond Tiara for me.”
Panic set in as Silver Spoon struggled fruitlessly against it, and she felt herself becoming lightheaded. She fought back the spots of black that danced in her vision, and with the last of her strength she lunged blindly at the voice with her knife—
—And she hit the ground after feeling the knife cut something with a coarse ripping sound. Gasping and heaving to fill her lungs she threw herself to her hooves, collapsed back to the ground, and was on her hooves again and running with all her might for cover. The princess, the one that had come so close to killing her, was screaming in panicked anger and covering her face where her eye patch had been.
“You sordid little dogger!!!”
Silver Spoon turned and threw her knife at the voice, which stopped abruptly and floated mere inches in front of the princess’ face. She had reacted and caught it mid-throw and she wasn’t even looking; she was busy tying her eye patch, the only thing Silver Spoon had managed to cut, back around her face.
Not good NOT GOOD.
She dove behind one of the piles of crystals and crawled as low and quickly as she could. Silver Spoon did not have an intimate understanding of magic, but she had fought with unicorns before. It was rare that a normal unicorn could even lift a full grown pony with magic alone, and even then it wasn’t difficult to break free. This unicorn, this thing, was an entirely different matter: The princess was more than capable of dangling her helplessly in the air and tearing her limb from limb if given the chance.
And I ticked her off. BIG TIME.
A loud blast roared with light that brightened the entire cavern, and the shattered remains of one of the crystal piles rained down. What followed was a haunting uneven cackle, like hooves on a noisy typewriter. “What’s wrong?! You know, I normally would never begrudge a pony for backing down from a fight. But after you made such a deliberate attempt to start one? Pathetic! Absolutely pathetic! You asked for a fight, so come out and get one you will never forget for as long as you live!” Another loud blast silenced the princess for a moment and created another downpour of crystal shards, “However long that may be, mind you.”
Silver Spoon was too smart to fall for her obvious bait. She had to keep out of sight to keep from being grabbed by her magic, and had to keep the princess talking while she stuck to the shadows and escaped.
“Tell me!” echoed the princess’ voice. “Are you scared of running into me yet, or is this all in good fun? How did you know I have a weakness for hide and seek?”
Another pile of crystals erupted with a thundering echo, and Silver Spoon was hit with the realization that her escape was across the room and she was running out of cover. Still breathing heavily she rummaged through her gear, praying she had brought something that could cover her escape. Knives were no good; the princess’ reflexes were too acute. Piano wire, useless. Chloroform, yeah right. Then she found it: something that might work. It was a small vial, holding a nice little mix of oxidants and oxidizers separated from the right reagent with a thin piece of glass. She had learned to make them years ago; throw it hard enough to crack the glass within and it makes a violently bright flash. The explosion of another pile of crystals cut of her train of thought, and Silver Spoon heard the soft sound of the princess’ covered hooves stepping on the crystalline floor and drawing uncomfortably close.
Screw escape. I’m dead no matter what I do; I’m taking that blasted crown and getting the credit for doing it!
She waited, listening to her own heart beat and the ominous sound of silk hooves moving closer. She waited, waited, until she couldn’t hold herself back and lunged out into the open. “Hey Dinky!!!” she screamed as she threw the bottle at a nearby pile of crystals, sending it ricocheting directly at the princess’s head.
FOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!
Silver Spoon shielded her eyes just in time, hoping, praying that it worked as she hoped. She expected to feel her windpipe pinch once more and braced, but instead heard the most satisfying sound she had ever experienced. Her eyes snapped open and the princess was roaring with pain and confusion, staggering unevenly with her hoof mashed against her good eye. Random fragments of crystals and stones were flying every which way at the whim of her magic, either from her attempts to balance or to blindly find the source of her agony. It was now or never: Silver Spoon ran at the princess and pounced onto her back, grasping her in a tight headlock.
“You are dead!!!” spat the princess in a blind rage, “There is nothing you can do to salvage your worthless life, do you hear me?! I’ll—”
Silver Spoon bit down on the princess’ horn, turning her threat into an agonized scream and rendering her magic useless. “Don’t bad-mouth Diamond Tiara!” she growled between her clenched teeth as she tightened her grip around the princess’ neck. “You like choking ponies?! How do you like it?! Huh?!”
The princess bucked and weaved in a failed attempt to shake Silver Spoon off of her back. She managed one final gurgling growl of pure malice and then crumpled under the weight. With a dull thud she fell to the ground unconscious.
Silver Spoon stood weakly, trembling from the adrenaline rush and the grim understanding that her victory was hollow. She was well aware that the princess was right. She was already dead. She had no other options; all she could do was pluck that stupid hunk of gold off of the royal heap on the ground and run for dear life. As she sprinted for freedom she told herself that she would pull through like always, that they would never track her down, and that she had been in worse trouble before.
The R.E.A.F Captain grumbled in protest of the dawn’s light and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he squinted under the glare of the sunrise peaking over the palace in the distance. He had taken leave. He had stayed up late with his family, and had every intention of sleeping well past noon with his wife cradled under his wing. Instead he had been jolted from his peaceful slumber at the crack of dawn by one of the fliers from 407 Squadron who had come knocking at his door, telling him he was needed at the unit at once. The only thing that had stopped him from tearing that flier a new one was genuine surprise to see that it was a second lieutenant doing it. Normally it was the rookies that were saddled with ‘roundup duty’, which essentially entailed flying around Canterlot and awakening all the members of a unit in the event of a call-out and taking flak from every single one of them. Seeing 2LT Merrilay from 407th—
Or is it Marilyn?
It doesn’t matter. Seeing the off-pink face of 407 Squadron’s second lieutenant had caught him off-guard and he had dismissed her with nothing more than a nod. Now here he stood, leaning on the side rail of his front porch and wishing he could crawl back into bed with his wife for a few more hours. With a loud, sleepy yawn Crimson Sky swept his bright orange mane back and pinned it down underneath his goggles. He rolled his flight suit into a wad and tucked it under his wing, and jogged lightly down the walkway to the street. At the very least the sun was up, so curfew was over and he wouldn’t be accosted for his ID at every turn—
Then where are all the civvies?
He stopped dead in his tracks at the realization that not a single pony in sight was not without the signature black silver alloy armor of the royal guards. They flew about in the sky, stood guard at chokepoints and intersections in the streets, and were running all around, but there were no citizens to be seen. The businesses were all still closed and in darkness, and the houses that lined the streets all had their curtains pulled and their shutters locked and bolted. Not even the morning paper had been delivered, and the sun had been up for at least an hour. All in the course of about a second, it dawned on him that something big must have happened, and he started running for their headquarters. As he ran he took passing glances at all the royal guards he passed. Their usual cold and stern indifference to the world around them was gone, replaced with everything from anger to panic as they ran to their various destinations. Crimson Sky had never seen so many guards at once; in the short three-block trip from his home to headquarters, he passed more guards than he usually saw in a week.
“Sir! Captain Sky, Sir!”
A yellow pegasus with a bright blue mane, one of the rookies from 403, landed harshly and ran to him. He trembled in his flight suit, which had been put on in haste and wasn’t zipped up all the way, and managed a shaky awkward salute which Crimson Sky returned.
The rookie stuttered and spat, grasping for words amidst confusion while trying to act proper at the same time. “Sir, I— I mean, what’s g-going on?! I was— I mean— I—”
Crimson Sky cut him off by patting his shoulder, and took a second to zip his flight suit up properly. “Settle down, Pinstripe. I don’t know what’s going on. Get in there, gear up, and wait. It’ll all come down in good time.”
“Y—Yes Sir! Sorry, Sir!” said Pinstripe with a much more confident salute before running ahead into the headquarters building.
Crimson Sky once again returned the salute, this time with a slight smirk. That had made his day; Pinstripe was competent and showed great promise, but had zero confidence and fell to absolute pieces in front of any authority. He thought no more of it and entered the headquarters, tuning out the coarse ambience of the flier’s combined voices as they threw their gear on and scrabbled for answers. He shrugged off their pleas for an explanation and pushed past, headed for the commander’s lounge in the back.
The door closed behind him and cut him off from the cacophony of confused pegasi, leaving him in peace in the near silence of the commander’s lounge. The room was still in pristine condition from the last time it had been used. Memos, maps, and diagrams were neatly stacked on the table that sat five: Lightning Dust, himself and her other wingpony, and room for two guests. The walls were sound-proofed with frosted windows, the kind you would find in bathrooms, to keep conversations in the room and prying eyes out. Of course this room was also an ideal spot to catch a nap when needed thanks to the large leather sofa in the back, something his partner was currently taking advantage of. Crimson Sky looked over at the heap on the couch: his partner and fellow wingpony Twitch, a runaway they had picked up in Los Pegasus years ago, was sprawled out and snoring quietly with a piece of paper wedged under his goggles turning them into an improvised sleeping blinder. As usual his flight suit was unzipped and looked as if it hadn’t been washed in a while, and Crimson Sky winced at the sight of it. Twitch had helped them form the R.E.A.F, and he was a very agile flier, but he was an inarticulate little brat with little standards and no pride in his appearance at all. On his best day he looked like an unmade bed.
Pride of the R.E.A.F. right there.
“Twitch.”
The mention of his name penetrated his slumber enough to make him flinch with a loud snort and roll onto his side. He pulled the old flight cap he always wore close and cuddled it as if it were a teddy bear, and once more was dead to the world.
“Twitch!” said Crimson Sky loudly, this time kicking the edge of the couch as hard as he could.
“What what what?!” Blubbered Twitch in a half-asleep daze as he tore the goggles off of his face. “I’m awake!”
Crimson Sky scoffed. “Don’t you ever sleep at home?”
Twitch wretched and rubbed at his sleepy eyes. “Why’d I do that? The couch here is more comfortable than my bed.”
“You need to find yourself a mare, Twitch.”
He stood with a wobble and gestured proudly. “Hah! What do you think I did last night?”
“A decent mare, Twitch. I’ve seen the, uh, things you date.” Said Crimson Sky.
The sleepy pegasus put on his trademark lazy smile and let himself fall back onto the sofa. “Now what kind of quote unquote ‘decent’ mare would want anything to do with a stallion like me?”
Can’t argue with that.
Crimson Sky simply nodded to the rare moment of wisdom from his partner. He nudged Twitch to one side of the couch and sat down on the still-warm cushion to wait for Lightning Dust and their orders.
“Oh, hey. You got mail.”
Crimson Sky’s ears shot straight up and he snatched the letter from Twitch’s mouth. He skimmed over the paper and the words in it cut through him, making his shoulders hang with a defeated sigh. They had rejected him. Again.
“Hey…” said Twitch in an almost caring voice, “Why’d you wanna leave the R.E.A.F. and join the Royal Guards anyways? You now the guards are—”
Crimson Sky put his hoof to Twitch’s mouth; He was not in the mood for his crazy conspiracy theories. “The guards are not brainwashed, Twitch.”
“Oh you’re wrong, Sky.” Said Twitch in a very matter-of-fact tone as he pushed the hoof away from his face. “Why else would the guards, the same guards what served Princess What’s-her-butt just drop everything and obey the Queen?” Twitch leaned back on his haunches and gestured with his front hoofs as if to create an image of what he described, “I can see it now: When you join up they give you a shot or something, call it a ‘booster’, and then they take you to this dark little room in the basement and start to do real creepy things when—”
“The guards are NOT BRAINWASHED!!! Will you get that through your thick skull?!” hollered Crimson Sky.
“Alright, alright. Sheesh. Keep your tail on, bud.”
Crimson Sky glared at his partner for a moment, but his expression softened when he saw the almost hurt face staring back at him. He sighed apologetically, “You’re going to get in serious trouble if you keep spouting that nonsense, Twitch. It’s just a rumor, invented by ponies who couldn’t accept why the guards were willing to side with Her Majesty after the ugliness all those years ago.”
“What about Rumble?” said Twitch in a knowing tone. “He ain’t equine, I’m telling you. Remember when he pulled that griffon off’a Dust? He didn’t just shove her off; he threw her, pal. All that monster does is train and fight and scare the flight suit right off’a me. The Queen musta done something to his head to make him like that.”
“I do remember.” Said Crimson Sky. “And I’ll admit seeing a pegasus beat a griffon within an inch of death with his bare hooves is something I thought I would never see. But the captain is like that because he’s loyal. The Queen did something to him, that’s for sure. She pulled him out of the rubble of Ponyville and more or less raised him like a son.”
“But…”
“The rest of the guards are just doing their job. They’re loyal to Equestria, not to the pony on the throne. At the end of the day, they don’t care if it’s Princess Celestia or Queen Twilight Sparkle.” He chuckled briefly at a thought. “Besides, what makes you think we’re not brainwashed into being loyal? Hm?”
“Well, not me.” said Twitch in a rare show of pride as he flexed to show off his lieutenant stripe. “She wouldn’t have to. I couldn’t care less about royalty or the throne. I’m loyal to Dust and Twilight; I wouldn’t have anything if it weren’t for them.”
“I’m loyal to Her Majesty as well.” Said Crimson Sky, making a point to emphasize her proper title. He took his red goggles off and dropped them onto his rejection letter. “I’m just getting too old for this, Twitch. I want a job where I’m home more often, with my wife and kid.”
Twitch made a whip-cracking sound and swung his hoof accordingly with a grin, which quickly faltered when he saw his attempt at humor had failed.
“I was planning to take my filly for a ride today and carry her up to Winsome Falls. She’s never seen a rainbow up close before. Guess what happened to that plan?”
“What?”
He sighed with frustration. “The call-out?”
“Oh, yeah.”
Crimson Sky looped his hoof through the strap of his goggles and swung them gently. “So. Do you have any clue what this is about? Why are the guards going crazy outside? What happened?”
Twitch sputtered dramatically and almost fell off the couch. “How did you not hear about it?! It was the Dink, pal! She got tossed around by some thief!”
The goggles hit the table with a loud clack. “What?! You’re joking!”
“Hey, easy! I wouldn’t joke about something like this. Some thief got into the palace and ran into the Dink. They’s slugged it out, the thief took her down, and swiped her crown!”
His eyes widened. “She’s alright though, right?!”
“Oh yeah, she’s fine. Guess the thief got cold hooves or something and didn’t kill her. Just bit onto her horn and choked her out. The Dink couldn’t break free because, well, y’know.” He bounced closer to Crimson Sky and nudged him with a sly smirk. “You’re married to a unicorn; you know how sensitive those things are eh buddy?”
Crimson Sky shoved Twitch back to the other side of the couch and tried to wrap his head around this turn of events. He was aware that a unicorn’s horn was sensitive enough to be a serious weak spot. It didn’t take much more than a light strike to disrupt their magic, and he could only begin to imagine exactly how painful it must be to have a set of teeth clamped down on it. He had met the princess only a few times, and despite the nasty rumors about her she was always amiable and polite, and willing to take a moment to speak pleasantly even to him and the fliers. The thought of her subdued, helpless, in pain, and being strangled unconscious by some no-account bandit was disgusting.
The door to the lounge flew open with a crash, briefly flooding the room with the noise from the fliers outside. “Alright, listen up!” Lightning Dust yelled over the noise as she slammed the door shut. She was dressed in her flight suit and already wearing her load-webbing. It was fitted with GP Bombs, two more than the standard load-out, and had the dog tag from that blue pegasus wound around the front strap. This meant one thing: They were going on the attack.
“Alrigh-height!” sang Twitch. “We’se getting some action!”
“Take a look.” Lightning Dust slapped a photo on the table as her two wingponys gathered around. It was a gray earth pony mare wearing a green hood and bright blue glasses that had been mended in the center with tape. “I’m sure this pony needs no introduction. She’s the one that’s been driving the guards absolutely mental for the last while, and she just decided to commit suicide. I’m sure you both have heard about the palace intruder and the theft?”
“Her?” said Crimson Sky in disbelief. “Are you sure about this intel, Dust? That’s the one that knocked out Her Majesty and did not kill her?”
“Hard to believe she’d pass up an opportunity like that, I know. I thought the same thing, Sky, but the princess identified her. And the princess is stewed right off; this little brat slipped in and out without so much as being sniffed by a guard and made off with her crown. So we’re gonna catch ourselves a thief.”
“Sounds good, Dust!” laughed Twitch with a clap of his hooves. “What’s the plan? We’se gonna track her down and beat the stupid outta her?”
“That’s the best part.” Said Lightning Dust with a smirk. “Featherweight and his bugs have already tracked her for us. She boarded a train headed to Broncton. All we’re going to do is take three squadrons, ambush her there, and blow her into next Tuesday with these.” Lightning Dust patted one of the bombs that dangled from her webbing. “I can’t wait to rub this in the guard’s smug faces. This is exactly what our unit needs to prove to Her Highness that we are the best!”
“Hold it.” Said Crimson Sky in protest. “Dust, believe me I’d like nothing better than to get that pony and stick a bomb in her where the sun doesn’t shine. But in a town? Innocent ponies are going to get hurt.”
“My point is, is the three of us could catch up to that train and board it before it even arrives. She’s an earth pony; where the heck could she run to, and the three of us could drop hear easily. We wouldn’t even need bombs.”
Lightning Dust ignored him and unfurled a map of Broncton on the table. “The train will arrive as scheduled in Broncton at sunrise tomorrow. We will take one squadron each, full load out, and arrive under cover of darkness at staggered times here, here, and here.” She said as she pointed at different areas on the map. “When the train arrives we wait until we have visual contact, we fan out, close in—”
Twitch leered at the map. “—and make it rain.”
Lightning Dust chuckled and patted his shoulder. “And make it rain. Any objections? Sky?”
Crimson Sky was silent for a moment. “No objections.” He said sternly.
“Good. Both of you take your pick of fliers. Twitch, you arrive at 0100. Sky, 0300. Keep a low profile; we’ve already gotten Environment Equestria to blot out the moon tonight with cloud cover, so stay out of sight. Spread your units out to cut off her escape. Take her alive only if the opportunity presents itself. Recovering the crown and neutralizing Silver Spoon are our only objectives. Any questions, problems, points? Good. Make it happen.”
As quickly as she had arrived, Lightning Dust headed out the door and slammed it behind her. Crimson Sky watched her closely, and almost jumped a full foot when his partner’s hoof slapped his shoulder. “About time, pal!” cheered Twitch, “Finally, some action! I can only toss bombs at wooden targets for so long, right?”
“You really have no qualms about dropping bombs on a town of civilians?”
“Well…” Said Twitch with a hoof to his chin and an expression that turned somewhat somber, “I guess it don’t feel that good, but orders is orders. We’se don’t gotta like it, yeah, but why do we’se not gotta like it? I say just make the best of it.”
“I understand the princess being upset, but what is she thinking ordering an attack like this? And the Queen? Is that crown really worth this much?”
Twitch shrugged and shoved his flight cap over his head. “I dunno. Maybe it has magical powers or something.” He said sarcastically as the two headed out of the lounge. “They’se royalty, pal. They’se just ticked off that their head-gold was stolen. Hey, uh, that reminds me. Queen Twilight is a queen ‘cause she’s the boss, right? So what about Princess Celestial? She was top dog, so why weren’t she a queen? Ain’t that how it works? I mean, it’s king or queen, then prince or princess, then uh… baron, I think…”
Crimson Sky didn’t follow Twitch to the briefing room where the fliers waited, and instead headed for the front door. “You think too much about the wrong things, Twitch.”
“Yeah but— h-hey! Where ya goin’? We’se got work to do!”
“Just need to step out for an hour or so. I have to take care of something.”
“Me and Dust is gonna get the good fliers!”
“Do what you like.” Said Crimson Sky without even looking back. “I’m taking 403 anyways.”
“The rookies?!” said a thoroughly confused Twitch. “Why?”
“They need the practice.” Said Crimson Sky, who let the door close behind him before Twitch could reply.
The sun was rising over the silent streets of Canterlot, bathing the darkened cobblestone roads and buildings in the warm glow of the morning light. On any normal day the citizens of the city would slowly be beginning their daily routines. The morning paper would be delivered, shops would open, and the streets would be filled with the gentle ambience of hooves and voices. The adults would go shopping or to work, the children would go to school or play in the streets, and everything would seem right in the world.
If only today was a normal day.
Something terrible had happened in the wee hours of the morning. The streets were overrun with panicked guards trying to take control of the situation, and in a cluttered office in the palace a lone royal guard was pouring over the evidence and reports from the incident last night. It had been a couple of days since she had slept, but she had to keep going. She had to figure this out before things got out of control. Reports from the guards last night all appeared to add up: the two that had been arrested by Rumble were the bait, allowing for a third to sneak into the catacombs beneath the palace and steal the princess’ crown.
“‘Cept it just don’t add up. Just doesn’t make any sense.” She said softly to herself as she stared at the reports from the princess and various sentries that were spread out before her.
The door to her office swung open and a pegasus of the royal guard entered. “Boss?” he said softly as he leaned his spear against the wall.
She didn’t even hear him. She was too engrossed in her work to even be aware of his existence.
“Inspector.” He said much louder and more firmly than before. He waited in silence for a moment longer before his patience wore thin and he hollered. “Babs!!!”
“What?!” Babs Seed yelled back, having finally lost her temper at the interruption. She turned to face him and, seeing who it was, her tone softened with an apologetic sigh. “What is it, Starlight?”
Starlight pulled his helmet off and rested it over the blade of his spear, and wiped his forehead dry. “Boss, those two we caught last night? The Cake Twins? They aren’t talking.”
Babs rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “Since when do you do interrogations, Starlight?”
“I don’t. Not normally. I just wanted to see if I could get anything out of them before they were shipped off to Blackmiller Pen.”
“Please tell me ya got somethin’. A name. A place. Anythin’ at all.”
Starlight’s cold expression already told her exactly what he had gotten out of the duo. “The pegasus told me about the time he found a caterpillar, and assured me it was how Equestria was made. And the unicorn was…” he trailed off with a loud swallow and dug at the floor with discomfort, “Eager… to be interrogated.”
“How eager?”
“She uh, gave me advice.” He said with a cringe. “On torture. Graphic advice.”
Babs shuddered softly and stared at him for a moment before letting out a defeated sigh.
Starlight walked a lap around Babs Seed’s office and marveled at the mess she had generated in her obsessive session. Numerous empty coffee cups from the guard’s lounge were strewn about and papers were scattered everywhere. At the foot of her desk were a number of candy bar wrappers, the kind that contained caffeine, left in a neat little pile. He nudged her out of her stupor, “When was the last time you slept?”
She sucked a deep breath through gritted teeth, taking a moment to fight off her exhaustion to think about her answer. “Since that murder in… in… what was that town called again?”
Starlight stomped his armored hoof against the floor. “For the love of all things… BOSS! You are only one pony! You can’t do everything!” He flipped the folder on her desk shut, burying most of her reports beneath its cardboard cover, but she immediately flipped it open once more and glared at him. “Saddleton, boss.” He said while fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “One was murdered, one wounded. No big loss. From what I heard they were real scumbags and finally picked the wrong pony to screw with.” He patted her shoulder and closed the folder once more, and gently rested his hoof on hers when she went to open it again. “Besides. I saw the air force scrambling this morning. They’re taking care of it, so go and get some sleep before you drop dead.”
She rolled her hoof and lifted his off the table, and stopped to hold it for a moment. “All the more reason for me to take care of this. I have to find that thief before Lightning Dust does somethin’ drastic.”
He looked into her eyes as if he didn’t want to say what was on his mind. “A little late for that, boss.” He said softly. “The princess is not happy. Neither’s the Queen. I haven’t seen her this angry since… ever. I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life.”
“What about Featherweight?” said Babs with a note of desperation in her voice. She let go of Starlight’s hoof to reach for her coffee and grimaced as the lukewarm liquid rolled across her tongue. “It’s ‘cause of me that little weasel was taken alive back when he was a Rainbolt. Go ask him if he has anythin’.”
“Way ahead of you, boss. Apparently his bugs are following the thief right this second, but he won’t say where. And yes, I reminded him it was you who chose to arrest him instead of letting the captain beat him to death. All he said was, well, I don’t want to repeat it. It was disgusting.”
Tired, frustrated, and defeated, Babs buried her face in her forelegs and almost cried out. She already knew this was going to get ugly, and as much as she hated to admit it there was truly nothing she could do to change things. Babs Seed had been in the royal guard for years, and she had not felt so utterly and completely useless since being injured in the Crystal Empire. It was that same injury that damaged her lung and had her declared unfit to serve in combat, and caused her to be pulled from Captain Rumble’s personal unit and placed into Canterlot’s Criminal Investigation Department. Although it was just a desk job no doubt given to her out of some sense of pity, she had made the most of it and dedicated herself to protecting the citizens using evidence and non-violent tactics to track down criminals instead of the brute force the main force of guards preferred. This time she had failed; Featherweight was undoubtedly working with that nutcase Lightning Dust, who was perfectly willing to go to any extreme imaginable to get the fastest results possible. Of course she saw success, she would probably have the thief in time to be home for lunch tomorrow, but at what cost? Babs was confident that with the time and right Intel she’d be able to bring the thief in without the collateral damage.
“Are you alright, boss?” said Starlight’s compassionate voice.
“What do you think about this, Starlight? This case, I mean?”
“Me?” he said uneasily, and gestured at his spear and helmet in the corner. “I’m just a sentry, boss. A spear-carrier. I don’t know anything about this end of things.”
“Exactly.” She said, mustering the will to smile. “I need an outside opinion. Any opinion. One from somepony that ain’t an ‘expert’. And I trust you, Starlight. Always have.”
His snow-white face flickered with a faint smile of his own from the compliment. “Well…” he began and trailed off, but continued when she motioned for him to go on, “I think what happened is, is three Rainbolts came into town. Two acted as bait and led the guards on a wild goose chase, while the third slipped inside in the confusion and grabbed the crown.”
“And that’s the consensus of what happened.” Nodded Babs, “But it just don’t add up.”
“How do you mean, boss?”
“A lotta little things.” She said. “And it’s all about the little things. First off, it’s just not how they do things. I’ve never heard of them just… sacrificing a couple teammates like that.”
“They’re criminals, boss. Real fanatics, too. They blame Her Highness for everything that happened, as if it was her fault Princess Celestia died and Princess Luna tried to go Nightmare Moon all over again. You honestly think they care if they lose a couple of teammates?”
Babs looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “I do, actually. They’ve never done anything like that before. Even Featherweight praised their boss for how she looks out for them. And it’s not just that, either. It’s the timings. Here’s when the crown was stolen.” She held up one report for him to read and then another, “And here’s when those two were arrested. Almost two hour’s difference. Either they had one heck of a mess-up, or—”
“—or they weren’t working together.” Finished Starlight. “You can’t think that, boss. Who else would be stupid enough to steal the bloody crown from the princess?”
“Somepony who was able to slip through Canterlot undetected and into the palace through a secret passage nopony seemed to know about. Somepony that definitely didn’t need a distraction. Somepony who just happened to pick the same night as those two Rainbolts. Maybe even planned to use ‘em as scapegoats.”
Starlight picked up the notes Babs had compiled over the last few hours. “You can’t be serious, boss…”
“You know what I think? I think somethin’ big is gonna happen. I don’t wanna believe it either, and believe me, I’d love to see the Rainbolts brought down once and for all, but if somethin’ big is happenin’ and we’re wastin’ our time chasin’ our tails like dogs…”
“Babs.” Interrupted Starlight. “Listen to yourself. You’re—”
“This thief knew exactly where she was going, Starlight. She knew too much to have put it together from simple reconnaissance. Somepony with a lotta knowledge about the palace tipped her off. If we’re busy chasing the wrong ponies, this informant is still out there. What if he or she is an insider? What if he or she is in the palace right now plotting their next move?”
“Get some sleep.” Said Starlight forcibly after patting her shoulder. “You aren’t thinking straight, and don’t deny it. You’re even slurring.”
“I do solemnly swear that I will protect the citizens and the land of Equestria against all enemies, foreign and domestic.” Said Babs softly. “That I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same and to Her Majesty Queen Twilight Sparkle, her heirs, and successors according to law.” She finished by pointing to the corner, where a mannequin wore her old suit of armor.
Starlight whistled in true awe. “You’ve got to be the last bloody guard in all of Equestria to have kept the old gold mail. And the only guard in history to have ever memorized the oath.”
“Just the old one.” Said Babs. She gestured at her black armor, which had been laid out carelessly near the door. “Never liked the new oath we took when we switched over to the black armor.”
“Hey…” said Starlight in a cautionary tone, “Be careful who you say something like that to.”
“I already lost what mattered to me in the Crystal Empire,” she murmured, “what worse could be done to me?”
“Boss…?”
“Never mind, sorry. Just rantin’. Pay it no mind. Point is, is I’d be betrayin’ the vow I believe in if I just let it go.”
“You aren’t letting it go, boss!” said Starlight with anger seeping out in his words. “It’s just some sleep!”
“Just get me some more coffee, Starlight. And somethin’ to eat.” She looked at him for a second, at the stubborn frown on his face that refused to waiver. “Please?”
Starlight exhaled loudly. “Sure, boss.” He said in a voice rich with disapproval.
She paid him no mind as he walked slowly past her, letting his boots stomp loudly as he went, and let the door slam behind him. Normally Babs Seed appreciated Starlight’s attempts to look out for her: she and he had watched each other’s backs since the day they met in basic training, and even though they weren’t even in the same unit the habit had stuck. Now was simply not the time. She knew she was beat, but that was not going to stop her from clinging on until the absolute bitter end. She opened the folder in front of her and started once more at the beginning.
BANG BANG BANG!
The loud knock startled her and sent her papers twirling to the floor. “Oh for— It’s open!” she yelled as she fell to the floor to retrieve the rogue documents. The door opened and she looked up to find a gray pegasus at the door. He wore the R.E.A.F’s flight suit and goggles, with a captain’s emblem on his leg and a scowl beneath a bright orange mane that looked ready to crack his face. “Yes?” said Babs, her frustration lost to genuine curiosity for what one of them could possibly want with her.
“You’re from Broncton, aren’t you, Inspector?” he said in a gruff, unreadable tone.
“No. Manehattan.” She saw that her response had no effect on his expression, and she couldn’t help but wonder. “…Why?”
“My mistake.” He said, “I just found out I’m headed there for tomorrow morning. I was hoping you knew of… some good vantage points.”
“Don’t they tell you that sort of thing during your…” she began to trail off as she came to realize why he may be going there, “…briefings?”
His miserable expression never once changed or waivered. “Never hurts to have a little extra Intel, does it Inspector?” As abruptly as he had come he turned and walked out the door.
She threw her documents haphazardly across the table. There was nothing in them; no reason to believe the thief might be going there. Her gut, on the other hoof, was telling her to take the chance. It was the only lead she had, the only chance she had to take control of the situation, and if she could get this thief first she could stop the air force from doing something drastic. She dumped one of her desk drawers out and tore through the contents to find a schedule of every train in Equestria. A quick glance at the schedule and the clock told her she had ten minutes until a freight train from Vanhoover to Fillydelphia passed through Canterlot. She had to assume no passenger trains would be leaving the city due to the incident in the palace, and she would have no trouble jumping on or off of a moving freight train. This one would get her as close as possible, and she’d run the rest of the way on hoof if she had to.
He said mornin’. Gotta make it there by mornin’.
Babs ran past her armor to the closet and, after a quick check to make sure her badge was in one of the pockets, threw her long coat over her back and her hat on her head. She didn’t want anypony to know who she was until she got close enough to make an arrest. She tore out the door of her office and almost knocked Starlight off his hooves, spilling the coffee but managing to snatch in her mouth the paper bag of whatever he had gotten her to eat. “I’ll eat n’ sleep on the train!” She said between clenched teeth.
“What train?!” he yelled from behind.
She didn’t have time to stop and explain herself. She ran as fast as she could through the halls of the palace, ignoring her blast-damaged lung that was already aching in protest and focusing on the faint smell of fresh vegetables and oatmeal from the bag lunch that swung beneath her nostrils.
Apple Bloom had been lying on her back and staring up for what must have been an hour, absentmindedly counting the bits of spackle on the drab popcorn ceiling in her home. She had all the time in the world; the masked pony hadn’t given a specific time or date, only that they would meet in Broncton once the job was done. It was still early and she was fully content to lay here for as long as Scootaloo wanted to sleep.
Besides. Old habits die hard.
Lying there with only the faint sound of her friend’s breathing listen to reminded her of the good old days when the three of them would have sleepovers in their old clubhouse. Being the farm girl she was always the first one to wake up, and always the one to wait for her friends to finally decide to get up. A few vague but pleasant memories returned to her, and she quietly chuckled under her breath.
“Apple Bloom?”
She flinched and looked to the bed. “Sorry, Scoot. Ah wake you?” she said apologetically.
“No,” said Scootaloo softly, “I’ve been awake for a little while; I didn’t want to wake you.”
Apple Bloom rolled her eyes and couldn’t help but laugh. “Might as well get at ‘er, then.”
Scootaloo nodded and tumbled from the bed, and stretched her wings out with a loud pop of her joints and a satisfied growl to accompany it. Not to be outdone, Apple Bloom sat up on her haunches and loudly cracked the joints in her hooves. She received a raised eyebrow and a smirk from her friend and for the first time got a clear look at Scootaloo’s missing eye. It was actually much smaller than she had imagined; it was merely a small rough scar over an eye that seemed to be locked in a permanent wink. She smiled back and stood up to get dressed and ready her weapon.
Three rounds left on that one.
She unloaded the nearly empty string of bullets and loaded her weapon with a fresh string of ten. It was a drawback that had always bothered her about this otherwise ideal pistol; it reloaded quickly but took string clips. The rounds came welded on a thin strip of metal, meaning the weapon could only be reloaded after emptying it completely. Normally she hated to waste ammunition, it was simply too scarce and hard to get in Equestria, but this was an event she wanted a full weapon for.
You’re gonna eat all ten of these, you masked freak, if you don’t have a very good reason for sending me after my best friend.
Apple Bloom was all set. She holstered her weapon and straightened her hat on her head, and stood at the door waiting for her friend. She quietly stared out the window at the still black sky, until she heard hoof steps on the hardwood floor approach. “Ready to settle scores, Scoot?” she said, trying to sound upbeat.
Scootaloo swallowed loudly. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Don’t be scared. Ain’t nothing going to happen to you while Ah’m here.”
“I’m not scared!” said Scootaloo in a huff.
Apple Bloom chuckled; her friend’s scruffy coat and mane made her look as if she had been eaten alive by a diesel engine, yet she still had the exact same attitude she had as a filly. “Before we go, Sugar,” said Apple Bloom, her merriment vanishing as she spoke, “Ah’m not doubting you or nothing, let me make that clear. But, if there’s something you want to tell me about all of this before we go, well, Ah’d be happy if you’d oblige me.”
Scootaloo’s lone eye widened with shock. “I told you already! I didn’t do anything!”
“And Ah believe you. That’s why we’re doing this, Sugar,” she said with a smile to reassure her friend, “This ain’t revenge or desire to harm, or nothing like that. You didn’t do anything and this pony’s desperate to make your acquaintance for wrong reasons. That’s why we’re setting her straight.”
Scootaloo smiled and nodded gently. She took a couple of steps outside and stared skyward, and Apple Bloom followed closely. “Good job, Moonponies,” said Scootaloo sarcastically. “It’s not a new moon until next week.”
“The heck are you talking about, Scoot?” said Apple Bloom. “What the heck is a ‘new moon’?”
Scootaloo turned quickly with a furrowed brow. “You haven’t been back long, have you?” she said softly. The two started on their way down the street, with Apple Bloom leading the duo and Scootaloo falling just a bit behind her. For a beat Scootaloo stopped talking as she searched for an easy way to explain it. “It was really bad for a couple of weeks after Ponyville was… you know. Real chaos. Ponies panicked, rebelled, fled. There was nopony to do the weather, raise the sun or moon, or anything.”
“Ah remember that,” said Apple Bloom sadly as she cut off her friend long enough to point the way down an alley. “Even where Ah was, it was stuck midday for about two weeks.”
“At first the Queen delegated it to the royal guards, and it was a real mess. Pitch black nights, the moon in broad daylight, weird weather, it was a nightmare. Then this group called Environment Equestria showed up and took the whole thing over. I don’t really know what they did or how they did it, but they fixed everything. They do all the weather and raise the sun and moon.”
Apple Bloom trotted swiftly a few steps ahead and opened the creaky door of the building where she and the masked pony agreed to meet. She drew her weapon and swept from left to right; there was nothing other than a few crates, some old canned goods, and a lone mouse that scurried away from her intrusion. There was no sign of the masked pony.
“So what the heck is a ‘new moon?’” said Apple Bloom in a near whisper. She holstered her weapon and gestured for Scootaloo to follow her inside.
“For whatever reason, they made a few changes,” said Scootaloo as she cautiously looked about the warehouse. “Ms. Daydream came up with a few new lunar phases. One of them, a new moon, is where you can’t see it at all. It’s only supposed to happen once a month, but we had it last week.”
Apple Bloom led both of them to an area surrounded by crates, making a point to position them where they were out of sight of the door. She sat, and gestured to Scootaloo to do the same. “Makes sense to me,” she said with heavy sarcasm. “So this ‘Ms. Daydream’… she’s in charge of this, heh, lunacy?”
Scootaloo rolled her eye at the pun and sat against a crate as well. “Mm-hmm. You’d understand if you ever met her. I did once, on a train to Hollow Shades. She just sat down with me and rambled on about a bunch of random stuff. She’s real nice, but weird. I… I think she’s insane.”
Apple Bloom laughed out loud. “We could’ve used her back home,” she said with a skyward wave of her hoof. “Ah can’t remember the last time Ah saw rain.” She chuckled at her own musings and absentmindedly played with her pistol. She unloaded and cleared it, pressed the trigger with a dull ‘click’, and reloaded once more. As she fidgeted she glanced over at her friend, whose scruffy face cocked to the side with complete confusion written all over it. “Guess Ah owe you the rest of my story from last night, right?” she said with a smile. She drew a heavy breath, wondering where to begin and wishing she had some bourbon or a cigarette to go along with the yarn she was about to spin. “That night, when my brother put me on that ferry and sent me away, he told me to get off at its first stop and wait. There were actually quite a few ponies from town on that boat, but they all stayed on; Ah did as my brother said and got off at its first stop: Port Filbert in Eastern Sonhos Vale. Ah waited, and waited… and waited. For four days Ah waited, until an old zebra named Sol came by and invited me to wait at his farm where Ah’d at least have a roof over my head and something to eat. ‘Course, the wait never ended. Applejack and Big McIntosh… just never came.”
“He adopted you,” said Scootaloo sadly.
“More or less. Ah just kind of became part of the family. Ma and Pa didn’t have any kids of their own and they treated me like Ah was theirs,” said Apple Bloom with a warm smile. “Ah was too young to remember my parents, and they sort of became the mother and father Ah never had. He did his best to bring me up in a very different place than here…”
Many years ago
Sol’s Farm, Eastern Sonhos Vale
“…and this is where the water is filtered to become drinkable,” said Sol. “There are four filters here, but we only need to pass the water through the first two to make it fit to drink.” He leaned in to let Apple Bloom, who was sitting on the old zebra’s shoulders, get a closer look at the machine.
“Wow…” said Apple Bloom as she tried to follow the spider’s web of pipes and machinery that seemed to run in every direction. “But why do we suck it up from underground? Can’t we just use ocean water?”
“Believe it or not, it’s easier and cheaper to tap underground reservoirs,” he said with a chuckle. “Faster, too. This here farm supplies the entire town with water; we’d never make enough with the extra work that goes into desalinating and purifying sea water.”
“But what about the rain? You wouldn’t even have to de-sallynate that.”
“Silly filly,” he laughed, “it doesn’t rain here. Why I believe I saw rain only once, Sugar, and I was younger than you when it happened.”
“Who’s in charge of the weather?” said Apple Bloom. “Why don’t they make it rain?”
Laughter from behind answered her question and she turned to find Peppercorn and Sunflower, the two young zebras that lived at the potato farm down the road, leaning on the fence and giggling at her honest query. “That’ll be the day, huh Mr. Solomon?” said Peppercorn with a chuckle. “Let’s just put someone in charge of the weather and make it rain!”
“How ‘bout the griffon from up the way. The one that doesn’t speak English?” laughed Sunflower.
“Pavel?”
“Yeah! He’s nutty enough to fly up into the clouds and try something like that!”
Sol watched the two siblings continue to giggle, and rolled his weathered eyes with a smirk. “That’s exactly how they do it in Equestria where little Apple Bloom is from, kids. They send pegasi up into the clouds and move them as they see fit.”
“You’re pulling our legs!” said Sunflower.
“Am I, Sugar?” he said with a wink to Apple Bloom.
“Nope!” she said proudly. “When my brother and sister come for me, they’ll tell you all about it!”
The two zebras hopped the fence and walked up to the filter mechanism. Peppercorn looked up into the air with eyes that almost seemed to plead. “Why can’t we do that, Mr. Solomon?”
Sol shook his head and crouched down to let Apple Bloom hop off his back. “No one knows. Somehow the Equestrians got it to work. You know, I was friends with a pegasus from the West, back when our countries could still be amiable with each other, and his father spent his entire life studying it. It simply will not work here; weather is now and always will be the domain of nature outside of Equestria.
“Lucky Equestrians,” said Sunflower spitefully.
“Could be worse, kids,” said Sol with pity in his voice, “I read in the paper that Saddle Arabia’s gotten so bad they’re on the brink of collapse. They’ve even sent delegates to Equestria to plead for aide.” He perked up with a proud smile and patted the filter mechanism. “I’m thankful for this. I’ve seen magic in action, kids, and give me good old machinery and diesel and electricity over magic any day. Treat a machine right, and it will never betray you.”
“Be nice if we could do both,” said Peppercorn.
“Yes, it certainly would,” said Sol as he gave the young zebra a knowing smile, “Like a certain someone who I hear’s been working her earth pony magic over at your folk’s farm?”
“Ah’ve been digging spuds!” chirped Apple Bloom happily.
Sol roared with hearty laughter. “You know something? If I didn’t know better, I’d say there were two siblings guilty of tricking someone into doing their chores for them.”
“Oh, no! No, sir no!” sputtered Sunflower, “She was… uh… she volunteered!”
“Honest, Mr. Solomon. She’s never dug spuds before; she wanted to try and we obliged her!”
As the zebras chatted Apple Bloom busied herself with studying the control mechanism in front of her. It was a near incomprehensible mess of valves, crank handles, and buttons all laid out in a manner that made little sense to her. She finally settled on a small gauge labeled ‘Feed Pump’ that was set to ‘Off’. “Can Ah turn it on?” she said as she pointed at the switch.
Sol scooped her back onto his shoulders. “‘Fraid not, Sugar. But you can fire up the Lobe Pump; we need to fill two tanks by the end of the week. And a couple of the engines need oil and coolant changes, if you’re interested in helping.”
Apple Bloom beamed at the old zebra. “Yeah!” she cheered in her excitement.
“But Mr. Solomon!” said Peppercorn, “Can’t Bloomie come and play with us instead? We want to show her the Spud Catcher! Sunny finally got it working!”
“Is that what you’ve named that monstrosity I heard playing hob with the sound barrier in the wee hours yesterday?”
Peppercorn nodded. “Sunny’s going to put a muffler on it eventually.”
“If Pa’ll ever let me use the welder,” added Sunflower.
“What’ll it be back there, Sugar? Learning to change oil or learning to drive?”
“Can Ah do both?” begged Apple Bloom. “Pleeeeeaaaaase?”
“I think we have time to manage both,” said Solomon with a hoof to his chin as he glanced over at the two young zebras. “Perhaps if you can convince your friends to help us change the oil…”
“I can change oil, Mr. Solomon! Real good!” said Sunflower as the group began to walk away.
Present Day
“The WHAT Catcher?” said Scootaloo.
Apple Bloom grinned. “Picture the noisiest and most stinkiest devil on four wheels. Ah think it was a trailer at one point, but Sunny stuck an old diesel engine from a genny on it. We'd spend hours driving that thing around.” She chuckled warmly and took a moment to fondly reminisce about her foalhood friends. “And Sunny spent hours trying to keep that monster running. Ah never really understood diesel engines myself; Ah could maintain them, but all I really understood was you poured diesel in one side and part of it spun. Machines were Sunny’s bread and butter. Her goal was to make the Spud Catcher fly; she’d have done it too, Ah’m sure, if she could have gotten the parts.”
Scootaloo held her hoof out. “Okay, stop. Now I know you’re fibbing.”
“Ah thought the exact same thing the first time Ah heard about airplanes. Then Pa took me to see one of those things take off. Ah almost fainted.” She laughed when she realized an Equestrian would have no clue what an airplane was, and struggled for a minute to try and think of a way to describe it that Scootaloo could imagine. “They’re like… Think of a big machine with wings and a propeller, kind of shaped like a bird. Ah didn’t believe it until Ah saw it either, but they carried two and flew like you wouldn’t believe.”
Her one-eyed friend sputtered with barely contained excitement and almost fell over. “And you flew in one of these things?!”
Apple Bloom laughed once more and held her pistol skyward. “Sugar, you’d need to stick one of these under my tail and fire to make me go up in one of those things.”
Scootaloo’s eye and mouth opened wide in disbelief as the image settled in her mind, and she started laughing uncontrollably. She lost her balance and tried to hang onto her crate with her wing, but failed and fell to her belly. Apple Bloom lost herself in the moment and the two reunited friends laughed together for what felt like forever. Scootaloo pushed to her hooves and dabbed the tears from her eye with her scarf. “You have no clue…” she said amid giggles, “No clue how much I’ve missed you.” Her laughter slowly faded and her happy expression became dour. “…and how much I’ve missed Sweetie Belle.”
“Yeah…” said Apple Bloom in sad agreement. “Got me thinking. After we’ve taken care of business here—”
“—we look for her!” finished Scootaloo.
“You read my mind, Sugar. Even if she ain’t out there anymore, we’ve got to do something while we get reacquainted with each oth—”
—And a can tumbling off a shelf bounced off the floor, breaking the silence with a terribly loud ‘clunk’. Apple Bloom was on her hooves in an instant, pistol drawn, and fired. Before the can could even land a second time it ruptured into a burst of brown liquid that spattered on the wall behind it. “Rat,” she said angrily, breathing loudly and keeping her weapon aimed as she watched the terrified rodent scamper away. She took a deep breath to calm herself down and slumped to the floor once again. “We’ll whale away about it later, Sugar. Our ‘friend’ will be joining us soon.” She took her hat off and made eye contact with her friend who was leaning back like a cat ready to run. “Now you listen to me, Scoot. When she gets here Ah’m gonna say some things. Don’t you believe a word of it, we clear? Ah wanna make sure there ain’t anyone else out there gunning for you. You’ll know when the time is right, and when it is, the two of us turn on that masked freak and teach her a lesson she’ll take with her all the way to the grave. Until then, you’re my prisoner so act like it, okay?”
Scootaloo shuddered quietly. “We… Are we going to kill her?”
“Depends on how good of a reason she had for putting a hit on you, Scoot.” Apple Bloom pointed her pistol at a crate and let it twitch upward with a puff of air from her lips. “Truth be told, Ah’m furious. Her chances aren’t looking too good.”
With that the room fell into an uncomfortable silence and a tense atmosphere fell over Apple Bloom that she could actually feel. Scootaloo’s lone eye flicked around and avoided contact with hers, and her ears had fallen limp on either side of her brightly colored head. Apple Bloom felt a pinch in her stomach; there was nothing but fear written on Scootaloo’s features and it was of her. She slowly sat down and put her hat on her head to break eye-contact.
Ah’m sorry, Scoot, but you’ll have to deal with it for now. Ain’t no reason in the world good enough to get away with trying to bring harm on one of my friends.
She forced herself not to think about anything else than the masked pony. She had all the time in the world to set things right with her friend. Right now there was a pony out there that had it in for Scootaloo, and she had played a part in it. For her friend’s sake, and for her own, the second that scalawag said everything she had to say, she was getting nine brand new air-holes in that threadbare scrap of fabric she had tied around her head and being left to cook in the sun.
The creaky door to the warehouse began to open slowly. Apple Bloom stood on her hooves and gestured to Scootaloo to keep quiet and seated. With her pistol hanging at her side but ready to jump, she faced the direction where her ‘friend’ would be coming from and tried her best to look calm.
Maybe if your reason’s good enough, Ah’ll be kind enough to toss some dirt on you.
“Truth be told, Ah’m furious,” snarled Apple Bloom, “Her chances aren’t looking too good.”
Scootaloo’s heart paused mid-beat at the way her friend said it. She had been fighting off the notion the entire time that Apple Bloom could be a killer ever since she had found her old photographs. The way she was dressed, Apple Bloom couldn’t have been anything other than a soldier, like the R.E.A.F, or the royal guards. If Scootaloo had learned one thing from those groups it is that soldiers are killers. She had seen them do things, terrible things, and shrug it off as ‘orders’.
But Apple Bloom isn’t like that. She can’t be no matter how much she’s changed. She didn’t hurt me, even though she was ordered to. She’s different… isn’t she?
Her ears fell limp and she averted her eye. She didn’t want to think about it. The idea that Apple Bloom could ever be a cold-blooded killer was not one she was willing to accept. She was just angry, and talking big, that’s all. She was going to shoot off her popper, throw some threats at the masked pony, and scare her away. Then everything would be okay.
Around the wall of crates the door creaked open slowly like a horseshoe being dragged down a chalkboard and Scootaloo cringed. She had tried her hardest to keep it out of her mind, to simply focus on the genuine miracle that she had actually found one of her foalhood friends, but the fact remained that there was somepony out there who, for reasons beyond her understanding, meant to do her harm. There was nothing she could do other than what Apple Bloom said; she leaned back and acted as if she were there against her will while the dull hoofsteps clacked closer on the floor with every step. With that sound followed an eerily pleasant tune; the pony was whistling contently expecting Apple Bloom to have captured her and ready to hand her over. Apple Bloom was a statue with her weapon locked at her side. Her only movement was to briefly curl her lip and expose her teeth like a vicious animal.
Followed by the upbeat whistling, a deep yellow unicorn with a turquoise mane strode casually into view and Apple Bloom was taken back for an instant before quickly pointing her weapon. It was all too obvious this wasn’t the pony she was waiting for; rather than the mare in tattered rags she had described, this one was groomed and well dressed in expensive clothing. He was dressed like a businesspony, with a black blazer over a deep gray turtleneck and a long mane ironed flat and slicked back, but walked and whistled so casually that it was as if he didn’t have a single care in the world. He looked over at the duo and his black eyes widened slightly behind his red sunglasses, and he flashed a charming smile.
Apple Bloom wasn’t impressed. “Who’re you?!” she demanded with a quick thrust of her weapon.
He was oblivious to her threat. “Well, hello,” he said slowly in a low and calm tone, “I must confess I was not expecting this.”
That voice…
Scootaloo hadn’t realized it until she heard him speak, but there was something oddly familiar about this pony. She felt as if she had known him once, like a faded memory of a dream.
BLAM!
One of the empty cans on the crate near his head spiraled to the floor and bounced twice before rolling off-kilter toward him. He did nothing more than sedately lift one of his hooves into the air and gently stop it from moving any further.
Apple Bloom angled her weapon to aim right between his eyes. “Who. Are. You?” she said in a tone that dripped pure hatred.
The mystery stallion’s smile never once waivered and he held out a hoof. “You can put the weapon away. I assure you I mean no harm.” His horn glowed a soft yellow and the can drifted lazily toward him so he could study the hole that had been blown through it. “You can always shoot me if I’m lying,” he said, his tone far too pleasant for one who had just been shot at.
Apple Bloom glared for a moment more and she reluctantly holstered her weapon, but she was clearly on edge and ready to make good on his offer if he so much as hiccupped. Scootaloo didn’t blame her; his air of almost smug friendliness hadn’t faltered once, not even after being shot at. It was as if he was ready for it and had anticipated exactly what she was going to do.
So is he involved in this? Apple Bloom never mentioned anypony other than a mare in a cloak.
“I truly am sorry about the intrusion,” he said, still sounding unusually pleased with himself as he looked Apple Bloom in the eye, “but I heard you speaking outside. I believe I heard one of you ladies mention something about a… ‘masked freak’? Mare? Face wrapped up in rags? Draped in a ratty cloak?”
Apple Bloom’s eyes widened. “You know something about this freak you might consider sharing with us?”
“Just rumors,” he said while trying to hold in a laugh as if he were telling a joke, “Just rumors. It behooves a stallion of my profession to keep up on gossip. I really don’t know much about this masked mare, except that she has been seen all over Equestria as of late.” He reached up to run his hoof over his moustache, and his smile grew into a huge grin. “Dressing as if one were caught in a thrift store explosion tends to attract attention. I’m very interested in meeting her. I’ve been following her for some time, and last I heard she was headed here.”
“Why the interest?”
“Reasons.”
“That all?” said Apple Bloom inquisitively.
The yellow stallion stared off at nothing, gently stroking the gemstone he wore tucked under the neck of his shirt as he thought, and slowly paced around the room. As he turned, Scootaloo got a clear look at his cutie mark: a snail with a clean, curved scar intersecting it. She had seen that mark before, she knew the pony that had the cutie mark once, but there is no way in Equestria this was him. She could believe somepony like that could grow up and mature like this, however unlikely it might be, except to her knowledge that pony never had the chance. She had tried her best to blot both him and his friend from her memories because of the truly gruesome thing she had seen that night. Snips and Snails, the two school colts that everypony had made fun of, lying in the street pinned under fallen debris from a building. As she ran for cover she came across them and tried to pull the rubble off; tried to help, and—
And they wouldn’t wake up. And there was so much blood…
The facsimile of Snails continued to pace, until he suddenly glanced out a window. The sun was just beginning to rise, and upon seeing it, his smile evaporated. He seemed frustrated all of a sudden and mouthed something in silence as he glanced at a small pocket watch. “I really should be elsewhere,” he said somberly, “and if I were the two of you, I’d consider leaving town. Quickly.” His watch vanished into the pocket of his blazer and he trotted for the door.
“Hold it!” Apple Bloom yelled angrily. “What the heck is that supposed to mean?! What’s gonna happen?!”
“Snails,” said Scootaloo quietly. “Is it really you?”
Every pony in the room froze in place, and the yellow stallion nodded gently. “It’s good to see the both of you alive and kicking as well,” he said pleasantly. “All things considered, I’m glad to see the good old cutie mark crusaders all managed to survive that night.” He looked over his shoulder to give one final smile and then vanished around the corner.
“Hey Scoot?” said Apple Bloom quietly. “Ah’ve got a real bad feeling ‘bout this.”
Scootaloo bolted around the corner to find that Snails had already vanished. “Apple Bloom, come on! We’ve gotta go after him! Come on! COME ON!!!”
“Wait!” Apple Bloom demanded. “Scoot, we ain’t deal with—”
“Weren’t you listening?! He said all of us survived! Maybe he knows where Sweetie Belle is! Or Babs!”
“Blast it, Scoots! Ah want to find Sweetie too, but that masked freak is after you and neither of us know why! Maybe you don’t realize how serious this is but—”
Apple Bloom went quiet when Scootaloo bucked a crate hard enough to punch a hole clean through the wooden slats and release a mound of packing peanuts from inside. “I know it’s serious,” she said darkly, “I’m not a little filly; I know exactly what is going on. I understand that somepony is out to get me.” She looked over at Apple Bloom and felt the gentle trickle of a tear form in the bottom of her only eye. “Maybe you don’t realize how long I’ve spent looking for the three of you. Or how many nights I laid alone, trying to convince myself that you were still alive but deep down believing I was the only one left. If that masked pony wants me so badly, she can come and get me! I’m going after Sweetie Belle, and if that masked freak knows what’s good for her, she wouldn’t DARE try and get in my way!!!”
She turned away from her silent friend and slammed the door open in a full sprint out into the alley. She jumped over a dumpster, kicked a garbage can out of her way, and ran full tilt into the empty streets of Broncton. It was too early for anypony to be in the streets; Snails should have been easy to spot. The buildings that lined the streets were all businesses, all still closed, and built side-by-side with no alleys except for the one she had come out of. He had simply vanished.
So where the flying feather did he go?
A hoof slapped down gently on her shoulder and Scootaloo almost cried out. “Find him?” said Apple Bloom, her normally stern face softened with remorse.
“No…”
“Look,” she said apologetically, “If this is what you wanna do, Sugar, Ah’m in. Ah just—”
—and a faint shrill sound cut her off. It started quiet but grew louder and lower, as if an impossibly large stallion was whistling in the distance and getting closer as he went on. Scootaloo’s blood ran cold; she knew exactly what it was, but Apple Bloom was perplexed and staring upward. “What in—”
Scootaloo threw her light frame at Apple Bloom. “DOWN!!!” she screeched as she tackled her friend to the cobblestone street and held her face-down to the ground. Not a heartbeat after they hit, the whistle was cut off by an ear-shattering explosion and the crumbling of a building just up the street.
“What was that?!” Apple Bloom cried out as she rubbed frantically at her ears.
“Bombs!” yelled Scootaloo as he pulled her to her hooves, “Run!” She broke into a dead run in the opposite direction of the blast, hearing only a few steps of her friend’s limping stride behind her before they were drowned out by two more explosions. One was out of sight but the other claimed another building not far up the street from them. She struggled to breathe; it was too much like that night in Ponyville, but she had to keep going. She had to find safety for her and Apple Bloom.
“In there!” she yelled, stopping very briefly to point to a potential safe-haven. The last building on the left was a house, a cottage very similar to Apple Bloom’s home, and with luck it would make do as a hiding spot. Scootaloo spun and bucked the door open and let her crimson-headed friend run past.
Apple Bloom took a few shaky steps in and looked around frantically. “You nuts, Scootaloo?!” she yelled angrily, “This place ain’t gonna be safe against those things!”
Scootaloo cringed at the sound of another blast and closed the door as best as the broken door jamb would hold. “Trust me,” she said between gasps for air, “They don’t normally aim for houses. We’re safer in here than outside.”
The horror on Apple Bloom’s face was heartbreaking. “‘Normally?!’” she sputtered, “You mean this happens often?!”
“Too often,” said Scootaloo as she rubbed her head to try and nurse the ringing out of her ears. “Whenever they’re chasing somepony, it always ends like this. Except…” she trailed off and chanced a peek out the window, “Never in the middle of a town like this. Usually they attack along paths out in the plains or forests; Somepony must have done one fantastic of a job ticking them off.”
Apple Bloom wrenched her weapon out of its holster, her face twisted into a malevolent sneer. “Who?!” she growled.
“Put it away,” said Scootaloo sadly. “They’re the Royal Equestrian Air Force. Like it or not, they’re the law.”
The realization set in and Apple Bloom’s anger melted quickly into pure despair. She looked as if she were ready to cry, and slowly put her popping weapon back in its holster. “Ah didn’t think it had gotten so bad. Things really went to pot, huh?”
“Told you. It’s been bad.” Scootaloo dropped to her haunches and looked about the room; thankfully they had happened across a vacant house to take shelter in and wouldn’t have to face a scared family of ponies. She cocked her head to listen outside and heard several more explosions in the distance. “All we can do now is wait. It’s how they do things: first they chase whoever they’re after with bombs to keep them pinned into a building and cut off their escape. Then in come the ground troops.” She listened to the scattered blasts for a second longer, noting how spread apart they were from each other. “Sounds like they lost whoever it is they’re chasing.”
Apple Bloom peered through the dusty window to the streets outside and then paced nervously around the room. Although she was doing an admirable job of hiding it, it was clear she was devastated at how things had changed in her absence. She wandered around aimlessly, dragging her hoof through the dust on the old abandoned furniture, before starting down the darkened hallway toward what was probably once a bedroom.
“Hey,” Scootaloo said quietly, “If they come in here, just keep the popper away, okay? They’re not after us, so just do what they say and they’ll leave us alone.”
“If you even move,” said the cold, malicious voice of a stranger, “I will kill you.”
Scootaloo whirled around. Apple Bloom was standing just beyond the doorway of the room, motionless, and leaning slightly to her right with an expression that was caught somewhere between anger and fear. A gray leg was clutching a knife between its hoof and pastern, with the tip pointed right to Apple Bloom’s throat.
“If you even move, I will kill you,” said a cold, female voice.
Apple Bloom drew a slow breath through gritted teeth; she couldn’t risk any sudden movements. Although she couldn’t see her attacker, she could feel the tip of a knife pressed gently against her throat and it would only take a fraction of a second to drive it home. She could never have imagined that a rogue pony was hiding in this building and ready to pounce; there was no need to. She did as she was told and held still, hoping Scootaloo had the sense to make a break for it—
—when a blur of gamboge tore between her and threw itself into the assailant, tacking her to the ground a few feet away. Apple Bloom caught only a glimpse of Scootaloo’s face, crumpled into a mess of anger and screaming with feral rage, as she pinned the assailant to the ground with a hoof to the chest and viciously punched the helpless pony again and again in the face. After taking three brutal hits to the face the assailant, a pony with her face obscured beneath a tattered hood, managed to take a swipe with her knife to knock Scootaloo off balance and kick her off. The swift pegasus twisted in mid-air like a cat and landed on her hooves, somehow side-stepped the knife that was thrown at her blind side, and pounced again to throw the hooded pony into the wall.
Apple Bloom stumbled back and aimed her pistol, but was utterly helpless. The two ponies were too fast for her to risk a shot; it would be too easy for her bullet to hit Scootaloo. All she could do was keep a bead on them and hope Scootaloo could hold her own until she had a clear shot.
Except Scootaloo’s taking control…
The hooded pony threw a couple of punches but Scootaloo dodged one and swatted the other away effortlessly. Another knife was drawn and took several slashes at her throat but she calmly ducked one and hopped back out of reach of the other. The assailant let out a scream of frustration and threw her second knife, and Scootaloo was airborne; she jumped to the side, planted all four hooves on the wall, and fed a savage roundhouse kick right into the assailant’s face. Following the brutally dull thud of a hoof against flesh and bone came several beads of red from the pony’s mouth, and she staggered back uneasily with her head twisted to the side. She managed to pull a third knife out, but it slipped from her hoof and she collapsed into a heap face-down on the floor.
Apple Bloom tried to shake the disbelief out of her head and strafed to the side to get a clear shot, not that she needed to any longer. Her friend had trounced the hooded pony: the dazed creature on the ground at her hooves was lucky to be alive after that last hit, let alone still conscious, and was down for the count.
“This… Is this…” gasped Scootaloo between winded breaths, still crouching low with her wings erect and panting heavily, “So this is your… masked freak…?”
Apple Bloom was taken aback by the change in her friend; it was like she had become an entirely different pony. The tone of her voice was held low with an almost rabid growl and her eye had shrunk into a cruel purple dot. “No,” she said cautiously, “Ain’t her.”
“Then why’d she pull that knife on you?” said Scootaloo, her breathing slowing down as her tone softened back to normal. She looked down at the hooded mess lying on the floor in front of her and cautiously reached out to lift the hood—
BOOOOOOOOM!!!
The building shook from the blast of a bomb, one that went off far too close to the building they were in, and Scootaloo fell to the ground and shielded her head on instinct. The hooded pony acted and rolled on top of her, grasping her in a headlock and holding a knife to the pegasus’ kidney.
Apple Bloom shot the lamp that was a few feet from the two on the floor and aimed at the face-down pony’s head. “Ah got a clear shot,” she growled, “Get off her. NOW!”
The pony’s head stayed down, keeping her face hidden under the hood. “Try it, you Eastland wannabe; I’ll kill her before you manage it. Now drop the—”
Scootaloo flared her wing, hooking it under the pony’s leg and pushing the knife out of reach of her body. With a grunt she managed to push to her hooves and hit the assailant in the face with the back of her head. The hooded pony’s grip loosened enough for Scootaloo to pull free and she bucked the attacker in the stomach. The surprised pony was sent flying through an empty bookshelf with a guttural cry and was buried in debris as it smashed apart.
“Jerk,” muttered Scootaloo quietly, as if the hooded pony had merely bumped into her in a crowd without bothering to apologize.
“Scoot,” said Apple Bloom in admiration, “That was ace-high.” The pegasus turned to her with a sheepish smirk and a face that turned beat red. Apple Bloom pointed her weapon at the pair of legs poking out of the heap near the wall. “Alright, sway-back. No more games. Get up.” The legs were completely motionless and she aimed at what she hoped was just a piece of shelf and fired, punching a small hole in the smashed wood. “Get. Up.”
“You’d actually shoot an unconscious pony?” said a spiteful voice from within the pile.
“If need be. How’s about Ah keep shooting ‘till Ah hit you or you decide to show your face?”
A hoof rested on her leg and gently lowered the weapon. “Apple Bloom, don’t. She’s beaten. We… we don’t have to go this far.”
The pair of legs kicked suddenly and the hooded pony slowly pulled herself out of the wreckage. She threw her hood back and Apple Bloom’s heart skipped a beat when she saw the face underneath. It was an unfortunately familiar scraggly-maned earth pony wearing a pair of glasses mended with tape, who smirked with devilish delight when the two locked eyes. “Blank Flank!” she said in a mockingly cheerful tone, “Should’ve known I hadn’t seen the last of you.”
“Spoon!” spat Apple Bloom as she shoved Scootaloo aside and aimed her pistol once more. “Ah thought Ah beefed you in Baía de Corvos!”
“Oh you got me alright,” said Silver Spoon as she begrudgingly held up a hoof, showing off a pink dimple-like scar on her cannon, “You got me good. Almost lost this leg thanks to you.”
“Too bad. Ah was aiming for your heart. Don’t worry, Ah don’t miss twice. Ever.”
“Apple Bloom! NO!” Scootaloo yelled as she leapt between them.
“Out of the way, Scootaloo,” said Apple Bloom sternly, “This is between me and her.”
“No killing,” Scootaloo said forcibly.
Silver Spoon grinned and stood beside Scootaloo, putting a hoof around her shoulder. “Glad one of you ponies is on my side.”
“Shut up,” said the angry pegasus, making Silver Spoon gingerly pull away and put her front hooves up sarcastically. “You’re no killer, Apple Bloom. Don’t do it.”
Silver Spoon sputtered and began cackling at Scootaloo with contempt. “You really are Scootaloo, aren’t you? You’re every bit as dense as ever.” She paced slowly about the room with a smug expression that only waivered once when another blast echoed in the distance and smiled nastily at Apple Bloom. “Didn’t tell her what you and the Stripes did to us in Baía de Corvos, did you? What you did?”
It felt as if a dagger had been shoved into Apple Bloom’s heart and her pistol began to tremble in her hoof. “Ah think you’d better stop talking.”
“I hate to be the one to tell you this, Scootaloo,” said Silver Spoon with feigned sympathy, “but I was there. Saw the whole thing. She became quite the celebrity in the West for that, you know. Hey Blank Flank! Did you tell her the name we had for you?”
“Ah swear if you don’t shut your trap Ah will—”
Apple Bloom was cut off when Scootaloo abruptly turned and slugged Silver Spoon in the mouth, knocking her to the floor in one shot. She walked over to her friend and firmly put a wing around Apple Bloom, holding them tightly together. “She’s not a killer,” said Scootaloo firmly.
Apple Bloom’s leg went limp, letting her weapon point down at the floor. She couldn’t even bear to look her friend in the eye right now, because she knew just how wrong Scootaloo’s vote of confidence really was. She slowly holstered her weapon and pulled away from her friend’s embrace, acting like she was looking for bombers out the window.
Silver Spoon slowly stood up, grumbling as she held a hoof to her jaw. “When did you start fighting back?” she said in a pained slur, “Before or after you were attacked by a lawnmower?”
“When somepony decided to attack my only friend in the whole wide world,” said Scootaloo.
The gray mare spat on the floor. “Fine, whatever. Far be it from me to rain on somepony’s parade.” She took a lap around the room and retrieved the knives she had thrown, tucking them into the small pockets on her belt. “So what about the other one?” she said passively as she moved, “I guess she’s too good for you two now, eh?”
Apple Bloom spun around. “You know where she is?!”
Yet another bomb went off somewhere in Broncton, farther than the last one but still close enough to rattle the walls. “I know of her,” said Silver Spoon as she glared uncomfortably in the direction of the blast, “Look, I’ll be honest. I don’t know much, but as invalid as it makes me feel I’m in a pinch I can’t get out of without help. Help me get out of this city, and I’ll spill everything I know.”
“Should have known they were after you,” said Apple Bloom as she raised a knowing eyebrow at Scootaloo.
“Eat it, Blank Flank,” said Silver Spoon, “Do we have a deal or what? I’m kind of in a hurry; I’ve got a ride to catch that won’t wait.”
Scootaloo ran and looked out the window. “What’s your plan?” she said eagerly, “How do we get past them?”
“Won’t be hard. Those clowns are just bombing blind to try and draw me out; they think I’m going to panic and make a break for it. The trouble is, is when they run out of bombs and start a sweep of the city on hoof. What I need is a couple sets of eyes, no offence Scootaloo, to slip out of the city unseen before that happens.”
“Not exactly the sharpest tools in the shed, are they?” said Apple Bloom, fighting to sound civil as she surrendered to the thought of helping Silver Spoon of all ponies.
The things Ah do for friendship.
“It’s a scare tactic,” said Scootaloo in a sad tone, “It’s how they keep ponies in line. ‘Don’t mess with us or this happens’ kind of thing.”
Silver Spoon nodded as her cruel smile melted into a serious frown. “They obviously followed me all the way here,” she said in agreement with Scootaloo, “They could have taken me out on the train no problem. Heck, they could have bombed the frigging train itself and done me in quick enough to be home for lunch. There aren’t as many places to run and hide on a train as there are in a town.”
Apple Bloom dug at the ground angrily as her mind strained to take in everything that was happening. She had been aware that Equestria had changed for the worst since the day she stepped off that ferry back onto her native soil, but never in a thousand years could anyone have convinced her it was like this until she saw it with her own eyes. She found herself thinking back to the war in Sonhos Vale; East and West, two halves of one country that had been split apart and hated one another for reasons she couldn’t even begin to understand. She remembered the burning hate; the way she felt about the Westland ponies, and was well aware they felt exactly the same. Even now when she thinks back to the way those ponies looked, so very different from Equestrians with their pale scraggly coats and deep hollow eyes, she finds herself hating them. Even with that in mind, even with that hate that drove her through that war, she was still aware that they weren’t evil. They were soldiers, people. Just like her and her friends they were only following orders and fighting for what they believed in. What was happening in this town, this country, was just wrong. There was no word for it other than evil.
The gray mare gestured for the two to follow her and headed to the back door. Scootaloo stayed close, no doubt eager for a chance to find Sweetie Belle, while Apple Bloom held back. Regardless of everything, she was still not comfortable with the idea of helping a monster like Silver Spoon.
Do it for Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo.
“Alright,” Silver Spoon said quietly as she pushed the back door open enough to peer into the alley. “This alley’s narrow; they won’t be able to see too clearly from above. Here’s my plan: Those fliers are after me, not the two of you. You two be my eyes and ears while I stay out of sight. When I first got to this city I spotted a freight train being loaded. We slip onto it unseen, and let the R.E.A.F. bomb this city down to Tartarus; it won’t be our problem anymore.”
“Sounds good so far,” said Scootaloo.
“Once we’re on the train, I’ll tell you what little I know about your friend. After that we go our own separate ways. Blank Flank, you and I can settle scores next time we meet, if we feel the need.” Silver Spoon chuckled as if she had told a joke. “How’s that sound?”
“Ah’ll hold you to that, Spoon.”
“Love you too, darling,” said Silver Spoon sarcastically. “Scootaloo, they don’t know you from Adam so they won’t pay any attention to you. Fly up there and be a scout. Apple Bloom, stay close to me so Scootaloo can point to you where they are.”
Scootaloo shuddered quietly and twirled her hoof on the cement floor. “I…” she stammered, “I can’t fly.”
Silver Spoon broke down into derisive laughter. “Still?!”
Apple Bloom pushed between them. “Watch it, Spoon,” she said in a quiet hiss, “She’s the only reason Ah ain’t put you in the ground so keep that in mind before you open that big trap of yours! Got it?!”
“Fair enough,” said the gray mare with a note of raw irritation in her voice. “Change of plans, then. Scootaloo, take the lead. You’re pretty quick. Probably you could outrun one of those bombs if worst came to worst. Blank Flank, you cover me from the rear.”
The two friends looked into each other’s eyes and nodded to one another, and Scootaloo ducked low and crept through the door. She kept her good eye on the sky and slunk out into the middle of the alleyway while Silver Spoon and Apple Bloom pressed against the walls on either side of the door to wait for her signal.
“She’s going to find out sooner or later,” whispered Silver Spoon. “You can’t hide what you are, Mau-Olhado, so don’t even try.”
Apple Bloom twitched at the mention of that name and fought the urge to draw her pistol right then and there. “Don’t call me that.”
“You afraid she’ll ditch you if she knows what you’ve done? Better to find out when you want instead of at a bad time.”
“She doesn’t have to know,” said Apple Bloom. “She’s better off not knowing.”
Silver Spoon shook her head. “You’re not her mother. And she’s not a little filly. It’s not like I care, but if you don’t tell her you’ll end up regretting it. Mark my words, Blank Flank.”
“NOOOOOOOO!!!”
It was Scootaloo’s voice screaming in pure terror from outside. Apple Bloom kicked the door open to find Scootaloo only a few feet down the alley, crumpled near a wall and shaking violently while she frantically tried to push farther into the bricks she was leaning against. Sweat was pouring down her trembling face which was racked with fear. Apple Bloom ran to her and held the terrified pegasus’ face against her chest, trying to understand what was happening to her.
“He’ll kill us!!!” she screeched hysterically, as if she was completely unaware of Apple Bloom and staring off into the sky, “He’ll kill us!!!”
Apple Bloom drew her pistol and looked angrily into the sky. In the distance hovered one of the bombers; an older stallion with a sickly green coat and a bright two-tone mane that was dressed in a gray flight suit of some kind with a weathered flight cap on his head. He was looking off in the distance, scanning the city carefully through dark red goggles and still clutching one of the bombs they had been terrorizing the town with. He was too far away to have been about to throw that thing at Scootaloo and it didn’t even look like he had spotted them yet. Apple Bloom had no clue what he could have done to scare her like this, but she didn’t care. Enough was enough; nobody does that to her friends. She lined the sight of her pistol up with his bomb. “You like bombs?! See how you like ‘em now!” she hollered and pulled the trigger.
He didn’t hear her, nor did he even see it coming. He had only a split second to let out a cry of agony and surprise before he and his voice were swallowed in an instant by the explosion.
Silver Spoon’s words fell on deaf ears. The instant Scootaloo had cried out Apple Bloom was gone out the door to help her friend and the plan had gone straight to pot. They had been at it for a minute at best and somehow these two had already messed things up.
You one-eyed clown. Don’t screw up when you’re beating me or anything.
She muttered under her breath and hoped against hope the shabby pegasus had simply slipped on a banana peel or something. She could hear Scootaloo mumbling incoherently out in the alley and prayed she could still count on the two to get her out of this town. Perhaps, if she were really lucky, the airponies would figure the brat was losing her nerve over the raid and pay no attention to her.
BOOOOOOOOM!!!
Silver Spoon’s ears perked up at the sound. It was the blast of a bomb, no doubt, but it sounded off; she could have sworn it came from high in the air. Throwing caution to the wind, she ran out from beneath her cover and looked in the direction of the explosion just in time to spot the smoldering remains of what was left of an airpony plummeting straight to the ground. In the other direction of the trash-strewn alley were her two little ‘helpers’; Scootaloo was balled up on the ground like a newborn and Apple Bloom was right beside her, still aiming her pistol in the direction of her victim.
“What is wrong with you?!” spat Silver Spoon, “Do you realize what you’ve done?!”
Apple Bloom didn’t seem to care. She swiftly holstered her weapon and frantically shook her friend who wasn’t moving. “C’mon, wake up!” she said as panic took hold in her voice, “Spoon! Help me get her to that train!”
“Are you insane?! Every airpony in town would’ve seen that blast! They’re probably headed this way already!”
“Ah’m getting her to that train!” said Apple Bloom with a grunt as she muscled under Scootaloo to drape the limp pony across her back. “C’mon, hurry!”
Silver Spoon saw red and fought the desire to plant a knife in both of their skulls. “You’re useless! Both of you!!!” she yelled at the pair. Without another thought she turned and ran, knowing she’d never get near that train now. Getting caught without a plan wasn’t her style, but she had no choice in the matter. Tweedledee and Tweedledum had forced her to act on the fly and improvise.
Kill them later. Pull your head out of your rear and focus, Spoon.
She turned the corner and reached the end of the alley and after a quick check skyward to see if any airponies were in view she darted out into the street. She quickly dove under a parked wagon and tried to collect her thoughts. There would be sentries watching the edges of town, so simply running was out of the question. There had to be a way out of town, there was always a way out that went overlooked. This town was too small to have a sewer system large enough to crawl through; there would be no underground tunnels, nothing of the sort. Dressing up was out of the question; they’d check each and every pony that tried to leave.
“How did it come to this?” she whispered in a brief moment of self-loathing. “How’d I drop the ball so badly? I’m better than this.”
The silhouettes of two airborne pegasi slithered across the ground in the direction of the blast; no doubt the majority of them were there already and of course she would be blamed for doing their buddy. It wouldn’t be long before they took to the ground and fanned out in a search pattern from the blast site and they’d find her in minutes if she stayed put. She was out of options; her only choice was a mad dash for—
“Over here!!!” screamed a young voice from up the street, “I see here! She’s over here!”
Silver Spoon swore under her breath and threw herself out of her hiding spot into a dead run down the street. There was no time or reason to think anymore; she was on pure adrenaline and instinct now. It all came down to if she could run better than they flew. “Come on, try and catch me!” she taunted quietly, “You’ll never take me alive in a million years!”
She turned down another alley and threw herself at the window of a shop, shielding her face from the glass as it shattered around her, and rolled to her hooves. She leaped over the counter and out the back door, and found herself in another alley. With no time to consider she picked a direction and ran to the end, kicking her way through the back door of somepony’s apartment. Silver Spoon answered the meek gasps of the terrified owners with a hollow apology and threw their front door open. Looking left and right she ran for the open window at the end of the hall. Silver Spoon climbed out the window, taking care to shut it behind her to try and hide her trail, and scaled the downspout of the neighboring building to reach the second floor. Thankfully the window was unlocked; she dove in and slammed it behind her—
—and all was quiet; the eye of the hurricane. Silver Spoon took a moment to collapse, red faced and sweating, and caught her breath knowing she might not get another chance. Her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room and she took in her surroundings. The décor and shape of the building made it look as if it was once somepony’s home but had since been converted into a small business. The room had four small cubicles on either side of a narrow hallway and the door to one office, locked and labeled ‘Manager’, beside her. The entire place was bathed only in the low light that slipped through the drawn blinds; thankfully it seemed to be their day off. Silver Spoon walked slowly and cautiously as not to make a sound, not willing to assume there wasn’t somepony like a janitor in the building somewhere to hear her. These old buildings have terrible acoustics and creaks, and on a day off the sound of somepony fumbling around would definitely draw attention. She pressed her ear against the exit door and took a moment to listen for signs of life. Nothing. It was eerily quiet inside and out; by now the airponies would have split up and were searching alone, giving her a chance of survival. She could take one of them one-on-one with no problem, especially if she snuck up on them.
Slowly the gray mare opened the door which thankfully moved silently on well-oiled hinged and she crept out into the deserted hallway. To her left was another door with the white outline of a mare and stallion on a small sign, a bathroom, and to the right was a staircase that led to the building’s lobby. Silver Spoon took the stairs carefully and slowly risked a glance around the wall to survey the room. It was a rather fancy lobby for its size, compared to the non-descript office space she had found above. Two long planters were placed in the center of the room with comfortable leather seats around them, and an empty receptionist’s desk stood guard between the wall she peeked around and the front doors. Silver Spoon ran for the door but stopped herself just short of bursting out into the streets. “Bad idea,” she said quietly to herself. “Better see if there is a back door for—”
“Hold it right there!” said an uneasy voice behind her.
“Huh?!”
There was a backdoor, just to the left of the receptionist’s desk, and it was covered by one of the airponies that had been chasing her. He was a young pale yellow pegasus with a deep blue mane, all alone and out of bombs, and the way he stood and spoke just dripped of rookie. “Y-you’re under arrest!” he said with a nervous stutter.
Vintage rookie. The way he quivered and breathed were tell-tale signs that Silver Spoon instantly recognized. This was his very first time in a fight, and she couldn’t help but grin at his sheer stupid bravery. She threw her head back and let out a cruel, hearty laughter at the kid’s expense. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Just as she expected he took a nervous step back as she approached. “I said freeze!”
“Oh, give me a break.” She rested a hoof on his shoulder and savored the feeling of his muscles tensing with terror under her touch. She didn’t have the heart to kill him and instead shoved him aside. “Out of the way, gelding. I’m in a hurry.”
As she made for the door a hoof wrapped around her ankle to stop her and he punched her in the stomach hard enough to expel the air from her lungs. She spun around and swept her hind hoof across his face, knocking him to the ground a few feet away.
“Little punk!” she said angrily as she sucked air, “I don’t have time for this!” The kid slowly stood clutching a hoof to his jaw and, to Silver Spoon’s surprise, assumed an offensive stance and readied himself to fight. “Alright, fine. I don’t like killing youngsters, but I’m not above it.” A sinister smirk spread across her face. “Besides, I do need to blow off some steam after taking a beating from a cripple.” She slowly drew one of her knives and let him focus on it, gently waving it left to right for him to imagine what she intended to do with it so she could revel in the fear that came over his features.
Amazingly, he stood his ground. “My unit’ll be here any second,” he said in a tone so frightened he sounded ready to cry.
“Think you’ll stay alive until then?” she taunted. She reared onto her hind legs, tucked the knife into her belt right over her crotch, and fell back onto all fours. “Well, come on then. I’ll even give you a fighting chance, kiddo. No weapons.”
He took a step back, as if to reconsider whether he wanted to fight, and flew directly for her with a pitiably frightened battle cry. Silver Spoon reared up just as he made contact and grasped him in a hug, rolled with his own momentum, and kicked with her hind legs to send him careening uncontrollably with enough force to bury his head in the drywall behind her with a cry of pain.
“Typical rookie pegasus,” she said as she stood up and brushed herself off. “You all think you’re so hot because you can fly. It doesn’t give you the advantage you think, especially when you fly in head-first like that.” She watched as he shakily pulled his head from the wall, shook the powder from his mane, and readied himself to attack again. Her patience was wearing thin. “Alright, I’ve got time for one more,” she said as the playful tune in her voice turned vicious, “This is your last one, make it count.”
He swallowed nervously and clenched his teeth, and this time ran straight for her with his head down. Silver Spoon had time to roll her eyes at his terribly telegraphed attack and simply stepped out of the way at the last second. As he lunged past she caught his hoof under her own and sent him stumbling face-down into the floor. The rookie started to stand again but Silver Spoon didn’t have time to mess with him anymore; she pulled the knife from her belt and threw it at him, grazing his shoulder with an agonized cry from the kid.
“How’s that feel?” she said scornfully as he held his hoof over his open wound. She walked closer and rolled up her sleeve, showing off a scar of her own. “Like a really bad sunburn, right?” She pulled her shirt up to reveal the scar on her belly. “Know what it’s like to be stabbed? You feel a slash right away but a stab wound is a whole different level of pain.” She gave him a moment to study the jagged mark before she dropped to his side and threw one foreleg around his neck with the other pressing a knife to his barrel. “You don’t feel it at first, might not even realize you’ve been stabbed until you see blood, but right away you just feel so very wrong. Then comes the pain, dull and throbbing at first but like nothing you’ve ever felt before and it gets worse and worse until you’re shaking uncontrollably. At that point it gets so unbearable that you’ll probably pass out.” Silver Spoon leaned her cheek against his trembling forehead. “Sorry, kiddo. I would’ve let you go if you had backed down. Look on the bright side: You’ll get a medal for this, won’t you?”
“Let him go. Now,” said a gruff, deep voice.
Silver Spoon wrenched the kid to his hooves and held him in front of her with her knife to his neck. An older gray stallion with a bright orange mane, one of his comrades, was standing in the same doorway the rookie had entered through. This one had a captain’s emblem on his leg. “Congratulations, kiddo,” she whispered in a chipper tone to the rookie, “You’ve just upgraded from K.I.A. to hostage.” She looked into the captain’s goggles. “Now I’m going to walk out of here, and if you don’t try any funny stuff, just maybe this kid gets to go home to his mom.”
He pulled the last bomb from his belt and held it at leg’s length above the ground. “What’s going to happen is you’re going to let the kid go.”
“Don’t even,” said Silver Spoon with a smirk, “You set that off at this range and all three of us are airborne.”
The old stallion smirked ever so slightly and took a step forward. “Which is exactly what I’ll do if you off the kid.”
Silver Spoon called his bluff. “You care that much about one punk rookie? You his father or something?”
“Commanding officer.”
“How sweet,” said Silver Spoon, sounding confident to hide the fact she had been beaten. The stallion wasn’t impressed at all by her threat, and she could just tell he had every intention of setting that thing off if she took out her hostage, making the kid useless. She reluctantly shoved the kid to the ground and gestured at the captain.
He calmly clipped the bomb back to his load-webbing and walked to stand beside the wounded pegasus. “Cover the door. I’ll take care of her,” he said, “and keep pressure on that wound.”
Silver Spoon watched as the world’s luckiest rookie did as he was told, and the gray stallion turned to face her. “How nice. Keeping the little punk from getting hurt, hm? I suppose you showed the same courtesy to all those innocent townsponies you’ve been gleefully bombing for the last hour?”
His grim, unreadable expression didn’t flinch. “Give up. Every flier in the city is converging as we speak. You still have a chance to get out of this alive, if you surrender.”
The gray mare let out a low growl and readied her knife. “Don’t condescend me you jackass. I’m not like those pansies out there. I don’t scare. And just so you know, when I cut you down I’m going to use your own bomb to blow that little rookie to Tartarus.”
“I don’t intend to scare you. Just lay the beating of your life on you.”
Once again Silver Spoon couldn’t help but grin. “I’m going to enjoy this,” she said in a low tone.
The old stallion took his red goggles off and tossed them to the rookie, revealing his cold blue eyes, and slowly lowered to the ground. The instant he readied to pounce something shot past him and whisked close enough to Silver Spoon’s head to billow her hood. She was barely aware of it until the rookie erupted with an agonized cry. The kid had fallen to his back screaming, gripping his leg beneath an arrow that had buried into his flesh. The captain’s cold eyes widened and without hesitation he shot past Silver Spoon to grab the rookie and hurl both of them behind the receptionist’s desk. No sooner had he and his rookie made it behind cover, another arrow flew through the window and struck the varnished desk with an echoing thud.
“This way! Hurry!”
The voice came from the back door the rookie had been guarding and Silver Spoon didn’t know or care who it belonged to. Somepony had just yanked her flank out of the fire for whatever reason and she was going for it. As she ran past she slowed just long enough to make eye contact with the captain and blow a mocking kiss to him and his rookie. The anger in his eyes as he helplessly watched her bounce out the door was so powerful she could feel it in the back of her throat, and Silver Spoon would have given one of her own hooves to stick around and enjoy it a bit longer.
Business before pleasure, Spoon.
As she passed through the threshold to freedom a hoof wrapped around hers. “Hold your breath,” said the voice, and before she could answer she was engulfed in a yellow glow so intense it felt like it was crushing the air out of her lungs. For a moment it killed her senses leaving her stranded in a vacuum of painful light, and the next thing she knew she had fallen to the floor. After lying for a moment of gasping and swallowing air she rolled to her stomach and vomited on the floor.
“Terribly sorry,” said the calm pleasant voice of her rescuer, “Everypony’s first time is that bad.”
Silver Spoon tried to spit the foul taste from her mouth and weakly looked around to locate the source of the voice. She was still disoriented from whatever had happened to her in that office and, to her utter confusion as her senses came back to her, she found she wasn’t in that building any longer. The structure she was in appeared to be a greenhouse; either side was lined with tables overflowing with potted tropical plants of every shape and color and the air was rich with the scent of soil and fishmeal.
“Not to worry,” said the voice again, “I can’t travel far with a passenger, but I managed to get a ways from town. Still, I wouldn’t recommend staying long, lest those airponies figure out our little ruse.” Silver Spoon finally located her rescuer; a lanky yellow unicorn wearing red sunglasses, a business suit and turtleneck, and the absolute cheesiest moustache she had ever seen was reclining lazily in the corner. He made eye contact and smiled widely.
“Thanks,” said Silver Spoon at a loss to say anything else. “So what about your friend?”
The unicorn chuckled. “She’s quicker than those arrows of hers. She’ll be gone before they even figure out what happened.”
Silver Spoon laughed uneasily as her relief turned to suspicion. “Alright. You look pretty professional, so you won’t mind me being so blunt,” she said in an accusing tone, “That was a pretty bold rescue. Quite frankly, you don’t look the type to do anything for free.”
He grinned as if she had told a particularly hilarious joke. “Precise, to the point, and exactly correct dear friend,” he said, “The rescue was a down payment. You see, I’m very interested in that little trinket you lifted from Canterlot the other night.”
The gray mare felt as if a bolt of lightning had shot through her. The fact he knew it had been taken was unbelievable enough, but that he knew she had it? She stood motionless for a beat while he innocently awaited her response and then reluctantly pulled the Princess’ crown from her cloak.
His eyes lit up with greedy anticipation and he actually licked his lips. “It’s beautiful… You are absolutely amazing. The best thief I’ve ever seen,” he gushed, “and I want it.”
“Alright, down boy,” said Silver Spoon as she raised a hoof. “As much as I’m loving the flattery, you’d better have some serious cash right here and now. You’re the type who knows these things, right? You can imagine what I went through to get this.”
“Knowing these things is my job,” said the yellow unicorn with a hint of pride in his relaxed tone. He reared onto his hind legs and pulled a gaudy purple cape from his sleeve, one that was decorated with blue and yellow stars of various sizes, and held it out wide to his left. “Abra… cadabra,” he said dryly as he whipped it away to reveal a rather large bag of bits that had appeared behind it. As he levitated the cape and folded it neatly in mid-air, he winked to Silver Spoon and said “Sorry. I had a rather um, theatrical magic teacher.”
Silver Spoon wolf whistled. “That’s the kind of magic I like.” She casually tossed the crown to him like it was garbage and walked over to inspect her pay. From just a glance she could tell it easily contained about half what she was promised by the masked pony, but if it meant washing her hooves of this ordeal once and for all she was willing to take the loss. Besides, it was still a lot of money.
The yellow unicorn playfully placed the crown on his head and made a quick, feminine curtsey. “You’ve made me a very happy pony. Perhaps I can count on your services in the future?”
“Perhaps you can,” said Silver Spoon as she nosed through the bag of bits. “Pleasure doing business with you or whatever, Mister…?”
“Snails,” he said calmly as he reared his legs and vanished with a burst of pale smoke.
Silver Spoon watched the smoke clear. “Drama queen,” she said to herself, “but as long as you pay like this I… would…” She trailed off as the realization hit; as the name he gave stirred up an old memory from a time gone by.
No way.
“No. Not in a million years could that one have grown up into that.” Silver Spoon quickly put the thought out of her head; she could hardly care even if it was the same pony. She reached into the bag and threw a hoofful of the wonderful golden coins into the air and cried out in glee as they rained down.
Since the sun had risen over the normally sleepy town of Broncton it had been thrust into total chaos. Just as the orange glow of sunrise bathed the streets in light, loud blasts and a chorus of panicked screams from the townsponies shook the very foundation of the little hamlet. Now the sun was an hour into the sky and the sounds had finally subsided, leaving a deafening silence in its wake. The damage to the town itself had been minimal from the looks of things: a half-collapsed building here, a few ruined streets there, but the threat was forever left behind in the townsponies that such a thing could even happen in such a small rural community as this.
And it was all the fault of that utterly useless gray mare.
The masked mare under the cloak slid lower against the chimney she used as a backrest, high above the streets on a lone rooftop and nestled comfortably out of sight from anypony that wasn’t directly above, and groaned quietly with annoyance. She had arrived in town the night before, under cover of darkness as usual, to make sure she was good and ready for what should have been a busy and productive day. She immediately realized something was wrong when she noticed the moon had been darkened out and found this good vantage point on a roof to keep an eye out. Sure enough her suspicions were confirmed: she soon spotted a pegasus in a drab gray flight suit slipping about the darkened sky and carrying a load of those curious little bombs of theirs. The gray mare had clearly pulled off the heist, but had definitely caught their attention doing so.
“‘The best’, are you?” she said humorlessly as she dabbed at her forehead. Carefully she slid herself to the edge of the roof and looked down into the alley; both of her prizes had been right down there barely a half-hour ago, and she had no choice but to helplessly let them split off in two directions thanks to the trigger-happy earth pony and the tantrum of the pegasus. They had been together; she was this close to walking right up to them and claiming both, but now they might as well be across the planet from her and it was enough to make her sick with fury.
Thanks to the warmth of the sun beating down on her and the tarmac roof beneath her soaking it up like a hearth it was already too hot for her underneath her pile of clothes. With a weak sigh she peeled the scarf from her face and drew a deep breath of fresh air. Though it was rich with the scent of cordite and hot concrete from the bombs, it nevertheless beat the stale scent of air filtered through the tattered cloth she wore to obscure her face. She sat back and reminisced about the good old days; gone were the days when she was free to walk amongst others without such a ridiculous disguise and when she was free to step out into the open rather than stay in dank alleyways and the abandoned corners of society. Such simple things she had once taken for granted were gone, along with her kingdom and everything she valued. These days her life was gone. Nowadays she wore this miserable pile of rags and they were her prison, for she had to remain a ghost and couldn’t suffer the consequences of anypony learning she was still alive.
Not yet, anyways. How delicious it will be when the time comes that I can shed this miserable disguise once and for all.
She took the shaded glasses she wore off and bathed her face in the sunlight, and actually found herself enjoying its warm caress. Admittedly her former life of decadence had often kept her from appreciating such basic life pleasures. Rediscovering these pleasures along with that most wonderful thought of restoring things to the way they should be were the only things that had kept her going all these years and had definitely left their mark on her. “The years truly have changed me,” she said in an almost happy tone.
“You and me both, my dear friend.”
What little good there was in her mood evaporated at the sound of that voice and she quickly ducked her head out of sight to obscure her face behind her scarf and glasses. “You again,” she said, making no effort to mask the disdain in her voice. How this peculiar yellow unicorn in the business suit kept finding her was a mystery, as was his unusual perseverance.
“Good day to you, my friend incognito!” said the happy unicorn, “As always I am glad to make your acquaintance and see you have avoided trouble!”
She stared coldly at him through her shaded glasses while he grinned ear to ear like a young foal eager to play with his best friend at the park. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a chipper pony in the wake of such destruction.”
His smirk wavered as he tried in vain to hold onto his cheery visage. “I swear, the guards should be alerted of a murder,” he said somewhat sadly, “You’ve gone and completely killed my good mood.” He sat down with his eyes locked onto the tarmac roof and dug gently at the rough surface, and in a flash he spontaneously perked up once more. “Alas, when you’ve been as close to shuffling off with the reaper as I you learn to wear a smile through thick and thin. Besides, today truly is a great day to be alive, isn’t it?”
“And what, if I may be so bold, is so special about today?”
He giggled quietly to himself. “I could give my rather trenchant list, but I gather you’re only interested in the meat of it?”
“Honestly?” said the masked mare with a low sigh, “I’d prefer neither. What I would like is for you to stop bothering me. I relented to you once when you gushed over that thief and I hired her, and look at what became of things!”
“You seem a might bit down, my friend,” he said completely ignorant of her comment, “How about a trick? Now watch carefully; the hoof is quicker than the horn.” He fiddled his hooves about and thrust them outward, and with just a hint of self-parody in his tone he whispered the incantation, “Hocus… pocus.”
A modest bouquet of roses wrapped in a small blue bow and foil paper appeared with a pop of gray smoke and he grasped them gingerly from the air to clutch them close. He took a deep breath to luxuriate in their fragrance and looked at her with a raised eyebrow.
“I am not impressed by kindergarten-level magic.”
One of the roses lit up with a pale yellow and drifted from the bouquet to slip into the fold of her hood, but she made no move to swat it away. She refused to even give him that satisfaction.
If only you could see the abject disgust on my face right now.
“Oh, very well,” he said with a playful sigh, “then allow me to present… the meat.” He snapped the bow in his teeth and the entire bouquet fell apart, leaving something in his hooves that nearly made her swallow her own tongue.
“How in—?!” she sputtered in shock.
He looped the Element of Magic, that precious golden tiara she had plotted to acquire for so long, around his hoof and twirled it as if it was the worthless toy of a foal. With a deft flick of his hoof he tossed it into the air and let it gently settle on top of his head with his magic, and turned to face her. “Your Highness,” he said in a goofy mockery of a mare’s voice and bowed quickly with a barely contained laugh.
Her heart skipped a beat and it took every ounce of her will not to react. It was not possible that he knew her identity; nopony knew who was buried beneath this stale mountain of threadbare rags. Too many years had passed for anypony to even consider she was still alive, especially not this of all ponies. She had to know for sure, right here and now, and if he knew too much she would have no choice but to snuff him out once and for all. “What exactly is it that you want?” she said, carefully choosing her words and hiding her suspicion behind a veneer of false intrigue.
The strange yellow unicorn immediately stopped fiddling with his new toy and his entire face lit up with joy. “I only hope you aren’t disappointed in my motivations. You see, I wish for a life of decadence and wealth.” He reared onto his hind legs and stretched out his forelegs to show off his rather expensive-looking suit jacket and what appeared to be a very valuable topaz gemstone tucked modestly under the collar of his undershirt. “I’m a pony of very simple tastes. Money. Power. Perhaps fame. The usual things; the first-class V.I.P. platter that most ponies only drool over as they work themselves into the ground at their pointless dead-end jobs.”
“That’s it?” she said with a raised eyebrow hidden behind her glasses.
“That’s it,” he affirmed with a sincere smile. Which, I might add, is what attracted me to you. Our quests trot side-by-side without ever once crossing. We could pool our resources and never once dip into each other’s pay-outs. Quite frankly, I don’t really care what you intend to do with this precious little relic, but I have fair guess what your intention is…” he trailed off and bowed his head to look over his sunglasses and right into hers, “Your Highness.”
He knows.
Her entire body locked up as if she had been buried alive and for a solid minute she couldn’t even think. The unicorn passively stood up straight once more and pushed his glasses flat against his face; his carefree demeanor making him seem threatening with the revelation that he was on to her. No choice. She had to deal with him right here and now; she had been so careful, so meticulous in all these years. She had worn a heap of rags she had dug from the trash and even gone far enough to act the part of a brain-dead hobo just to shy the attention of ponies away from her. Now, out of nowhere had come a borderline stalker who somehow had her figured out. She had just began to consider exactly how she would end his life when a dull clinking sound, not unlike the ticking of a clock, introduced the arrival of another pony who was climbing the ladder she had used to reach this rooftop.
A pale earth pony mare with a bright red braided mane pulled herself onto the rooftop and sat near the edge before looking over with cold indifference in her eyes. Like the unicorn this one was also dressed in what appeared to be expensive clothes; a sky blue blouse and a deep blue scarf wrapped tightly around her neck. However, unlike the goofy-natured yellow pony, this one was armed with a large yellow bow and a quiver full of arrows strapped to her shoulder.
“Hello, Twist,” said the yellow unicorn nonchalantly, to which Twist nodded back and stared off into the sky as if she had no interest in being there. “Yes,” said the unicorn with a sigh, “loquacious as always, my friend.”
In one regard Twist’s silence and lack of humor was a refreshing change of pace compared to the other one, but was also one more inconvenience to add to today’s list: killing the unicorn was out thanks to the arrival of an armed partner. The mare in rags studied the two of them carefully, trying to make heads or tails of such a strange duo. They seemed to have nothing in common; the unicorn acted like the unholy spawn of a school-foal and a crooked salesman and seemed to lack the good graces to keep his trap shut, while the earth pony was silent as death and armed to the teeth with an antique Crystal Empire bow, specialized horseshoes to easily hold and draw her weapon, and even a trimmed sleeve on her blouse for better control. The only similarity the two had were the nearly identical scars centered too perfectly over their cutie marks to have been accidental.
Gang-members, then? Or a cult, perhaps? Who exactly are these two?
“So…” chuckled the unicorn as his gaze returned. “What do you say?”
“How do I know I can trust you?”
The unicorn smiled as if he had been told a particularly delicious joke. “You don’t, but all I am offering is a few extra sets of hooves to put in your corner in the hopes of being handsomely repaid.” He winked and clicked his tongue, “What could you possibly lose?”
The mare in rags looked out into the town, at the lazily rising plumes of oily smoke that rose from the battered streets and the quiet chorus of chatter from frightened and confused ponies that came with it. She didn’t like the idea of trusting him, but sad to say, he had a point. As she thought about it more, the idea of having a few little piggies running around to shoulder some of the load was appealing. As the strange yellow unicorn continued to fiddle about with the delicate tiara, she tossed the idea around in her head and began to consider the possibilities.
And if need be, I can throw the both of them to the wolves at the first sign of trouble to cover my own tail.
A rare smile made its way across her face. “You were right. The only thing that matters to me is restoring my kingdom. Help me accomplish that and you will be rewarded with money and power beyond your wildest dreams.”
The Princess’ tiara fell to the roof with a soft, resounding ting and the unicorn looked to her with a giddy smile. “Rest assured this is the start of something special, Princess…?”
“Arpeggio,” she said distantly. “You may call me Arpeggio. I have not been a princess for quite a while now.”
His magic raised the tiara into the air and placed it on his partner’s head, who flinched but otherwise didn’t react. “Poetic,” he said in admiration, “It’s rather musical; I like it. I am called Snails and my stone-faced counterpart, as you already know, goes by Twist.”
“Now let me make something perfectly clear, Snails and Twist,” said Arpeggio with a note of poison in her tone, “Do not betray me.”
Snails continued to smirk. “I wouldn’t dream of it, my friend. Now then, what of the other two? I understand they were looking for you as well? Apple Bloom and Scootaloo are their names, by the way.”
Arpeggio wondered for a moment how exactly he knew their names before speaking. “The pegasus has one of the elements. At least, she knows its location. The earth pony was to bring her to me so I could… talk… to her, but—”
“—but… that won’t happen anytime soon,” said Snails dismissively. “I grew up with them, in the good old days of Ponyville. They are foalhood friends, and even after all these years are inseparable. In fact, you’d likely have gotten nothing more than a bullet through the heart had you shown yourself. Apple Bloom is rather… tightly strung these days, by the look of things.”
Arpeggio’s front hooves quivered with anger; how in all of Equestria could she have such bad luck as to hire her prey’s best flipping friend as the hunter?! She breathed so heavily with rage that her glasses began to fog up and obscure her vision.
“This could work out in our favor,” said Snails in a comforting tone. Apple Bloom’s sister... had an element as well. Honesty, if memory serves correct. Small world, hm?”
Just like that her luck had turned around completely; Snails was already proving his worth as a ‘partner’. “Can we get them?” said Arpeggio as she turned her back to him so she could remove her glasses and wipe them clear.
“Oh my, yes. We don’t need Scootaloo at all, just some information. You see, there was a third friend of theirs. I already made sure they at least suspect I know where she is. That poor little pegasus wants her friends so badly she’ll give anything to be with them. I, being the paragon of generosity and good will that I am, will see to it they are told exactly how to track her down,” he tittered devilishly, “for a small fee, of course.”
“Perfect. Now then, as for the Element of Magic…”
“For now,” interrupted Snails, “I would prefer it remain in my capable hooves. As a bargaining chip. You will have it in due time; as for now, how am I to know I can trust you entirely?”
Arpeggio growled quietly under her breath, but quickly relented and let Snails have his way. “As you wish. Just keep it out of sight. In fact, do not mention me to anypony. I am supposed to be dead; I would prefer it remained that way for as long as possible.”
“Not to worry. We have a gray little decoy running wild. If Silver Spoon’s even half as bad as her reputation lends her, she’s far too cocky for her own good. She’s also quite clever and quick on her hooves; the perfect bait they’ll never catch to draw their attention from us.”
Twist suddenly stood up and walked over to Snails. She produced a small watch from her pocket and held it in his face impatiently.
“Right, my punctual friend,” nodded Snails. He turned to face Arpeggio, “If there is nothing else, than I really must be going. We each have places to be and besides, it’s probably best we leave town before the cavalry shows up. I’ll be in touch.”
The silent redhead jogged to the edge of the roof, gave a slight nod to Arpeggio, and vanished back down the ladder with the fading sound of her metal horseshoes clinking on the rungs announcing her departure. Snails followed suit, but stopped a few feet from the edge. “Although, if I may make one suggestion, do yourself a favor and get a much better disguise than mismatching socks and a cloak. An unassuming outfit does wonders over… whatever it is you call that ensemble.” With that he reared back and vanished with a dramatic burst of colored smoke.
Left alone with her thoughts once more, Arpeggio returned to the chimney and reclined against it once more. She had nowhere to be for some time, and if this afternoon’s rainfall was still on schedule she had little time to savor the nice weather. The day was coming that the Queen would pay dearly for the harm that befell her subjects. With that in mind she found she was smiling and watched the sun continue to rise though her shaded glasses while a delicious feeling of satisfaction took root in her.
Babs Seed roared like an animal caught under a trap, crying out in pain as she managed to stand. It was the wrong place and the wrong time; the shock of a blast had caused a wall to collapse onto her and it took every ounce of her will to fight against its weight. Her bad lung was on fire, her legs quivered under the pain of the cold brick that fought to shove her to the ground, but she would not give up. A burst of adrenaline tore through her veins and gave her just enough strength to throw her head and back high to tip the wall off of her. Her legs buckled with a guttural cough but, despite giving what she thought was everything she had, she still managed to stand.
Can’t collapse on the little ones, can I?
Lying in the dirt beneath her were two foals, not much older than seven and probably brother and sister, locked in a fearful hug with their faces buried into each other. They waited a moment longer for the wall that wouldn’t touch them now before slowly and fearfully looking up at her with tears in their eyes. “Go on home, kids,” said Babs softly with a weak smile.
The duo scrabbled to their hooves and ran quickly down the street without as much as a glance back at her. Babs Seed managed to stand long enough to watch them scurry around the corner before collapsing to the ground and rolling onto her back, sucking deep breaths of air between haggard coughs. A pair of the R.E.A.F’s airponies quickly soared overhead, converging in the air and landing a short way up the street. From the look of things they were done the dirty part of their job and were just cleaning up now. The sounds of the air raid had subsided and been replaced with the low scattered drone of ponies as they cautiously left their homes. Of course, this meant they had either captured the thief or she had gotten away. Babs rolled to her belly and pounded the ground with her hoof, trying to beat the frustration out of her. It was over but it was also too late; the damage had been done and everything she had tried to prevent had happened. She had failed, again, and she punched the dirt beneath her over and over until her hoof was throbbing and then buried her face in the crook of her leg.
“I-is that…” said a low and thoroughly horrified voice in the distance.
“No…” said another voice with increasing desperation, “No, no no no it can’t be…”
“The smell…” said the first, “How did this happen?!”
It was the two airponies that had flown overhead. They had landed near something dark on the ground that she couldn’t make out from where she laid. All she could clearly see was a faint plume of smoke rising lazily from it and whatever it was, it was enough to absolutely sicken the pair. One had ripped his red goggles from his face and was just staring like a statue with a face twisted into silent horror, and the other was backing away and cringing with a hoof held over her eyes.
A blend of curiosity and concern gave her a jolt of energy and she was on her hooves and managing a light jog to take a look at the object of their nightmares. The instant she laid eyes on it up close she had to fight the urge to throw up. Whoever it had been was long gone, leaving only a scorched, gristly mess of singed fur and burned clothing that could barely be recognized as having once been a pony. Babs had to cover her nose; the acrid and almost sugary odor that rose up with the smoke was overwhelming. She immediately felt a burst of guilt coarse through her and she looked left and right at the two who had discovered the remains: two young pegasi that were barely out of their teens. Apparently one of the platoons consisted entirely of rookies that had never flown a real mission before; from the look of things these were two of them.
What a thing to find on your first mission. Poor kids.
Babs Seed was the first to admit she hated the R.E.A.F. and everything about them, but this was most definitely not the kind of thing these two needed to stare at any longer. “I need you two to round up your mates and secure this area,” she said as she flashed her badge left and right, “and don’t give me any of that trash about authority. Just go and do it.”
“But…” protested the one to the left, a yellow mare with a pink mane.
“Let’s do it,” said the other, a pale blue stallion with a purple mane.
The yellow pegasus looked ready to cry. “If it means you catch the skunk that did this to him, Inspector.”
“Promise. Send an officer my way, too,” Babs said quietly, “I’ll break the news.”
“Got it. Come on, Cotton,” said the stallion and the two quickly split up and flew over the buildings to her front and back.
Babs couldn’t help but wonder what two ponies at such a young age were thinking joining the R.E.A.F. but immediately put it out of her head to focus. “What a mess,” she murmured quietly as she tried to understand exactly what had happened to him or her. It was clear a bomb had done him in while in mid-air, but how it happened was the question. The trigger in the nose detonated them when they hit the ground and it took a decent enough height to build the force to do it, a deliberate safety mechanism if she understood correctly. They simply weren’t the thing that just misfired in the hooves of a flier; it had never happened before. She fought the taste of bile in her throat and pulled what she thought was part of the load-webbing from the body, but instead dislodged a burned up but still recognizable flight cap. All too quickly it hit her who it had been. “Lieutenant Twitch,” she whispered quietly, anticipating just how badly it was going to end once Lightning Dust learned her wingpony was dead.
“Bring him down over here! The area’s secure!”
“Get Sandback and an IFAK here; I want the kid patched up NOW!”
Babs instantly recognized the gravelly tone as belonging to that captain that had visited her office the other day. The gray stallion flew awkwardly, with one of his comrades draped lifelessly across his back and being steadied by the mare from before, and slowed to a gentle landing. Babs Seed ran over and helped the mare lift the kid to the ground. He writhed in agony, clutching his shoulder just below the shaft of an arrow that had buried deep into his leg. “Hurts… it hurts…” he babbled deliriously with tears streaming down his face.
“Chin up, son. Be a stallion,” scolded the captain in a firm tone that managed to be caring at the same time. “The medic’s on his way, he’ll yank that out in no time. Stitch you up, put you on light duty, you’ll be fine.” He turned to Babs and nodded appreciatively, “and the mares like scars. Isn’t that right, Inspector?” he said as he nodded again for her to play along.
The young flier clenched his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. “Yes… sir,” he hissed in an admirable attempt to hide the pain he was in.
The captain wiped sweat from his forehead and angrily muttered something under his breath with the stomp of a hoof. “We had her,” he growled and turned to face Babs, his age-weathered features twisted with anger. “We were this close and she got away.”
Babs threw a hoof over her mouth to cover her hacking cough, and answered the look of near concern from the captain with a gentle wave. “The thief had a bow?”
“Not her. Somepony from outside,” he said angrily as he shot a glare at the injured flier, “Got the kid good. Almost got me. Got behind cover and all we could do was watch her waltz out.”
“Somepony else did this?” Babs Seed stared off into the sky and watched a trail of smoke rising lazily into the heavens and thought for a moment until she realized the captain was staring at her, waiting for her to elaborate. “Silver Spoon. She’s been a constant thorn in our sides for a while now. She’s stolen, smuggled, sabotaged, even killed. But always alone. Always.”
A blue pegasus with a brown mane landed and unfurled a rolled-up piece of denim cloth that was filled with medical supplies. “Easy, Pinstripe,” he said softly, “You’re in for a world of hurt, so be strong pal.” The other flier watched this for a moment and gave a pleading glance to Babs to remind her of her promise.
“Captain,” said Babs as she put a hoof on his shoulder and led him away from the scene. She patted the last remaining bomb on his load-webbing. “Tell me. How sensitive are these things?”
“Not very,” he said matter-of-factly, “Not that you’d want to, but you can toss them around quite a bit. The trigger’s not even sensitive until you pull the pin.”
She exhaled heavily. “So an arrow wouldn’t set one of those things off?”
“Not a chance. It wouldn’t even penetrate the shell.” He continued to walk beside her silently until, like a light blinking on in a dark room, his eyes widened and he stared into hers. “Why?”
Babs Seed looked away and closed her eyes; she wasn’t good at this kind of thing. “Captain. I have some bad news.” She didn’t make eye contact again; she couldn’t. All she could do was lead him toward his friend until the captain spotted it and broke into a desperate run toward it. He stumbled and fell to his haunches to stare down at what was left of the airpony. Finding what was left of the flight cap and realizing who it was drained all the life from him and his ears fell flat to either side of his head. There was nothing left in him at that moment; all he did was stare down motionlessly and barely even breathe. After a moment Babs rested a hoof on his shoulder to try and comfort him.
“Go find something else to do,” he said in a heartbreaking frail ghost of his normally low voice, “I saw Featherweight, one street over. Maybe you can get some info from him.”
Babs’ lip curled upon hearing the name. “Maybe I can,” she said with a snarl. She turned and headed for the next street, leaving the captain to deal with things. As she moved she passed a crumbling building and a pair of ponies, a family, staring unmoving at the wreckage. Seeing that, seeing those two foals nearly buried alive, even seeing those buggers in the air force so torn up over things, all of these had lit a fire inside of her. This didn’t have to turn into this. This could have been so easy. She could have come here alone, or even with a couple of guards as backup, and taken Silver Spoon on that captain’s vague Intel alone, never mind the information Featherweight could have provided. He was the Queen’s ears; he had those changelings, heaven knows how many, at his beck and call and able to imitate ponies to near perfection. This entire town would never have been touched if he had brought the things he heard to her instead of running to Lightning Dust like the sycophantic little scud he is, knowing he’d get more attention if Silver Spoon went down in a blaze of fire.
And he’s gonna pay.
There he was. Around the corner in the center of a street, standing tall in his unbuttoned jacket and gangly teeth, barking orders to what must have been the local mayor and a group of townsponies. Doing exactly what he did best: sucking up the glory and credit like a creamy-white little sponge and letting everypony else pick up the tab. Babs Seed walked up behind and tapped his shoulder, and as he turned to look she reared back and punched him in the face as hard as she could. He twirled off-center and flailed to the ground like a marionette tossed through the air, but Babs wasn’t satisfied. She pushed past the townsponies, most of them fleeing as she attacked and scooped him from the ground with a hoof under his belly. With all her might and a dry cough she threw him to the side of the road, sending him tumbling head-over-haunches and into a stunned heap on the ground. “It’s gonna happen,” she said in cruel anticipation after coughing into her fetlock.
Out of nowhere one of the townsponies leaped onto her and held fast as another pounced from the side, their combined weight being enough to wrench her to the ground. A third and fourth jumped from behind and pinned her down. “Well, whaddaya know?” she said to herself. She should have known his bugs would be nearby. Their disguises were perfect to the naked eye but their bodies simply felt off when touched; cool and lifeless like the fakes they were.
“You… ass!” he spat in pain and disbelief as he slowly stood.
Babs twitched once and tried in vain to pull free. “I gotta bone to pick with you, Featherweight!”
“No kidding. You’re looking to start something with me?!”
“As sure as you were born I am,” she said with a cough, “How ‘bout call off your little minions and we have it out like real ponies?”
“No, thanks,” he said with a devilish laugh. “Maybe next time you’ll pick on somepony your own size? As for now, well, give her the works, boys.”
One of the ‘ponies’ that held her down cackled into her ear in a dissonantly high-pitched tone that belied it’s appearance and Babs clenched her eyes shut in anticipation. The first strike came, but to her surprise she wasn’t on the receiving end; the one holding her front leg down was kicked off of her and enveloped mid-air in green flame to land unconscious in it’s true form. Not a second later the changeling on her back was torn from her and hit by a nasty dull thud as somepony struck it. Somepony had her back and she managed to shake free, tearing one changeling from her with her free leg and hurling the other from her with a vicious buck. Two royal guards, no doubt local patrol, stood in front of her and stared down Featherweight’s bugs, ready to pounce in a second if they tried to attack.
“Have you two lost your minds?!” hollered Featherweight in a frightened mockery of a confident tone. “Need I remind you I answer directly to the Princess herself?!”
“Don’t give us that; we just saved your life,” said one of the guards.
“What do you think Captain Rumble would do to you if he caught wind of this?” said the other, who pointed to Babs as he spoke, “That’s his fiancé you were about to lay a beating on!”
Featherweight’s eyes shrank to pinpoints and his mouth gaped open, releasing a terrified hiss and he slowly began to back away. Babs tried to take the opportunity and lunged for him, but the two guards grabbed onto her and held her back while Featherweight turned and ran down the street with his bugs in close pursuit.
“Whoa! No, Sarge! No!”
“He’s right! The creep is commissioned by the Princess!”
Babs Seed took a deep breath and nodded, and the duo loosened their clutch on her and stepped back. “Pavot? Harrier?!” she said as she looked back and forth between their faces and was both surprised and relieved to see a couple of members of her old unit. “Th’heck are you two doing here?!”
Harrier pulled the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other with his tongue. “Could ask you the same question, Sarge.”
Pavot brushed the dust from Babs’ coat and took her hat, gave it a solid shake, and put it back on Babs’ head. “Sheesh. I thought you had a desk job now.”
“Enough coddling!” said Babs in protest, pulling away to straighten her hat. “And I’m not a sergeant anymore. And me and the captain aren’t together anymore neither.”
Pavot scoffed and patted Babs’ shoulder. “Yeah, but he’d have still beat that little rodent into next year and back.” She smiled devilishly, “Sarge.”
Babs sneered at the cheeky brown earth pony. She had always had a sarcastic streak in her, even back in their days together in the academy, and it managed to be refreshing despite everything that had happened. “Thanks, you two. I mean it,” she said softly.
“So what happened?!” said Harrier, sounding quite anxious as he spat his toothpick to the ground and gestured at the smoke in the distance. “Since we’ve been posted out here in the boonies we’ve been completely out of the loop.”
“There was a robbery. In the palace,” said Babs. “I’ve been following the case since it happened. ‘Course, Featherweight managed to track the thief but went straight to major Mental-Case instead of me.”
Pavot shook her head, “No wonder you wanted to rough him up.”
“She got away, too,” said Babs as she nodded in agreement. “Now we’ve got an airpony dead, one with an arrow stuck in his leg, and heaven only knows how many civilians buried under rubble. With nothin’ to show for it but blood on our hooves.”
“This is bad,” said Harrier, making no attempt to hide his concern.
“Real bad. We’ve got a thief, one who always works alone. Suddenly she has no less than two allies helping her out. One shot arrows at those airponies that had her cornered; another managed to set off one of their bombs while it was still on the poor guy’s belt. How, I don’t know, but somehow.”
“Like, from a distance?” said Pavot, her ears perking straight up as a thought came to mind. “Harrier, what about the redhead? The one in the vest?”
“You’re right!” said Harrier with a stomp of his hoof. “And I saw her come into town just yesterday.”
“What are you two talkin’ about?” said a hopeful Babs. “You got somethin’?”
“A few months back…” said Harrier, before trailing off and looking at Pavot. “Right?”
“Yeah. Three sounds right.”
“A pony came around these parts. A refugee from overseas; a real rough looking yellow thing with a red mane. She carries around a… a gun. That’s what they’re called, right?”
“A gun?!” said Babs angrily, “And you didn’t think to confiscate it?!”
Pavot chuckled nervously. “We didn’t even know what it was at first. Never seen one before. By the time we did know she had brought in a couple of local scumbags with it, looking to collect the reward money. She was bounty hunting for us, so we kind of just looked the other way.”
“Oh no…” Babs said quietly. “I think things just got a lot worse. I always figured chaff from that dump of a country would end up over here eventually, but I never figured something like this’d happen. What’s her name?! Address! Tell me everythin’!”
“It was… uh…”
“Uh…” groaned Pavot with mild frustration, “Something to do with flowers, I think.”
“She’s a mystery, Sarge. Doesn’t socialize, doesn’t speak, nothing. We don’t even know if she lives in this town or not.”
“Find out. If you remember, or get anything else, come straight to me.” She put a hoof on each of their shoulders and brought them in close like a huddle. “Don’t you two breathe a word of this to anypony else, got it?”
“Our lips are sealed,” said Pavot, and Harrier merely nodded and ran his hoof across his mouth.
“Somethin’ big is gonna happen, I can feel it. Stay lively you two. And for heaven’s sake, watch each other’s backs.”
“Count on it, Sarge.”
Babs nodded and managed a smile. She turned and hurried down the street, intent on commandeering the fasted transport she could get her hooves on to go back to Canterlot. Nothing added up; she had a lot of work to do to try and make any sense of things. One thing she knew for sure: her mystery redhead opened up an entirely new set of possibilities. She knew Silver Spoon had been overseas as well. It was possible, though very unlikely, that she had brought a partner over from the get-go and kept her under wraps. The way she had continually out-gambled the royal guards time and time again was proof she was more than clever enough to do it. Then there’s the archer: bows were basically unheard of in Equestria. The crystal ponies had used them against the Equestrian forces during the invasion, but with only marginal success at best and to her knowledge none were brought back.
One moment she was dead to the world, lost in a pitch black ink without thought or dreams, the next she was torn from her restless slumber by the deafening WOOOOOOOOOOOO of a train whistle. Scootaloo tried to lift her head but a rush of nausea and the feeling of bile rising in her throat pulled her back to whatever it was she was lying on. Her cheek pressed into her ‘pillow’ and she caught the fresh scent of grain from the soft burlap that supported her head. Her senses began to return to her and she slowly became aware of the constant droning clatter of a train’s wheels on railway tracks. Dull light pierced her eyelid as she opened her one good eye, aggravating her throbbing skill and making it difficult to try and remember what had happened; try as she might, she could not recall how she got here. Scootaloo shook her head and swatted at herself, trying to think straight and get a good look at her surroundings. She had been laid on her belly on a pile of burlap sacks filled with chicken feed inside of a moving boxcar.
‘…I spotted a freight train being loaded…’
She perked up as the haze cleared and the memory of fleeing the city to a train with Apple Bloom and Silver Spoon came to mind, and the memory of finding Sweetie Belle. Still feeling nauseous but with a newfound burst of energy she looked all about the room. Lots of crates were stacked up and tied down with thick cargo straps, the kind that ratchet tight, and there were two more piles of burlap sacks tied neatly unlike the messy pile that served as her makeshift bed. What little light there was bled through small openings near the ceiling and the door that was open almost a foot. There was no sign of Silver Spoon, but Apple Bloom was reclining against a crate, staring absent-mindedly out the door at the torrent of rain that was flying past as the train tore through a forest. She had her popper, her pistol as she called it, held out at hoof’s length and spinning around her pastern. With deft flicks of her leg she made it spin to and fro, change direction, and threw her leg out to take aim before letting it spin quickly again.
“What happened…?” Scootaloo said dopily.
Apple Bloom’s ears shot up at the sound of Scootaloo’s voice. Her pistol twirled around her leg and settled into her holster, and she half-smiled compassionately. “Holding up okay?” she said softly.
Scootaloo tossed her tongue around the inside of her mouth trying to get rid of the faint taste of vomit. “I feel like I’m going to throw up,” she said in disgust, “What happened to me?”
Apple Bloom puckered her lips and exhaled a near frustrated breath. She leaned against the door and watched the rain go by for a moment and then kicked it shut with a low resounding clang. “Ah don’t really know, Scoot,” she said in a cold inquisitive tone, “Why don’t you tell me?”
“Apple Bloom…?”
“Ah’ll go first. Ah know you’re the farthest thing from yellow-bellied there is, Scoot. You jumped between me and a psycho with a knife, and you went out head-first into danger without a moment’s notice to act as look out.” She frowned, sending a chill down Scootaloo’s spine. “But you went and took one look at that stallion in the air and you fell to absolute pieces.”
The image of the stallion appeared in her mind and in an instant she was overtaken by a rush of memories. Silhouettes of fear incarnate outlined by lightning, the sound of the thing in the flight cap as it taunted her, and the pain. The pain as his hoof connected with her face to send her falling to what was this close to her demise. The deafening memories suffocated her and for a moment she struggled to breathe.
“Eeyup, that’s the face you made,” said Apple Bloom. “Enough is enough. Tell me what’s going on here.”
“But…”
“Scootaloo,” she said sternly, and then spoke in a much softer tone. “Look, Scoot. If you’ve gone and gotten yourself into something deep, Ah won’t judge. Whatever’s going on, Ah don’t rightly care whose fault it is. Even if it’s yours, understand? Ah’ll help you if you’ll let me, but you gotta tell me what’s going on here. Start with why that pony turned you into such a blubbering mess, and if you’ll indulge me, go on to tell me why that pony in the cloak is out to get you.”
“I told you already!” said Scootaloo loudly, “I don’t know why that pony’s after me! And the other one, I… I…”
“Scoot,” said Apple Bloom compassionately. “You panicked and passed out just at the sight of ‘that other one’. Ah had to carry you here on my back like a sack of spuds. Why, Scoot? What did he do to you?”
Scootaloo swallowed her fear. “He… he tried to kill me. A long time ago. He almost did it, too; I was this close to going out.”
Apple Bloom gritted her teeth. “Why?”
“I was in the way. He and two others are the ones who killed Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy.” Scootaloo looked away, not wanting her friend to see her face. “The night we escaped Ponyville we were attacked. I don’t know who, or why. I can’t remember what they looked like, but I remember that hat.” She looked back to Apple Bloom as tears obscured her vision. “It was him, I know it was him,” she said as she unfurled her misshapen wing and patted her bad eye, “He did this to me when he knocked me out of Fluttershy’s hooves. He—”
Apple Bloom cut her off with a tight hug. “Shush,” she said quietly and pressed her friend’s face into the fluff of her chest, “Don’t you worry ‘bout him, Sugar. Ah took care of him. He’s gone somewheres he can’t hurt you no more.”
Scootaloo swallowed nervously and slowly pushed away from her friend’s embrace to stare at her warily. “What did you do?”
“He’s so fond of bombs, so Ah gave him a taste of his own medicine. They’ll be weeks picking up the pieces of that sicko.” Her expression melted into a worried stare when she noticed the look Scootaloo was giving her, “What? After what he did to you and Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy he was more than due for that.”
Scootaloo felt as if a part of her had died inside. Knowing that stallion was gone and would never hurt another pony had lifted a tremendous weight from her shoulders, but knowing her foalhood friend had been the one to do it, to kill somepony and so casually own up to it was crushing her. “So it’s true?” she said sadly, “What Silver Spoon said about you?”
Apple Bloom turned and walked toward the door, sliding it open gently to sit by it and stare at the rain for a moment. When she turned to make eye contact she was wearing a smile so full of despair that it was enough to make Scootaloo step back. “Every word,” she said distantly, “And then some. Sorry to let you down, Scoot.”
“What happened?”
“War.”
The memory of Apple Bloom’s photos surfaced in Scootaloo’s mind. “You were a soldier?”
Apple Bloom nodded slowly. “Not by choice. Give me that much credit at least.” She reached into her vest and pulled out a small round pendant on a chain around her neck, one that reminded Scootaloo of the dog tags Rainbow Dash had been given in the Wonderbolt’s Academy, and patted it somberly. “Ah was drafted, along with pretty much every one of age to fight off the spooks from the West.”
“Ghosts?!” blurted out Scootaloo.
Her outburst got a raised eyebrow and a weak smile from her friend which faded very quickly. “No, Scoot. The west was full ‘a ponies. We called ‘em spooks because they looked like they were dead. Not at all like ponies from here; they were pale and sickly looking.” Her lip quivered as if she were describing a nightmare, “Downright gross-looking, like something out of a horror novel. Pa told me about them once; the two countries were friends once but things went sour. Don’t know why, it was before my time.”
Scootaloo couldn’t help but cringe as her mind conjured images from Apple Bloom’s vague description. “They attacked your home… because of that?”
“Probably didn’t help matters,” said Apple Bloom with a sigh. “Truth is, is they were desperate. The East is a desert; we didn’t have much, but we had resources at least. Fuel for engines. Decent enough land for food.” She patted her pistol, “Minerals for gunpowder, for export. We had something. The West’s a frozen-solid wasteland. Ah heard it never stopped snowing there. Their magic carried them a ways but you can’t get blood from a stone, right? They didn’t even have plants to eat.”
“You don’t mean…”
“Meat eaters,” said Apple Bloom with a nod. “According to my Pa they looked so sickly from generations of eating meat and fish. And you know something, Scoot? Ah actually really pitied them until they declared war. After that it didn’t take me long to hate every last one of them.” She drew her pistol and slammed it onto the floor of the boxcar with a scowl. “So Ah took one of these and a uniform, and me and Pep and Sunny and Pavel went to fight their war. ‘Cept… that wasn’t no war.”
“What do you mean?” said Scootaloo.
“They had spears. Bows and arrows. Magic. We had these,” she said as she held her pistol up, “These shot through their armor like it was paper. We had airplanes and tanks. One plane’d take an entire squadron of pegasi out no problem, and a tank would just run ‘em right over. It weren’t a war, Scoot, it was a massacre. They didn’t stand a chance. And yet, they just kept coming. They outnumbered us so badly and so many of them went down and they just kept coming. We, Ah, pulled the trigger so many times and dropped so many of them.” Her pistol trembled in her hoof and she shakily lowered it back into her holster, speaking in a near whisper, “And they just kept coming.”
“Apple Bloom…” said Scootaloo, who could feel pain coming from her friend in invisible waves and just wanted to say something to comfort her, “You were defending yourselves.”
“Don’t matter,” said Apple Bloom in a sorrowful tone, “The damage was done. Ah’m the reason a lot of them spooks didn’t get to go home to their mommas, or their wives. Or children. It was too easy to hate them in the heat of battle, but now… Ah think Ah just hate myself now. It’s just too darned easy for me to kill; Ah’m just too good at it.” She looked up at the sky and managed a smile, “You know something? Ah’m glad Applejack and Big Mac ain’t around anymore. They’d be downright ashamed of me—”
“Apple Bloom!!!”
Tears were beginning to form in the corners of her eyes. “Ah didn’t know who that flight-cap pony was when Ah pulled the trigger, and Ah felt nothing. Didn’t flinch, or hesitate. Shot him without even a second thought and Ah don’t even know his name.”
“His name was Twitch.”
BLAM!
In a flash the sorrow was gone and Apple Bloom had fired her pistol at the source of the voice. Chicken feed poured like water from the hole it left in the bag, and from behind the stack of burlaps sacks came the voice again. “Alright,” chuckled a familiar voice, “You can put the gun away.”
“Come on out and Ah won’t shoot,” said Apple Bloom in a frighteningly calm tone as she holstered her weapon.
An empty hoof moved out into view and waved, followed by Snails’ yellow face. “You know, there are politer ways to say hello to a friend than trying to kill them.”
“Where the heck did you come from?!” said Scootaloo.
“From behind those sacks; I just didn’t want to spoil the moment,” he said as he strode casually and sat on the pallet he had been hiding behind. “I didn’t mean to interrupt… or startle you. I wasn’t thinking for a moment and I sort of just blurted it out.”
“Well then, blurt,” said Apple Bloom. “Who is, was this Twitch?”
Snails pushed his glasses up the bridge of his muzzle. “One of the founding members of the Royal Equestrian Air Force, and a close friend of their commander. That being said…” he said as he looked over his glasses with an accusatory glance, “I’d lie low for a while if I were you two. Their commander is… notorious for her temper.”
Apple Bloom raised an eyebrow and looked the unicorn up and down. She didn’t seem at all interested in what he had said; Scootaloo couldn’t tell what was going through her head but whatever it was seemed to be bothering her. “You weren’t on this train when it left. Ah checked.”
“Don’t let the cutie mark fool you,” he said with a proud laugh, “I am quite fast on my hooves.”
“Quite the understatement, partner,” said Apple Bloom suspiciously. “Why come here, then?”
“Say,” said Snails in a chipper tone, “How about a magic trick to lighten the mood?” He reached for Apple Bloom’s hat and she quickly hurled herself away with a hoof on her pistol. “You don’t like tricks?” said Snails.
“No funny business,” she scolded.
“Look at that,” he said with mock surprise as he lifted her hat. “You had a pack of cigarettes beneath your hat.” He took the small box that had materialized on her head and held it to her, which she cautiously took and studied. He suddenly chirped with laughter, “Oh, lighten the mood! Get it?”
“You can’t get these in Equestria,” said Apple Bloom in a tone that straddled between admiration and suspicion, “And how did you know Ah smoked?”
“I know a pony who knows a pony,” he said with a sly smile, “and would you believe it was a lucky guess? Call it an apology for the interruption, if need be.” Thunder cracked and roared in the distance and he wrenched his head around to stare out the door with a look of horror on his face. Snails stood motionless until it had subsided and laughed nervously to try and collect himself. “I hate thunder,” he said softly. “Reminds me of that night. You know the one.”
“You said it,” said Scootaloo in agreement. “How did you survive that night, Snails? I saw you; I thought for sure you two were dead.”
“Snips was,” said Snails with a sigh. “Poor little guy never even saw it coming. I take some solace in that. But,” he said, instantly perking up to his usual demeanor, “no sense dwelling on the past, my dear friends. Besides, it ultimately changed me for the better. I like to say Snails died that night as well, to make room for the new and improved me.”
“What about Sweetie Belle?” Scootaloo couldn’t hold herself back from asking any longer. If her friend was still alive and Snails somehow knew something, she had to know now. “Is she alive?”
He turned to face her, his features glowing with delight like he had been waiting this entire time for one of them to ask. “I’m quite happy to say she’s alive and kicking.”
A loud clack drew the attention of the unicorn and the pegasus; Apple Bloom had dropped her pistol and was staring wide-eyed at them with a small paper tube in her mouth, barely able to hide how happy she was to hear their friend had gotten out of Ponyville that night.
“I can tell you everything you need to know,” he said as his expression turned somewhat sinister, “for a paltry fee. Nothing, really, a little quid pro quo. Don’t think ill of me, but I am a businesspony. Business has to take precedence over charity, I’m afraid.
“Name it!” said Scootaloo and Apple Bloom in near perfect unison.
Snails’ smile stretched across his entire face and he reached into the pocket of his jacket to produce a small piece of paper. It floated into the air toward Scootaloo, unfurling as it moved, and laid before her on the floor. She recognized it in an instant; it had belonged to Rainbow Dash. The paper had a somewhat amateur sketch of a golden necklace that boasted a ruby in the shape of a lightning bolt. The element of loyalty. In that instant her heart sank, as what felt like the only opportunity to be reunited with her friend floated away. “I…” she said weakly, “I don’t have it. I don’t even know where it is.”
“What?!” spat Snails who, for the first time, seemed genuinely caught off-guard. “You must have it!”
“I don’t!”
“You must!!!”
“Tell me something,” said Apple Bloom in a hateful tone as she reached for her weapon, “Ah wonder if this pony in rags is after Scootaloo for that exact same reason.” Her weapon slowly rose and took aim at Snails once more. “That’s not something that’d be common knowledge, would it? That wouldn’t mean you and this pony were in cahoots now, would it?”
“P-pony in rags?” he said innocently as his glasses floated off and rubbed their lenses against the collar of his blazer.
“Someone paid me a hefty sum to track down Scootaloo here, who’s done nothing wrong to nobody. Now here you are, obviously loaded with cash, and popping up at rather convenient times. Am Ah onto something or am Ah being paranoid?”
“I don’t think I appreciate the accusation,” he said with a note of affront in his voice.
Apple Bloom frowned. “Ah don’t appreciate being hired to hurt my friends, so we’re even. Now answer me.”
“I prefer the personal touch. Why hire goons to do my work, no offense to your erm, profession, when I could just stop by in the flesh to talk myself?” He raised an eyebrow and smirked, “Kind of like I’m doing just now? Hm?”
Apple Bloom’s expression softened as she nodded and holstered her pistol, but continued to keep a watchful eye on him.
“Then what happened to it?” said Snails as he turned back to Scootaloo.
“I don’t know,” said Scootaloo, “Honest.”
“That is… is…” he said frantically, before sighing and closing his eyes to become calm again, “…unfortunate.” He slowly walked across the boxcar staring off into space, “Well then, there’s nothing for me here. I’ll just be on my way.”
“Wait!!!” cried out Scootaloo desperately. “What about Sweetie Belle?! Where is she?! Tell us, please!!!”
“Sorry,” he said coldly, “Life just doesn’t work that way. I’m a businesspony, after all.”
“It’s no strike against you, Snails!” spat Apple Bloom with disgust. “You don’t have to—”
“Snails,” interrupted Scootaloo. “What if the tables were turned, Snips was alive, and we knew where he was?”
Snails froze mid-step and his gaze fell to the ground. “Oh, that’s a low blow…” he said quietly. For a solid minute he was silent, barely even breathing with his eyes closed tightly shut. Finally his shoulders slumped and he looked at her sadly, “Loamstone Valley. The next bridge this train crosses spans it.” With a defeated sigh he vanished in a puff of smoke without another word.
“It’s actually happening, ain’t it?” said Apple Bloom with a childish smile as she lit the tip of her ‘cigarette’ with a match, “Things are finally looking up.”
Scootaloo watched her suck on it; swallowing the pungent smoke it produced and blowing it back out. “That can not be good for you.”
Apple Bloom laughed. “It ain’t. Pep always wanted me to quit.” She took another drag on her cigarette and stared at the trees whizzing past the open door. “Only question is, is how do we get off this moving train and into that valley?”
Scootaloo smiled widely. “How do you feel about train-jumping? There’s a trick to it and I know it!”
Lightning Dust felt as if all the blood in her body was pooling in her face, building up an intense pressure as she stared down at what had been given to her. That stupid, dirty old flight cap that Twitch had always worn, tattered and burned to a crisp, and the knowledge that its owner was dead. She stomped it into the floor and, not satisfied by the dull plop it made as she ground her hoof into it, cried out in anguish. She wanted blood. She wrenched the table vertical and kicked it as hard as she could, shattering the cheap pressboard surface and sending memos and papers twirling about the commander’s lounge. It wasn’t enough; nopony messed with her or her airponies and anypony who did would bleed. “Who?!” she roared at Crimson Sky, who had brought her the cap and the bad news, “Who did this to him?! WHO?!”
“Still working on it, Dust,” said Crimson Sky in a tone so calm it was maddening, “We haven’t—”
She flew into the air and dove into the ground, punching the floor hard enough to crack the tile surface and silence her wingpony. “Then find out!!! Beat him savagely and then kill him! No, beat him savagely and then bring him to me, as PAINFULLY as possible, so I can kill him! Do you hear me?!”
Sky’s hoof slapped down on her shoulder. “We’ll get him, don’t you worry,” he said with a rare note of anger in his voice, “Featherweight’s on it already.”
“That’s not good enough, Sky!” she screeched as she hurled herself out of his reach and smashed one of the chairs against the wall. “We’re going out! Right now! The entire unit! There will be no sleep, no REST, until we catch him!!!”
“Dust!” yelled Crimson Sky. “Use your head! Believe me we all feel the same way,” he said as he dropped to his haunches and let his head hang, “We wouldn’t even know where to start. The Inspector doesn’t have anything either. She—”
Lightning Dust cut him off with a stomp of her hoof. “What was that?!” she yelled with a growl, “Leave the guards out of this! We don’t need their help or their charity; we’ve never needed them!”
“Maybe it’s time to rethink things,” said Crimson Sky, “We’ve never lost an airpony on a routine mission before either. He was my friend too, and I’ll take all the help we can get to avenge him.”
Lightning Dust walked toward him with her wings unfurled and enough rage carved into her features to make her wingpony step back. “I said we leave the guards out of this. Do I make myself clear?” she hissed, holding back the urge to take her anger out on him behind a low, malevolent tone.
For a moment he was intimidated, but he swiftly collected himself and stood his ground. “And I said I’ll take all the help we can get,” he said sternly. “I’m going after his killer using any and all means available to me; I couldn’t care less about your pride.”
“Are you questioning my orders?” she growled, her wings quaking with barely-contained fury.
“Yes,” he said coldly, “If we had just taken that thief out on the train like I had suggested, none of this would have—”
She lunged and struck him across the face, cutting him off with a dull whap as her hoof connected with his jaw and sent him stumbling. “I am in charge, do you understand me?! You want to make something of it, Sky?! Go ahead!” She stared down her wingpony as he stood up with a hoof to his face. He ran it up the side of his head, snapping off his goggles in the process, and threw them to the side. Lightning Dust growled under her breath; he always did that before a fight. “Come on,” she said as she pulled her own goggles over her eyes, “I need to work out the stress.”
“I’ll beat it out of you,” he said angrily, “Make room for some sense.” He pounced and swung— but was too slow; she rolled under his leg and onto her back, poised to kick him in the stomach as he soared overhead. He anticipated it and rolled out of the way, and threw a punch at her face. Again she outmaneuvered him and hurled herself out of range, and the two stood up across the cluttered office from each other ready for another round—
—and her entire body locked up; she couldn’t move. She strained and growled, tensing her muscles but barely managing to quiver her limbs against the unseen force. Her wingpony was faring no better; his aged face was locked in a grimace as he fought with all of his might as well and failed.
“Would either of you care to explain to me,” said a stern voice that shot fear through Lightning Dust, “why I would come to offer my condolences for the loss of your friend only to find the two of you at each other’s throats?!”
Lightning Dust fought to turn her head but only managed her eyes. In the very corner of her vision she could make out pale violet dressed in elegant clothing, standing in the doorway. “Y-your Highness… I…” she sputtered, and the force that held her let her go. She didn’t say another word; she only dropped to the floor and bowed silently.
“Is it any wonder you failed?” said the princess as she ran a hoof through her mane and tossed it back out of her face. “I am disappointed in all of you,” she said coldly, “Quite frankly I expected much better. That thief was wrapped up like a birthday present with a bow and given to you. What do you have to say for yourself, Major?”
Lightning Dust kept her face buried in her forelegs. “We… we ran into some difficulties, your Highness. Some unexpected resistance. The thief had backup, armed to the teeth.”
The Princess reached down with a hoof to Lightning Dust’s chin and raised her head softly so they could make eye-contact. “There are times that I truly hate always being right,” she said softly, “It is as I suspected when that unwashed little hookworm wriggled her way into my little sanctuary; there are several ponies out there making a very deliberate… and very successful… attempt at getting on my nerves. Silver Spoon is only one of them.”
The Major leaped to her hooves. “Then give us another chance!” she spat, and awkwardly added “Your Highness” to answer the glare from the Princess. “Please, your Highness. They caught us off-guard. It won’t happen again; next time we’ll be ready.”
“As much as I appreciate the offer, major,” said the Princess with a slight smile, “There is no need. You have my sympathies for your friend, but unfortunately this is bigger than that.”
“But—”
“Not to worry. Your friend will be avenged. These ponies like to play games? Well, I went ahead and upped the ante. You know how good he is at tracking; we might as well consider that killer captured already.” The Princess smiled so cruelly that it made Lightning Dust cringe, “I gave strict orders to bring the killer in alive for questioning. You can have him after I’m done with him.”
“Understood, your Highness…” said Lightning Dust sadly.
Great. She sent him. I’ll be lucky to have anything left to kill.
“Now, there is one other thing,” said the Princess inquisitively, “Captain.”
“Your Highness.”
“On my way in I heard something about ‘the Inspector?’”
“Yes, your Highness,” said Crimson Sky nervously, “She showed up in Broncton not long after the raid, your Highness.”
“She?” said the Princess with a hoof to her chin in thought, “The one with the bad lung? Who is always coughing? Mmm… that’s interesting, to say the least. Now, if you will excuse me of course, I have something I simply must attend to.”
She watched as the Princess strode casually toward the door and she couldn’t hold it in. “Your Highness, please!” pleaded Lightning Dust, “Give us one more chance! Somepony out there killed our friend!”
The Princess stopped in the doorway. “I truly am sorry about what happened to your friend, but I simply will not authorize your unit to go out on a revenge mission.” She turned her head deliberately so the blinded side of her face pointed toward Lightning Dust, “That being said, I truly hope I do not find out you went out without authorization. Do you understand what I am telling you?” With that the door closed behind her without giving Lightning Dust the chance to respond.
Lightning Dust felt her heart surge. The implication was crystal clear and she was going to pounce on it. She tore the filing cabinet open and rifled through personnel files. She needed a new wingpony and she already had one in mind; a satisfied smile crept across her face as she found the one she was looking for.
“Now what?” said Crimson Sky in a miserable tone.
“We move,” she said coldly. “Form up the fliers. It’s promotion day.”
“Understood,” he said, leading the way out the door and through the headquarters building towards the briefing room where the airponies waited, “and Dust? About before. I’m sorry.”
Lightning Dust nodded. “At least we got it out of our system, right? Now we can focus on important things.”
“Sounds good,” said Crimson Sky. He threw open the door and hollered “ROOM, ATTENTION!” and the sound of countless hooves rumbling into place echoed for a solid five seconds.
Music to my ears.
She entered and looked the row of ponies up and down, left and right. Like statues they all stood motionless, heads high and wings open, awaiting their next order. Each one was dressed immaculately in their flight suits, with their flight gear buckled and sized perfectly, and with their issued goggles strapped to their foreheads so she could see their eyes staring forward and only moving on occasion to blink. Each and every one, from the rookies to the veterans, had been trained by her to be unwavering and to obey her orders. They were not mere henchman to her; they were a part of her, and no pony alive was going to mess with a single one of them on her watch. She would start with Twitch’s killer. Once he or she was six feet under, she’d find the one who liked to play with arrows and teach him a thing or two.
Maybe put him in front of the rookie first. Give the kid the chance to give back a scar or two.
“Ears up, and take a good look!” She threw Twitch’s singed hat to the floor in front of them, watching as they fought the urge to cringe as it landed with a sickeningly dull plop. “As you all know the lieutenant was killed. This is not something we’re going to take lightly now, IS IT?!”
“No, Ma’am!” hollered every one of them in unison.
“And what about poor little Pinstripe, laying in a hospital bed right now doped up on painkillers with a hole in his shoulder? Are we going to accept that?!”
“NO, MA’AM!”
“So here’s the deal. We’ve not been given the go-ahead to go out on a revenge mission, so we’re doing this one under the radar. No uniforms! No weapons! We’re stripping to our skivvies and going in dry. What we’re going to do, is chase down these ponies who figure they can screw with us and shove those weapons of theirs so far up their rears they’ll be burping the next time they use them! SOUND GOOD?!”
The entire group stomped eagerly. “MA’AM! YES MA’AM!!!”
Lightning Dust smiled at the group, reveling in the feeling of bloodlust that radiated from each and every one of them. “Featherweight will be along soon to provide Intel and point us in the right direction. From there we fan out and track them down. The one who killed the lieutenant is mine, are we clear?! The one with the bow? All yours. Make them suffer. Any questions, problems, points?”
The group was silent and unmoving, and she smiled again. “Good. That brings me to the next matter at hoof. I need a new wingpony,” she said as she took the personnel folder from under her wing and held it out to read the printed name. “Second lieutenant Merrilay!”
“Ma’am!” said the 2lt with a stomp of her hoof.
The major walked over and paced back and forth, reading the personnel file as she did. “Merrilay… Resident of Hollow Shades, until the R.E.A.F. recruited you. Mother, ‘Cheerilee’, earth pony. Hm, happy name, that. Father, name not given…” she trailed off and raised an eyebrow as she read the last line, “Earth pony. Huh. You didn’t give his name but you knew his race? Didn’t like that he couldn’t teach you to fly or something?”
“Had to learn myself, Ma’am,” said Merrilay, “Never even met my father.”
“You didn’t miss much,” said Lightning Dust passively with her eyes in the file, “Know the only thing I learned from my father? He taught me to take a punch. By punching me. Now, what I’m interested in, is how a pegasus managed to have two earth pony parents. I didn’t even think that was possible.”
“It’s rare, Ma’am,” said Crimson Sky.
“Mm? Oh, that’s right, you had a little pegasus with an earth pony back in… in…”
“Ponyville, Ma’am. But that’s ancient history.”
“So? How did the little bundle of joy fly?”
“Wouldn’t know. I left that mare before the kid was even born.”
Lightning Dust nodded. She didn’t need Sky’s input on this one, and quite frankly she couldn’t care less about the family he left behind; Merrilay was one of her best fliers. Fast, strong, and best of all, absolutely vicious: a prime example of what a little parental neglect slow-cooked with military training can do to create a capable and effective airpony. “Congratulations, Lieutenant Merrilay. You’re my new wingpony.”
The newly promoted lieutenant saluted, and Lightning Dust saluted back. “I won’t let you down, Ma’am,” said Merrilay with a determined scowl.
Lightning Dust turned away to hide the satisfied smile that had snuck onto her face. “Lieutenant, captain, you two are with me. The rest of you are on your own until Featherweight gets here. Have a drink in memory of the lieutenant. DISMISSED!”
The entire rank saluted in unison and turned right, “R.E.A.F! NOW AND FOREVER!!!” they chanted proudly as they headed out of the room in two ranks. As Lightning Dust led the way to the commander’s lounge she was only vaguely aware of the hoofsteps of her two wingponies. All she could think about was revenge against whoever had signed their own death warrant the moment they had killed one of her closest friends.
“GET!!!” screamed Babs Seed, and the concerned guard leaped back and reluctantly returned to his post. She knew she was bleeding; she had put up with the repulsively wet and hot sensation on her back during the entirety of that nightmarishly uncomfortable ride back to Canterlot, but it had long-since stopped itself. At some point in Broncton, no doubt when that rubble landed on her back, something had left a nasty cut between her shoulders. Babs was beyond caring by now; she was stiff, tired, in pain, and absolutely fed up with the day’s turn of events. As she walked slowly through the rather dreary corridors of the palace, all she could think about was calling it quits for the day. She would head home, treat herself to a good bath, and lay down with her cat for a twelve-hour sleep.
That’s exactly what’s happenin’, too. I’ve done more than enough for the week; I’m goin’ home.
She caught a glimpse of Starlight as she rounded the corner, and his face lit up with surprise as he looked her way. “Boss!” he screamed as he nearly tripped over his spear to run to her, “Boss, where have— you’re bleeding!”
“I know,” said Babs, making every effort to not be rude to her concerned friend, “It ain’t bad; my coat stopped it.”
The worry in his eyes softened and he managed a slight smile. “That’s a relief,” he said, glancing between her face and the deep red patch that adorned her back, “we were all worried sick. And, uh, listen. While you were out, you had a visitor. They’re still waiting for you in your office; you don’t want to keep this one waiting.”
“Sorry, Star. I’m goin’ home. Tell them to come back in a day or two.”
He made a nervous laugh that was utterly devoid of any humor. “Boss, uh, you really need to see this visitor right now.”
“I said ‘not now!’” snapped Babs as the dull pain in her back and her frustration took control, “I’m goin’ home and gettin’ some rest! Ain’t that what you’ve been pesterin’ me about over and over?!”
“Babs!” he yelled in stern desperation as he slapped his armored hooves onto her shoulders and pushed her in the direction of her door. “Go. In. Your. Office!” he said, giving a rude shove in time with each word.
“Star…” she said in a scolding tone as he guided her through the door, “I swear if this ain’t the single most important visitor I’ve ever had I’ll—”
—and Babs fell into stunned silence and didn’t even hear Starlight hurriedly duck out the door. The ‘visitor’ was reclining on her back on the old sofa to the rear of the office with her hind legs crossed one over the other, humming absent-mindedly to herself. Her silk socks and royal regalia had been taken off and laid out on the floor in front of her, leaving only the bright red under vest, and she held one hoof out with a small file working itself back and forth in a soft glow of purple. The Princess perked up when she noticed she had company, and she smiled pleasantly. “There you are, Inspector, I was beginning to worry.”
“Your H-Highness!!!” sputtered Babs Seed as she fell into a sloppy bow and buried her face in her hooves, praying the Princess hadn’t heard her argument outside the door. “I… I…”
“Take it easy, now. I…” she trailed off and jogged from the couch to stand in front of Babs and stare at the stained coat. “Oh, dear, that looks bad.”
“It’s not, I… It just… I…” said Babs, barely able to get a word out through her nervousness.
“Inspector, um… at ease? Please? Relax, for goodness sake.” The Princess groaned a sound of frustration and mild amusement. The door and curtains were pulled shut with a faint glow, following the dull snaps and clicks of locks and deadbolts to secure the room. “There,” said the Princess with a smile, “We’re in private. Can you just drop all the bowing and sputtering so we can speak, one on one?”
Babs exhaled nervously and shakily stood up. “Yes. Uh, your Highness.”
The Princess looked about the room until she found the small first-aid kit Babs kept the desk, and without warning her upper body was lifted from the ground by an unseen force. Slowly and deliberately the Princess’ magic peeled the coat from the wound on her back, making her cringe at the feeling of her flesh releasing its grip on her garment.
“Now then,” said the Princess as she studied the wound, “I understand there was an, um, incident in Broncton earlier? Care to explain?”
Babs swallowed as she hung helplessly in the air. “Y-yes, your Highness. I wa-haaaaaAAAA!!!” She snapped her teeth together to cut off the abrupt cry and hissed as her back erupted in burning pain as disinfectant did its job on her wound.
The Princess shushed Babs as she went quiet as she applied a large pad to the wound and wrapped it in gauze, and then lowered Babs to the floor to meet her gaze with a knowing smirk. “Yes,” she said with a guilty sigh, “Featherweight truly is effective, but crude. I am rather ashamed to admit I tend to turn my blind eye to his shortcomings as he does get results, but I will have to keep in mind to give his leash a yank from time to time. However, I expect the next time you have an issue with one under my direct command, that you do not under any circumstances take matters into your own hooves like that. Do not let that happen again, understand? The only reason I am being lenient, the only reason, is as a personal favor to Captain Rumble. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, your highness. I understand. It won’t happen again.” Babs Seed shifted her body back and forth to get used to the tight wrappings around her body. “T-thank you, for this, your Highness,” she said softly.
“Receiving medical care from a princess. Feel free to check that one off of your bucket list,” said the Princess, who returned the kit to where she had found it and turned back to Babs with a raised eyebrow. “Now that is not the only reason I am here, by the way.”
Babs suddenly felt a cold twinge sear through her body. The Princess’ tone had suddenly turned so professional and somewhat cold that she wanted nothing more to spin around and run from the office.
“How, may I ask, did you get to Broncton so quickly?” she said in an accusatory tone, “That was a classified mission. How in the world did you figure to go there?”
“A hunch,” said Babs nervously.
“Be specific.”
Babs bit her lip. She hadn’t decided whether that captain’s tip was intentional or a genuine slip of the tongue; he was just too hard to read. Either way she didn’t want to throw him under the trolley. “It was mostly a wild guess. Enough guards were searching the city and surrounding areas; I chased the possibility she’d escaped by train. There were only a few that ran at that time; it seemed logical she’d take the one to the remotest location.”
The Princess furrowed her brow and turned her face slightly, putting Babs in the dead-center of her lone eye’s field of vision as it silently judged. She turned and paced about the room for a moment in deep thought before perking up with a sly smile. “Well. You are either the luckiest mare in Equestria, or the best inspector I have ever seen. Hopefully both. In any event, whatever it is, I want it. As of today you are directly commissioned by me.” She took Babs Seed’s badge and strapped a small golden band around it that bore her cutie mark. “You have no idea how important that crown of mine truly is. Get it back and capture Silver Spoon no matter the cost.”
“Your Highness, I…”
“Don’t be nervous,” interrupted the Princess. “I have faith in you; I know all about you. You were born and raised in Manehattan. You graduated from the academy with stellar physical and above average academic scores, failing only Equestrian history and passing the retest with 86 percent. You are a former member of Captain Rumble’s Stormfront Unit, a veteran of the Crystal Empire Assault, and attained the rank of Staff Sergeant. You suffered a collapsed lung among… other injuries, were declared unfit to serve in combat, and are currently employed as an inspector in Canterlot’s Criminal Investigation Department with fourteen solved cases under your belt and two, sorry, now three pending. You are currently single, having once been in a relationship with Captain Rumble. You take prescription cough suppressants for your lung and over-the-counter moisturizers for the patch of eczema on your hind right knee.”
Babs could only stare at the Princess in silent awe, and judging from the reaction she received for it, it was exactly the expression the Princess had been hoping for.
“I read your file on the way over,” said the Princess with a happy laugh as she tapped her forehead, “What goes in, never comes out.” She looked down and patted her cutie mark, a black vortex, and chuckled again. “It is my talent. Or curse. Usually both.”
Babs Seed mulled over this turn of events and found herself fighting the urge to smile; true she had been forced into it, but ‘it’ happened to be a rather prime opportunity. Holding the Princess’ commission was one of the highest positions available in Equestria’s forces: only Rumble and Major Lightning Dust held higher positions, being commissioned directly by her Majesty the Queen. She bowed as perfectly as she could, “It will be an honor, your Highness.”
The Princess returned the bow. “I will check in from time to time to keep my eye on you progress. And Inspector? I am willing to bet you have considered this as well.” She leaned in uncomfortably close, so close Babs could feel her breath against her ear, and spoke quietly, “I am beginning to suspect there may be a traitor amongst us.”
“I did consider it,” whispered Babs Seed.
“It would be somepony who knows the palace grounds like the back of their hoof. As of yet, I am not ruling anypony out; Do you know what my mother used to say about assuming?”
“Makes an ass out of you and me,” said Babs, “My mom said the same thing.”
“You know what, Babs Seed? This might just be the start of a rather fine friendship. Just fine.” The Princess walked casually across the room and picked up her clothing. “Until we know who it is, or confirm that they don’t exist, keep your commission a secret. Pick one deputy. One you trust.”
“I have one in mind already, your Highness,” said Babs confidently, “but your Highness? Not that I question the importance of your crown, but what about the airpony killer and the archer? I can’t just forget about a pair of ponies who turned weapons on our own forces.”
“Oh, yes you can,” said the Princess with a cruel smile, “Trust me. It has already been taken care of. I sent Stormfront after them. You of all ponies know just how good they are at, um, cleaning up.”
Babs swallowed loudly; she was well aware. Her old unit was made up of the absolute cream of the crop. They were the best the guard had to offer, and led by her ex-fiancé Rumble. Among other talents, he was scarily adept at tracking with a good lead. Babs didn’t even want to think about what would happen to those two if he did find them.
Which he will.
“Your face says it all,” said the Princess, “We can go ahead and consider those two loose ends tied up in a nice little bow. Featherweight already has something: a positive ID on the archer.”
“Who is it?”
“It doesn’t matter,” said the Princess as she headed for the door, “Now if there is nothing else you need of me, I will excuse myself.”
Babs Seed was silent as her new ‘friend’ walked casually out of her office, being followed out of sight by the slowly fading sound of hoofsteps in the corridor. She stared down at her new badge and took a moment to mull things over before going to find her soon-to-be deputy.
“I-Inspector?” said a meek voice at the door.
“Yeah?” she said passively.
Featherweight entered cautiously, sporting a rather glaring black eye crowned with a scabbed-over scuff on his forehead. He moved slowly with his tail dangling lifelessly from his rear, and was followed by a pony Babs didn’t recognize. “Inspector? We need to talk,” he said with a shaky voice and an uneasy smile.
“What do you want?”
“Y-you have to understand,” he said, “You know I would have come right to you with that Intel, of course you do, but I was ordered by the Major to keep silent. You understand, given my, eh, position, my former allegiance with those Rainbolt twits, that I walk on thin ice and don’t enjoy the same lenience with orders that others do, yes? Especially, I might add, with this latest turn of events?”
Babs rolled her eyes and nodded. “Fine,” said Babs. “So do you have anything for me this time?”
His smile was uncomfortably creepy, showing off all of his gangly teeth. “No information, no, not for you. My hooves are tied. But perhaps we can work out a compromise. Something better, perhaps. Him.”
Babs jumped back and dropped low, ready to fight, as the ‘pony’ that accompanied Featherweight went up in a flash of green flame, leaving a changeling in its place. It stood motionlessly and Babs Seed sneered, “What exactly do you intend I do with it?”
“He’s yours,” said Featherweight. “Do with him as you see fit. He’ll follow your every command. He will be infinitesimally valuable for gathering information. I’m sure a pony as clever as you will find uses for him, very sure. Now, heh, there is no need to tell the Captain about our little, um, scuffle, yes?”
Now I get it.
“Sure,” she said dryly, “Just go and send Starlight my way and I’ll zip my lip. Good?”
“Very good, yes!” he said with an eager grin and scuttled out the door, “I’ll just leave you two to get acquainted.”
She watched with distain until he had crossed the doorway and was out of her sight, and then turned to face this… thing she had been given. She sighed dramatically and shifted under her bandages once more, “What am I goin’ to do with you?”
The changeling was motionless like a statue, reminiscent of a dog that was awaiting an order from its master, and it was enough to give her the creeps. Babs Seed did not like changelings; she wasn’t a fan of bugs of any kind, especially full-sized ponyesque ones that could disguise themselves at will. As far as she knew pretty much everypony in the palace felt the exact same way; she wouldn’t be at all surprised if the only reason Featherweight was even kept around was because he somehow had a knack for tolerating their company.
“You have a name?” she said, and the creature cocked its head and made a faint sound not unlike a chirp. “Can you even speak?” Again it said nothing and merely stood still, watching her with its pupil-less eyes. “Can you do anythin?” she said, beginning to get fed up with it, “Do me.”
On command a burst of green flame coiled around its body and illuminated her office enough to make her step back. The ‘fire’ licked away its chitinous body and left a perfect imitation of her in its place. Everything from the size to the shape was perfect; there was not even the slightest inaccuracy right down to her freckles and one out-of-place tuft of hair on her coat. She reached out and touched its face, cool to the touch, and it mimicked her movements precisely to do the same.
“Not bad at all…” she said, genuinely impressed. “Now can you speak? Say somethin’.”
“Somethin’,” it quipped in a stunning facsimile of her voice.
“Great, it’s sarcastic too,” she said quietly. “Now we’re gettin’ somewhere. I think I can come up with a use or two for you. Alright, good enough. Lose the disguise.”
“Boss, what did—” began Starlight as he entered her office and immediately went quiet at the sight of the changeling turning back to its true shape. “Yeesh…” he said in a hateful tone, “What is that thing doing in here?”
Babs gave it a friendly pat on the shoulder, making it recoil and briefly flash its teeth. “Whoa-ho now, killer,” she said to it, “It’s a peace offerin’ from Featherweight. Get used to bright-eyes here, too, you and he are gonna be seein’ a lot of each other. You’re my deputy. Congratulations.”
“What?! What are—”
She cut him off by holding her new badge in his face. “Desperate times, Star. The Princess was here to promote me and send me after her crown. I need a deputy. That’s you.”
“I’m not even an inspector!” whined her unwilling deputy, “I’m a bloody sentry! I failed law in Basic, remember? All I do is patrol the grounds for crying out loud! I can’t do it!”
“I know, but you’re the only guard in this entire palace I trust, Starlight. And I have faith in you. And are you really going to leave me alone with this guy?” She gestured at the changeling, who looked back and forth between the two ponies uncomfortably, and then she smiled. “Besides, you don’t have a choice, so sit your butt down and I’ll explain everythin’.”
With the most mournful look a white pegasus could give, Starlight did as he was told and headed for the couch with his shoulders draping. Babs Seed’s peace offering watched him and flashed an expectant look at her, waiting until she nodded gently to do the same and flew lazily with a soft buzz to join him. Starlight cringed as it sat too close and scooched a leg’s width away.
“Alright, you two,” she said softly, “Here’s what we already know…”
“Alright, the trick is you have to hug yourself! Put your forelegs over your chest like an ‘X’!”
Apple Bloom tried to comment but couldn’t get a word out. The scenery was shooting past too fast for Apple Bloom to focus on it and the sight of it made her leg move on its own, clinging desperately to the handle of the door as the train raced full-steam towards the Loamstone Valley.
“Jump at an angle, like this!” said Scootaloo as she gestured out the door. She had her hoof hooked around the doorframe and was letting herself hang out of the opening as far as her foreleg would allow, waving back and forth without a care in the world like a leaf from a tree. “When you hit, land on your shoulder and go with the momentum! Careful not to roll onto your neck!”
Pegasi.
Scootaloo let herself fall backward into the train and playfully slapped Apple Bloom’s shoulder, making her cry out in surprise. “This here’s a real bad plan, Scoots!” she yelled over the rattle of the train, “Tell me again why we can’t wait for the train to stop?!”
“Don’t worry! It’ll slow down before taking a bridge!” said Scootaloo excitedly, “Besides, where’s your sense of adventure?! It’s easy; I’ve done it tons of times! Only been hurt twice!”
All of a sudden she was reminded of Pavel from back home. The griffon who could hardly speak a lick of English who was known throughout that town for all the remarkably dumb things he did in the name of having fun. He had turned stupid thrill-seeking into a form of art, and had undoubtedly broken every bone in his body at one point or another. Apple Bloom had found a kindred spirit in him in her youth; she had broken her leg, he had broken three of his, and they had spent almost an entire summer in the company of one another. They had been friends ever since.
And heck Ah miss him…
Like Scootaloo had said the train began to slow with a loud hiss of steam. “Do what I do!” she yelled as she took a few steps away from the door, “And don’t bite your tongue!” Apple Bloom watched closely as her friend ran full sprint and catapulted herself out the door with her wings pressed flat, front legs hugged against her chest, and rolled like a barrel as she hit the dirt.
“Nothing ventured…” Apple Bloom shakily said with a loud swallow, “nothing gained!” She ran at the door and time seemed to slow to a crawl as the momentum of the train hurled her through the air faster than any earth pony was meant to move. She threw her legs over her chest and had enough time to list off several reasons why this was the worst thing she had ever done before the first impact. Her shoulder hit the ground and broke her death-grip on herself, letting her tumble and twirl across the ground like a ragdoll being thrown away by a spoiled foal. Each time she hit she felt pain and panic sear through every bone and muscle in her body before finally sliding to a stop in a fresh puddle of mud.
The sound of Scootaloo’s childish laughter coming closer confirmed that she hadn’t killed herself and she spat loudly to get the taste and texture of mud from her mouth. She glared up at the overly amused expression on her friend’s face and scowled. “Ah hate the rain,” she said in a low hiss, making her friend burst out in laughter once more.
“Hey, that was pretty good,” said Scootaloo as she offered a hoof to pull Apple Bloom up. “Fun, right?”
“Time of my life,” she said sarcastically, grimacing at the dull pain from the impact as she stood with the help of her friend, “Now, unless there are any other ways you’d like to try and kill me, Ah think Ah’m gonna go and take a break.”
Scootaloo squinted up at the faint hint of sunlight bleeding through the dark clouds that was just beginning to duck beneath the tree line. “It’s already pretty late. C’mon, let’s get out of the rain. It’s scheduled to stop tonight, so let’s bed down and get some sleep.”
“Now you’re talking,” said Apple Bloom as she pulled her hat lower down her face to keep the water out of her eyes. “It’s gonna take me a while to get used to water coming down from the sky again.”
Scootaloo led the way, walking with her head up and completely unmindful of the rain, with Apple Bloom trudging behind and pushing her sore body to keep up. They negotiated the rather steep decline into the valley in silence and headed for the dry area beneath the bridge that spanned above them. Other than the sound of the train clattering in the distance and the hiss of falling rain, the area was peacefully quiet. Scootaloo looked around at the dirt walls on either side and the wall of bushes ahead that made almost a complete circle around them. “Perfect,” she said, “That’ll keep the wind to a minimum.”
Apple Bloom rested her back against the stone abutment with a sigh and removed her hat and vest; she was content to just sit for a while and let her body recover from its ordeal. Scootaloo had other plans. She busied herself with prying a few pieces of timber, hopefully ones that weren’t holding up the bridge above, and stacked them in a pile for a fire. She yanked some dry grass from beside a brace and threw it down, then started rooting through the gravel. Just as Apple Bloom had fished a match out of her vest, Scootaloo had found what she was looking for; she dug a dark rock from the gravel and struck it hard against one of the bolts left behind in the timber. She threw a wing over it and blew, and in a moment a small plume of smoke was rising as a small fire came to life.
“You’re full of tricks, aren’t you?”
Scootaloo stripped off her clothing and shook the rain out of her body just like a dog. “Nothing better than falling asleep by a fire,” she said, “and matches always get wet; I hate ‘em.”
Apple Bloom slid herself closer to the fire and hung her clothing on a brace so it could dry. Scootaloo fell to her rear and propped herself up so she could watch her hind hooves wiggle near the flames. “You really like it out here?” Apple Bloom said curiously, “Living on your own, Ah mean?”
Scootaloo took a deep breath through her nostrils as if to savor the scent of the outdoors. “Yeah,” she said appreciatively, “I’ve been out here too long; I can’t sit still in a town anymore. I mean, I bed down in towns in the winter, ponies’ll usually give me a place to stay in exchange for chores or odd jobs, but by the time the weather’s nice again I’m going crazy with cabin fever.”
“And never the same place twice, right? You must’ve learned a lot.”
“You bet,” said Scootaloo proudly before staring up at the bridge above. “Except I never learned what happened to everypony. Like I said, it’s like you all vanished. Sweetie Belle, Dashie and all her friends, everypony.” She looked across the fire at Apple Bloom with her face turning to worry, “I have to be honest. I can’t help but think we’re not going to find anything here.”
“Now don’t you go and throw in the sponge, Scoot,” said Apple Bloom, “Ah mean, what were the odds of us bumping into each other after all this time?”
“I guess. I’d just feel better if we had heard what Silver Spoon knew.”
Apple Bloom spat on the ground at the mention of that name. “Trust me. We’re better off without anything from that mudsill. Ah’ll take Snails’ vague hint any day.”
“You really trust him?”
The sudden change in her friend’s tone caught Apple Bloom off-guard. “Ah don’t trust anyone,” she said, “‘Cept you, of course.”
“I don’t,” said Scootaloo. “Look, I was young and I was scared, but I know what I saw. That night, I mean. I can’t believe he survived that. It’s rubbing me the wrong way, and I trust my gut.” Scootaloo waggled her hooves by the fire a minute longer and sighed. “Hey. What happened with you and Silver Spoon, anyways? She was always a jerk, but I never wished harm on her. Well, serious harm.”
Apple Bloom chuckled happily. “Ah always had this fantasy of the three of us holding those two down and shaving ‘em bald. Shoulda done that; that would have been cutie-mark worthy for sure.” Scootaloo erupted with hearty laughter and Apple Bloom joined in. She could only keep it up for a moment until bad memories made her go quiet. “Course,” she said dryly, “Then Ah got to see what she grew into. A Coruja.”
Confusion won over humor and Scootaloo’s grin faded. “…A what?” she said in confusion.
“Like Ah said, the West started it. Caught us by surprise with superior numbers and took a good chunk of our country. Once we packed our plunder, though, we started giving them some real difficulty.” She pulled another cigarette from her vest and lit it with the campfire, taking a moment to savor the bitter flavor of the somewhat aged tobacco. “When we made things too nasty for their soldiers and began to push them back out, well, they tried a new trick.”
“What did they do?”
She sucked a quarter of the cigarette down in one pull. “They called ‘em Corujas. And Ah’ll never forget the first time Ah saw their handiwork.”
Four Years Ago
Fort Redstone, Eastern Sonhos Vale
“It is in a train compartment, da? A zebra mother and daughter, a griffon, and spook are all riding in cabin. Mother feeds a soft-boiled egg to daughter from a silver spoon. Griffon says ‘Don’t you know eggs can spoil silver?’”
The truck’s engine roared louder as it overtook a hill and Pavel went quiet, waiting for the sound to die down so he could continue his nonsensical foreign jokes. Apple Bloom only listened out of one ear. She was content to sit absentmindedly with her head cradled on Peppercorn’s shoulder, letting the warm breeze blow over her face and watching the smoke from her cigarette twirl into the distance behind them. Peppercorn had fallen asleep close to an hour ago; his head was down and his foreleg hung lifelessly over her, weakly holding his revolver over her belly. Like her, he used his own weapon rather than an issued piece: a Lucky-7 revolver given to him by his pa. Apple Bloom wasn’t fond of revolvers as they were too clumsy to load, but she liked his gun: it was the only one she had ever seen with a second barrel that could be loaded with a shotgun shell.
“So eggs can spoil silver,” continued Pavel, struggling to accommodate his English words with his heavy accent, “and the spook says ‘who would have known!’ and noncha… noncha… calmly moves his silver cigarette case away from crotch.” He erupted with laughter to finish his joke while everyone else who had been listening looked amongst one another with confused expressions.
The other griffon in the truck slapped his talons against the wooden bench. “Pavel!” he said, grinning with frustration, “That doesn’t make sense! Your jokes don’t make sense!”
“It does if you grew in Grogary Gorki.”
“But we didn’t!” laughed the griffon, “I don’t even know where that is!”
Pavel pointed at the other griffon and smiled. “When you speak of such, you make me think of another joke. Two spooks, they walk into bar—”
“No more!” said one of the zebras with a grin, “Please, no more!”
The vehicle suddenly dragged to an abrupt stop and Apple Bloom nearly fell over. “Pep,” she said as she nudged her sleeping friend, “Wake up, something’s wrong.”
He babbled incoherently and snapped the hammer of his pistol back on instinct. “What is it?”
Sunflower leaned out the driver’s side window. “No sentry,” she said cautiously, “Where’s the gate sentries?”
Apple Bloom leaned over the side of the truck’s box with her pistol ready to see for herself. Fort Redstone was just a small outpost well within the borders of the East and not likely to ever come under attack, but it still should have had sentries at the gate. There were no signs of an attack or battle, but it was far too quiet. There were no people in sight and the gate hadn’t even been closed.
Their squad leader leaned out of the passenger-side window. “Griffons. Airborne and look out.”
“Sir!” said Pavel and his partner, who both slung their rifles and tore into the air towards the fort.
“The rest of you,” continued the leader, “Secure the fort. Peppercorn, Cole, Theo, man the rooftop guns. Bloom, Gideon, telegraph. Get a message out ASAP. Everyone else on perimeter, sweep the grounds.”
The truck roared toward the fort as everyone in the back readied their weapons and aimed over the sides. They sped through the gate and turned sharply to drag to a stop in the middle of Redstone. Apple Bloom leaped over the side and ran for the telegraph station’s door, positioning herself by the side and waiting for Gideon to be ready. He nodded and she kicked the door open, both of them exploding through the threshold with weapons aimed.
The station was abandoned. The desk was unmanned and scattered with a few papers and writing implements, as if the ones who worked there had suddenly gotten up and gone home. The only sound was the soft dotting of the telegraph station at the desk, beeping a request for Redstone to respond. The two nodded to each other and headed for the door at the side.
Should be bunks.
This time Gideon kicked the door open after Apple Bloom covered, and the two entered cautiously. As soon as she was through the door she saw it: the telegraph operator, an older zebra, was slumped in the corner of the room with his lifeless eyes half open and sitting in a small patch of blood. Two more lay in the beds, a zebra and griffon judging by the shapes, both completely covered with white sheets that each had a red stain centered over the body. Gideon ran to the dead operator while Apple Bloom cautiously approached the beds.
“He’s still warm,” Gideon said fearfully, “Whoever did this ain’t f—”
A thud of hooves and a guttural wretch cut off her friend and Apple Bloom turned, gun ready, to find Gideon collapsing into a heap and a spook from behind withdrawing a knife from his back. In the split second before she fired her weapon she was able to look the killer from head to hoof; he wasn’t dressed in their dull armor but wore a cloth bodysuit colored to match the sandy terrain with a thin belt wrapped around his waist that held several knives. He was even more emaciated than a normal spook: greasy hair hung down over a muzzle dotted with stubble and he grinned as he pulled his knife from Gideon, showing off several missing teeth. Apple Bloom didn’t give him the chance to even look up. She fired twice, hitting him dead center and dropping him before he even knew what hit him. She tried to see where he came from and there was movement from the bed; one of the ‘bodies’ pounced and threw her to the ground, pinning her weapon leg down and putting a blade to her throat.
“Hoje é dia não para você, ruiva,” said the low feminine voice of a predator.
“Wasn’t that great a day for your friend neither,” growled Apple Bloom under the weight of her would-be killer.
“Yeah, we were supposed to jump at the same time,” said the spook in suddenly perfect English. “I waited; I wanted a meat shield.”
Apple Bloom struggled to lift her weapon and the knife pressed harder against her neck. “You spooky barber’s cats ain’t much better to your own, huh?!”
“He was a jerk anyways,” said the spook in a spiteful tone, “He’s here for offing his wife and foal. Maybe he had a reason for doing the old ball and chain, but there’s no excuse for killing foals. I was going to put a knife in his back after the job was done anyways. You saved me some explaining, red; I’ll let you have some last words. Any?”
“Yeah,” said Apple Bloom, discreetly rolling her pistol around so the barrel rested on her fetlock and hopefully aimed up at the assailant, “Next time you have someone at your mercy, don’t run off at the mouth!” She hit the trigger and the bullet whizzed past her head so close she felt it pass by her ear. The spook on her back cried out in surprise and the knife raked up Apple Bloom’s cheek, slicing deep into her face but getting far enough away for her to fight. She struggled free and kicked her would-be killer away and leapt for her pistol ready to make this one pay—
—and although she had a bead on her target, she couldn’t fire. It was no spook, but an Equestrian like herself. The gray earth pony was dressed in an outfit to match her ‘friend’s’ with the same belt of knives and three Eastland dog tags around her neck, but wore a familiar pair of bright blue glasses. The mare’s mouth hung open and Apple Bloom’s did the same; she had seen that face a long time ago. Try as she might she couldn’t shoot the pony with those familiar purple eyes and the pale mane she remembered seeing tied into a braid. The gray mare obviously recognized her too; she cautiously took a step back and then turned tail and ran, snatching Gideon’s dog tag as she bolted out the door. Finally the warm feeling of blood trickling down her chin and the sound of a few scattered gunshots outside snapped her out of her stupor and Apple Bloom chased the sound of hooves along the wall with her pistol, firing until she was dry but hitting nothing. With the familiar pony gone Apple Bloom shook her head and ran to the telegraph; calling for help had to come first.
Present Day
Apple Bloom held a hoof to the scar on her cheek. “Ah was lucky. The fort was full of ‘em, Scoot, waiting for us. They cleaned out the whole fort; stallions, mares, the infirmed, it didn’t matter. They beefed half of us until we took control and would have done a lot worse too if not for the griffons; Pavel got two of ‘em sneaking up on me as Ah ran outside to help the fight.
“Who were they?” said Scootaloo, clearly unnerved from the story.
“Criminals,” said Apple Bloom. She sighed and finished off her cigarette, tossed the butt into the fire, and failed to blow a smoke ring. “They weren’t soldiers, they were ponies yanked from prison and sent to kill as many of us as possible. Hand in enough of our dog tags, and they’d buy their sentence off and be set free. They didn’t do much to sway the war in the long run, but they caught a lot of us off guard at first.”
Scootaloo closed her good eye and lowered her head. “I can’t believe she’d end up like that… She was always a jerk, but…”
Apple Bloom nodded as her friend trailed off. “Make no mistake. Ah’ve done things that’ve cost me a lot of sleep, but nothing like them. They were monsters. Spoon included. Ah don’t know what she did to land in prison and Ah don’t care; If Ah’d have known back then what Ah know now, Ah’d have emptied my entire weapon and then Gideon’s into her, and then kicked her just to be sure.”
Scootaloo said nothing back. She only laid on her belly and rested her head on her forelegs. The last of the sun’s rays had slipped out of sight and the only light to cut through the blanket of darkness all around them was from the flames that danced between her and Apple Bloom.
Sorry, Scoot. Didn’t mean to be so harsh about it.
Apple Bloom laid her head back and stared up at the bridge above. She drew her pistol and counted her rounds, four remaining, as she always did before sleeping. She nestled her head into a groove in the abutment and adjusted her head just right so her hat would serve as a pillow. From the looks of things, Scootaloo had already fallen asleep. Everything that pony had done since their reunion told Apple Bloom one thing: Scootaloo might be the same brash little filly in spirit, but she had grown up so much and knew how to look out for herself. She knew how to protect herself and, most importantly, she was living for herself. Holding onto that thought as she closed her eyes, Apple Bloom actually found herself smiling.
Incident Report 55-027, B. Pinch, Canterlot Sentry
Narrative
A citizen of Canterlot was found trapped in a storage crate in the basement of the High Canter Hotel after calls for help were heard by hotel staff. The citizen, one Coffee Cream, was found suffering bruises around the neck and back after allegedly being choked unconscious from behind and being robbed of her clothing. It is worth noting her valuables, one (1) gold watch and one (1) pearl necklace, were not taken. Ms. Cream was unable to give a description of the assailant or even an approximate time, claiming it occurred in the hallway near the stairs and adding “[she] never even heard anypony coming” and “[she] woke up in darkness stripped naked”. She was admitted to Canterlot hospital but showed no additional signs of physical trauma.
Additional comments, report 55-027, B. Pinch, Canterlot Sentry
According to hotel owner Atlas, the hotel hallways are off-limits to anypony but registered guests and the basement is kept locked at all times and accessible only by hotel employees. The door was found locked; no damage to the latch or locking mechanism could be found. An investigation of all employees as well as Mr. Atlas himself is still pending.
Babs Seed held the papers between her hooves and tapped them lightly on the table to line them up neatly. “Probably,” she mumbled quietly to herself, “Probably…”
Lost in thought she leaned back and pressed her wounded back against her chair, making her yelp quietly from the dull throb of pain that shot through her. She couldn’t keep her head in the game; it would be hard enough to focus with just these details to worry about, but the pain in her back and the latest addition to her team was maddeningly distracting. The changeling Featherweight had given her had been sitting off to the side of the desk completely motionless all morning. From the moment she had arrived and for what must have been at least an hour the thing had barely even seemed to breathe. It wasn’t even looking at her and yet she could just feel it there haunting her concentration, patiently listening to ever sound she made, and silently aware of even the slightest movement from her.
Can’t take it anymore.
“Sheesh, you are intense, Bright Eyes,” she said, making an earnest attempt to sound civil to the alien-like creature, “You care if I call you ‘Bright Eyes’?” The creature’s gradient eyes looked her way but it otherwise didn’t move. “Ya see, that’s what happens when you don’t give a name. I give you one. Now, if you’ve got a better name I’d be happy to…” she trailed off with a scoff as the creature went back to staring across the room as if it was some daunting task it had to complete. “Nah, you don’t seem to care about anythin’. By the way,” she said as she rubbed her neck, “Don’t take this as an insult, but… are you a he or she?”
Bright Eyes blinked once, twice, and finally drew it’s head back with a dramatic flinch, frowning at her as if she had genuinely insulted it. It looked downright ticked, glaring at her angrily for a moment or two while she fought the urge to laugh in the poor thing’s face.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said as one lone chuckle fought free of her mouth, “Well? C’mon, gimme something to work off here. Can I just call you ‘he’? Don’t feel right callin’ you ‘it’. Demeanin’, you know?”
His expression softened and his eyes seemed to lighten up a bit, as if he was okay with that. He chirped softly, perhaps the changeling equivalent to a scoff, and once again went back to staring at nothing at all. Babs Seed could only shake her head; how creatures that behaved so differently than ponies were able to pass themselves off as such would forever be a mystery to her. Perhaps this was the result of Featherweight’s ‘leadership’ over them—
I don’t wanna know what he has going on behind closed doors.
“You know,” she said in a sing-song voice as she fought the scenes her imagination had conjured up out of her head, “I don’t know what Featherweight has you doin’ but you’re on my bit now. You don’t hafta just sit there. Cool your hooves. Take a break or somethin’; I’ll call you when I need you.”
That seemed to catch Bright Eyes’ interest. He turned to face her, cocking his head to the side and making a perplexed tittering sound.
Babs Seed sighed and hid her growing grin behind a hoof. “You ain’t a dog. I expect you to do as I say and do it right, but you don’t have to be this intense. Go ahead, make yourself at home. You guys eat and drink, right? Swing by the canteen for a snack or a coffee or somethin’. Whatever you want. Just be ready when I need you, ‘kay?”
Bright Eyes mulled it over for a minute and looked around the room. With his mind made up his wings opened out and carried him with a dull buzz to the couch in the corner. He ran his raggedy leg over his face and yawned silently, showing off an impressive set of fangs and one long, forked tongue, and curled up on the couch with his eyes closed and his head nestled into one of the pillows.
Good. Now maybe I can focus.
“Boss,” said Starlight as he entered the room and quietly closed the door behind him, “you’re early.”
“Had a revelation, Star,” she said without looking up from her desk. “Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about it all mornin’. Here. Give this a read.”
Starlight swept his unkempt mane back and gleaned over the papers from the guard who had found the pony locked in the crate. As she had told him the night before he hadn’t worn his armor today; other than a saddle bag he was completely naked, with his tail unwrapped and his shaggy mane draping down over the left of his head with no helmet to keep it in check. “Who jumps a pony and steals clothes but not jewelry?” he said as he cocked his head to the side, “This doesn’t make sense.”
Babs smirked at him. “Exactly my point, Star. It don’t add up. None of this has added up. We’ve got a bandit-for-hire who normally robs places like museums and private homes suddenly goin’ all out and robbin’ the palace. A bandit with no qualms about killin’ suddenly sparin’ the life of our princess and this what’s-her-name in the hotel. A bandit who usually vanishes without a trace bein’ tracked real easy.” She made eye contact with him to see if he was following, which judging by his furrowed brow he was most definitely not. “A bandit, Star, who ‘always works alone’ suddenly havin’ her own little task-force to bail her out of trouble.”
“What are you getting at, Boss?” said Starlight with a frown. “I’m no inspector; this makes no sense at all to me.”
“It doesn’t make sense, Star,” she said, thrusting a hoof to his face to emphasize her point. “Know what I think? I think maybe we don’t know Silver Spoon as much as we like to think we do. I’m startin’ to think maybe she dropped the ball and showed some true colors.”
Starlight waved his hoof back and forth. “Hold on. You think Silver Spoon stole that mare’s clothes? Why?”
“We know she can pick locks like nopony’s business. She’d have gotten into that ‘secure’ basement faster than one of us could fumble for the keys, so tell me why not,” she said with a wink.
“Well, why would she come into Canterlot and then steal a disguise? If she could slip through the city that easily she wouldn’t need one.”
Babs Seed nodded in approval. “Very good. So what if she didn’t sneak? What if she checked into that hotel legitimately?”
“Then she’d already have a disguise, right?” Starlight tapped the report from the guard and placed it on the desk, “There is no way Silver Spoon could just wander into the High Canter without at least a hundred ponies recognizing her.”
Babs excitedly pounded her hoof on the desk, making Bright Eyes leap into the air in surprise only to buzz back down to the couch with a sour look aimed at her. She shrugged apologetically and patted Starlight’s shoulder. “Exactly! That’s exactly what I’m getting at! We’ve been lookin’ for the wrong pony, don’t you see? I think she’s livin’ a double life. Two identities.”
Starlight sighed. “Didn’t you try this before, Boss, and get nowhere? Remember the Las Pegasus caper she pulled?”
Babs Seed scoffed. “Ain’t forgetting that one anytime soon, Star. But what we’ve been doing wrong, is we’ve been looking for Silver Spoon’s alter-ego.” She gestured with her hooves, trying to draw what she was saying in the air, “I think Silver Spoon is the alter-ego.”
There was no expression on Starlight’s face. “Come again?” he said as he scratched his head.
“What do you think Silver Spoon does with the money she makes?”
“I don’t know,” said Starlight with an over-the-top shrug. “I don’t know how thieves work, Boss. She mounds it into a pile, sits on it, and rubs her hooves together menacingly? I don’t know!”
Babs couldn’t help but chuckle. “Exactly, Star, exactly. She’s pretty famous; it ain’t like she could waltz into a dealership and buy herself a fancy new carriage. So I’m thinkin’ what if it was her real self, that is her undisguised ‘Not Silver Spoon’ that came to the city all legitimate-like, then mugged Ms. Coffee Cream there for a disguise to protect her identity?”
Starlight’s mouth hung open and he held up a hoof trying to add up what she had said. “Let me get this straight. You think ‘Not Silver Spoon’ came into the city, disguised herself as not ‘Not Silver Spoon’ to move around, then disguised herself as Silver Spoon to sneak into the palace.”
“Yes,” said Babs Seed in a deadpan tone. “That’s what I think.”
Starlight looked all around and rubbed his head with an exaggerated motion. “My brain hurts, Boss. How do you do this for a living?”
Babs smiled and tapped the first of many disposable coffee cups that would grace her desk throughout the day. “So what we have to do is find out where Silver Spoon hangs her hat when she’s not Silver Spoon.”
“Terrific,” said Starlight sarcastically as he fell to the floor to sit down, “That narrows it down.”
“How about to one?” said Babs in a smug tone. “I paid Mr. Atlas a visit. Turns out there was one mare who never bothered to check out of his hotel. Paid cash in advance. Gave the name ‘Cloudy Cradle’. Well, I poked around her room and found her ticket stub; turns out this mare caught a zeppelin from Hoofington to Canterlot, and it’s two-way, and the timings all add up.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere!” Starlight said happily. “My first patrol was Hoofington! It’s a small town and I know the place like the tip of my hoof!”
Babs made no effort to hide her enthusiasm; the idea of putting a stop to Silver Spoon was enough to make her ecstatic. “It’s a good lead, Star, and let’s hope it’s real. We’re goin’ in, but not without a plan. We’re doin’ this as careful-like as possible. Firstly, were there any other reports? Anythin’?”
“Not on her, no,” said Starlight. “But a letter for you from Broncton.”
“Probably Harrier and Pavot,” she said as she took the letter and noticed both the guard’s insignia and herself addressed as ‘Sergeant’ on the envelope. “What I want you to do, Star, is I want a list of every business and institute you can think of from that town. Everythin’.”
“On it, Boss.”
Sergeant,
We found some information on the pony with the gun. Not much, but it’s a start. We’ve located and searched her home. We found foreign clothing and tactical gear, and what looks like stuff for her gun. All of it’s been confiscated and is en route. Expect it in a week or so.
The Captain and the unit were in town. We had no choice but to spill the beans to him. They left quickly claiming they already had a lead, following the railroad out of town. Apparently they’ve put the gunpony as high priority, you won’t need to worry about her anymore.
Regardless, we’ve asked around town. This pony is a ghost. Doesn’t speak to anypony. No friends. Keeps to herself. Comes and goes. We did manage to get a name. “Apple Bloom”.
Babs Seed lost her grip on the letter and it twirled to the floor. For a moment she felt as if somepony had put her heart in a vice and was cranking it ever tighter as images of her little cousin came to mind and were torn to shreds by the thought of that pony growing up into a killer.
A hoof shook her out of her daze. “Boss,” said Starlight compassionately, “What? You’ve gone pale, Boss.”
“Apple Bloom,” she said sadly as she picked up the letter and gave it to him. “I had a cousin named Apple Bloom.”
“Sheesh, that’s some family you came from eh Boss?” said Starlight absentmindedly as he read it, “First that R.E.A.F. flier and now this one—”
Babs Seed growled angrily and punched the wall hard enough to crack the brick, making Starlight leap back and awakening Bright Eyes who dove behind the couch with an indefinable panic sound. “Get this through your skull. That sociopath in the R.E.A.F. ain’t no cousin of mine,” she said viciously. She felt her leg buckle and coughed into her hoof, and when she saw the mark on the wall and Starlight’s frightened apologetic face her own expression softened. “I’m sorry, Starlight. Look, my little cousin died in Ponyville with my aunt and uncle. It’s just somepony with the same name.”
Starlight patted her shoulder and didn’t need to speak; his eyes apologized for him. “Here’s my list, Boss,” he said quietly as he handed the letter and a hoof-written sheet of paper to her, “Everything I can think of is here.”
Babs nodded to him to accept the apology. “Yeah. Let’s focus on this. Now, I doubt Silver Spoon’d just be livin’ there as a citizen. A pony comin’ and goin’ with no job and an influx of money would draw a lot of attention in a small town.”
“There’s not many places to work there,” said Starlight, “Most of the youngsters end up leaving looking for jobs. Or become guards like us.”
“She’d want somethin’ small where she could do an unassumin’ job,” said Babs. “A place with access to medical supplies and probably a place to sleep, in case she took an injury.”
“Volunteer work,” added Starlight. “She’d never get away with an erratic schedule unless it were volunteer work.”
“Good thinking, Star.”
“So a school then, you think?” said Starlight. “Or a hospital maybe?”
Babs Seed shook her head. “Schools and hospitals are government ran. Even the volunteers are background checked. It’d be beggin’ to get caught for her to work there.” She scanned down Starlight’s list, only vaguely aware of how unbelievably neat his hoofwriting was, until one name happened to stick out. “What’s G&P?”
Starlight clamped his teeth together and exhaled. “‘Great and Powerful’. It’s basically a glorified daycare for little unicorns where they can learn magic.”
“So it’s a private business?”
“Yeah,” said Starlight. “The mare who runs it, Tracy is her name? Trixie? Trish…? Something like that. It’s kind of hard to handle her company for too long. Not a bad pony, I guess, but… well… you’d understand if you met her. I remember this one time I was on patrol, yeah? And she comes out of…” he slowly trailed off and all the pleasantness drained from his features as the realization set in. “Boss, you don’t think…?”
“Know what I think?” said Babs in a wary tone, “I think we should go have a chat with this Tracy.”
“When?!” he said, “I won’t get another night’s sleep thinking about a killer like that hiding out with a group of foals.”
“Easy does it, now. We can’t just rush in blind and put those kids at risk. If there’s one thing Silver Spoon loves, its hostages.”
Starlight’s blank expression became one of disgust. “We need a plan.”
Babs Seed eased back in her chair, cringing at the hot dull pain from her back as her wound pressed against the back of the chair. She put a hoof to her chin and thought, determined to come up with a way to protect those kids. They couldn’t just sneak in and jump her; what if Silver Spoon wasn’t there and they pounced on an innocent in her place? Evacuation or an inspection was out; Silver Spoon would smell that a mile away and be gone. The foals would be at risk if they just tried to make an arrest; simply wandering in and tossing hoofcuffs on her wasn’t possible.
Or is it?
A devilish and self-satisfied smile came across Bab’s face. “Take a seat, Star. I’m brewing me up an idea. Hey Bright Eyes! Where’d you get off to? Come on out!”
Starlight nodded and took his place on the couch, and a moment later a shiny dark face cautiously peeked up from behind where he sat. Bright Eyes stared at her briefly, clearly still spooked from her little outburst, but quickly skittered over the back of the couch and took a seat beside her deputy.
“Listen up, you two,” said Babs as she paced back and forth before the couch, “I’ve got a plan, and it’s gonna take all three of us to pull it off.”
Apple Bloom’s eyes tore open and the war was over. She was back in Equestria, back where she had dozed off the night before, staring up at the slats of the rail bridge high above. She rubbed her forehead to stroke the echoing gunshots out of her head and back to her nightmares where they belonged and found her entire face was clammy and cold with sweat.
Ah hate sleeping outdoors.
She was stiff from sleeping in the gravel. Stiff and sore and cold from the stone sucking the heat from her body; she didn’t know how Scootaloo had made a life of this. Apple Bloom cracked the joints in her neck and looked around. Scootaloo was standing near the ashy corpse of their fire like a statue. She hadn’t bothered to get dressed yet; her head was cocked up slightly with her mouth open just enough for her teeth to show, and her one good eye was scanning their surrounding with the intensity of a wild animal that had sensed something it didn’t like. “Scootaloo?”
“Shh.”
She took the hint. Apple Bloom leaned back slowly and slid her pistol toward herself, pulling the hammer back as it came within reach. The barely audible click as it locked in place was enough to make Scootaloo’s ear twitch. She kept her back against the abutment so nothing could sneak up on her and, with her pistol ready at her side, she kept her eyes on Scootaloo’s blind spot.
“There!” Scootaloo abruptly yelled as she threw a rock hard into the bushes. A loud clunk like a metal pail being kicked and a yelp that was unmistakable canine had Apple Bloom on her hooves and beside her friend, ready to shoot dead the first thing that leaped out to make their acquaintance.
The soft crunch of still-damp underbrush accompanied with the gentle jingle of armor put Apple Bloom on edge. The bushes began to dance and she twitched her pistol; if whatever their visitor was even breathed wrong in her direction it would be vulture bait in a heartbeat. A creature rose from the brush, one that was definitely canine but could hardly be considered a dog; it looked closer to a gorilla. The thing walked upright on stubby hind legs, clutching a spear in its disproportionately huge front paws, and wore simple armor and a helmet to match. The visor was pulled down over its eyes but she could feel its death glare to accompany the low feral growl; no doubt the source of its anger being the dint in its headwear from Scootaloo’s rock. Three more crept out of the bushes behind it, two of them identical to the first in dress and body, and the third was shorter and dressed in a red vest with pockets stuffed with gems. Seeing the latter triggered a vague memory to return to Apple Bloom: a story from her sister a long time ago where such creatures kidnapped one of Applejack’s friends.
Diamond Dogs.
Apple Bloom wasn’t in the mood. She aimed at the ground near the closest one’s feet and fired four times. Each bullet ricocheted off the gravel; the sparks and whine of deflected bullets making the creature drop its spear and hop from foot to foot with fearful yelps. It was enough to intimidate all four of them; they dropped their weapons and raised their paws defensively. “That’s right,” said Apple Bloom as she loaded ten fresh rounds into her pistol, “That’s what Ah wanna see. Now unless you want some real difficulty Ah suggest you—”
“Apple Bloom! Easy!”
Scootaloo’s hoof was on her pistol and trying to ease it down, which Apple Bloom resisted against until her friend winked her good eye with a smile. The message was clear: Scootaloo wanted to handle it.
“Hi,” said Scootaloo in an eerily casual manner with a sheepish chuckle as she turned to the dogs that were cautiously picking their weapons back up. “Sorry about the rock. Really, I am. Look, we’re not here for any trouble, we’re just passing through and bedded down for the night.”
The gang of monstrous dogs glared at her, then her friend, and then amongst one another. To Apple Bloom’s surprise, the one in the vest begrudgingly nodded; they lowered their weapons and began to withdraw the way they came. All Apple Bloom could do was give an unseen nod of genuine respect to her one-eyed friend and holster her weapon.
“Guys! Wait!” said Scootaloo abruptly, and the group stopped. “Look, uh, we’re looking for a friend of ours who’s around these parts, actually. A unicorn about my age, gray coat, two-tone pink and purple mane? You guys haven’t seen her around, have you?”
They reacted to the description in a way that bothered Apple Bloom; they just stood motionless for a moment and then leaned in close and mumbled amongst themselves quietly. Finally their decision was made and the group began to walk away once more with the dog in red gesturing for the duo to follow them. Scootaloo jumped on the spot with a giddy squeak and trotted happily after them, leaving Apple Bloom no choice but to go with these monsters as well.
Apple Bloom and her friend walked for some time through the bushes until they reached a well-travelled trail that the group began to follow. How Scootaloo was able to complacently follow these beasts nagged at her the entire time; she was able to keep quiet for what must have been a half-hour until she could take no more and sped up to a light jog to get beside her friend. “Scoot,” she whispered, “Ah don’t like following these things.”
“I know what you’re thinking. They’re not like that anymore.”
“The heck are you talking about, Scoot?”
“I remember too, when they kidnapped Sweetie Belle’s big sister,” whispered Scootaloo, “but they’re civil nowadays. I wouldn’t have even thrown the rock if I knew it was them.”
They walked for a few more minutes until they reached a rather non-descript cave carved into the side of the canyon. Two more of the dogs stood guard at the entrance but paid little attention to the group as they entered. “Ah hope you’re right, Scoot,” said Apple Bloom unable to hide her nervousness. She remembered her sister’s description of these dogs: they were stupid. Violent, dangerous, and very stupid. They lived in crude underground holes and spent their entire existence digging for gems.
‘Cept this is hardly crude…
The cave they found themselves in looked like a professional mine that bordered on being an underground village. Other than some mining tools none of the dogs underground were armed; instead they wandered about like ponies in a town. The few that even bothered to look their way thought nothing of it as if seeing ponies in their midst was an everyday occurrence. Tunnels went every which way, all with proper arching supports, sufficient lighting, and even warning signs reminding of the need for personal safety equipment. Whoever planned this out clearly had a brain in his head.
Or her head. Couldn’t be…
They were taken down the largest of the tunnels, found at the far end of the commons area, which led them upward a ways to a large rounded out subterranean room, close enough to the surface to allow for skylights to be cut from the ceiling. In the center of the room was a large, comfortable-looking chair with its back to them, set in front of a large banner that proudly displayed the insignia of three red diamonds. “Is that you, Twist?” said a low but feminine and somehow familiar voice that came from the chair.
“Sweetie Belle?!” cried out Scootaloo in a mix of shock and pure delight.
Nothing but the sound of a flinch came from the chair, followed by a moment of silence. Finally the elaborate throne rotated around revealing the mare who sat in it. She was a unicorn no older than Scootaloo and Apple Bloom, with a gray coat like snow and an elaborately styled two-tone mane. She was dressed just like one of the dogs the duo had seen in the corridors before: a bright red vest with pockets stuffed with precious gemstones. It was hard to recognize the face; too much time had passed for Apple Bloom to clearly remember most of the faces from her past, but even with the modest covering of makeup the unicorn wore, Apple Bloom knew exactly who it was.
“Sweetie!!!” screeched Scootaloo, who wasted no time studying the old friend. She ran faster than a pegasus had any right to move, swiftly dodged their escorts as they tried to stop her, and tackled Sweetie Belle right out of her chair. Apple Bloom held herself back and smiled warmly; she’d get her chance for a proper reunion. Scootaloo had pinned their old friend to the ground, hugging her tightly and rubbing her face against Sweetie Belle’s cheek while the poor thing struggled to break free of the embrace. The two Diamond Dogs gave Apple Bloom matching alarmed looks and she only shrugged back; nothing in the world could make her interrupt a sight like this.
“You’re… choking me!”
“I don’t care!”
Sweetie Belle finally managed to shove the clingy pegasus off just as Apple Bloom had made it up to her. She stared up and Apple Bloom offered a hoof to pull her to her legs. Reluctantly she accepted and Apple Bloom yanked her to her chest and threw her legs around her in a tight hug. “Ah missed you,” she said amid tears, but immediately sensed something was wrong. Sweetie Belle returned the hug, but did so with almost no enthusiasm; she draped one leg around Apple Bloom’s shoulders and patted her lifelessly, the way one would hug a stranger.
You are a stranger. You haven’t seen her in years.
“Girls,” Sweetie Belle said awkwardly, “It… it’s so good to see you two again. I’m glad you’re doing well.”
“I can’t believe it!” said Scootaloo enthusiastically, “How many years have gone by anyways?! I can’t believe we’re all still around!”
Sweetie Belle chuckled warmly, but her body language deceived her; she acted as if she couldn’t wait to get away. Perhaps the years had just changed her that much or perhaps something was wrong. “What is all this?” said Apple Bloom, hoping to get her old friend to warm up to them.
She smiled proudly. “Home,” she said as she reared back and took a few amazingly confident steps on her hind legs, no doubt a trick she’d picked up from these dogs, and gestured about the room. “And there was no way I was going to live in a filthy pit. So… I whipped my darling little dogs into shape.”
“Y’mean you’re the boss ‘round these parts?” said Apple Bloom.
Sweetie Belle turned and slumped lazily back into her chair, and gestured to the two dogs to leave the room. “You’d better believe it, darling. It’s a… long and rather complicated tale.” She sighed heavily and, for a moment, her voice became rather sad, “Not a story I’m particularly fond of telling.”
“So your parents…?” said Scootaloo in a low voice, “and your sister? They’re—”
The expression on the unicorn’s face said it all, and Scootaloo went quiet. “Let’s just say I ended up here. They thought they could use me to find gems; I found a much better use for myself and the rest sort of just fell into place.” She perked up and gestured around the room, “All I did was teach them to think like ponies. Stop hoarding, and start spending. Rather than leave them to drool over the pile of riches, I showed them some of the very nice things gemstones can get for you. Just the basic comforts to start; things ponies take for granted.” Sweetie Belle found some part of that to be particularly funny and giggled devilishly. “But then… with a modest investment I put the weather itself at their command. The most perfect weather conditions here in this valley all the time and they shower me with riches beyond my wildest dreams! Anything I could want is mine!”
Apple Bloom whistled with approval. “How’d you manage that?”
“I met somepony very special,” she said softly, “barely a few years ago I met a pony who was just like me. Ambitious. Both wanting more. All I wanted was money. She… I’m not so sure. She’s a special case. Very strange, but very intelligent. All it took for her to take over Environment Equestria was a kick in the wallet from me.”
Apple Bloom and Scootaloo both looked each other in the eye. Judging by the very confused look in Scootaloo’s eye she hadn’t been ready for a show like this either. This isn’t at all what Apple Bloom had expected to find.
‘Least she’s had it good.
“Look at it this way,” said Sweetie Belle, “Do you know how many unicorns it takes to raise the sun each and every day? Or how many it takes to lower the moon? How many pegasi across the country it takes to move the weather? And of course there are bureaucrats, pencil pushers, janitors, even the pony who cleans the restrooms. Thanks to our money, the government could pull funding. That made them happy, Ms. Daydream happy and, most important, me and my darling dogs happy.”
Scootaloo stomped her hoof and shook her head in disbelief. “You mean you’re in this with the government?! How could you?! Don’t you remember what happened in Ponyville?! To our friends and family?!”
“Bah!” spat Sweetie Belle. “What happened happened. Period. This life isn’t at all what I imagined, but it’s a life. My folks would be happy for me. What about you two? What’s the point of holding onto the past, no matter how bad it is?!”
“I can’t,” said Scootaloo, turning so her blind side faced Sweetie Belle. “I can’t forgive any of them. Twilight Sparkle or the sickos who murdered Dashie and Fluttershy. I’ll never put that behind me.”
“Are you sure?” said Sweetie Belle said in an enticing tone, “There’s a slice of pie for both of you here, if you’ll only accept it. Ms. Daydream spoke rather fondly of her meeting with you, Scootaloo; said she had never met a stronger mare. And Apple Bloom, dear, that bandit you chased through the badlands? He had been robbing us blind. Ms. Daydream would love to meet you as well.”
“Stop right there,” said Apple Bloom in a low tone; she couldn’t believe what she had just heard. “You mean you knew all this time we were alive and around?! You didn’t even try to make contact?!”
Sweetie Belle’s expression was grim. “Of course not,” she said darkly. “Like I said. I put the past behind me. All of it. But since the two of you are here anyways, what do you say?”
Apple Bloom looked over at Scootaloo’s heartbroken expression; her one good eye was peeled wide-open and her jaw hung with an expression most ponies could only muster after being shot. “Appreciate the offer,” she said in disgust, tipped her hat in what little respect she had left for her old ‘friend’, and turned to leave. As she moved she was only vaguely aware of her surroundings like she was caught in a terrible dream. Time was swallowed by the trek out of the cave and through the valley; she barely even knew where she was as she moved. All the way up the hill to the train tracks all she could think about was how hopeful she and Scootaloo had been the night before as they descended it. She sat in the gravel, unable to shake the pain; she couldn’t stop thinking about how much it hurt.
“Apple Bloom!”
Scootaloo’s voice jolted her out of her self-loathing, and she turned to her friend. “Scoot. Ah’m sorry. Ah let you down.”
“What?! Apple Bloom, no!” said Scootaloo, whose eye bled a stream of tears, “She… she just…”
A train’s whistle blared in the distance as Apple Bloom grabbed her friend and hugged her tight. “Sugar, you listen to me and you listen good,” she said in a weak croak, “There’s a town within an hour’s walk from this valley. Ah want you to go there and make a life for yourself. Ah know you can’t put the past behind you, but you need to stop running.”
Apple Bloom felt a jolt run through Scootaloo’s body. “You don’t mean— NO! No, I’m not going anywhere without you!”
“Scoot. Ah only came with you to see Sweetie Belle alive and well, and then drop you off.”
“No!!! NO NO NO!!!” screamed Scootaloo, “You’re the only friend I’ve got!”
“You don’t want me as a friend, Scoot,” said Apple Bloom darkly, “You’d be far better off as far away from me as possible. Ah’m trouble. Ah almost killed you, Scoot, and we haven’t been together a week.”
“Apple Bloom…” said Scootaloo as she pushed herself to leg’s length and made eye contact. “I know. I know you’ve done bad things. I know you shot at me. And I… I forgive you,” she said with a sincere smile, “Let’s just go, just the two of us. We’ll forget that masked pony, and everything, and just go. I’ve lost everypony, Apple Bloom; don’t make me lose you too.”
“Don’t you worry about that masked pony. Ah know you can take care of yourself, Scoot, probably better than me. Ah’ll make sure this masked pony never so much as thinks about you ever again,” Apple Bloom said softly. She took one good look at one of the few things she had left in the world, and as much as it hurt she knew what she had to do. “You’re not coming. You’re not getting dragged through the mud with me, Scootaloo. Ah’m sorry.”
“Shut up!!!” yelled Scootaloo as she weakly pounded on Apple Bloom’s chest, “I’m not going, I am NOT going, you got that?! There’s nothing, NOTHING you can do to—”
Without another word Apple Bloom wound up and punched her friend as hard as she could. Not ready for it at all, Scootaloo stumbled backward and collapsed to the ground in an unconscious heap. Apple Bloom stared down at her friend, who looked as if she was sleeping peacefully, and hated herself more than ever. “Ah know you’ll hate me for this, Scoot. Ah’m fine with that. You’ve got a good grip on things, Scoot; you don’t need a friend so bad as to waste your time with… with an old killer like me.”
The train from the distance moved past, moving slowly to take the steep grade and ease itself over the bridge, and Apple Bloom jumped between one of the cars and braced as the next one slammed into her and pushed her along with it. She closed her eyes; not about to force herself to look back. Twice now, she had watched a loved one slip out of reach into the distance, and it wasn’t something she could stand to see a third time. Instead she made her way inside one of the cars, one that contained nothing but empty crates, and sat alone with a cigarette.
Cloudy Cradle peeked over the cover of her novella and smiled to the mailmare. “Good morning to you too, Zippor. Bringing me something good in the mail, I hope?”
The cream-colored pegasus giggled and pulled out a coupon book. “At least it’s not a bill!” she said enthusiastically and whizzed past the mailbox and over the fence to deliver it personally.
“I’ll take it. It’s the closest to good news I’ve had in a few.”
Zipporwhill draped herself over the small guardrail of the porch. “Bad trip?”
“You can say that again, Zippor,” said Cloudy Cradle as she tucked the coupon book underneath the small cushion of her porch chair and patted her copy of ‘Of Mice And Mares’. “You do not know how much I am looking forward to just kicking up my hooves and catching up on some reading.”
“That’s no fun!” said Zipporwhill happily. “I’m gonna try and get my deliveries done early so I can go enjoy as much of this sunny day as possible! Wanna come?”
Cloudy Cradle laughed quietly and shook her head. “Sorry. I’m due to spend time with the foals today. Trixie has her hooves full as it is over there.”
The excitable pegasus cartwheeled over the fence. “Alright!” she said as she tumbled through the air, “Maybe next time!”
The gray mare tugged at the neck of her blouse as she watched the mailmare jolt through the air toward her next destination. “Nopony never gets to heaven, and nopony gets no land,” she read aloud as she marked her place with a bookmark and laid it down on the small table. It had been an all-around unpleasant trip and she wanted nothing more than to lay in a heap in a bubble bath until she quite literally melted, but she had work to do at G&P. She would survive as always; her trip to Canterlot had been a complete debacle, yes, but not a total loss and she had definitely had worse. Besides, she had already gotten what she looked forward to most after any business trip: a hot shower and a long sleep in her own king-sized bed.
She finished off the rest of her tea from her novelty mug that was shaped like a prescription pill bottle and sighed. It was still early; the foals weren’t due to G&P for another hour, but there was no time like the present to head there. Trixie would be there by now, and despite her reputation as being somewhat obnoxious and some of the sincerely unbelievable rumors surrounding that horn of hers, Cloudy Cradle had never been anything but entertained by her.
Well, she was a stage magician once, so I guess it stands to reason.
Cloudy Cradle laughed every time she thought of it. She could definitely see ‘The GREAT and POWERFUL Trixie’ up on stage, no doubt with blaring music and blinding pyrotechnics. Why she would give all of that up to become what is essentially a foalsitter in a small town was up in the air; Trixie never spoke about her past and Cloudy Cradle could respect a pony’s desire to keep it quiet.
“Besides,” she said aloud to the vague gray reflection of herself in the porch window, “If I have to wait, I might as well be waiting there.” She put her glasses on and patted her mane which she kept tied up in a bun. She drew a deep breath as she fixed her hair, and started on her way down the short path to the street. Hoofington was a small, quiet town, a fact which came with both its ups and downs. On one hoof it had none of the comforts of a large city like public transportation or a decent place to get a meal, and of course everypony knew everypony and their business which could get rather tiring. At the same time crime was nearly nonexistent; the worst she had seen was some graffiti smeared on the fence surrounding G&P, which meant the town also had a nearly nonexistent guard presence. All of that aside, the town had a certain charm to it. It was dull, but peaceful and calm.
CRASH!
Cloudy Cradle jogged up the driveway two houses down from hers to help the young colt who was struggling with a trash bag that was bigger than he was. The little guy, Clear Rivers, was one of Trixie’s students and the only one who wasn’t a unicorn. Since the school focused on teaching them basic unicorn magic there was little reason for an earth pony like him to attend, but Trixie was willing to accommodate him just so he’d have a place to be during the day. Cloudy Cradle didn’t know all the details but apparently the kid’s mom was pretty sick and spent most of her days bedridden. Admittedly, she had taken a bit of a shine to him.
An earth pony in a place full of unicorns without a parental figure. Hits too close to home.
The two got the bag to the curb and Clear Rivers spat dramatically, digging at his teeth to dislodge a ribbon of black plastic that had found a home between his teeth. “Thankths, Mth. Cradle,” he said with his tongue worming its way around his teeth.
“You bet,” she said, smirking as he finally freed himself from the annoyance wedged in his mouth. “So how’s your mom these days?”
His expression softened and his eyes glossed over with worry. “She’s… she’s fine,” he said sadly.
Cloudy Cradle lowered to the ground to meet him eye to eye. “Now now, don’t lie to Ms. Cradle.” He didn’t relent and she ruffled his hair. “Look. I happen to be very good at keeping secrets. If you want, I’ll never tell a soul. So go ahead. What’s on your mind?” He still didn’t speak up, but she had a pretty good idea what the issue was. Apparently his mom skipped her medicine some days simply because it was too expensive, and it was not doing her any favors.
Things are tough all over, I guess.
She thought for a moment and, completely on impulse, fished around in her pocket for the red gemstone she had found in Canterlot. She held it in front of his muzzle and his eyes widened at how it caught the morning sun and shimmered. “Here. Run inside and give this to your mom. It’s valuable.”
He beamed at her with a wide smile and an excited gasp. “You mean it?! You really mean it?! Tha—”
Cloudy Cradle tucked the gem in his mouth to shush him. “Don’t know why you’re thanking me, Clear. You found it in the street after hauling that trash out by yourself. That’s what you’ll tell your mom and anypony who asks.” With that she winked and gestured for him to run inside. “Deal?”
He nodded happily with the gem held tight in his lips and, as she had hoped, didn’t say another word and scampered back to his home. She stood for a moment and watched his house, unsure of how to feel about her little bonus vanishing just like that, but quickly shrugged it off. The sooner she got to G&P, the more time she’d have to catch up with Trixie.
The rest of her walk was uneventful in true Hoofington fashion. She caught a glimpse of Zipporwhill scaring the feathers off of another pegasus during her erratic trip about the town to deliver letters, passed a filly and colt having a mock swordfight with tree branches, and watched one of those odious royal guards get rebuked by the grocer after trying to get a little too friendly with him. Same old, same old. The overly dramatic sign to G&P loomed over the front gate: ‘THE GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE’S GREAT AND POWERFUL MAGICAL CRÈCHE’, and like every time Cloudy Cradle walked underneath it she had to stand for a moment and shake her head.
She’s a performer. It’s in her blood.
The building itself hardly lived up to the boisterous sign that advertised its name. It was a modest little building, probably once a house, which had been remodeled into a school. A white picket fence surrounded the small plot of land that it occupied, leaving enough room for a playground that was home to a swing set and a small jungle gym. Not much, but it was more than enough for the six or seven students who attended regularly. As she entered she heard Trixie’s voice discussing lesson plans with somepony and rolled her eyes. No doubt a new student arrived early; so much for catching up.
“…and I’m just worried she won’t learn the basics,” said a male voice.
“Trixie understands.”
“Especially with my new job at the paper,” continued the male voice, “and she doesn’t have many friends as it is. I think it’d be great if she were around some other unicorns her age.”
As Cloudy Cradle passed the classroom she caught a glimpse of the new student. A cute little thing with a cyan coat and orange hair, and a disheveled white pegasus for a father. Trixie glanced over and perked up, immediately excusing herself to join her friend.
“Cloudy!” she said in a near panic as she ran out into the hallway, “Trixie heard there was an incident in Canterlot and was so worried about you!”
“Urgh, those stupid guards!” whispered Cloudy Cradle in a quiet hiss.
“What happened?”
“Some little something-or-other in the palace, I think,” said Cloudy Cradle with a frustrated wave of her hoof, “The whole city was locked down! I mean, the least they could do is pay for my extra time at the hotel if they’re going to keep anypony from leaving!”
Trixie sighed and collapsed dramatically against the wall. “Trixie’s just glad it wasn’t more serious than that. When you didn’t come back when you were supposed to and when Trixie heard about everything that was happening—”
“It’s fine, Trix,” interrupted Cloudy Cradle as she gently patted her blue friend’s shoulder, “I just sat in my room and read. And I am done with travelling for a while. I’m going to stay here for a while and take it easy.”
Trixie nodded happily and gestured her muzzle in the direction of the room, wanting Cloudy Cradle to come and introduce herself. When the bookish gray pony simply shook her head Trixie nodded once more and headed back to the classroom. “So tell Trixie,” she said in a saccharin tone, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
“An enviren-mentalist!” quipped a filly’s voice as it struggled to pronounce the word.
Cloudy Cradle chuckled and continued down the hall to the small room in the back. Probably a bedroom at one point, the room was now mostly empty and had nothing in it but a couch, bookshelf, and a small first-aid cabinet. Being an earth pony Cloudy Cradle was next to useless trying to teach even the most basic-level magic, so she would while away a lot of her day in this room mostly taking care of administrative duties while Trixie did her thing with the foals. Having a room full of rambunctious unicorns, and Clear Rivers, constantly trotting each and every way like little jumping beans kept Trixie’s hooves full throughout most of the day. That left Cloudy Cradle to run the errands and do whatever little things needed to be done out of sight, just like she preferred. The only thing she actually did with the kids was monitor them at recess and lunch, so Trixie could take a well-deserved break.
“Hello,” said an unfamiliar female voice.
Cloudy Cradle cried out in surprise and spun around; she was so busy lost in thought she hadn’t even realized somepony was leaning casually in the corner. It was a mare, and a rather large one at that. Not overweight, but muscular and easily the size of your average stallion. She wore a rather stern expression on her off-orange face, framed by freckled and underneath a two-toned pink mane. She didn’t look angry or mean, but she was clearly there on serious business. Cloudy Cradle steadied herself and gave the benefit of the doubt. “You scared me half to death!” she said innocently, “What are you doing in here? Are you the little unicorn’s mom?”
The mare said nothing and held up a badge. ‘Canterlot Criminal Investigation Department’ it read across the emblem of the royal family.
Great.
“You must be here about our little graffiti artist,” said Cloudy Cradle. “That was weeks ago, though. He… it died off recently and our fence has been safe ever since.”
“You know exactly why I’m here,” said the mare coldly, “Don’t play dumb with me.”
“I’m sorry, I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The mare made an odd gesture. “Silver Spoon. Come on. I knew you and Diamond Tiara in Ponyville. We used to be real buddy-buddy for all of about a day. Even dressed up like a librarian, I recognize you.”
Like running out into a heavy torrent of freezing rain, the realization hit Cloudy Cradle with an almost painful shock. A flood of memories and the realization that it was Blank Flank’s chubby cousin standing in front of her nearly knocked her off her hooves. With that came an underlying feeling of dread; there was no point in keeping up the charade any longer. Her cover was blown, Cloudy Cradle was dead, time to move on. “Well. Babs Seed,” said Silver Spoon in a sly tone. “I guess it’s about time you louts figured my little trick out.”
Babs took a step to the left to halt Silver Spoon’s attempt to edge toward the door. “You ain’t as smart as you think you are, Spoon. You got sloppy.”
“Now who said I was smart?” said Silver Spoon as she smiled tauntingly. “Though I guess if you’re talking relatively… I mean, the guards hired you as an inspector. You don’t exactly strike me as Hoovard material.”
“Hah,” said Babs humorlessly. “Most criminals assume I ain’t smart. It ends bad for them. Every time.”
“Oh does it now?” said Silver Spoon as she discreetly adopted a ready stance. “I made that princess of yours sing opera. Made her squeal. You think you can handle me, even if you did grow to the size of a house?”
“Oh yes. Ain’t met the criminal yet I couldn’t clobber.”
“Well, you look the part. Not spending too much time with the stallions though, hm?”
Babs stared at her for a moment with a bemused scowl. “So where’d the crown go, Spoon? I might not bust all your bones if you tell me.”
“Hm. Gotta do better than that, Fifth-Wheel,” chuckled Silver Spoon, “The Wicked Witch offered me a way better deal in the caves and I still turned it down.”
“That offer expired on midnight. And enough erm, ‘pleasantries’. You know you ain’t gettin’ out of this one, Spoon.”
“Oh, no, I’m getting out of this one. All those foals’ll be due here any minute. You wouldn’t dare try something with all those equine shields and casualties in the making trotting around.”
“It’s not happening, Spoon.”
With that the door swung open and the pink little unicorn, Trixie’s newest student, happily trotted up to Silver Spoon. “Are you my new teacher?” she said eagerly.
“Well! Look what just happened!” said Silver Spoon with an evil grin as she scooped the kid up and held the little thing’s muzzle shut between her chin and hoof.
The fury on Babs Seed’s face, the telegraphed realization she had lost, was delicious. “Spoon,” she said angrily, “That’s low. Even for you.”
“Any port in a storm.” Silver Spoon looked down at the poor little thing’s terrified face and smiled kindly. “Sweetie?” she said as Cloudy Cradle, “Ask the nice inspector to lie down against the wall, face down.”
“Let her go, Spoon!” yelled Babs in a hint of desperation, “You ain’t gettin’ anywhere with her!”
The bluff was working like a charm. Time to hammer the point home. “So you’re gonna let me do this darling little filly?” said Silver Spoon in a cruel tone. “Don’t make me laugh. You know, I wouldn’t put it past those scumbag guards or airponies to let the kid die, but not you. You don’t have it in you. You don’t know how to do something you know will cost a life to accomplish.”
Babs Seed shuddered and took a step back. She turned to the side defensively, letting Silver Spoon spot a scar that was, although messy, clearly from surgery on her belly.
“Even better,” said Silver Spoon with an evil smile. “You’re a mother. I’d recognize a caesarean scar anywhere, even that messy. Imagine little Babs junior out there, in the cold grip of a criminal, dying in that grip because some two-bit inspector decided he or she was an appropriate price to pay to capture a bandit.” Silver Spoon paused to savor the sickened expression on Babs’ face. “Ooh does it… sicken you? Just thinking about it? Guess what? Her dad is outside. You’ll get the chance right away to look him right in the eyes and tell him his beautiful little daughter is gone and it’s all… your… fault.”
“Let me make myself bluntly clear,” said Babs in a calm fury, “You’re not going to get away with this one. I’m gonna bust your jaw, throw you in chains, and drag you all the way back to Canterlot.”
“Right,” said Silver Spoon flatly. The filly twitched in her hooves and she shushed her softly. “You’ll be fine, honey. Right, inspector?” She took a few steps toward the door and Babs made no attempt to follow her. “I’m sure I’ll be caught or killed eventually, but it won’t be here, won’t be now, and it won’t be by you.”
“How about all three?! Bright Eyes! NOW!!!”
The pink unicorn writhed and practically exploded in a bright green flash. In less than a second her, its legs thrashed and stretched, forming holes and turning dark like they had been burned away by the green fire that dissolved what was once an adorable little filly. The thing lunged at her head, at her face, with a loud hiss as it bared nightmarish fangs—
—and Silver Spoon barely had any time to react. She shoved the demon away and stumbled, and heavy hooves thundered toward her. There was no time to act; the full force of a punch right to her face wrenched her head to the side and sent her reeling into the wall. She collapsed and tried to stand but was thrown to the ground and her forelegs were wrenched behind her. She heard the deadly snap of hoofcuffs lock her limbs helplessly behind her and she knew her fate was sealed.
“We gotcha, you bag of snakes,” said Babs in a triumphant hiss followed by a horribly guttural cough.
“What is happening in— Cradle!!!” screamed Trixie as she entered but was held back by the white pegasus from earlier. He shoved a badge of his own in Trixie’s face as she stared in shock, and Silver Spoon could only stare back. They’d planned this from the start and she took the bait hook, line, and sinker.
Babs Seed looked over to the surprised blue unicorn. “Tracy—”
“Trixie!!!”
“Whatever. Meet Silver Spoon. Career criminal. Responsible for the entire brouhaha in Canterlot. It’d be quicker to tell you what she ain’t guilty of.”
“No! NO!” yelled Trixie, “It’s NOT true! Trixie knows you! Tell them they’re wrong! Cradle!!!”
Silver Spoon struggled to keep her gaze on Trixie, fighting to see through the blur and pain from the nasty haymaker she’d taken, and somehow managed a smile. “Sorry, Trix,” she mumbled in a pained slur, “they got my number. But hey it was kinda fun… while it lasted.”
Trixie was a statue, frozen in place with a look of horror on her face. She watched in silence as Silver Spoon was slung across Babs Seed’s back by the white pegasus who snapped a matching set of hoofcuffs across her rear legs for good measure.
“You have the right to remain silent, and blah blah blah,” said Babs in a smug tone. “Please do. I don’t give half a spit what you have to say.”
Silver Spoon just let herself drape lifelessly. It was over and she knew it.
Sweetie Belle put all her weight into it, nudging her sister with her shoulder. It was morning; the sun wasn’t up but it was morning, and it was time for her to be awake.
Why won’t she wake up?!
Sweetie Belle still didn’t really understand what had happened over the past little while. Everything had been so different after the recent tragedy surrounding Princess Celestia’s passing. The adults had their hooves full trying to keep everything the way it was supposed to be. For her and the foals her age the day-to-day events had mostly gone unchanged. Like any other day she had finished her homework, she had played with her friends, and she was spending the night at her sister’s house and getting ready for bed. It was a fairly normal day until her sister had ran into her room and yanked her out of the bed.
“Rarity, come on! We have to go!” She nudged her sister again, this time under the chin with her muzzle. Rarity didn’t feel right; her body was cool to the touch like the morning air and simply felt wrong when Sweetie Belle made contact.
With Sweetie Belle clinging to her back, Rarity left the house and ran blindly through the town of Ponyville. At one point Sweetie was positive she had heard Spike’s voice but it was quickly drowned out when the terrible racket started. Out of nowhere horribly loud noises and the sounds of screams filled the once silent air. The darkened sky was lit up by bursts of magic from unicorn horns; some of them were navy blue and normal while others were terrible and black and reminded her of a witch’s bubbling brew. She quickly learned to fear them both; they both did the exact same thing when they hit something. They both exploded the instant they hit something and one had hit close enough to throw Rarity through the air just as they reached the outskirts of Ponyville.
She said she was fine.
Rarity was breathing funny after she stood up, but said she was fine. She walked funny, with an uneven step and her head down and her ears drooping, but she said she was fine. There were no cuts, no blood; she was fine! The two of them had walked for what must have been a couple of hours, with Rarity reassuring Sweetie Belle every step of the way that she was fine. They finally stopped to take a rest and Rarity quickly fell asleep.
Only now it was morning, and she would not wake up. Sweetie Belle nudged her again, and again and again, and she would not wake up. With nothing else she could do the little unicorn laid down and watched her sister sleep. She watched her sister lay motionless with her eyes closed, and hoped she was dreaming of peaceful happy things.
Except she wasn’t breathing.
Present day
The sight of those two old friends of hers had triggered those old memories, bringing them out to cloud her thoughts like the murk from the bottom of a lake that had been disturbed by a swimmer. It must have been a couple of hours since they had left, but those old memories had taken root and continued to haunt her as if they had happened just yesterday. Sweetie Belle hated thinking about the past, and the unwanted reappearance of her once dear friends had positively ruined her day.
No doubt I just feel guilty.
Always the one to take pity on the less fortunate, perhaps it just hurt her to see the two fillies that might as well have been sisters of hers reduced to what looked like a jaded bounty hunter and a filthy hobo. Apple Bloom had done okay from the look of things; although chasing bounties was only a couple of rungs above the criminals they chased in Sweetie Belle’s opinion, at least they took care of some of the scum and reprobates of the world.
No shortage of them on either side of the law these days, either. I wonder which side she was working for.
Scootaloo was an entirely different story; as much as Sweetie Belle really didn’t care if her friends had accepted her offer or not, she came this close to feeling bad that Scootaloo had declined. The little thing looked as though she endured physical trauma as part of her complete breakfast, and she looked so torn after Apple Bloom had stormed out. She almost chose a better life, but ultimately she went with her misguided sense of loyalty.
No helping some ponies, I guess.
The little pegasus still wore her CMC cape and a set of Wonderbolts goggles, no doubt once belonging to that speedy blue pony she loved so much, and the earth pony wasn’t much better with her sister’s filthy old hat crowning her head. Why didn’t those two realize all their pain came from their inability to let go? Loved ones had died that night and yes it was the Queen’s fault. Even if nopony dared say it, it was a simple and painfully obvious fact to anypony who knew any of those ponies personally. Unfortunately, the cold hard fact was clinging to the past would not accomplish anything. There was no happy ending for those who walked down that road. It was a road of nails that would prick you with every step, until you had bled too much and lost the strength to stand, and would finally collapse and die. In that regard, it really doesn’t matter which story is true. Whether Sweetie Belle’s instincts and knowledge was right and the Queen started that fight, or the propaganda was true and Nightmare Moon had tried to rise again. It. Didn’t. Matter. The Wonderbolts tried to stand up against the Queen, and so did the Crystal Empire. All that accomplished was a very bloody aerial fight over Hollow Shades, a frozen ruin in the north, and a populace of crystal ponies that were for all intents and purposes annihilated. Fate as it seemed was forever cruel: it seemed their empire had only returned for a fortnight before being silenced once more and forever.
Such a shame, too. They truly were beautiful. What I wouldn’t give for a coat like that, even for a day. An hour, even.
She looked around the room, at everything she had accomplished in her life, and found herself smiling. With nothing more than a woman’s touch and an appeal to common sense she had whipped these once savage brutes into a pleasant and rather productive little society. She had made the greatest desire of a pony come true in Miss Daydream, a feat most ponies will never know, which in turn had helped countless ponies across the land. Where would she be if she had clung to the past? If she had never gotten past her sister’s death? Or her parents? No doubt covered in scars, unhappy, and trotting stupidly toward her untimely demise like a moth toward an open candle. It was a decision that had caused her pain, but nothing in life worth striving for is without pain and sacrifice. Hopefully Scootaloo and Apple Bloom will see that one day. They have each other, and perhaps they’ll learn as she did to use what you have rather than fight for what you’ll never reach. Perhaps their friendship with each other will help them see that. If they’re particularly lucky they’ll never find that cousin of Apple Bloom’s; even Sweetie Belle herself had been hurt to see that Manehattan mare that one time, all grown up and parading around with a group of guards in matching black armor.
Then again she always was kind of a bully. Perhaps she found her true calling as well.
With a heavy exhale she leaned back into her chair and fluffed one of the pillows with her magic. Just like everything else, what happened happened. Period. Her former friends could shuffle off and live their miserable little existence of self-loathing for as long as they saw fit; it’s not like there was anything she could do to convince them otherwise. Closing her eyes, she pushed happier thoughts into her mind. The thought of her Diamond Dogs acting so delightfully canine came to mind and she smiled widely; no matter how civilized they became they delighted in the same simple pleasures as a pet dog. She had learned years ago one could even make them kick their hind legs if one scratched the small of their back, and no matter how articulate they spoke they would be reduced to an incomprehensibly excited babble if one waggled a ball in their face. Both acts never failed to greatly amuse her.
She had almost fallen asleep when a crude tap to the shoulder jolted her rudely from her rest. As she expected when she opened her eyes she was greeted by the emotion-devoid face and red braided mane that was Twist. “Twist!” she said sloppily, rubbing at her eyes in an attempt to collect herself, “Ah, Twist darling. You were gone much longer than usual; I was beginning to worry. Do tell. How is Miss Daydream?”
Twist offered only a shrug of complete disinterest as her response, as was her typical answer to such a question. The redhead had been a crucial cog in Sweetie Belle and Miss Daydream’s operation from day one, typically acting as a go-between to keep the two radically different ponies connected while allowing Sweetie Belle to avoid the company of Environment Equestria as much as possible. She couldn’t stand bureaucracies, and as fond as she was of Miss Daydream a little of that loony earth pony went a very long way. She loved to talk and, once she got her hooves on you, you were not going anywhere for at least several hours.
And last time I was with her she… sang.
“Good, good,” said Sweetie Belle. Her friend’s usual silence was clue enough that everything was fine; no doubt the hold-up was thanks to Daydream’s latest inane banter or screwy weather theory. Another cruel joke of the powers that be: Twist had been rendered mute in an accident of some sort. Of course, Daydream adored Twist because she could ramble off non-stop without fear of being interrupted and Twist, having the patience of the average paper weight, would sit and hang on her ever word with thinly veiled disinterest.
Sweetie Belle’s train of thought was interrupted by Twist’s face, which was leaning in uncomfortably close with a raised eyebrow. When Sweetie Belle averted her eyes Twist moved to be in her line of sight once more. The voiceless pony’s message was clear; she could tell something was wrong. “Oh, Twist…” lamented Sweetie Belle, “You would not believe the day I had. Do you remember Apple Bloom and Scootaloo? Somehow, they tracked me down.”
Twist furrowed her brow. She thought about that for a minute and sat down; she was still listening but it was clear, as always, that she couldn’t care less about those two popping up.
“They’re long gone now, of course,” said Sweetie Belle. She didn’t care if Twist cared or not; it was somepony to talk to. “I thought they’d understand that we’re doing something big and important here.” Her head hung so she could stare down at her own belly. “To be honest… I didn’t think I’d care this much.”
Twist stared up at the skylight with her typical expressionless gaze, and ultimately turned to offer a rare sympathetic smile. Sweetie Belle smiled back with a nod; as cold as Twist was she was always willing to listen and could often be a source of comfort. With that Twist stood up and slung her quiver, no doubt off to take a nap after her trip—
—and CRASH!
Broken glass rained down from one of the skylights as an unrecognizable shape flew through the twinkling shards. Twist spun on instinct, knocking an arrow as she did, but was too slow; the shape revealed itself as a pegasus as it hit the ground in front of her, twirling on its front hooves and kicking her savagely with its rear legs. Sweetie Belle was motionless, held back and silenced by shackles of fear and confusion.
“Yeah. That’d do it, alright,” remarked the pegasus as she took a moment to study the arrow Twist had dropped and then turned her head towards Sweetie Belle. She was young; appearing to barely be out of her teens with a drab coat draped over her almost raspberry colored coat. “Hi,” she said nonchalantly, “Sweetie Belle, right? Big fan of your work, sorry about the window, just came to have a little chat with the company you keep. She picked up Twist’s bow and draped it over her shoulders, and then waggled the arrow. “We yanked an arrow just like this from our friend’s shoulder.” As Twist struggled to stand, the pegasus leaped over to her and grabbed her in a headlock. She wrenched her leg harshly into Twist’s throat with each pause as she spoke, “So I think… your amount of suffering… should be equal… to how much I like your answers!”
“Do you have any idea who you’re messing with?!” spat Sweetie Belle angrily as she stood to confront the pegasus.
With that two more pegasi flew in through the window, one yellow and one pink, and took matching defensive poses in front of their comrade.
“Where’s the Captain?” said the almost-raspberry pegasus in a disappointed tone.
“Stopped to help an injured,” said the yellow mare.
“One of ours?”
“Civy,” said the blue stallion.
“Ugh. Typical,” said the off-pink mare who taunted Sweetie Belle with a proud “Ooooooooooh, reinforcements.”
“Ooooooooooh, the great equalizer,” remarked Sweetie Belle in a scolding tone, brandishing the halberd she kept behind her throne in a glow of green magic. The reinforcements both rushed her and she reared to her hind legs and readied the weapon in her front, supporting it with her magic so she could lean on it and maneuver confidently on two legs. With two swipes she wiped the cocky smile off of the raspberry pegasus’ face; she thrust the blunt end of the handle into the stallion’s stomach and knocked the wind out of him, slapped the mare across the face with the flat side of the blade, and sent both of them flying back where they came. As they hit the ground stunned from the blow, Sweetie Belle glared and took a few steps forward. “You have until I’m within range to take your hooves off my friend before I bury this in that tacky three-tone mane of yours!!!”
The pegasus thrust her empty hoof into her jacket and pulled an R.E.A.F. bomb out from beneath the folds. “Consider yourself equalized! Oops!” she chirped, letting the bomb drop and hit the ground. Sweetie Belle cringed but no blast came; only a resounding clang as the triggering mechanism vibrated from hitting the cold stone floor. “Well, that was lucky. Let’s try again—”
“STOP!” yelled Sweetie Belle as she slowly let her weapon drift to the floor. If that thing went off it would take her, Twist, and half this mine with it, and from the looks of things this pegasus couldn’t care less if she went down with it. “Alright. You win.”
“Attagirl.” The pegasus’ gaze fell to Twist, who was glaring angrily up at her. “Now then. I guess you think you’re pretty clever, huh? You’re lucky Dust went after the Lieutenant’s killer. Me? I might let you go, if you tell me what I want to hear. Sound fair?”
“Stop it!” yelled Sweetie Belle in desperation. “Twist can’t talk!”
“Really, now?” said the pegasus with an eyebrow raised in interest. “Well maybe you can help me out. I want to know who paid off the dummy here to go after my friend. Tell me and I don’t break her neck.”
“I…” said Sweetie Belle as she trailed off, unsure of how to answer. The look on this pegasus’ face, the uneven smile that topped off her disheveled face as she choked Twist, was evidence she was savoring every second of Twist’s suffering. She was not bluffing.
“Sweetie Belle…” said the pegasus in a sing-song voice. “Speak up; ponies can’t hold their breaths for that long. I want to kill this problem at the root. You weather jocks are cogs in the government; you wouldn’t do something like this on your own. Red here’s just a lackey; probably wanted to line her pocket better than the paycheck you guys give her. Now I’d bet my left wing the pony who paid her off is the same one who hired the thief to break into the palace and who got the bounty hunter to shoot the Lieutenant.”
“Apple Bloom!” blurted out Sweetie Belle in a whisper. There couldn’t be two bounty hunters in Equestria who used those shooting… things from overseas. “What have you gotten yourself into?!”
“Apple Bloom, you say?” said the pegasus in a disgustingly delighted tone. “Alright. Change of plans; forget Twist, forget the root, I want her. Where is she?”
“What do you want with Apple Bloom?” said Sweetie Belle darkly.
“Family matters. Nothing important.”
“I… look,” said Sweetie Belle, defeated. There was nothing else she could do, and she couldn’t let Twist suffer any longer. “Me and Apple Bloom used to be friends a long time ago. She came here a few hours ago. Just to catch up. She didn’t… she didn’t say anything about all of this.”
The pegasus loosened her grip. “And…?”
“And…” said Sweetie Belle, feeling tears form in her eyes, “and I don’t know where she went when she left. Please… that’s all I know. Just stop choking Twist. Please…”
“You know something?” said the pegasus as she let Twist drop to the ground, who gagged and wheezed with as much sound as her damaged throat could manage. “I believe you. As far as I can tell you’re a victim of circumstance.” She waved the arrow she still held back and forth. “Deal’s a deal; I don’t snap her neck,” she said menacingly as she reared back with the arrow—
“NO!!!”
Twist threw her head back in a look of agonized horror and a scream as silent as death as the raspberry pegasus thrust the arrow deep into her side. The only sound she managed was a horrible almost yawn of a wheeze as her life slipped away.
The murderer flew back out the skylight the way she came, cackling like a witch casting an evil spell, and was slowly followed by her one cohort who was slowed down by the weight of his still-unconscious partner across his shoulders. Sweetie Belle didn’t care about any of them right now; all she could think about was Twist. The redhead looked up at her, trembling, and giving a weak ghost of an expression that almost seemed apologetic. “Shh-shh-shh…” said Sweetie Belle as she tried to comfort her friend. She ripped her vest off and rolled it like a donut, wrapping it around the shaft of the arrow to try and stop the bleeding. “Hospital,” she said as she wrapped it tighter, “There’s a town very close, with a hospital. I’ll run all the way, twenty minutes tops. Twist, all you have to do is hold on.”
Twist’s head rolled lifelessly and almost nodded in response as she was levitated on to Sweetie Belle’s back. Nothing else mattered; Sweetie Belle had to get her friend to that hospital fast.
Scootaloo sniffled loudly as she strained to peer through misty eyes at the battered face that stared back at her from the bathroom mirror. The sight of the dried blood around her nose, dark and flaking like a fine layer of rust, and the bits of gravel that had embedded into her muzzle and cheeks were egging her on to cry. She sniffled again and could taste and smell her bloody nose, and dabbed at her face to fight the urge to bawl like a little foal.
Don’t cry… I won’t cry…
She scooped some water in the soles of her hooves and splashed it in her face. The cold clear water hit her numb muzzle and made it burn as if the water was acid. She told herself again and again it wasn’t as bad as it looked. It had been her latest attempt to fly. Apple Bloom had told her about her attempt to get a cutie mark for hang-gliding; all she had to do was get running and leap from a high place, and the glider’s wings would do the work. It seemed like a good plan at the time: anything an old glider could do her two young healthy wings should have been able to do better. It wasn’t even that high of a ledge. It was just a mere ten feet into a bed of gravel which, as she hoped, would make for a softer landing just in case. She tried her best but only managed to fly for all of three seconds before gravity did its thing and pulled her face-first into the ground. Hard.
Even after rinsing and gargling she couldn’t get the taste of blood from her mouth, but she had at least been able to clean her face up. There was little she could do about her eye; from how puffy it looked she’d probably have a black eye but at least—
“Scootaloo!!!”
Mom?!
Just as she leaped down from the stool in front of the sink her mother galloped into the bathroom and dropped down in front of her. “Scooter!” she said as she obsessively studied the little filly’s face, “Oh… what in Celestia’s name happened?!”
Scootaloo looked away. She knew if she made eye contact she’d start crying. “I… I fell. Just an accident, that’s all…”
“Accident my left hoof!” said her mom in a scolding tone. “Let me guess! You were out gadding about with that shabby daredevil Rainbow Dash, weren’t you?! I swear when I get my hooves on her—”
“No, Mom!” said Scootaloo forcibly, “I was practicing flying and I sort of crashed.”
“Scootaloo,” said her mom as she put a hoof to the filly’s chin and forced her to make eye contact, “Scooter, honey. Look at me. Do you realize how lucky you are? You didn’t even bust your muzzle. What if you’d hurt yourself worse? What if I didn’t slip home from work because I forgot my briefcase?”
“Mooooooom…” whined Scootaloo.
“Don’t take that tone with your mother, Scooter,” she said, her scolding tone returning, “I’ve told you again and again. You don’t have to impress Rainbow Dash, or those fillies at school, or anypony. Stop pushing yourself so hard. You’ll fly when you’re good and ready.”
“You don’t get it, Mom!” said Scootaloo as she broke down into tears, “You’re an earth pony! You don’t know what it’s like! It—”
She went silent as her mother threw her hooves around her and hugged her tightly. “Honey… shh…” she said softly, “You’re right, I don’t. I just want what’s best for you; I can’t bear to see you all beat up like this…”
“Mom…”
Her mother held Scootaloo’s hoof to her chest, letting the young filly feel her heartbeat. “Just be who you are, Scooter. You’ll find the way, I promise.”
“Mom…?” said Scootaloo as she let herself melt into her mother’s embrace and nuzzled her face into the warm chest, “You’re going to be home this evening, right?”
“…I’m sorry, honey. I have to work late again tonight.”
“…Okay… Mom…”
Present Day
For a moment Scootaloo had no clue where she was or what was going on. The midday sun was beating down on her face that ached from some unknown cause. The cool breeze blowing through her mane and the sun above felt good despite the throbbing she felt in her teeth from her face’s mystery injury and the stiffness in her neck. It was almost like a normal morning for her: the familiar feeling of that haze from waking up where she couldn’t remember where she had fallen asleep the night before and felt as if she were dreaming about new scents and sights. There was never pain or stiffness like this and there was a strange scent in the air, the kind of musty smell found on somepony else’s used clothes.
There’s nothing, NOTHING you can do to—
She snapped out of her morning stupor and the memory of her argument with Apple Bloom hit her hard. She remembered pleading with her friend and she remembered taking a sucker punch to the face, and then nothing. Nothing now but a dream she couldn’t remember, silence, and that foreign smell. Slowly she sat up, easing her head up slowly to keep the stiff pain at bay, and found an old dark jacket had been laid over her while she was unconscious.
“There’s a trick to train jumping,” said the cold gravelly tone of a stranger.
She flinched and fought to sit up, being held down both by her stiff joints and the jacket that tangled around her as she flailed. Sitting a few feet away from her was an older stallion she had never seen before. He was a pegasus as gray as a tombstone, with a fiery orange mane. His cutie mark matched what was on his head, a moth that had been caught ablaze, which combined with his threatening voice and the prominent scar on his cheek to lend him an air of danger. Scootaloo readied herself; he had clearly been here for some time and could have caused her harm when she was out if he wanted to, but she wasn’t ready to take chances.
“You have to cross your legs over your chest,” he continued, “protect your body and roll with the momentum. You’re lucky you didn’t snap your neck, kiddo.”
“I wasn’t train jumping!” protested Scootaloo, “My… friend hit me. Knocked me out.”
His bright blue eyes turned to her, glaring menacingly, but in a way that somehow didn’t threaten her. All she could see in the bags beneath this old stallion’s cold eyes was weariness. It was the gaze of a tired old pony who looked as though he had forgotten how to smile. “I don’t know if you want my advice,” he said in his low voice, “but get better friends.”
Scootaloo frowned at him for a moment, unsure of what to make of this stallion. She noticed her bandana, the old Cutie Mark Crusader cape, on the ground near the stallion’s hooves and twitched as she patted at her uncovered bad eye.
He walked over and laid a hoof against her forehead. “Relax,” he said, “I wasn’t robbing you or anything; just checking for injuries.” He chuckled mirthlessly and patted her shoulder, “Thought you were dead for sure, but you’ll be alright. You’ll have a heck of a shiner, though. At least it’s the bad one.”
She let him ease her into a sitting position and nodded. “I’ve had them before,” she said as she rested a hoof over her eye and reached for the cape, “No big deal.”
The old pegasus beat her to it and wrapped the bandana around her eye. “I mean what I said,” he scolded as he tied the knot, “Whether or not you want to hear it. Hang around with some better company. No offense, but you look like you’ve been through enough without hanging around with ‘friends’ like that.”
“But she’s—” she said and stuttered. She tried to stand too quickly and weaved uneasily, and the old stallion leaned into her and threw a wing around her body to keep her from collapsing.
“Easy, now,” he said, “Look, there’s a hospital in a nearby town. I can take you if you want. But don’t try and go anywhere for at least a few minutes. You’ve been out for a while.”
He stared her down until she nodded, and he released her from his wing so she could sit once more. “She’s all I have left,” said Scootaloo sadly, “and she’s my best friend. At least… she was.”
The gray stallion sat beside her and stared off, his eyes following the train tracks and off into the distance. In a moment he glanced back to her and gave a curt nod for her to continue.
“When we were fillies, we were the best of friend. Her, me, and one other. We did everything together. We were inseparable. But…”
“But…?”
“But we lived in Ponyville.”
The stallion’s ears twitched and his head hung as the implication set in. “…I’m sorry.”
“I thought they were dead,” she continued, “All of them were. But just a couple of days ago she came back. Except… except she’s different now. I know it’s been a while, but… but it’s like she’s an entirely different creature now. And what she did… right in front of me… I know it was to protect me… but still… she…”
“Be wary of that one,” interrupted the stallion as he looked at her, his old weathered features locked in a cold, serious grimace, “Time has a nasty habit of changing ponies.”
“But…”
“I understand,” he interjected, “And that’s what ponies always say, isn’t it? ‘Never turn your back on your friends’ or whatever. And it’s a nice sentiment.” He trailed off as his head hung once more with a saddened sigh, “That loyalty is like a rope around your waist, tying you to your friend. Sure it can keep you from falling, but it can drag you down too. Sometimes you end up tied to one who’s nothing but bad news.” He sighed again, his gravely tone suddenly weak. “I’ve been there.”
For an instant Scootaloo thought he was about to start crying. Without looking he gestured at the pocket of his jacket and she fished around in it to find an old set of dog tags. They had belonged to a pony named ‘Honeysuckle’ who apparently had O-type blood and the cutie mark of a kind of plant hopper. When her eye found the engraving ‘R.E.A.F.’ on the back she almost threw them as hard as she could; did this mean this old pony here, the one who had helped her, was one of those bomb-dropping lunatics as well?
“They were my partner’s,” said the stallion with a sad chuckle that broke out into a heartbreaking laugh. “He never wore them; he hated his name and the higher-ups wouldn’t put his nickname on the tag. He was a runaway; hardly a teen living on the street when we found him in Los Pegasus, and he didn’t have the brains or self-control to find a proper job or home. Could he ever fly, though. Not straight, he jittered, but he could turn on a bit at full speed and do maneuvers that could have put him in a circus.”
Scootaloo handed the tags to the stallion and he draped them around his neck. “But he was just a kid,” he continued, “Violent and screwed up, a broken home I think, he never talked about it, but still just a kid. Deep down, though, there was a good heart in that stallion. He didn’t do a good job at all of showing it, but he cared. About us, about the unit, heck we caught him with a mouse in his flight suit once because he found it cold in the snow. I think…” he interrupted himself to swallow loudly, “I think if he hadn’t latched onto us he might have straightened himself out and been a decent pony. Instead we took him and dragged him around with us, and now… now he’s dead. Because of us.”
It hit Scootaloo like a bolt of lightning when she finally understood what he was saying. She didn’t care who or what he was anymore. The air force were murderers and psychopaths as far as she was concerned, but she couldn’t see that in this one anymore. All she could see was a regretful old gray pony that had her pity, because she knew this pain of his. It was a silent dreadful wisp of guilt that followed you everywhere like a shadow: the pain he felt for letting this ‘Honeysuckle’ down was the same she felt for Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy.
If I could have flown. If I hadn’t slowed them down. If they hadn’t had to protect me. Maybe… just maybe… they would still be alive.
Never before in her life did she miss them as much as she did right now, or her mother, or any of her friends she had lost. Without even thinking she leaned against then old pegasus and laid her hoof over his chest. She could feel his heartbeat, slow and deep, and for a moment she felt at peace as if she had found a kindred spirit. Her common sense only gave her a moment of this tranquility before it reminded her she was getting far too close to this stranger, and one that might be dangerous.
She flinched away but he hadn’t said or done anything. The entire time he had given her no resistance, and instead had studied her curiously with his cold expression that seemed to have been cast in iron. However, right before he spoke and for just a split second, Scootaloo could have sworn she caught a glimpse of a smile. “My ex used to do that,” he said in his usual gruff tone. He looked up at the sky to search for a memory long past, “and would always say something like ‘be who you are and you’ll find the way’. Huh. If only.”
Scootaloo nodded sadly and stared straight ahead, feeling the gentle breeze in her face. Then, as she let his words tumble through her mind over and over again, she felt as if her heart had stopped mid-beat. She spun to look at the old stallion, turning so fast she almost lost her balance, to find him still staring off into the sky like what he had said held no importance at all. “What did—”
“Captain! Sir!!!”
The old stallion sprung to his hooves to face a duo of pegasus who landed before them. The first one was a blue stallion who gasped for air as if he were seriously out of breath and practically collapsed as he landed, and the other a yellow mare who landed cautiously and managed a gentle nod to Scootaloo. Her eye was swollen shut and the entire side of her face looked puffy and discolored beneath her coat of fur.
"Mission accomplished, sir," gasped the blue stallion, "Target neutralized... sir."
"Good," said the apparent captain in a suddenly authoritative tone. "Where is the Lieutenant?"
“G-gone, sir,” slurred the mare through her injured mouth, “She left without us, likely in pursuit of the other target. Sir.”
The captain growled and muttered quietly, “Figures. Heading?”
“East, sir.”
“Then lead the way. We move. Now!” hollered the captain as the trio took to the air.
“Wait!!!” screamed Scootaloo, practically begging him to stay and answer her question.
He hovered in mid-air as the duo went ahead. “Right, the jacket,” he said as he faced her. “Keep it. Doesn’t look it, but it’s warm and dry.”
With that he flew away like a shot to catch up with his allies, flying too fast to hear Scootaloo’s plea to stay. She was alone once more, left with a nagging thought she couldn’t shake. “No way,” she told herself quietly, “The world’s not that small. There’s no way.”
She rubbed at her forehead to drive the thought away and straightened her bandana; she had never had somepony else tie it for her and it felt uncomfortable the way the old stallion had done it. With it back to normal she let his jacket slip off and tried it on. It was old and threadbare in a spot or two, and just a touch too big for her, but it was a nice jacket. She decided she could put it to good use; she negotiated her bad wing through the side flaps and rolled the sleeves to make it fit better. She sat quietly, deciding what to do now. She had nowhere to go and no destination in mind, but for the first time in a long time that was a problem. There was only one place she wanted to be right now, and she knew it was the only place she could never go back to.
“Apple Bloom…” she murmured sadly, “Please, come back. I… don’t want to be alone anymore…”
“You’re not.”
Scootaloo jumped and spun in mid-air, dropping into a ready stance the second she hit the ground. She did not like being snuck up on. Behind her stood a scarecrow; at least it could have passed for one the way it was leaning against a tree as if it had been propped there. At first there was no movement; just a mess of old cloth draped over what could have been some sticks lashed together to make a gangly frame. Then, it slowly eased itself away from the tree. The thing shuffled forward, moving in such a way Scootaloo couldn’t help but imagine there being a giant scorpion beneath the rags.
“You!!!” growled Scootaloo as she realized exactly who this thing was. “You sent Apple Bloom after me! To kill me!!!”
The thing chuckled seductively. “You do realize you only found her because of me, don’t you? You should be grateful; a ‘thank you’ would do.” It, she by the sounds of it, stopped and seemed to put a hoof to her chin beneath her disguise. “I only wanted to talk. With you bound with rope and gagged so you would listen. It’s not my fault your friend is… so… eager…”
The young pegasus growled loudly as the thing giggled and mocked her, but held herself back for only one reason. “I’m not in ropes but you have me, so talk. Tell me why you want me so badly.”
The cloaked mare threw its head back and cackled, standing much taller than Scootaloo could have ever imagined her to be, before crumpling back into her hunched and almost frail posture. “You have something I want,” she said in the delicious tone a mare would use to charm a stallion, “except… you no longer have it I hear.”
“Such as…?” said Scootaloo, her thoughts already taking her back to their meeting with Snails on the train. It sounded like Apple Bloom was right; the only thing worth chasing her for would be Rainbow Dash’s element of loyalty, though why anypony would think she of all ponies had it was up in the air.
The thing in the cloak moved past Scootaloo, her almost scuttle of a walk enforcing the belief that she only wore the rags to hide a black chitinous body armed with fearsome pincers and a segmented tail. “Believe it or not, we have something in common you and I,” she said in her silky tone, “We’re both wanderers. Weakened. Crippled. Shadows of what we could have been or once were.” She reached the opposite side of the train tracks and went silent for a moment as a train’s whistle blew in the distance. “And, admittedly, I have learned a valuable lesson as of late. The best assistance, the best service, comes from a pony who hopes to gain something precious in return.”
“What could you possibly hope to give me?!”
“What if I told you…” said the scorpion mare, with a sickening tone to her voice that made Scootaloo imagine she was licking her lips behind that cloak, “that Fluttershy was still alive?”
“She’s not,” said Scootaloo darkly, “She died a long time ago,”
“Did she?” giggled the cloaked scorpion, “Just like dear little Apple Bloom? For a pony whose homeless… you really need to get out more.”
Scootaloo couldn’t breathe for a moment. She wanted to tell this thing exactly where she could put her offer or just give her the beating of her life for it. She just couldn’t, though, not if there was even a million to one chance that Fluttershy was alive.
“It’s your choice,” said the thing in a smug liquid tone, “You’re only of use to me if you’re a willing little helper, and I’m sure my little piggy will find what I seek eventually anyways. But, the sooner the better. Give it some thought…” and her voice was drowned out by the train’s loud whistle blaring again as it clattered closer and closer. The thing hollered to be heard over it, “Meet me where Rainbow Dash died!!!”
With another blare of the train’s whistle a blurred wall of metal and wood shot between Scootaloo and the scorpion mare as the train roared between them. Her hair and her new jacket blew and whipped about violently as the boxcars passed mere feet in front of her. It finally passed and the scorpion mare had vanished; the only thing left was the drone of the train’s clattering wheels as they followed their tracks further and further away.
Apple Bloom’s entire body tensed at the sound of her friend’s heavy accent. She drew a deep breath, perhaps the last taste of the familiar desert air she would ever savor, and turned to meet his gaze. Pavel stood almost completely motionless like a statue with his yellow eyes and beak locked in a silent plea for her not to leave. The only movement came from his tail that swished to and fro uncomfortably.
“Eeyup,” she said sadly.
“Why?”
She looked over her shoulder at the docked ferry, still with its bridge up, and slumped down onto her duffel bag. “Everything’s changed now, isn’t it?” she said shakily, “Ah mean, folks don’t look at us the same anymore. Won’t even look me in the eye. Not even Ma and Pa—”
“Pearl and Sol are not like that!” yelled Pavel in an angry squawk. “We—” he began and abruptly silenced himself, realizing his talons had dug three deep scratches in the wooden dock. He continued, speaking as softly as his foreign voice could handle, “We are changed, da? We did bad things to win that war. None of us came back the same. War is over but I was there again last night as well. Must give time and it will get better.”
“Ah can’t,” said Apple Bloom with another look in the direction of the ferry. “Ah just can’t stop thinking about ‘em. Ah keep hearing that battle every single night. It just won’t stop.”
“Sunflower and Peppercorn,” said Pavel with a gulp, “they are gone. This I know, and it hurts. Run away is not the answer.” He walked up and rested his talon on her neck, taking great care to keep his sharp claws from touching, and eased her ear toward his beak, “Will get better in time. There is nothing over there for you. No place. Here is your home. And I… I don’t want to lose you. You are only friend I have left.”
Apple Bloom heard the bridge to the ferry hit the dock with a clunk and wrapped her hooves around him. “Come with me, then,” she said hopefully.
Pavel sighed quietly. “I cannot. When my people we were run from Grogary Gorki, this was only home we found. And is your home as well. Don’t go.”
She nestled her face in the soft plumage of his chest as he wrapped a wing around her. “Check in on Ma and Pa for me from time to time, will you?”
For what felt like an eternity there was silence. “Just come home soon, sestrenka.”
Pavel took his wing from her and Apple Bloom met his gaze, smiling very faintly. She and the griffon had been friends for so long there was no need for anymore words. Instead she just nodded and slung her duffel bag, and slowly walked onto the deck of the ferry. She and Pavel kept their eyes locked on one another the entire time until the boat slowly began to move away. She watched him and what had been home for so many years slip slowly into the distance, knowing in her heart she would not be coming back.
Present Day
“Wake up, ya bum!”
The gruff old voice was accompanied by the cold sting of a splash of water to Apple Bloom’s face. She spat and sputtered as she was violently roused from her slumber and, on instinct, drew her pistol and aimed at the source of the voice.
“Ugh,” grumbled the miserable old pony, “Get that stupid thing out of my face.” Apple Bloom couldn’t help but smirk at the sight in front of her: an older amber-colored stallion dressed in filthy coveralls and a brown mane stringy from sweat, complete with a small splotch of oil beneath his blue eyes. “Out ya get! The both of ya! This ain’t no taxi!!!” he yelled, giving a kick to the young unicorn that was still sleeping peacefully at the other end of the train car.
Wonder when the kid hopped aboard.
Apple Bloom obliged the mechanic without so much as a dirty look; he sounded like he had enough problems going on in his life. The kid followed suit and flashed a sheepish yet very amused smile at her, to which she nodded back. She slowly made her way across the train yard and sat against a stack of unused rail ties. Going by the sun in the sky it hadn’t been more than a few hours since she left Scootaloo behind but she already missed the scruffy pegasus. She knew, though, she couldn’t stay behind and drag her friend down; Scootaloo was all she had left of her foalhood and that was something she would protect, even if it meant leaving the poor thing behind.
As her thoughts wandered she found herself keeping an eye on the kid from the train. He was a pale blue and rather scruffy thin little thing in his teens, with a cutie mark that looked like three crystal fragments and a two-tone messy mane. He wandered around like he was lost, staring about at all the parked train cars and buildings in a way that seemed to scream ‘runaway’ to the world. Apple Bloom quickly noticed she wasn’t the only one watching him meander aimlessly; a stallion sitting against a boxcar was studying the kid closely and, as soon as the kid wandered between two buildings, he stood up and lightly jogged after him. She stood and walked toward the alley, drawing her pistol and pulling back the hammer as she approached.
“That’s a real nice coat,” said the stallion, who had the kid leaning up against a wall, “Take it off; I’m having it.”
“Not a chance!” growled the kid, “It was my dad’s!”
“You don’t have a choice, so—”
BLAM!
The bullet ricocheted off the ground near the mugger’s hooves with a loud whine and he stumbled and danced over the sparks it generated. “Didn’t you hear him?” she said, staring the mugger down over the sights of her pistol, “That was his pa’s coat. You can’t take a thing like that.”
“Think you’re tough, huh?” said the mugger as he puffed his chest and tried to look threatening, “Go ahead and lose the toy, if you have the guts. I’ll show you how tough you are.”
Apple Bloom aimed right between his eyes. “Ah don’t fight for sport. Ah fight to win. And Ah don’t miss twice. It’s your choice: you take that coat and Ah take it back from your still-twitching hide.”
“Coat’s not worth it anyways,” said the mugger in a smug tone as he turned tail and ran full speed down the alley and out of sight up the street.
Feeling rather proud of herself she smiled and uncocked her weapon, twirled it around her hoof, and holstered it as the kid approached. “Thanks,” he said in awe, “I owe you.”
“You might wanna avoid dark alleys if you’re gonna dress like that,” she said, patting the collar of his expensive-looking coat. “You might as well be wearing a sign that says ‘come rob me.’”
The kid laughed sheepishly and brushed a speck of dirt from his shoulder. “Right, sorry.”
“It’s a nice coat though. Your pa has good taste,” said Apple Bloom as she looked down the alley and spotted a pub across the street at the end of the alley. “So what town is this, anyway?”
“I was going to ask the same thing,” said the kid as he uneasily looked back at the trains, “I meant to keep riding in the direction of Canterlot; I’m looking for a couple friends who went that direction a couple days back. I have to find a way there.”
“Why not hop back on that train once Happy over there gets his prep done?”
“Yeah, good call.”
“Ah’ll keep him busy if you want. Ah owe him for that polite wake-up call of his.”
“No, I’ve got this,” he said as he patted his chest proudly, “I’m pretty sneaky you know.” He jogged back toward the train yard, keeping low to stay out of sight behind some crates. “Thanks again,” he said, “I’ll pay you back one day. Promise.” With that and a peek around the corner he slipped out of sight back into the train yard.
“Good luck, kid,” said Apple Bloom to herself and she headed for the pub. With everything that had happened today she hadn’t even thought of food, but now as she caught the scent of something cooking she found herself to be simply starving for a good bite to eat. She made her way out of the alley and into the street, looking around at the rather peaceful little town she had found herself in as she walked. The noticeable lack of ponies in the streets and the small, close-built and similar looking buildings instantly told her it was likely a company town which was finally some good news. If the majority of the folks were at work then nopony was likely to have heard the gunshot. She threw the door of Bon’s Appétit and found herself instantly greeted by a nearly empty pub filled with obnoxious upbeat music.
Ugh. How do Equestrians listen to this garbage?
The lone patron, an older mint-colored unicorn, was definitely enjoying the song; she was tapping her hoof on her table and rocking her head back and forth happily in time to the beat with a big grin on her face. Apple Bloom seated herself at the bar and was immediately greeted by an older beige earth pony with a two-tone mane.
“Well, howdy there cowpoke,” said the mare, “What’s your fancy?”
“Something good to eat and drink, if you’d be so kind. Ah trust you.”
The beige mare winked and smiled. “You can count on me,” she said as she filled a mug from the tap, “Here, try this on for size while I fix you something special.”
“Thanks,” said Apple Bloom as she pulled out a cigarette. “Mind if Ah smoke?”
“Why?” chirped the happy unicorn from behind with a laugh, “Are you on fire?”
The earth pony just rolled her eyes and looked Apple Bloom in the eye inquisitively. Apple Bloom lit her cigarette on one of the bar’s tea candles and took a deep drag of it while the pony stared at the apparently alien concept. “Well, just don’t burn my place down, ‘kay?” she said as she turned and headed for the kitchen.
“Much obliged,” said Apple Bloom as she took a sip of her drink. It was overwhelmingly sweet with the distinct taste of pineapples mixed with some indefinable berry flavor, but not at all bad. She took another drink and movement caught her eye from the window to her left. She didn’t react in time to get a clear look but recognized the black and red armor regardless. Royal guards, two of them, and moving in a fireteam cover formation.
‘Wheeeeeeen the poooooonies can’t find the way, they looooook withiiiiiiin and they must say...’ droned the painful lyrics of the victrola, which almost drowned out the sound of the door opening and the slow clunk of armor-clad hooves making their way towards her. Apple Bloom stared forward and took a drag on her cigarette, nonchalantly pulling the hammer back on her pistol as she heard the happy unicorn drop from her stool and run out the door. The guard, a pale-orange pegasus with a two-tone blue mane, leaned on the bar beside her and stared uncomfortably.
“Say, cowpoke, don’t I know you from somewhere?” said the beige mare as she came from the back. She went silent at the sight of the guard and, without another word, slowly backed into the kitchen.
“Come with me,” said the guard. “Please.”
“Is that a request?” said Apple Bloom between sips, “Or an order?”
“Apple Bloom,” he said firmly, “You are under arrest.”
She took another sip, “What are you charging me with?”
“Murder.”
“Fine,” she said as she finished her drink, “Ah’ll go quietly.” No sooner had she finished her pistol was drawn and aimed—
—and the pegasus had already dropped beneath her hoof. He slammed his body into hers and rolled her over his shoulder, hurling her hard into the floor with enough force to make her cry out. She fired twice but he was too quick again; kicking a table over and diving behind it before she could get a bead on him. A metal cylinder was lobbed from behind his cover and hit the ground with a deadly, familiar clunk.
Grenade!
It spun and hissed white smoke that lit her lungs on fire and sent her into a coughing fit. Apple Bloom wretched and coughed, and ran blindly at the window straining to see through the streams of tears gushing down her face. She jumped and hugged herself, gritting her teeth as the glass exploded all around her, and fell to the ground of an alley gulping fresh air. In seconds she heard armored hooves and blindly fired once, twice, three times and hit nothing. What she could make out through her burning tears dove for cover behind a dumpster.
They’re quick. Too quick.
She inched backwards, pistol trained forward, waiting to shoot the first thing that moved. She expected another grenade, which she’d shoot out of the air the second she saw it, but nothing came. They had her figured; they knew exactly what she was planning. She fired once more at the dumpster to warn him to stay under cover and took a few more steps back as the troubling realization set in that these weren’t just guards. Apple Bloom had yet to have an issue with any of the royal guards yet, but the ones that patrolled the towns weren’t like this. They slouched about and used their mere presence to keep ponies in line. The way these guards moved and their quick reaction time, their calmness while being fired on, and how quickly they figured out her strategy was all clear evidence that she was dealing with trained veteran soldiers with serious combat experience.
Something flew at her and she shot three times on impulse, hitting what she realized too late to be an empty soda can. She needed a plan and quick; no doubt the pegasus from inside had already strafed around to flank her. A quick flick of a tail from around the dumpster and she fired again, cursing her reflexes too late as the bullet harmlessly sliced through hair. She was running out of ammo and that was clearly the guard’s intent; she had to move now! There was a wooden palate leaning against the wall, keeping a pile of junk pressed precariously against the building which she kicked. As the junk crashed loudly to the ground she turned and ran as fast as she could. She kept her head down, eyes forward, and tore across the next street and between another pair of buildings. Left, right, right, straight, she kept moving trying to zigzag through the mess of alleyways and confuse her pursuers.
She turned another corner, passed an old cart filled with assorted recyclables, and found that she was in a dead-end. It was a courtyard of some sort, with basketball nets set up at both ends and crude lines painted on the concrete beneath her. She stepped amid various bits of trash and past the lone window in the area, which was barred and inaccessible, to reach the only door in sight.
Locked.
It was too late to backtrack now; she would be caught for sure. All she could do was keep moving forward, even if shooting out a lock was a dangerous maneuver. The ricochet could be deadly and of course it would announce to her pursuers exactly where she was, but she had no choice. She carefully aimed and fired, flinching at the loud pwang as the bullet buried itself into the mechanism, and tried it. No luck; her pistol just didn’t have the kick behind it. She stepped back, took out her last string of bullets and reloaded, and silently wished she had Peppercorn’s high caliber revolver. She aimed again and—
Clunk!
She turned and aimed, and in the split second before she moved she couldn’t believe her eyes. It was the cart of recyclables from before, hurtling towards her through the air! She threw herself out of the way, cringing as it passed by her close enough for her too feel the wind it generated and literally exploded over the door she was trying to get through. She stood and aimed, freezing at the sight in front of her.
A single pale gray pegasus, the largest she had ever seen, was slowly advancing on her. He was easily the size of Big McIntosh, possibly taller with a proportionate muscular build, and wearing sleeker black armor than his comrades with wide red trim and the emblem of swords crossed over a shield centered over his chest. He glared at her with chilling single-minded determination through his ornate helmet, one that was decorated with what could only be griffon feathers tucked into the crest, and she felt her pistol tremble and lower. It was the eyes; he had terrifyingly cruel purple eyes that seemed almost stained with aggression. He didn’t speak; he didn’t need to. The threat of death radiated silently from him.
Apple Bloom aimed her pistol once more and he exploded into a sprint toward her, kicking from his slow walk with enough force to shave concrete from the ground with his armor-clad hooves. She fired three times before he reached her, one went wild and missed and the other two ricocheted harmlessly off of his armored body with loud showers of sparks. He swung his leg into her side—
—and the next thing she knew she was airborne, twirling helplessly across the court in a cocoon of agony. What was left of the air in her lungs was crushed out with a guttural wretch when she hit the wall of the building. She fell limp to the ground gasping painfully for air, and heard loud thuds moving directly toward her. On instinct she threw herself out of the way and got to watch in horror as his hoof just barely missed her head and was swallowed up to the knee by the solid brick wall that she had hit only seconds ago. She steeled herself and fired over and over, her bullets hitting his armor and doing nothing. He didn’t even flinch as she withdrew his hoof, slowly turning to face her as dust and bits of brick rained from his hoof. She kept firing until she was dry, still hammering the trigger in a panic, barely even aware of the dull clicks of her empty weapon. All she could see was her last shot: it had sliced through the edge of his exposed shoulder and sent a fine mist of crimson from the wound, yet he, it, didn’t even wince or blink.
He stared her down for a moment before dashing forward again, swinging at her over and over. Apple Bloom could barely keep up and swung in desperation with the butt of her pistol, which he blocked and landed a hard hit to her stomach. She was flung a good two feet and lost her grip on her pistol when she hit the hard concrete, and managed to look in time to watch him stomp on it. He slowly twisted his leg and the barrel bent with it as the wood handle splintered and tore apart like the husk being peeled from an ear of corn. Apple Bloom managed to resist the dull pain throughout her entire body which fought to pull her down and slowly stood, as he began his approach with that horrible death glare of his. All she could bring herself to do was slowly back away until she found herself against a wall. With nowhere to run she exploded toward him in one last-ditch effort; she spun on her legs and bucked him in the chest the way her sister had harvested her apples. Her hooves hit his armor with a loud clang but he didn’t even flinch, didn’t move, and didn’t even blink. Instead he wound up and punched her in the side of the head with a savage blow that sent her staggering backwards and into a heap on the ground. There was no sound anymore except for a painful ringing in her head and everything was a blur. She was lost in a world where her thoughts were spirals that danced randomly in her head; she could no longer understand that her pistol was gone and groped mindlessly at the holster she didn’t realize was empty.
Dark blurs were slowly encroaching into her vision as if her eyes were falling backwards into her head. She tried one final time to stand, still grasping for the pistol she didn’t have, and her body gave out. The puckering darkness from the edges of her vision won and she didn’t even fell herself collapse to the ground.
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Sweetie Belle had been glaring at the two recruiting posters plastered dead-center on the hospital waiting room’s bulletin board with such intensity she had become unaware of anything going on around her. She could not take her eyes off of the R.E.A.F. poster; her eyes traced the young mare posing in one of their gray flight suits, chest puffed out, and with the most unapologetically smug grin this world had ever seen smeared across the pegasus’ face. It was almost the exact same smirk that winged lunatic had made when she buried the arrow into Twist’s side. Although they weren’t wearing uniforms it was painfully obvious that those three were R.E.A.F. airponies. They talked like them, moved like them, and were every bit as aggressive as them. There was no question at all as to who they were; the question was why. The raspberry-colored pegasus had said something about ‘yanking an arrow out of a friend’s shoulder’, but Sweetie Belle couldn’t believe Twist would have done something like that. Twist was a crack shot with that bow and wouldn’t hesitate to use it if need be, but she never went looking for trouble and would avoid conflicts wherever she could. At the same time, however, while the R.E.A.F. just loved to throw their weight around and would eagerly attack at the slightest provocation, it simply was not their style to go after a lone pony like that without a good reason. Killers or not they still were a military force and usually weren’t willing to waste the time and resources going after a target for no purpose.
“Ms. Belle?”
The sound of the doctor’s voice and the abrupt tap of his hoof on her shoulder was enough to jolt her from the hard plastic bench she had kept herself riveted to since Twist had been whisked into the back on a stretcher by a trio of medical personnel. “Is she going to be okay?” said Sweetie Belle as she fought her trembling body and tried to keep it still.
The doctor, a young beige earth pony, took a moment to straighten his glasses. “It’s very serious,” he said bluntly, “It wasn’t deep, but the arrow caused damage to her kidney and she has lost a lot of blood.”
“You don’t mean…”
“No,” he interrupted, “she is stable right now. The doctors are doing everything they can. Truth be told, she was actually quite lucky.” He produced a brown envelope and a clipboard from his saddlebag and laid them on the bench, taking a moment to read his notes. “It seems some scar tissue that was already present helped to deflect it. Had it not been for that, well, she most likely would not have even survived the trip here. That being said, I am rather concerned about her medical history and was hoping you could answer a few questions.”
Sweetie Belle sat back down on the bench. “I don’t know much,” she said softly, “Only that she can’t talk.”
“Was she in some sort of serious accident?”
“Not that I know of. Why?”
The doctor opened the envelope and spread a few x-rays across the bench. “We took these trying to assess the damage,” he said as he waved his hoof across the cloudy white image of bones and gestured small circles around various parts, “and if this scar tissue is anything to go by she suffered a savage injury to her throat.”
The white unicorn nodded for him to continue. Although she didn’t know what had caused it, she knew Twist wore shirts with popped collars to hide the large scar below her throat.
“From what I can gather…” continued the doctor, “It looks like she has suffered several life-threatening injuries over the course of her life, yet received no proper medical treatment for them. Considering the circumstances, this could be a good sign.”
A ray of hope hit Sweetie Belle as she thought about what the doctor was saying. “Does this mean she has a better chance?”
“Perhaps,” said the doctor with a smile as he sensed her burst of enthusiasm. “Earth ponies naturally heal faster than other kinds of ponies. From what I can tell, Ms. Twist seems to be rather gifted in that ability. I won’t make any promises, mind you, but there definitely is hope. We will do everything we can.”
“Thank you, doctor,” said Sweetie Belle, sighing with relief and a new sense of hope from the doctor’s words. He silently gathered up his various charts and, with a sympathetic smile, returned through the double doors that Twist had been pulled through. She sighed heavily and silently wished she had a cup of coffee or anything to soothe her shaking body. The adrenaline from moving at full sprint with Twist’s surprisingly heavy body on her back had dwindled, leaving her at the mercy of the sore and aching body she now realized she had. She would even settle for somepony to talk to. Trying to take her mind off things she glanced about and spotted the window, instantly noticing it was unusually dark for this time of day. It took a moment to realize it was raining cats and dogs outside, which took her by surprise. She didn’t pay much attention to weather schedules but as far as she knew this whole area was due for sunshine until the end of the week. Unless—
“Sweetie Belle! Lambkin!!!”
Oh no, any company but her…
Sure enough before she could react she was seized by Ms. Daydream and roughly thrust into the lunatic’s chest with a near-suffocating hug. “I heard everything! I was sooooooooo worried!” she moaned as she unintentionally but nearly crushed the life out of Sweetie Belle in an attempt to comfort her. “Oh I heard about the bombs! About Twist! Oh I was ever so worried I couldn’t even think! I was so crushed I had to kick up a rainstorm just to lift my spirits! And you! You must have been sooooo scared!!!”
Sweetie Belle gagged and struggled, trying to breathe through the suffocating carpet of pink fur her face had been shoved into, and finally managed to wriggle free. Daydream was built like a model, standing much taller than most mares but with a very dainty and delicate-looking build, but she was deceptively strong. That, along with her foalish personality, meant a hug from her was practically a death sentence. Sweetie Belle glared at the pink mare but immediately felt her wrath drain away; Daydream’s puppy-dog face of worry was a very welcome sight after all that had happened and, loopy or not, she was at least some trusted company. “Daydream,” she said curiously, “Why are you here?”
“Some guards came to our office,” she said sadly. “They had a warrant for Twist’s arrest and were asking a lot of questions. They said she was involved in that nastiness in Broncton. I was worried about her and you and came by for a visit and your darling little puppies told me everything that happened and I—”
“They tried to kill her!” snapped Sweetie Belle. “Those pigs in the R.E.A.F! We have to do something about them!”
“Sweetie…” chuckled Daydream sadly, “Lambkins, listen. There is nothing we can do about this. We’re just a company that manages the weather. We have no say in matters like that; no political sway. If they say she’s guilty than she’s guilty. I just wanted to warn her to lay low and maybe, just maybe, we could find some way to convince them she’s innocent.”
“What are they saying she did?!”
Daydream swallowed nervously. “Shooting an R.E.A.F. airpony. Why, I don’t know, but that’s what she is being accused of.”
“Then it must have been self-defense! You know Twist! She wouldn’t—”
“Sweetie, please,” said Daydream in the scolding tone of a mother, “They don’t care if it was self-defense. I will do everything in my power to prove her innocence, but if they find her before then…”
“Already taken care of, Saliência,” interrupted Daydream’s eerie assistant. “I reminded the hospital administrator of your rather generous donation last year and he will make sure to lose any paperwork that identifies Ms. Twist by name. Though it would behoove us to make sure she is out of this hospital before the monthly inspection fifteen days by now.” His inequine eyes locked onto Sweetie Belle the moment he finished his report, “Ms. Belle. Always a pleasure,” he said with a nod.
Sweetie Belle nodded back and, for the first time since she had met that strange pony, smiled to him. Although Daydream’s assistant had never been anything but professional and polite, his mere presence made the hackles rise on her neck. He just looked wrong, somehow, with his shaggy coat, sunken eyes, and strange accent from some foreign land she had never heard of before. His most troubling feature, or lack thereof, was that he had no cutie mark despite clearly being older than she was. Sweetie Belle hated to dislike a pony for such admittedly prejudiced reasons, but she couldn’t help but just sense him as a threat every time he came near.
“Thank you ever so much Camélia,” said Daydream with relief, “You’re absolutely wonderful.”
Camélia bowed his head politely and left through the front doors without so much as another word. Sweetie Belle sat silently, still shaking and trying to get ahold of herself, and Daydream moved closer and coaxed her into a cuddle. This time Sweetie Belle didn’t even bother to resist and just let it happen; she hadn’t been the touchy-feely type in years, but she hadn’t felt so very helpless for a very long time either. Not since the crushing realization all those years ago that Rarity wasn’t sleeping. “What can we do?”
“Hope,” said Daydream warmly.
“But what’s the point?” said Sweetie Belle on the brink of tears, “Why are we even doing this for them if they’ll just turn on us like this?”
“We’re not doing this for them,” said Daydream with a rare note of scorn in her voice, “At least I don’t. I do it for everypony. It’s the only way I’ve ever been able to make them like me.”
Sweetie Belle looked up at Daydream, who was staring off out the window and at the falling rain. The loony pink mare acted so foalish and immature most of the time that, in the rare events she was serious, it always caught Sweetie Belle completely unprepared. Even she tended to forget just how intelligent Daydream really was behind that normally silly zest for life she had. After all it wasn’t everypony who could take over an entire company with nothing but some money in her pockets.
Daydream ran her hoof down Sweetie Belle’s mane. “Loneliness… is the most terrifying thing there is. It’s like floating in the center of the ocean and slowly sinking beneath the waves, all the while knowing that nopony cares. Years of this went by. I was alone, unappreciated, and unloved.” She turned her head, hiding her face behind her long rose mane in a way that made Sweetie Belle think she might have been fighting off tears. “Never again,” she mumbled, “Never ever again no matter what.” She turned back and met Sweetie Belle with the warmest smile the unicorn had ever seen. “It took me a very long time to find my way, Sweetie Belle, and it is something I would never have found without your help. I’ve lived a long life, much longer than a lady would be willing to admit, and you are the first and best friend I have ever had.”
Hearing Daydream’s moving claim made something stir within Sweetie Belle that she hadn’t felt for a very long time. It was a part of her she thought had died along with her sister, a part she thought she’d never feel again and was better off without. Although she was fond of Twist and Daydream, and of course the Diamond Dogs, she had never given much thought to their relationship other than considering it professional at best. Fighting to outrun the reaper and get Twist to this hospital, and hearing Daydream’s rather heartfelt claim made her feel as if she had just been stabbed. For so many years she thrust her past behind her and trudged straight forward, and in that she had found a numb kind of peace. Now, with all that had happened today, after learning she had actually touched somepony’s life in such a way, she only felt hollow and unfulfilled. So empty she felt as if she was going to collapse into herself.
Daydream’s grip tightened on her, and for the first time ever a hug from her actually felt nice. “So when I say there is always hope, believe me. Even in the darkest black you can find a path, if you only look long enough.”
“Thank you, Daydream,” said Sweetie Belle warmly as she let herself relax in her friend’s embrace.
“All we can do right now is hope that Twist will pull through, and I believe she will. Which reminds me… I don’t suppose I ever told you why I hired her in the first place, did I?”
Sweetie Belle cringed on impulse at the suddenly chipper tone of Daydream. She knew that voice, that almost chirp that seemed ready to burst with enthusiasm. It meant one thing: one of Daydream’s inane stories. They were always long, made little sense, and usually went absolutely nowhere, except this time around Sweetie Belle found that she was actually hoping for one. Daydream was right; all they could do was hope at this point and she wanted something, anything, to help put her mind and heart at ease.
“Destiny,” said Daydream in the kind of tone a mare beginning a rehearsed speech would use, “Tell me, do you believe in destiny?”
“I believe if such a thing as fate exists…” said Sweetie Belle as she considered the things that had happened as of late, “then the powers that be are sick.”
“Not fate, lambkins. Destiny.”
“There’s a difference?” said Sweetie Belle skeptically.
“Of course there’s a difference!” said Daydream with a scoff, as if it should have been common knowledge to everypony. “Though they are quite similar.” Sweetie Belle’s eyes followed Daydream’s to look at her cutie mark, a sun with a cloud passing in front of it. “They say cutie marks are a symbol of our connection to our destiny. Now tell me… is this a… good thing?”
Daydream’s sudden and almost sinister tone caught Sweetie Belle a bit off guard; it was so rare to hear anything come from this pink earth pony’s mouth that wasn’t utterly and aggravatingly cheerful. Hearing Daydream talk about cutie marks made a few images of Sweetie Belle’s past surface; still and ancient images of her foalhood and of Scootaloo and Apple Bloom surfaced and for a brief moment she felt a rare nostalgic pleasure she hadn’t known in a long time. With that came an almost burning guilt for the way she had driven those two away.
What’s done is done. Stop it.
Daydream tittered as if Sweetie Belle’s silence had answered her. “Not an easy answer to give when you actually consider it, is it? Here, cutie marks are simply a way of life and seen as a coming of age.”
A few more fractured memories of her foalhood friends surfaced. “That’s for sure,” Sweetie Belle said absent-mindedly as she remembered how determined she and the Cutie Mark Crusaders had once been to acquire them.
“There are places in the world…” said Daydream solemnly, “where the very idea is horrifying. Places where ponies lack cutie marks and believe an ancient being took them from them, freeing them from the manacles of destiny and leaving them to choose their own fate. In such places they refer to us as ‘moura encantada’ and look at us with a unique blend of pity… and distain…”
That explains that eldritch Camélia. Though I wonder if that ghastly complexion of his is the norm for his kind as well…
“Of course, these stories are nothing more than tales told around fireplaces in the dark of the night in a country far far away…” said Daydream happily, “although here, in this country… tell me, have you ever heard of a ‘Neophyte?’”
“Can’t say that I have,” said Sweetie Belle, suspecting that Daydream had completely forgotten she set out to tell of how she met Twist.
“According to legend, these Neophytes altered their fate to such a degree…” Daydream trailed off for a moment and looked right into Sweetie Belle’s eyes, “that they forgot how to die.”
Sweetie Belle stared back in confusion and could take no more; this tale was weird and made no sense even by Daydream’s Tales standards. “I don’t get it,” she sputtered, “You mean they were immortal? Or just lived forever like the princesses?! What does any of this have to do with why you hired Twist?”
“Neophytes identified themselves with a unique brand over their cutie marks.”
It took a moment but finally Sweetie Belle realized what Daydream was getting at. Twist’s scars, the two nearly identical scars that were centered over both of her cutie marks so perfectly that she couldn’t help but notice them. “You mean to tell me,” said Sweetie Belle in disbelief, “that you think Twist, our Twist, is one of these ‘Neophytes’?”
Daydream threw her head back and howled with near hysterical laughter, catching the attention of everypony within earshot. “What?!” she managed to spit out amid her childish chuckles, “You think— Of course not, lambkins! Neophytes don’t exist; they’re just a fairy tale!” She laughed a few minutes more with tears pouring from her eyes before pulling a handkerchief from her blouse and dabbing at the running mascara from beneath her eyes. “No no no, I had just finished reading a book about them when I first met Twist. With those scars of hers I figured it had to be, well, fate.”
Sweetie Belle felt so thoroughly humiliated she just wanted to thrust her face into a cushion and scream, but managed to bite her tongue. Daydream was just being Daydream, and didn’t mean any offense. “You’ve never seemed like the type who believed in fate, Daydream.”
Daydream waggled her hoof back and forth as if to say she wasn’t really sure herself. “Well, whether it’s real or not, whether our fate is completely predetermined or not, it doesn’t really matter to me. The most important thing in life is what we feel. Joy, hope, love, friendship, these things exist no matter what and they are what is important. “She giggled and flailed her hooves about, gesturing randomly at their surroundings. “Look at how much things have changed over the years, yet ponies have not. Deep down, I think all ponies know what’s truly important in life.”
“Maybe your right,” said Sweetie Belle softly, “Thank you, Daydream, for sharing all of this with me. I mean it.”
“Huh?!” gasped Daydream as she dramatically threw her head back. “Since when do you like my stories?! Who are you, and what did you do to Sweetie Belle?!”
Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes and couldn’t help but smile. “Daydream, I need to ask something of you.”
“Anything!” declared Daydream, “Anything within my power is yours.”
“I need to go and—”
“Ms. Belle,” said the same earth pony doctor from before, in a sad voice that sent a jolt of worry through Sweetie Belle. “Ms. Belle, I… I’m sorry. We did everything we could, but there was a complication. Ms. Twist went into cardiac arrest and the shock to her system was just too great.” He looked away, silently searching for the right words, “I don’t know how to tell you this… but… she passed away.”
After those words there was no sound, and the air around Sweetie Belle became heavy enough to crush her. The doctor continued to speak and Daydream’s hoof rested on her shoulder, but she could barely hear or feel them. She shook and shuddered as she breathed and, without a single word, turned and walked out the front doors of the hospital. Camélia ran to her with an umbrella but stopped when she gestured to him to stay away; she couldn’t feel the rain nor the warm tears running down her face. All she could feel was Daydream’s ocean of despair, slowly pulling her beneath its waves.
“You know… I made a lot of money selling that crown. Let’s cut a deal.”
Babs Seed ignored the musings of the unwilling passenger draped across her sore back as she nodded to the duty guard of Canterlot’s Detention Center, who studied here prisoner in complete surprise for a full minute, before finally snapping out of it and opening the gate to the holding cells. It had been a long trip back to Canterlot, but the commentary from her prisoner had made it rather enjoyable. It made her think about how much grief Silver Spoon had caused both the guards and the R.E.A.F. for the past while, and it was rather hard to not feel proud that it was she and her investigation team that took the criminal down once and for all.
“Pride doesn’t pay the bills,” said Silver Spoon as she continued to try and bribe her way out of it, “We’ll split it fifty-fifty if you just… leave the cage unlocked. Nopony will ever know.”
As Babs Seed thought about how big of a deal it truly was to have final arrested Silver Spoon, the more guilt she felt for dismissing Starlight and Bright Eyes before hauling the gray nutcase to jail. She felt as if she had stolen the glory and the credit from them and, while Bright Eyes couldn’t care less, Starlight was the kind of pony who might take it personally. At the same time, as much as she wanted to make sure credit was given, with the possibility of a spy or a traitor amongst their ranks she wanted as few ponies to know about her little motley crew as possible. Especially Bright Eyes; he had already proven his worth and having a shape shifter in their ranks that nopony knew about was an invaluable asset. She’d make it up to them in the end; Starlight was young and got off on the glory and prestige of the job so she’d call in a favor or two and see to it he got a medal and perhaps even a promotion, and as for Bright Eyes…
Wonder what a changeling would like as a reward, anyways? Somethin’ I’ll have to figure out.
“Think about it, Babs. It’s a lot of money…”
“I ain’t dirty, Spoon,” said Babs, “Save your breath. I don’t make deals with killers.”
“You just take orders from them.”
“You already tried the brain games, remember? It got you some chains and a slug to the mouth.”
“It’s not a brain game,” said Silver Spoon in a judgmental tone, “Everypony knows what you guards did in the Crystal Empire. That’s how you got the scar, right? Or is it a caesarian? So… filly or colt?”
“Shut up, Spoon,” said Babs Seed passively, “Like I said, you ain’t sweet talkin’ your way outta this one. You’ll sit here and fester in this Detention Center until you get tried and shipped to Blackmiller Penitentiary.” She stopped as her escort trotted up and opened one of three cells. “Sound good, ol’ pal?”
Silver Spoon looked over at the pegasus and unicorn siblings laying side-by-side sleeping in the one occupied cell. “At least I got Nicola and Bart here to keep me company,” she said sarcastically.
“In you get!” grunted Babs as she heaved Silver Spoon into the cell and froze to savor the dull plop of her body as it landed unceremoniously on the floor. The pegasus in the neighboring cell, Pound Cake was his name if memory served correct, sprung to life and draped his front hooves through the bars of the cell to watch. Babs Seed made eye contact with him and he smiled back the way one would greet a neighbor, and she found herself pitying him as she wondered what a pair of young ponies like those two were doing getting mixed up with a group like the Rainbolts. “You ain’t my problem anymore, Spoon,” she said as she shifted her eyes back to her catch, “I’m just an inspector; I find problems and its somepony else’s job to deal with them. You don’t seem to realize just how deep in you really are, so let me give you some advice for old time’s sake. Do yourself a favor, cooperate, and tell us where the crown is and who hired you. Do that and I’ll do what I can to make ‘em go easy on you.”
Silver Spoon put a hoof to her chin in an obvious mockery of contemplation. “Alright, sounds swell, Tubby. Trumane Capony was his name; he wanted to give the crown to Miriam. As for where it ended up…” she said as she aimed her rear at the bars and tossed her tail to the side, “It’s up there somewhere, why don’t you take a look? Now that was one heck of a weekend so it’s in deep.”
The pegasus fell apart into hysterical laughter and pounded his hoof repeatedly on the bars and the unicorn, who Babs had assumed was still sleeping, chuckled merrily without moving. Silver Spoon, feeding off of their reaction, looked over to the two and laughed to herself as well.
Babs Seed sighed. “Hope you had a good laugh. You’re doin’ nothin’ but harmin’ yourself, though. Now don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“You’re wasting your breath, Babsie,” said a snide, familiar voice from behind, “Ponies like her are rabid dogs. They’re just a problem the sharp end of a stick and a few tears can solve, minus the tears of course.”
Babs Seed exhaled to swallow her discomfort. “Hello, Merrilay,” she said coldly.
“Hello, Babsie,” said Merrilay in a sarcastically pleasant tone. “You got her. Not bad, not bad at all.”
“What are you doing here, Merrilay?”
“Just got back from finding the earth pony that tried to do Pinstripe; she went out like a complete cupcake.” Merrilay stood beside Babs and wiggled, gesturing to the bow and quiver she wore on her back. “Like the new toy? I was gonna try it out on the other one, but Stormfront beat me to the punch.”
Babs perked up. “They got her?”
“You had better believe it,” said Merrilay, her lips twitching as she savored the memory, “I followed the tracks into town and watched the whole thing. I really wanted to take a few pot shots when she pulled that banging… thing on them, y’know, get some practice, but they had it covered.” She finished her story by running her hoof across her neck with a gagging sound and added, “Credit where it’s due: they’re good at their jobs.”
“Is she alive?!”
“Who cares?”
“I do!” snapped Babs.
“Easy there, Babsie. Their zeppelin wasn’t far behind me, you’ll see their handi—” she went quiet as the sound of clumping armored hooves drew closer down the hall, “Well, speak of the Devil.”
It was two of Babs Seed’s old comrades, walking side by side and dragging the lifeless shape of a pony between them. The duty guard hurriedly opened the remaining empty cell and the duo dragged their prisoner inside and let her drop to the floor. As they walked out one spotted Silver Spoon in the cell and then Babs, and his entire face lit up. “The Sergeant!” he said excitedly, “The Sergeant got the bandit!”
“Hah!” said the other as he winked at Merrilay, “The R.E.A.F. can eat that! Once a Stormfront always a Stormfront, right Sarge?”
Babs Seed hardly even heard them. She knew what was lying in front of her, it was painfully obvious and there was no denying it, but she didn’t want to believe it. She couldn’t. Lying in that cell, sprawled lifelessly and with bandages wrapped around the side of her face and her stomach was a scruffy older mare that appeared to be dead; the only sign of life emanating from her was the rising and collapsing of her chest with shallow unconscious breaths. It was her cousin’s coloring, her little cousin’s yellow coat and bright pink mane, but stretched over a rough and almost vicious-looking adult as if it were a monster that had stolen Apple Bloom’s coloring and painted it onto itself. Babs Seed could hardly breathe; she tried to tell herself over and over it wasn’t true, but deep down she knew it was her little cousin lying in that cell. Her little cousin had grown up into a murderer.
A callous slap on her shoulder jolted her. “So that’s Auntie Apple Bloom, huh?” said Merrilay coldly, “Isn’t this just one big ol’ happy family reunion? I should have brought potato salad.”
“You’re not my family,” said Babs in a threatening tone. She didn’t have the patience to deal with that psychotic black sheep on the best of days and now was just about the worst time for Merrilay to push her luck.
“But she is?” said Merrilay, sounding genuinely offended. “The one who killed my buddy and who knows who else? No way. She is isn’t she?” She leaned uncomfortably close and Babs Seed felt her hoof tremble, ready to strike. “You know what? I’ll bet you and her are in this together; how did you get to Broncton so quickly? Hm? You know, I’d bet half my feathers you’re going to pop the coop open the second nopony’s looking.”
Babs took a step forward and felt her two old comrades each put a hoof on her to hold her back. “I’m about two seconds from crackin’ that skull open and seeing what color brains lunatics have in their heads! Don’t push me you bag of garbage, not NOW!”
Merrilay reared up and clapped her hooves together. “I’d like to see you try it!”
Babs Seed threw her allies off of her and made a beeline for her cousin, but a wall of black slid between them. It threw a gray foreleg around Merrilay’s neck and slammed her into the floor, and with a kick sent her across the prison and crashing into the brick wall. Without even looking Rumble threw his hoof out to stop Babs from advancing and stared Merrilay down as a low growl rose from his throat. Merrilay sputtered and spat a few drops of blood as she staggered to her hooves, and without even looking limped down the hall out of the Detention Center as quickly as her aching body could carry her.
“Sheesh, what was her problem?” said one of the Stormfront guards.
“Just mad that it wasn’t one of those airpony pansies who brought in Silver Spoon,” said the other as he draped his foreleg around Babs’ shoulder.
Rumble cleared his throat and twitched his muzzle in the direction of the hall, making both of the Stormfront members and the duty guard all stand at attention, salute, and leave. Rumble returned the salute, somehow resisting the obvious agony of the wound Babs just now noticed. He had a nasty bruised and gaping wound on his leg; it was not deep, but wide and had bled half the length of his leg before finally drying and stopping itself. True to form, Rumble hadn’t even bothered to get it treated despite having taken Apple Bloom to the infirmary before putting her in that cell. It was clearly a wound from a gun, and thankfully the only one that had done any damage; tiny dints, each the size of a bit, were dotted sparsely across his armor which was thankfully strong enough to resist it.
“We tried to take her peacefully,” said Rumble bluntly. “She resisted.”
He said no more and left, the thudding sound of his heavy hooves fading as Babs’ heart seemed to stop mid-beat. She had always had this little fantasy that perhaps her friends had survived, but seeing what her little cousin had grown up into and the idea that Apple Bloom could have so readily tried to kill somepony she still cared deeply for was too much to take. For the first time in a long time, she wanted nothing more than to run into her mother’s hooves and cry.
“Wanna talk about it?”
Babs glared over at the cream-white pegasus who still had his hooves draped through the bars and was smiling with genuine pity, and she wanted nothing more than to bust that dopey face of his wide-open. “What are you leerin’ at, Half-N’-Half?”
“I can’t help it,” he said dreamily, “Evil is sexy.”
He threw himself away and fell over his sister as Babs Seed punched the bars. She grimaced in pain as she clutched her throbbing hoof and almost tripped as she hurried to leave before she opened that cell and slapped the cheeky little brat around. All she wanted to do now was lie down and sleep, and at this point she didn’t even care if she made it all the way home or not. Even the couch in her office sounded inviting at this point and was much closer.
Wouldn’t be the first time I crashed there anyways.
The sun was just starting to drop beneath the mountains on the horizon and before she started the trek, she briefly considered asking the two Environment Equestria ponies across the street for a ride home in the cloud carriage they had just parked. Those things moved all on their own and rather fast, powered somehow by a unicorn’s magic, but they had just locked it up and were walking away which meant they probably were leaving it there to start work in the morning.
“Sergeant!” called one of the Stormfront guards from the deck of their zeppelin which slowly lowered into the street. “We’re headed for the palace! Coming?”
Babs jogged to catch up and climbed the ladder, nodding in appreciation to the guard who had called her. She sat beside Rumble and, knowing he had made them wait for her, whispered “thanks” to him.
“Mm-hmm.”
As the zeppelin slowly rose she was hit by a wave of nostalgia that briefly washed away her sorrow. It was just like old times; the unique feeling in one’s stomach from the gentle sway of the gondola, the surprisingly comfortable canvas net that served as seats, and of course sitting beside Rumble.
“Here,” said Rumble softly as he nodded to a guard who pushed a box toward her.
Babs rooted through the box, finding a dusty old hat and foreign clothing, a set of spurs, and the leftovers of a smashed gun that made her realize these things were Apple Bloom’s personal belongings when she was captured. She dug through the pockets of the vest, hoping to find something to help her understand why, but all she found was a box full of acrid-smelling rolled papers and a pack of matches.
“Anything?”
“Just personal stuff,” she said sadly. “Doesn’t help me understand why…”
“Ponies change,” Rumble said darkly.
“Yeah…” she said sadly as she studied the box and put two and two together, realizing their purpose. “Give her these when she wakes up?” Rumble nodded and tucked them into the inner pocket of his armor, just as the zeppelin began to lower. It hovered right by the window of her office, close enough for her to step right through.
Rumble put a hoof on her shoulder to stop her before she could disembark and stared into her eyes. She stared back and leaned in, closing her eyes and anticipating a kiss. “I’m sorry. About your cousin,” he said solemnly as he turned to head back to his seat.
Typical Rumble.
She climbed through the window and watched the zeppelin lazily fly away, and once it was out of sight let her body collapse to the floor. She rested her head on her forelegs, too lazy and miserable to even undress let alone climb onto the couch. The zeppelin ride had been a nice reprieve but only temporary; now that she was alone she was left to the mercy of her nightmares. Images of her cousin kept coming into mind, haunting her and robbing her of any possibility of sleep.
Suddenly something cold nudged her and she cried out in feral fear. Something scrabbled about in the darkened room and she was on her hooves, across the office, and lit her lantern. “Bright Eyes?!” she snapped at the sight of the changeling, making it jump straight up and cringe, “What the heck are you doing here?!” He recoiled like a spooked cat but almost immediately calmed down and started staring at her with a funny inquisitive look. She stared back, wondering what he was studying so closely, when it dawned on her she had been crying. “It’s nothin’,” she said as she wiped her eyes, “Stop looking at me like that, it’s fine. Cut it out! Look, Bright Eyes, when I said you were done for the day I meant you could go home. You didn’t have to come back here.” The changeling drew a bit closer and cocked his head to the side, making a strange warbling sound as he did it.
Sheesh. Changelings.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Babs as she dabbed at her eyes again, “I’m actually kinda glad you’re here. Wanted to say you did good out there. Real good. We wouldn’t have pulled this off without you.” The changeling’s eyes snapped wide open and he drew back in surprise. “I mean it,” said Babs, “Now work's over, yeah? Go get some sleep.”
Bright Eyes nodded and seemed content with the idea, putting his head up high and puffing his chest out proudly. Babs went to the door to let him out, but rather than follow he instead trotted over to the couch and snuggled up with his pillow.
“Hold it! What are you—” The answer hit her before she could even ask. “You don’t have a home, do you? Now where the heck does Featherweight…” she went silent again; the look Bright Eyes gave her told her quite clearly she did not want to know. “Look,” she said softly, “You aren’t livin’ in this office. Got it?”
Bright Eyes stared sadly for a moment and nodded his head. He slowly drifted into the air, letting his entire body hang as he flew, and slowly headed for the door. Even the soft buzz of his wings sounded depressed and betrayed.
“Wait!” she said as she stopped him, “What’s with all that? I’m not kicking you out onto the street; you aren’t sleepin’ here because you can have the couch in my apartment. It has a fold-out bed you can have ‘till we work somethin’ out better.”
Despite everything that had happened today Babs Seed’s spirits were lifted by Bright Eyes’ reaction; she had actually managed to get a smile out of the dark creature. “Yeah,” she said, “Hope you like cats. Mine’s real affectionate.” She gestured for him to follow and as she left the office the darkened hallway of the palace briefly lit up in green as Bright Eyes put on his pony disguise.
“I just don’t know what to do, Mom,” Scootaloo said somberly, “It’s like none of this is real, like I’m still asleep up in Canner Canyon and haven’t been able to wake up. I was alone for so long, and I was content. Life wasn’t easy, but it was so simple. I always knew what I was doing, and I was always in control. Now… I can’t help but think I’ve been pulled into something big. I’ve been all around Equestria, I’ve met so many ponies and seen so many things… and yet…” She stared up at the sky, at the waning sun that was falling behind Canterlot in the far distance. “Apple Bloom, Silver Spoon, Snails, Sweetie Belle, even Fluttershy. The worlds a big place. Too big for them to have all just come back into my life like that. What was I doing wrong, Mom? Why did I have to be alone for so many years? Why couldn’t I have found them sooner?” Scootaloo wrapped her scarf around her hoof to dab the tears dangling from her good eye, and patted the jacket she had been given. “And even that stallion. You never told me anything about my father, and I always assumed it was because he was a bad man or something. He was nice to me, and I know deep down he wasn’t my father, except… with all the other ponies that have just fallen back into my life, it’s like he almost could be. It doesn’t really matter though, does it? I… I just…” she couldn’t finish her sentence and instead only sighed, “I guess I’ll never know. I don’t even know his name. All I know, is there must have been a good reason you never told me anything about him, right Mom?” She had more to say, but found her desire to do so fading as if everything was becoming clearer to her. “In the end, no matter what, I’ll just do what you, and I guess his ex, used to say. I’ll be who I am, and hopefully I’ll find the way. I love you, Mom. I just wish I had said it more often back when I had the chance.”
Scootaloo lowered her head and closed her eye, sitting motionless in front of her mother’s grave in a silent prayer. She reached into her jacket, her father’s jacket as she had unwillingly dubbed the dark article of clothing, and took out the small bundle of flowers she had picked to lay at the base of the small pile of rocks that served as a monument to her mother. Once it had been an example of the most her little filly hooves could manage to construct and something she had always meant to return to and properly remake, but now as she stared at it through the eye of an adult it somehow felt wrong to dismantle and rebuild it. Not a single rock had so much as moved since she had made it all those years ago, and her mother’s silver chain remained untouched and tucked beneath the same piece of slate she had pinned it under. That is exactly how it would stay. “If things don’t go sour, Mom, I’ll make sure to visit more often. I promise.”
She straightened the necklace and started making her way to the place where she would meet the thing in rags that masqueraded as a pony, still lost in the almost dream-like reality that came from losing one’s self in the past. It helped to put her at peace with where she was; she had promised she would never go into what was left of Ponyville ever again, and even being this close to the once happy little hamlet made her uncomfortable. Everypony in Equestria seemed to share this sentiment: other than survivors and kin, such as herself, who had returned to bury their loved ones and lay them to rest, nopony had ever returned to the town. The buildings had been left untouched by hooves since that night, only worn down by the slow and diligent touch of nature that had no respect for the taboos of ponykind. Personal belongings, valuables, and even unfinished dinners still remained exactly where they had been left the day the city was shaken by tragedy, as it seemed even the lowest and most uncaring of looters and vandals couldn’t bring themselves to enter. Scootaloo wouldn’t even dare cut through the town as a shortcut; although she knew otherwise she was still haunted by the thought that the bodies of those not lucky enough to escape still lay right where they fell, now whittled down to nothing but bone and skulls…
Bones and skulls that stand and walk about when the night falls… Bones and skulls that would sorrowfully ask intruders why they are disturbing their final resting place…
Scootaloo shook the macabre fantasy out of her mind and focused on the river she followed. It served as the border that decided how far away she could get from the ghost town without swimming, and although it seemed calm enough to easily paddle across, she was too afraid of the water to even try. On the best of days she was hardly willing to enter water higher than knee deep, and there was no way she’d ever enter the same river that had tried to whisk her half-dead self away all those years ago. She just had to hope her meeting place with the scorpion mare was on her side of the river which, if memory served correct, it was. She didn’t know why that eerie thing had wanted to meet here of all places, and if she had her way she’d never come back here again, but if there was even a chance that Fluttershy was still alive she would jump at the opportunity.
She slowed to a stop as a horrifyingly familiar landscape loomed in front of her. It didn’t look the way she remembered it, as nightmares and time had twisted her memory of it into something far more ominous, but she knew it. She instantly recognized the hill Rainbow Dash’s murderer had called down to them from. The memories that returned to her were almost too much to take: sights and sounds she had long-since blocked out came back to her in chilling clarity and were almost enough to make her collapse. The blasts and sounds of screams in the distance, and even the feel of Fluttershy’s fur when she hugged tightly against the yellow mare’s leg, were all so frighteningly clear that she wanted to cry out.
“Good…” said a familiar and almost lustful tone, “You’ve come…”
On impulse Scootaloo’s eye shot to the hill expecting to see the golden-maned murderer leering down at her. She swallowed and stood up straight, bracing herself against her sorrow and determined to take control of this meeting. Every fiber of her being was warning her to be wary of this cloaked mare and she trusted her instincts: until she knew who or what this thing was, she was going to be on guard and extremely careful of what she said and did.
“Don’t bother trying to hide it,” the voice scolded, “I can sense the sorrow and loss in your heart. The emptiness that comes from losing everything you ever held dear. It is why I brought you here, so I could see it in you first-hoof for myself.”
Scootaloo felt thoroughly disgusted by the self-satisfied pleasure that dripped from this thing’s voice and turned to find her watching from the distance. The thing in rags stood like a half-collapsing brown pop-tent left out for too long in the weather, having the same appeal as an oversized spider nestled in a funnel web in the corner of a darkened bedroom. “Why are you so interested in what I’m feeling? If you want what I think you want, why do you care how I feel?”
“I don’t care,” said the cloaked mare as she covered her mouth and tittered, “well, maybe just a little. I suppose I have something of a soft spot in my heart for lost, wayward souls. I know what it feels like to not be loved by even a single pony. No family. No friends. It is a cruel fate indeed, isn’t it?”
“I have friends! AND family!” snapped Scootaloo. “Her name is Apple Bloom!”
The scorpion mare cackled like she had been given a particularly cruel and funny punch line. “Oh, yes. She shows it well by knocking you out and leaving you for dead. Don’t worry; I’m sure she’ll come back for you any day now. Just come trotting right back into your life and the two of you can just skip off down a rainbow straight into friendship.”
“She did that to protect me! I’m sure of it!”
“She’s not very good at it, is she? What if that complete stranger hadn’t been the helpful charitable type? Just think of all the terrible fates that could have befallen poor helpless little Scootaloo thanks to her friend’s ‘protection,’” said the mare, making a point of adding as much poison as she could to her final word.
Scootaloo bit down on her tongue hard enough to taste blood, hoping the pain would keep her from ripping across the field and attacking this thing. She spat a small red spatter on the ground, “If the only reason you dragged me out here is to spit all over the only friend I’ve got, then I’m done here!”
“As you wish,” the scorpion mare said passively as she lurched toward Scootaloo. “You already know why I’m here and what I want.”
“Yeah,” said Scootaloo coldly as she stared into the soulless mask, “The element of loyalty. Rainbow Dash’s element. Why’d you drag me all the way out here to ask me? We could have talked where we met last.”
“I wanted you to hate,” the masked mare hissed. “I wanted you to remember the one who hurt you, the one who is my enemy, and hate her with all of your heart. So you would understand we have a common interest in this. I wanted you to imagine the one who hurt you dying at my hooves and savor the knowledge that it was thanks in part to your efforts. Does that not sound absolutely delicious?”
“Sounds like wishful thinking,” said Scootaloo, “and a real good way to get ourselves killed.”
“While I do appreciate you so passive-aggressively volunteering to help, and of course you are more than welcome to come along for the ride should you choose to, admittedly I do not need anything from you beyond information. It’s a fair trade, I think: tell me where the element is, and I tell you where Fluttershy is. Once that is done, you can go your separate way and it won’t be your problem anymore. Now tell me. Where is it?”
“I can’t…”
“Why not?”
“I made a promise…”
Many Years Ago
The highest peak of Winsome Falls
“Rainbow Dash…” said Scootaloo nervously as she peered over the edge of the mountain and down at the abyss, the ground being so far below it was covered by a blanket of white clouds. “Are we really going to train to fly here?”
“Of course!” Rainbow Dash said excitedly, “It’s how my dad taught me to fly and look how I turned out!” She scooped Scootaloo up and held her tight as she flew her a few feet out over the abyss and hovered on the spot. “You want to be awesome like me, right? This is how you do it! Now when I let go, you’ll have about five seconds to get flying before you’re falling too fast to get airborne. You ready, Squirt?!”
Scootaloo whimpered and buried her face into Rainbow Dash’s chest. Her whole body began to quake and she couldn’t help but clamp her hooves around Rainbow Dash’s body to hold on for dear life. She held her eyes shut as her friend peeled her grip off and held her at hooves length, counted to three, and let go. Scootaloo threw her mouth open to scream, but before sound could even come out she landed harmlessly on the ground.
Rainbow Dash’s near-hysterical laughter coaxed Scootaloo to finally open her eyes to find herself back on the mountain, where she had been before being picked up, and she glared at her blue friend. “G-gotcha!” laughed Rainbow Dash as she collapsed to her back and violently kicked her legs in uncontrollable laughter. “You should have seen your face!” she sputtered as tears streamed down her cheeks, “I thought you were going to pee!” Her laughter slowed to a stop as she saw the sour look she was being given, and she soared over and clamped Scootaloo in a headlock and gave her a noogie. “Aw c’mon, I’m just teasing you! My dad? He did the exact same thing to me. Called it ‘The Rainbow Way To Fly.’” She leaned in close to whisper, even though there was nopony around to hear, “And between you and me, I did pee.”
Scootaloo gagged and threw a hoof over her mouth, giggling furiously as the two of them lay together in the grass beneath the sun. All things considered, she should have seen that one coming; there’s no way Rainbow Dash would ever actually put her in harm’s way.
“Now the real reason we’re here,” said Rainbow Dash contently, “this high up, is to get some well-deserved R and R.” She yawned and stretched her wings and legs, and closed her eyes. “This is the perfect place for it, Squirt. Nothing this high up but the warmth of the sun above and the soft grass beneath our butts. Other ponies only ever bother to climb as high as the falls.”
“Hey!” protested Scootaloo, “You said we were doing flight training! Dashie, you promised!”
Rainbow Dash lazily looked over and smiled. “That’s the best part; this is training, Squirt. Live-high, train-low,” she said matter-of-factly, “You see, oxygen gives us energy. So if your body gets used to living in an area with less oxygen, it gets better at using it.”
“So we have more energy when we go lower?” chirped Scootaloo.
“Now you’re getting it!” said Rainbow Dash proudly. “It’s why I sleep on clouds, Squirt. And we’ve got the whooooole day to ourselves to do it: I’m supposed to be at work, you’re supposed to be at school, and nopony will ever think to look for us up here except maybe Pinkie Pie and she’s busy foalsitting today.”
Scootaloo rested her head back in the grass. She would have never imagined that just relaxing could be training. While she did have her suspicions that Dashie may just be making the whole thing up as an excuse to spend the day lying about, even then at least she got to spend the day just chilling with her idol. She took a slow deep breath and felt Rainbow Dash nudge her.
“Short, quick breaths, Squirt,” said Rainbow Dash, “And if you start to get a headache, tell me right away and we’ll go back down.”
“Gotcha,” said Scootaloo as she stared up at the sky. She had never been this high up before, and it made her feel like a real pegasus; even if Rainbow Dash was lying about training, it was worth it just for this feeling. She felt ready to fly around the planet and back.
“Yeah, it’s the little things, Squirt. Sometimes you have to sit back and relax. Throw work or school right out the window, and just chill. And that’s the trick. I watch you try to fly, Squirt, and you just try way too hard.”
Scootaloo perked up. “What do you mean?”
“You flap too fast,” said Rainbow Dash knowingly. “You just need to learn to relax. Find your place. Me? This is my special little place; I come here whenever I’m stressed out.” She rolled over onto her belly and reached for the large rock above their heads. “Can you keep a secret?” she whispered as she slid the deceptively light rock out of the way to reveal a small hiding place built into the ground. “You have to promise not to tell anypony about this ever, okay?”
“Promise.”
Rainbow Dash reached into the hiding place and pulled out her element of loyalty, holding it to Scootaloo and letting the red lightning-bolt stone and gold necklace shimmer in the bright sunlight. “Promise not to laugh? When I get worried I come up here, all by myself, and I put this on. I don’t really know why, but it always helps. Here,” she said as she reached around Scootaloo’s neck and snapped the element’s clasp into place, “Go ahead, and try it on.”
Scootaloo hopped to her hooves and stood proudly with the oversized necklace dangling around her neck. Like Rainbow Dash had said, she felt different when she wore it. Not bad or good, or any feeling she could describe, but simply different.
“When I’m stressed, wearing that always makes me feel better,” said Rainbow Dash as she rolled onto her back once more. “Seems like I’ve been doing it a lot lately.”
“I can’t believe you get stressed out,” said Scootaloo as she laid down beside her friend, still wearing the necklace.
Rainbow Dash looked up at the sky. “Ever since Princess Celestia gave those to us and asked us to hold onto them,” she said as she tapped the red stone in the center of the element, “Twilight’s been acting different. I just can’t put my hoof on it; you know when you can just tell something’s wrong?”
“I thought you guys shared everything.”
“That’s why I’m worried, Squirt. She won’t talk about it. Not to any of us. All she’s been doing lately is hanging out in her library. I’m worried about her, Squirt, and I don’t know what to do.” She glanced over at Scootaloo and smiled warmly, “But don’t you worry, okay? Everything will be fine.”
Scootaloo nodded back, and the two laid together in silence relaxing beneath the warm early morning sunlight.
Present Day
“You’re quite the loyal little friend, aren’t you?” said the scorpion mare in a way that made it impossible to tell if it was mockery or a genuine compliment. She approached and rested her cloaked hoof on Scootaloo’s shoulder. “Like I said, I know exactly what it’s like to be all alone. To be afraid. It must have been so hard… growing up and living all by yourself for so long. Rainbow Dash would be proud of you for being so strong, but she would also understand if you broke your promise.” She pulled Scootaloo close and cuddled her the way a mother would comfort her foal, making the pegasus shudder at how eerily cool to the touch the filthy coarse fabric was, and shushed her gently. “She loved you, and she wouldn’t have wanted you to be alone like this. If she were here, she would want you to tell me just so you could find your friend Fluttershy.” The scorpion mare rested her muzzle right against Scootaloo’s ear and whispered so close that her breath could be felt through her mask. “I’ll take the element, and you can go to your friend and be happy… just like Rainbow Dash would want. So what do you say…?”
Scootaloo felt tears rolling down her cheek. “Alright…” she said weakly, “You win… I’ll show you where it is…”
“…so I say ‘No, you’re wrong. Of course it matters! Why wouldn’t it matter? How could it not matter?’ and she says, paraphrased of course, ‘it’s just lightning. It’s loud, bright, and goes boom.’ I mean, can you believe that?! Oh, I love those ponies to absolute bits, but they just don’t get it, you know? They just don’t get how important the polarity of lightning is! Now while I’m on the topic of loud bright booms, I’m reminded of a story! You see, one time me and that…”
Sweetie Belle was hardly even listening to Daydream’s rambling. She had found a far more interesting sight in the sheer number of sugar cubes the pink mare was dumping into her coffee. What must have been her nineteenth or twentieth cube sank beneath the inky black surface of her coffee and dissolved as she stirred what must now be the equivalent of maple syrup and took a contented sip. Sweetie Belle shuddered; watching her friend drink that substance from the mug that read ‘I’m only here for the spinny-chair’ made her teeth hurt.
Daydream sighed contently. “Now that was the last time I ever tried something like that with a rain cloud, let me tell you. It took a week to get those stains out. Now where was I? Ah! Lightning, yes of course! Lightning! So she was trying to tell me that lightning is pointless. Now let me tell you lightning is not pointless. No it is not! Oh, but the bean counters, they think it’s a waste of money. Now you know how I feel about lightning…”
Yes, you’ve made it abundantly clear, Daydream.
“…and I wanted your opinion, Lambkins.” Daydream paused to take a sip of her mug of sugar and nodded, “Well? What do you think?”
Sweetie Belle hid her look of sheer disinterest behind her cup of white tip oolong tea. “I didn’t even realize lightning could be positive or negative, nor do I even know what that means or what the difference between the two may be,” said Sweetie Belle passively. “I haven’t the foggiest notion whether or not lightning is a necessity. Perhaps ask the pegasi in charge of the weather? If anypony would know, it’s them.”
“But I trust you!” Daydream whined. She paused and raised an eyebrow from behind her mug of sugar. “Oh, Lambkins you’re such a pill.” She stared wide-eyed a bit longer, and finally took a drink. “Fiiiiiiiine, I’ll ask them instead…”
“I don’t know weather, Daydream. I know gemstones, I know my Diamond Dogs, I… I even remember some sewing tips from my sister,” said Sweetie Belle who took a sip of her tea and smirked. “Besides… remember the last time you took advice from me on such matters?”
Daydream almost choked mid-drink and a trickle of black liquid sugar slithered down her chin. “Ah, yes…” she giggled, “Good times. Who would have ever thought snow on the tracks could be such a problem to a train?”
“Well, I suppose in the summer they’re not prepared for it. And at least nopony—”
“Ah!” chirped Daydream, “Trains! I forgot to mention! I met the most darling little pegasus on the train! You should have seen her, she was adorable! Ooooh, I just wanted to take her home and hug her and put her in a cute little dress!!!”
Sweetie Belle paused while the eerie Camélia poured another cup of tea for her. “Wow,” she said flatly, “that’s not creepy or anything, Daydream. And thank you, Camélia.”
“She was just too huggable, though!” said Daydream with a hint of sadness in her tone, “I mean you should have seen the poor little darling. All scuffed up, and I think she had a bad eye I really couldn’t tell, and she sort of needed a bath, but she was still smiling! I just love ponies like that, don’t you?”
“Not really,” said Sweetie Belle as she added milk to her tea. “Though I’m surprised you didn’t offer her a job.”
“I did! Scootaloo turned it down. At least she let me buy her some food.”
The magical aura that held Sweetie Belle’s cup vanished and it fell to the table, exploding with a mist of hot tea that went completely unnoticed by the unicorn. “W-what was that name?”
“I know!” cooed Daydream, “Isn’t ‘Scootaloo’ the cutest name ever?!”
Sweetie Belle stammered as Camélia silently cleaned the mess and produced another cup of tea for her. “Orange coat…? Purple mane?” she said weakly.
“Well… more of a gamboge, I think,” said Daydream in deep thought, who almost immediately perked up. “So you’ve met her?!”
“We used to be… friends,” said Sweetie Belle as she tried and failed to lift her tea with magic, and quickly gave up and used her shaking hooves instead.
“That’s WONDERFUL!!!” screeched Daydream, who bounced on her pillow with her hooves clopping together like a foal on Hearthswarming Morning. “I know where she was going! Come on, let’s go and—”
“No,” said Sweetie Belle coldly. “No, that won’t be necessary.”
“Why not?!”
“Used to be friends, Daydream. Used to be. Past tense. That was a long time ago. Not since Ponyville. And I have no interest in renewing old friendships. Too many bad memories.”
“Sweetie Belle!” said Daydream in a scolding tone, “Whatever is wrong with you?”
“Me?!” snapped Sweetie Belle, “What’s wrong with me?!” How dare you—” One look at the puppy dog eye treatment her pink friend gave her and she bit her tongue. “Look, you don’t understand. You and you alone more than fill the friendship need in my life, Daydream.”
“No, you don’t understand, Lambkins,” said Daydream, “and I’m going to show you the light and magic of friendship whether you like it or not.” Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes as Daydream gestured to one of the ponies in the room. Twist came over and was immediately seized in a hug the second she came within reach. “I want her to stay with you, from now on.”
“Why?”
“As a friend.”
Twist stared silently at Sweetie Belle with an expression that very clearly said ‘Help me!’ “I don’t need a friend, Daydream. No offense, Twist.”
“Oh, give her a chance, you might grow fond of her,” said Daydream, “I won’t take no for an answer.”
“Well…” said an already defeated Sweetie Belle between sips of her tea, “I know better than to try and argue with you, Daydream.”
Present Day
Sweetie Belle faded back and forth between awareness and past memories as the pony whose name escaped her gave a small eulogy for Twist. It seemed every single pony who worked for the company had something to say at her mute friend’s wake, and while it was somewhat comforting to know Twist had such a surprisingly active social life for such a seemingly cold-hearted pony, it only served to make her feel all the more alone. Though she had hardly been aware of it at the time, Twist truly was the only pony who was always there for her and understood her. Sure, Daydream had a heart of pure gold and would trot to the edge of Equestria for her, but was so unbelievably self-centered about her friendship as well; everything had to be about Daydream and everything had to go her way, which made tolerating her company rather trying at times. Twist had been a comforting reliable presence in her life for several years now, and only now that she was gone did Sweetie Belle realize just how much she had taken that friendship for granted. It made her wonder, if even the icy-cold and mute Twist could have friends, to what effort was Sweetie Belle herself going to push others away and remain in her lonely little shell? Just like she had pushed Apple Bloom and Scootaloo away—
Stop it.
She bit down on her hoof and screamed silently, trying to chase away the biting guilt. She was not to blame, they were! She gave them a chance, they turned it down. Even if some stupid nostalgic fiber of her body refused to acknowledge it, she deep down knew it was true.
“I am so very sorry for your loss,” said a quiet voice as a hoof rested on hers.
Sweetie Belle flinched away and heard a quiet apologetic peep from the one who had merely tried to comfort her. She looked his way to apologize for her own boorish behavior but found that she was speechless; although he looked strangely familiar she simply did not recognize him. Every pony at Twist’s wake was an employee of Environment Equestria, and although she didn’t know most of their names she at least recognized the faces. There was that fat obnoxious thing that worked the reception desk and always chewed gum, those two old lanky twins who designed an maintained their fleet of cloud carriages and work vehicles, and even that elderly purple janitor who had been repeatedly scolded for drinking on the job and would have been fired years ago had she not been a rather exemplary custodian, to name a few. This one stallion beside her, a yellow unicorn with a turquoise mane and matching moustache, was one she had not seen before.
“I am sorry,” said the mystery stallion, “I meant no offense. Just to offer comfort to a friend of a very dear friend of mine.”
Sweetie Belle thought about that for a moment, “You and Twist were close?”
“Intimately,” he said with a sad, wistful smirk. “And before you ask, no, sorry. I know not why the R.E.A.F. would do this.”
“You’re a mind-reader,” said Sweetie Belle sadly. She had nothing more to say to him and focused her attention to Daydream who was in the midst of trying to give her own eulogy. It was enough to bring Sweetie Belle to tears; Daydream had hardly gotten five or six words out and had begun bawling like a little foal. “Wait,” said Sweetie Belle as a realization hit her and she faced her bespectacled companion. “How did you know the R.E.A.F. did this?”
He straightened his glasses and fidgeted with the gemstone he wore on his collar. “Gathering information, my dear, is what I do.” He gave her a friendly smile as he produced a gold pocket watch from his blazer and sighed softly. “And I’m afraid my line of work offers little in the way of free time, even in the midst of a tragedy.” He rested a hoof on hers and leaned in as if to hug her. “Things will get better. Be strong, my friend.”
Sweetie Belle feigned a smile and thanked him as he began to walk away, but didn’t mean so much as a word of it. She didn’t care how good this stallion was at gathering information; Daydream had made a diligent and effective effort to keep the circumstances of Twist’s death as quiet as possible. Rather than spread panic through the company by having them believe the government may be targeting them, the official story was that Twist had suffered a heart attack and passed on peacefully in her sleep in the hospital. The only way this pony could know what had happened was if he was involved somehow, and if that was the case, he was going to explain himself.
She let him get some distance, pretending to be engrossed in Daydream’s blubbering eulogy and nonchalantly stood up, trying to attract as little attention to her as possible. The stallion headed through the east door and Sweetie Belle walked close and acted as if she were going to speak to their alcoholic janitor; she knew this building like the back of her hoof and knew exactly where that hall would take him. She’d jump him when nopony was around to see and, if necessary, wring his wiry little neck until he told her what she wanted to hear.
Somepony passed by the door in the direction of the unicorn. He was big, with a white and brown mottled coat of fur and had moved by the door so quickly she had hardly gotten a good look at him still managed to recognize him. She had seen his face on wanted posters before, along with the other Rainbolts. A suspicion came to mind that she didn’t want to consider, but it presented a rather uncomfortable possibility.
“… on time … friend … so … like …” said the voice of the yellow pony, coming in muffled snatches that managed to slip around the corner. Sweetie Belle crept out into the hallway and moved as close as she could to listen; she was more than willing to pick a fight with the scrawny unicorn but the mottled one, if rumors were true, was good with a sword and was not one she wanted to get on the wrong side of.
“Lose the diplomacy. Let’s just get down to brass tacks, m’lad,” said the mottled pony in a heavy cockney accent, “We got us some problems.”
“This is a nuisance, yes, but one we can accommodate,” said the unicorn, “Tell me, is it wrong I am, more than anything else, rather impressed by their rather amazing promptness in identifying and tracking her down?”
“That’d be Featherweight, I wager. Idle little bugger he is, but good at what he does. Took those changelings right under his warped little wing in a fortnight.”
“Well, you know what they say about birds and feathers, my friend.”
Sweetie Belle fought the urge to run around the corner and strangle him right then and there. For someone with such an ‘intimate’ friendship with Twist, he made it sound like her death was no more inconvenient than a stubbed hoof. Either he had a God-tier poker face or had looked her right in the eye and lied his curple off.
“Hurry up, I’ve gotta be off right and quick,” said the mottled pony, “Dor got off somewhere looking for Pumpkin and Pound, he did. I gotta find him.”
“Hm. ‘Dor’, you say… is he…”
“Yes. And he’s got a lot of his mum and dad in him. I’m worried he’ll do something drastic.”
“Drastic?” said the unicorn with a chuckle.
“Well, stupid, to call a spade a spade. So what’s the word? Heard anything about where he might be?”
“You-know-who claims they arrested a couple of ponies after curfew in Canterlot the other day. Twins, if his description was accurate.”
“Oh blimey.”
The unicorn laughed. “Relax. He wouldn’t be that stupid, as to just march right into Canterlot to try and save them, right?”
“You met this lad?” said the mottled pony. “He’s got something to prove, he does. Been that way since he lost his folks.”
The unicorn gave a frustrated sigh. “It irritates me greatly when ponies let emotion rule over judgment. I’ll call in a favor, see if our friend can do something to keep an eye out for him. Until then, Pip, don’t do anything stupid.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, mate.”
Sweetie Belle cursed under her breath as their conversation concluded, and silently began to creep backwards to the door she had entered the hall from. She made it a few steps and bumped into Camélia who abruptly came through the door. “Miss Belle, I—”
“What have we here?” said the unicorn as he and his mottled friend turned the corner to face Sweetie Belle. He wore a friendly smile but the ominous tone of his voice and the way his companion eased a hoof to the hilt of the sword he wore made their threat clear. Camélia pushed in front of her and faced the duo, and the unicorn’s smile widened. “Eavesdropping,” said the unicorn pleasantly, “is rather rude.”
“I would suggest you watch your tone and your actions,” said Camélia coldly as he cracked his neck and loosened his tie, “I would like to avoid causing a ruckus at a wake.”
“Pip, he is right,” scolded the yellow unicorn. “Not here. It would accomplish nothing.”
“I don’t care what you or your friend here are involved in, or who you are,” said Sweetie Belle, “Just tell me about Twist. The truth, this time.”
The unicorn bit his lip. “All you need to know,” he said with a note of pity in his voice, “was that Twist truly was a victim and did not deserve what was done to her. Any more than that would only cause you pain. You are not like ponies like Twist, or us. Or Apple Bloom and Scootaloo.”
Sweetie Belle gasped. “What do they have to do with all of this?!”
“Who do you think sent them your way? Like I told you; I deal in information. And I know for a fact you are not like us. You’ve moved on, for better or for worst. You’ve made sacrifices and managed to find a way to actually… live. Ponies like us cannot. I like to say I died that night, you know? And while it’s not true in the literal sense, as I still breathe, and eat, and exist, it is true in the sense that I no longer live.” He took his colored glasses off to stare directly into his eyes. “Go back to your life,” he said softly, “Like me, and Pip, and Twist wish we could have as well.”
“You looked me in the eyes and lied to my face about Twist not five minutes ago,” said Sweetie Belle, “How do I know you’re telling me the truth now?”
The yellow unicorn smiled sadly. “Lying goes side-by-side with my line of work. I really have no way of proving my statements, so belief or disbelief lies with you.” Without breaking eye contact his horn began to glow and both he and his friend were engulfed in a bright burst of colored smoke.
Sweetie Belle shielded her eyes from the bright glow and, when she opened them, found nothing more than an empty hallway that was haunted by the unicorn’s words. Twist had been there for her whenever she needed it, and yet Sweetie Belle had been such a poor friend that she hadn’t even realized the stern red head had been involved in something like this. “I…” she said weakly, “I am a terrible pony, aren’t I?”
“Ms. Belle,” said Camélia softly, “I have only known you for a few years, and my relationship with you has strictly been one of servitude. I am also well aware that my appearance and my ways have been nothing but a source of discomfort for you.” He walked close and rested a hoof on her head, cradling it gently against his chest. “Despite all of this you have always made a most earnest effort to treat me with the utmost dignity and respect. Such a thing… a ‘terrible pony’ would not do.”
Sweetie Belle felt as if she were melting, and buried her face into the surprisingly soft and fluffy fur of his chest to hide that she was crying. She threw her hooves around him and he gently patted her back, and she felt a comfort she hadn’t known in a long time. “What do I do?” she said, her voice muffled into softness by his chest.
“I am sorry, Ms. Belle,” said Camélia, “but I can’t answer your question. You have to do whatever it is you feel is right, and know that whatever you choose, Ms. Daydream, as well as myself, will be behind you no matter what.”
At first there was nothing. Everything was a void, black and formless; there was nothing to smell or see or hear. There was no thought, no awareness, no dreams, and no nightmares. Then came a sound; an impossibly familiar sound followed by a dull numb feeling, weak at first, but coming in dull throbs like a heartbeat along with what sounded like a voice.
“I ….. …. until …. get ….! …… see ……. … how ….. all …. …. you ….”
With the sound of the voice she started to become aware of the pain. Her whole body felt broken and weak, held down by hot shackles of pain that kept her from moving. She strained to listen; something about the voice reminded her of something from a long time ago. A chipper tone of voice with an almost musical touch to it that belonged to a pony she knew in her foalhood.
“Shut up, Pound.”
She was conscious enough to recognize the curt new voice as female, and again it was a tone that reminded her of someone from her past. It was like the voice of Sunflower, the zebra she had been friends with in her youth: brash and unfriendly.
“Yes, please, Pound. Shut up. Why can’t you be like Blank Flank over there and be dead?”
“She’s not dead!” said the chipper tone pony, “She—hey, she moved!”
Apple Bloom fought the hot shackles, fought the pain, and fought every agonized muscle and joint in her body that just wanted to lie down and never move again. She fought and forced her eyes open to be hit by dim yet blinding morning light from a window. Everything was blurry and what little she could see appeared to be a gray ceiling in double-vision spinning lazily.
“She didn’t move, Pound,” said the cynical Sunflower voice, “She took on Rumble; nopony moves after that.”
Lacking the strength to stand she let her head flop to the side and she squinted, trying to find the source of the voices. Her vision was slowly coming together; through the haze she could make out a fuzzy blob in the shape of a pony with a very familiar cotton candy shaped mane. “…Pinkie Pie…?” she slurred, trying to rub the haze from her eyes.
“You know our mom?!” said the chipper tone pony as Apple Bloom’s vision returned to her, revealing the blob to be a young cream-colored stallion with a brown mane that was, at least if memory served her correctly, was identical to that of the pink pony she knew in her youth. He was quickly joined by a pale yellow mare that looped her hooves through the bars to stare as well, a sight which made Apple Bloom realize she was in a jail cell of some kind.
“Pinkie has… kids…?” said Apple Bloom weakly as she rubbed at her head and tried to think through the pain that travelled up and down her body in hot, uneven licks. “Where am Ah…?”
“Prison,” said the yellow mare, revealing her to be the owner of the Sunflower voice. She spoke very matter-of-factly, “I thought you were dead for sure. And Pinkie Pie was only our step-mom.”
“No! She is our mom!” said the stallion as he angrily pounded the bars to emphasize some of his words. “She raised us; she’s our mom!”
“What about our actual parents, Pound?!” snapped the mare, “You always just forget about them and I hate that!”
“We didn’t even know our ‘real; parents, Pumpkin! And you always talk like Mom’s gone and I hate that!”
“She IS gone, Pound! And I hate how gushy you are all the time!”
“And I hate your stupid face!”
“Gelding!”
“Hinny!”
“Oh kiss and make up already!!!” hollered a familiar voice that, even in her weakened state, put Apple Bloom on guard. “I am sick to death of listening to you two idiots argue!”
“Spoon…” hissed Apple Bloom spitefully as she tried to stand but crumpled back to the floor under her own weight. She settled for just turning her head, “‘Bout time someone tossed you in a… cage…?” Apple Bloom trailed off and went quiet at the sight of Spoon’s body. Back in her Coruja days Spoon wore a full body suit and in their last encounter was dressed head to hoof in a hood and full outfit. She hadn’t seen the mare without clothing and now wished she never had; Silver Spoon’s entire body was covered in scars of every shape and size. Stab wounds, slashes, magical burns, what were very clearly a griffon’s talons that had raked her side; it was as if someone had gotten most of the way through carving her into a jack o’ lantern and she escaped. The worst of it by far was her flank: what should have been a cutie mark was nothing but a marbled mess of scarred bald flesh.
“Careful now,” taunted Silver Spoon. “Bet they shot you full of oilroot extract. It’ll keep you alive through pretty much anything but it makes you sick as a dog. I bet it’s the only thing that kept you alive. Gotta hand it to you: fighting Rumble? Brave. Stupid, but real brave.”
Apple Bloom fought the urge to gag, half from the sight of her old enemy’s abused body and half from the uncomfortable notion that she actually found herself pitying the state Silver Spoon was in. “What did you do to yourself, Spoon?” she asked darkly.
“Nothing you wouldn’t have done in my place, Blank Flank,” she said as she patted her missing cutie mark to show she was well aware of the irony, and traced her hoof to the claw mark on her side, “Well, maybe not this one; I just really hate griffons. And this one…” she said with a smug smile as she held up her hoof, showing the scar Apple Bloom left her with in Baía de Corvos, “I really should thank you for, actually. Got me yanked off the lines before the stripes pulled the howitzers out of their bags.” Silver Spoon laid back and let out a sarcastic, nostalgic sigh, “Ah, the good old days… Right, Red-Eye? Maybe you should bring some popcorn for the show?”
Apple Bloom faced the trigger of Silver Spoon’s sudden outburst. It was a pegasus; a raspberry colored mare wearing one of those gray flight suits and, oddly enough, a bow and quiver of arrows slung on her back. “Enjoying the show as it is, thanks,” she said with heavy sarcasm as she removed her red goggles and walked up to lean through the bars to stare right into Apple Bloom. “So… You’re Daddy’s little sister.”
The pegasi’s claim hit her with the force of a brick wall collapsing. Apple Bloom could only stare stupidly while the pegasus smiled insincerely and let the revelation sink in. A rush of strength moved her body and she pulled herself to the bars and managed to raise herself almost to eye level. The pony had her brother’s eyes: big green emeralds partially hidden beneath eyelids that hung lazily on a face dotted with freckles across the bridge of her muzzle. “Why…?” said Apple Bloom weakly.
The pegasus reached through the bars and touched her scarred cheek. “Had a once-off with my old lady,” she said passively.
“Why are you on their side, then?” Apple Bloom said sadly, “They—”
“Killed him,” she finished. “Yep. Him and Auntie Applejack and… whatever the old one’s name was probably just had a heart attack, whatever. But heck, I’d have done it if I had the chance and you as well had Rumble not cut me to the quick.” Her voice was low and steady like Big McIntosh’s, but was dripping with cruelty. “I’ll have to settle for looking into your eyes while you’re still breathing just so you can feel how much I hate you, him and that entire family.”
Anger gave Apple Bloom a burst of speed and strength and she lunged at her niece who reacted quickly enough to jump back out of reach cackling all the way. “Watch how you talk about my family!” spat Apple Bloom. “Whatever fight you had with Big Mac ain’t worth all that, and has nothing to do with me or anyone else!”
“It has everything to do with you,” said the mare in a voice so low and ominous it sounded more like a growl. “You don’t get it, you never will. But it doesn’t matter. Y’see, the Major’s gonna come and put you in your place once and for all. She’ll teach you like I taught the red head: you don’t mess with the R.E.A.F. You are dead, understand?”
“That remains to be seen.”
The lazy Big McIntosh expression vanished from the pegasus’ face. She stepped to the side and kneeled, making room for an entourage of armored guards led by an elegantly dressed pegasus and the same big guard who Apple Bloom had tried to fight. The unicorn, obviously either a royal or a very important person, was studying what Apple Bloom immediately recognized to be the old family photo she kept in her hat and didn’t look up from it as she spoke. “Lieutenant, you have no business to be here. You may leave.”
“By your command, your highness,” said the pegasus in a sycophantic tone as she gave a smug smile and a wink in Apple Bloom’s direction before hurrying down the hall and out of sight.
“This is a good photo,” said the royal pony as she still looked over the image with a faint smile, “It’s your entire family, yes? I always knew your family was large, but who would have known? Oh, is that a little filly Babs Seed? She certainly grew, didn’t she? And your sister… I always liked your sister. She was one of the few ponies in that town who treated my mother with respect.” She lowered the photo and looked through the bars, staring into Apple Bloom with genuine sympathy in her one eye. “I know it’s not any consolation, but I am truly sorry for what happened to your family that night. They were good ponies.” She chuckled nostalgically, “Do you remember the Sisterhooves Social that one year? The one where the two of us and our sisters were tied for the lead? We ended up in the mud-pit and spent so much time wrestling each other to be the first out that little Noi and her sister just jogged right past and took first place? Those… were very good times, weren’t they?”
The photo drifted gently into the cell and into Apple Bloom’s hooves, and she quickly tucked it under the gauze bandage around her leg for safekeeping. She did remember that particular event; she remembered the black eye Applejack ended up with after a stray hoof in the mud pit connected with her face and the pony’s mother, who’s name she couldn’t remember, just kept apologizing over and over and got so worked up over it that Applejack ended up buying her a drink to calm her down. She remembered the filly, though, clear as day since they were somewhat friends in school. “Dinky Doo…” she said in disbelief.
“I still think I died in that tunnel,” chimed Silver Spoon.
“Despite the unpleasant circumstances of our reunion, it is nice to see you again,” said Dinky with a gentle nod and a smile. “Captain, would you please excuse us?” She waited patiently as her entourage left and then took out what was left of Apple Bloom’s repeater, a bent dinted barrel and a splintered handle, and laid it on the ground just outside the cell. “All nostalgia aside, old friend, this is not a social call but a proposal. I have a good deal for you.”
Apple Bloom stared at the remnants of her pistol and felt her lip curl with anger, “What kinda deal?”
“These, um, ‘guns’ as I believe they are called? How long does it take a pony to become at least… ‘able’ with them?”
“Hard to say,” said Apple Bloom, “Ah’ve used it since Ah was a filly.”
“You talent with it certainly shows. It made barbecue of poor Lieutenant Twitch from over a hundred paces from what I hear, and it dented Captain Rumble’s armor. I am not sure if you are aware, but those suits of armor are very durable. Personally I preferred the old gold mail, but it was aluminum foil compared to the black. That black mail is the fruit of extensive research and development: fire resistant, magic resistant, and designed to absorb and displace even the harshest of blows harmlessly across the entire body. Your little trinket here… dinted it.”
“What are you getting at, exactly?”
“I want to know… how interested would you be in instructing our guards on the finer points of using these guns? I want an entire unit of able gunflingers within two months, and if you’re interested the job is yours. Full pardon and release. And… is that the term? ‘Gunflinger?’”
“Gunslinger.”
“Ah, gunslinger. I like the sound of that. So…?”
“Forget it.”
“Apple Bloom, listen.” Dinky swept her hair out of her face giving a clear look at the large eye patch that covered a portion of her face. “Believe me when I say I understand exactly how you feel. I lost my mother and sister that night. There’s more to this than simply wanting you to do a job for us. It would be quite easy to send an emissary overseas to pick up an able gunslinger or two or ten,” she said as she kicked the pieces of the pistol to the side, “We used to be friends, Apple Bloom, and you know what? I like to think we still are. I like to think you are not a bad pony, just in the wrong place at the wrong time. We’re not the bad guys here, even if we do bad things. You are a soldier; you understand concepts like necessary evil and acceptable loss, yes? When it comes right down to it, there are two paths for you to take here. You could be like them,” she said with a note of disgust in her voice as she pointed at Pound and Pumpkin, the former waving with a wink as Dinky spoke, “Living in and obsessed with the past. Always thinking about the way things were, or the way things could have or should have been. So focused on the past that they have no future. Or… you could make the wise choice. You can accept the events that have occurred and walk forward. You could do what I and your cousin Babs Seed have done—”
“Babs?!” sputtered Apple Bloom.
“Oh, yes,” said Dinky with a happy smile. “She’s been with us for a long time now. Nice pony, very clever, one I am happy to call a friend. She… doesn’t get out enough though, I think. Now, I know these years have been hard on you Apple Bloom. So come with me, think about the future, reunite with your family, and do the right thing. What do you say?”
Apple Bloom stared up longingly at the hoof being offered to her; Dinky was reaching through the bars silently offering to help Apple Bloom up with an inviting smile. She thought about it, about everything she had done and seen and been through, and found herself slowly reaching up. She rested her leg in the crook of Dinky’s and eased shakily to her hooves, struggling against her injuries to stand. “You’re right… Ah don’t have a future… Ah’m just lost in the past. And you’re right that us soldiers have done some bad stuff… But you know what…?”
“Yes?”
“Ain’t half as bad as you psychopaths!!!” Apple Bloom hurled herself backward, using her weight to drag Dinky head-first into the bars with a loud resounding clang. The one eyed mare crumpled backward into a heap as a chorus of disbelieving gasps came from the other cells, followed by boisterous laughter from Silver Spoon. “And Ah’m glad your Ma isn’t here to see what you’ve grown into. It’d absolutely break that heart of gold of hers. And Ah’m not your friend.”
A low feral growl came from the royal heap on the floor as she slowly stood, clenching a hoof over her forehead. She glared up with nothing but sheer murderous intent in her eye, but quickly calmed herself and spoke in an eerily calm voice. “It seems I always take blows for being such a generous and loving princess. I do not like to rule over my subjects with fear; I find treating them with much more dignity and respect than they rightfully deserve keeps them in line much better than terrorizing them. Usually it works… and then you get ponies like you two, and that punk with the sword who did this…” she growled as she patted her eye patch, “Curse this ever-magnanimous heart of mine. Very well, we try fear; see how you like this.” An ominous glow surrounded Apple Bloom’s entire body and she was wrenched into the air, left to dangle helplessly for a moment, and finally hurled into the bars with enough force to knock the wind out of her. Dinky watched with a satisfied smirk as Apple Bloom gasped and wretched for breath, “Well,” she said, “How did that feel?”
Apple Bloom spat and coughed with her back slumped against the bars. “Better try it again…” she said weakly, “Ah can still feel my legs…”
More roaring laughter came from Silver Spoon’s cell, accompanied this time by laughter from Pound. “It’s not a good idea to annoy a pony that can think your windpipe shut,” said Dinky, trembling with anger and struggling to be heard over the mocking laughter. “And YOU be quiet!”
“Why not come in for five minutes?” said Spoon as she stifled her laughs and stretched out on the cell floor like a pony in a center fold. “You aren’t the first princess I’ve clobbered… Oh, wait. Yes. You ARE. Should’ve heard her squeal, Blank Flank! You would have loved it the most! It was like a pig, being slaughtered for supper. Oh yeah, you’ve never heard that sound have you, y’know, Easterner and all. It’s this real high pitched—”
“ENOUGH!!!” hollered the princess with a loud stomp of her hoof, “Captain!” The big pony from before reentered the room, taking his place beside her and showing only minimal interest in the visible lump on the princess’ forehead. “Execute them tomorrow morning,” she said darkly.
“Which ones?”
“All four. They chose to dwell in the past, so let them lose their future.”
With her order given she turned and stormed down the hall, with her captain watching closely. As soon as she was out of sight he approached Apple Bloom’s cell and reached into his armor. “From your cousin,” he said as her cigarettes and a pack of matches landed in her lap. He gave her a strange look that did little to reveal what was going through his head and without much hesitation he left the same way as Dinky.
All there was now in the room were four doomed prisoners and everything became quiet as knowledge of their impending fate settled in. The two twins slunk to the center of their cell and sat facing one another, talking gently in voices too low to be heard, and Silver Spoon slowly walked over and rested her back against Apple Bloom’s through the bars. Apple Bloom tensed as the warm back pressed against hers but lacked the motivation to move. Instead she simply lit a cigarette and took a good drag on it.
“About your cousin,” said Silver Spoon in a soft voice, “She wasn’t there that night, you know? She has no reason to not believe the propaganda and official stories.”
“Ah realize that,” said Apple Bloom, “and are you honestly trying to give me sympathies?”
“No,” said Silver Spoon with a smirk, “Just buttering you up for a smoke. C’mon, give me one will you?”
Apple Bloom held a cigarette and match through the bars which Silver Spoon greedily snapped up and lit, savoring a puff and letting it out with a satisfied sigh and a cough. No matter how much she hated a pony, Apple Bloom couldn’t begrudge one cigarette to someone before their date with the gallows.
Sandback’s wings shot erect with surprise and he almost choked on the mouthful of breakfast bagel he had been dopily chewing on in a half-asleep stupor. It was that special time in the morning when it was too easy to lose yourself in a mindless stare and Sandback was the kind of pony to leap out of bed, splash water on his face, and glide sloppily to headquarters with his breakfast in his mouth raining crumbs down onto the street below. “Good, sir,” he said amid loud chomps as he tried to get the mouthful down, “It missed his bones and pierced his deltoideus. He should be up and about in a few days, but I would recommend keeping him on the ground until it heals completely.”
Crimson Sky nodded, pretending he knew what Sandback was talking about when in reality he knew little to nothing about anatomy or medicine beyond basic first aid. Sandback was the expert; although fairly young he had training as a nurse prior to enlisting, making him an already knowledgeable field medic despite having little experience, and as Pinstripe’s friend he had spent most of his time taking care of the rookie since the injury. Sky had allowed him to skip work for it, knowing that moral support from a buddy was what the kid needed most. “He gets as much time as he needs,” said Sky as he filled a pot of water and dumped it into the coffee maker, “He… will recover fully? This won’t leave him crippled or anything like that?”
“No, sir,” said Sandback, “All things considered he was quite lucky.”
“Looks that way,” said Sky as the inky black source of power diligently filled the coffee pot. Although he wouldn’t consider running into a pony like Silver Spoon and taking an arrow to the shoulder on one’s first mission lucky in any shape or form, he was just relieved to see the kid’s career didn’t come to a screeching end right then and there. Especially with how the kid had stood his ground like he had; that took serious guts.
Not like the lieutenant at all, ditching her injured wingponies to chase Twitch’s killer for herself.
“Sir?” said Sandback, “Is something wrong, sir?”
Crimson Sky realized he was frowning and glaring at the wall as he thought about it and shook his head. “Just tired. Been up all night and haven’t had my coffee yet.” He swatted the machine to jiggle free the last lingering drop of coffee and poured the contents into two matching travel mugs which each bore the R.E.A.F. logo. He waggled the empty pot at Sandback, offering to start a new one, but the young medic shook his head and tapped what was left of his bagel. “Where did you get that thing anyways?” said Sky hungrily, “Don’t tell me they’ve started making good food at the mess.”
“Are you serious, sir?” said Sandback, “I’m still thoroughly convinced the mess food is ponies. I think I found a tooth in the scrambled eggs last week.”
The old captain laughed low in his throat as he took the two cups, nodded to Sandback, and made his way through the still empty headquarters to the commander’s lounge. It was still early, well before curfew, and most of the unit was still at home sleeping or was Sandback and had shown up early for whatever possible reason he could have. Of course when they heard the news, that Twitch’s killer had been captured, Lightning Dust had squatted in the commander’s lounge to wait patiently. She had first dibs on the killer once Her Highness was through with questioning the prisoner and was content to sit without sleep or food waiting for the chance. Merrilay had been even less patient; after leaving her comrades behind and following Stormfront she had hung around the holding cells just to mock the killer once she came to.
And what kind of wingpony would I be if I went home to snuggle with my darling while those two were here stewing?
He sat one of the coffees on their brand new table and took his place on the leather sofa. Lightning Dust was hovering in the corner staring at the dull filtered morning light that managed to bleed through the frosted window with her forelegs crossed and raw, fierce determination engrave into her face. She was fully dressed in her best flight suit, her load-webbing with a full load-out of GP bombs plus two, and of course the dog tags. Her intention was clear: no doubt she intended to use Twitch’s killer for target practice. Without breaking her concentration she slowly drifted to the table and seized her drink, produced a stainless steel flask from her suit and emptied as much as she could into the cup, and downed a good half of the cup’s contents in one admirable gulp. She abruptly let out a pained hiss and a cough, wiping at the small bit that had dribbled down her lip.
“Careful, it’s hot.”
“No kidding,” she said with a single humorless laugh.
Crimson Sky tried to respond but a loud yawn escaped his mouth instead. He bit his hoof lightly and nodded to her, and then took a gulp of his own coffee. Like he so often had said to Twitch every time his motives for wanting to leave the R.E.A.F. and join the guard were questioned, he really was getting too old for this. Gone were the good old days of youth where a good day or two without proper sleep was nothing. With that in mind he was actually rather impressed by Lightning Dust’s determination; though he had a solid fifteen years on her at least, she was by no means a young pony and yet showed no sign whatsoever of being tired. There weren’t even bags under her eyes.
“Sky,” she said in a surprisingly understanding tone, “You understand you don’t have to be here, don’t you? Twitch was your friend too, but the killer is mine. You don’t get a slice of this one, so you might as well—”
“I’m staying,” said Crimson Sky flatly.
“It’s your call,” she said with just a hint of annoyance in her voice, “for now, at least. Once Merrilay gets back I’m gone to give the killer what-for, and you’re going home to get some sleep. That’s an order, not a request. As soon as Merrilay returns you’re home until tomorrow.”
“Fine, Major,” he said sarcastically.
“Good, Captain,” she said back with a smirk.
He opened his mouth to speak and hesitated. He had planned to keep his concerns to himself, at least for now, but he had also expected Dust to be in a bad mood. She only called him by rank in public or when they had one of their little exchanges like that, which was something she only did in a good mood. It seemed she had been savoring her revenge all night and was excited about it like a foal on her birthday. “Lightning Dust,” he said in the professional tone of a businesspony, “About our new lieutenant, we made a mistake I think.”
“Well, technically I made the mistake, Sky,” said Lightning Dust passively.
“I mean it, Dust,” said Crimson Sky, shrugging off her obvious uncaring sarcasm. “Leaving injured comrades behind in front of a threat? That crow doesn’t caw with me.”
The Major took another swig of her drink and made another pained hiss. “Oh, come on, Sky. Her comrades took one blow each; if they needed backup after that then they’re a couple of pansies. I don’t recruit pansies, Sky. Merrilay was eager to complete the mission, and I like that.”
“I don’t know, Dust,” he said as he took a drink of his own coffee, “I’m just not sure she’s right for this. We don’t even know anything about her other than the sparse info in her file.”
Lightning Dust took a slow sip of her coffee, eyeing him up and down as she did. “What are you getting at, Sky?” she said sounding somewhat intrigued as she looked over the rim of her cup at him.
“I don’t really know. Just too tired, I guess. Something about her just rubs me the wrong way,” he paused for another sip, “And I trust my gut.”
“Yeah, but what do you expect? The kid has a messed up past. Most of us do, Sky,” said Lightning Dust in a troublingly proud tone, “Why else would we do this job? The unit was built on the backwash and throwaways of Equestria, and it attracts more of the same. Look, I get that you’re ticked she left her comrades behind, but she’s new at this and had revenge on the mind so I can let it slide. It’s not healthy to bottle up those feelings, Sky. Remember when I went after the old man?” She landed and reared onto her hind legs, using her wings as counterweights to hold the stance, and threw a few quick jabs, a parry, and finished with a jump kick that made her bombs rock and clack against one another ominously. “How satisfying that was? All those years he was on me and then BAM! POW! Gave him back so much he’ll never fly again! Ha ha, gets me all fired up just thinking about it!”
Crimson Sky had more to say but bit his tongue; he knew this was an argument he wouldn’t win. Although he normally felt revenge was a waste of time at best, he nodded in agreement to his partner’s reminiscing. He found foal abusers particularly disgusting and if her father was even half as bad as she claimed, the rather savage beating she gave him was well deserved. She continued to shadow-box, loudly vocalizing her attacks, while he finished his coffee and sat back in a stupor fighting to stay awake.
The door flew open and their new lieutenant stormed in, still carrying that bow and quiver she had taken from the target in Loamstone Valley, and marched diligently across the room to slump against the wall and brood. Lightning Dust lit up with a cruel sneer. “All done, I trust? Did you have your little moment with her? Alright. Sky, go home,” she said happily, “I’ve got a play date I don’t want to be late for. Merrilay, you want to watch? It’ll be real educational.”
Merrilay fidgeted with her bow as she fitted it to her hoof; apparently she had already gotten her hooves on a set of shoes designed to carry and nock her weapon. “Don’t bother,” she said angrily, “you can’t have her.”
“What?” said Lightning Dust in a calm tone that radiated pure buried rage.
The lieutenant attempted to nock an arrow but clumsily dropped it from the little hook on her shoe. “The Dink.”
“What of her?”
“First she tried to offer her a job,” said Merrilay in the spiteful tone of a spoiled child, “Then she ordered her execution tomorrow morning.”
“Are… you… KIDDING… ME?!” roared Lightning Dust between enraged breaths. “That spell tossing little—!!! After all I’ve done… after everything I’ve given them…” she growled, only pausing to suck air through her clenched teeth, “She goes ahead and takes away the gun-waving little jack-off that killed my friend?!” She landed in the center of the room and thrust her hooves under the new table. “ALL I ASKED FOR WAS TO TAKE THE LIFE OF THAT ONE PONY AND BLOW IT TO THE MOON!!!” she hollered at the top of her lungs as she braced herself—
“Dust!” yelled Crimson Sky as he leaped from his couch and pinned her forelegs with his. “Two tables in a week?”
She fought and writhed against him but his strength and the weight of the table won out. She clenched his foreleg with her hooves and glared up at him. “I… hate… that little brat. And I thought Celestia was a crappy princess. Just think: one day that little cyclops will step up and take the throne.”
Crimson Sky nodded in agreement, if only to calm his partner down, and shot a glare at Merrilay. The lieutenant didn’t really seem to care even in the slightest about any of this despite her prior brooding; she was still preoccupied with trying to get a feel for that blasted bow she had picked up.
“I need to calm down,” growled Lightning Dust, “I need to let off some steam.” She unbuckled her load-webbing and carelessly threw it at the little wooden rack designed to hold it, knocking it over and sending a chilling crash through the room as the bombs it held all bounced and rolled onto the tile floor. “The Dizzitron,” she said as she marched to the door, “Throwing the rookies on the Dizzitron at its highest setting’ll do them some good and cheer me up— Featherweight!”
The sudden change in her tone caught Crimson Sky off guard and even managed to catch Merrilay’s attention. Featherweight had been standing outside the door; no doubt the little coward could hear the cacophony of Dust’s tantrum even through the soundproofing and had either been waiting for her to calm down or had been trying to muster up the courage to enter.
“Featherweight, you slimy little weasel,” said Lightning Dust in an appreciative tone, like she was complimenting him, as she easily scooped up his spindly little frame and carried him to a seat at the briefing table. With a jump and a flap of her wings she cleared it and took her own seat across from him. “You always bring good news. Featherweight, I need good news here.”
“Yes, I, well maybe. Perhaps,” he said sounding somewhat confused as she gave a nod of acknowledgement to Crimson Sky. “Perhaps I will let you be the judge of that, Dust. You see, one of my sets of ears heard something, um, peculiar. Unusual. Strange place, strange conversation. Two ponies near the ruins of Ponyville and a conversation that may interest you. Among other things they spoke of elements and your old friend Rainbow Dash.”
Lightning Dust’s eyes lit up and her ears laid flat like a cat ready to attack. “You don’t say…” she said hungrily, “Tell me more. Where are they headed?”
“They are travelling by hoof. Their most likely bearing is Winsome Falls.”
“And I bet I could get there just in time to meet them if I really wing it. I just—”
THWACK!
“Merrilay!” spat Lightning Dust at her wingpony who had finally succeeded in nocking an arrow, only to fumble and launch it into the wall across the room, “Must you do that in here?!”
“Eh-heh, in any case…” said Featherweight as he uncomfortably locked eyes with Merrilay who only shrugged and began practicing with her arrows once more. He produced a small envelope from his jacket. “Here is a transcript of their conversation—”
“Yeah, not interested,” said Lightning Dust as she slapped the envelope to the table. “Tell me about these two ponies. Tell me everything.”
“Unfortunately…” said Featherweight uneasily, “they could not get close enough for a proper description. Not enough cover. One, as it seems, wore a cloak that covered head to hoof, and that is all they could get.”
Lightning Dust simply scoffed at the thought. “Well, whatever. I’ll find out when I get there. Now, Featherweight. Old buddy old pal. You… didn’t tell anypony else about this? Not that tub of lard inspector…?” she said as she gave a brief poisonous glare at Crimson Sky, “Not the guards? The Princess? Nopony? I’m going to be real ticked off if I get there and find Rumble and his unit there.”
“Would I do a thing like that?” said Featherweight with his signature creepy grin that showed off his jagged teeth and faded quickly when he got no response. “No. The answer would be no. Just for you. I can’t very well pass the information along if it were… lost along the way, can I?” With a flick the envelope slid from the table and landed a few feet away from Crimson Sky who snatched it up and carefully read the contents.
“Featherweight, you’ve done it again,” said Lightning Dust as she soared over the table and landed behind him, planting her hooves on his shoulders, “Don’t ever change, and I mean that. Now, why not stick around for a bit? Merrilay over there is going to go put the rookies through the Dizzitron. Want to give it a try too? It’s a real rush. Just the rabbit setting; it’ll grow the fur on your chest.”
Featherweight only chuckled and smirked at Merrilay who looked up with a frown from being passive-aggressively volunteered for the job. “No, that is fine. Thank you, but no. Things to do, places to be. Paperwork, there is always miles of paperwork. Busy busy busy.”
“Well, I’d best not keep you then,” said Lightning Dust politely as she flew him back to the door. “Thanks again, old pal. I don’t know what we’d do without you.” As the door closed behind him her smile became sinister; she had that little pegasus wrapped around her little hoof and she was well aware. “This is just what I need, Sky!” she said happily as she unwound the dog-tags from her load-webbing and draped them around her neck beside her own.
Crimson Sky finished reading the transcript and looked his partner dead in the eyes. “Dust, this sounds like serious stuff.”
“I know,” said Lightning Dust as her demeanor became serious for a moment. “Even dead, Rainbow Dash finds ways to irritate me from time to time. It’s time I closed that little chapter forever. Don’t you worry about what they were talking about, Sky, I’ll settle it. I won’t mess it up twice.”
“You should take a full squadron with you,” said Crimson Sky, “At least bring us along for support.”
“You said you trust your gut, Sky,” she said as she patted his shoulder, “I trust mine. This is something I need to do so I’m going alone. And I mean that; if anypony in a gray flight suit shows up there will be trouble. You are going home and getting some sleep. Tell the missus I said ‘hi’.” As usual she didn’t give him the chance to argue or debate; she hurried out the door and slammed it shut before he could get a word out.
Crimson Sky stood and stared at the door, lost in thought. He did trust his gut, and his gut was telling him this had bad news stamped all over it. He just didn’t know what he could do about it.
“What was that all about?” said Merrilay as she stood beside him, “Who is Rainbow Dash?”
“Ancient history.”
“C’mon, spill.”
The old stallion sighed, not wanting to think about that night but relented quickly. She was his fellow wingpony now, after all. “It was our first mission. Official mission, anyway. Our orders were to capture two ponies and bring them to her Majesty. Except we botched it, and Dust never got over it. Rainbow Dash was the one who wouldn’t surrender and went down fighting. The other one escaped. And the filly…”
“Filly? You said there were two.”
“There was a filly with them,” he said, feeling the all too familiar pinch as the memory bit into the back of his neck like a thousand needles. “She looked old enough to fly so I ignored her when she fell. I didn’t realize she couldn’t until… it was far too late. Couldn’t find hide or mane of her, and believe me when I say I looked. The river must’ve swallowed her up.”
“Aw, don’t feel bad,” said Merrilay softly as she patted his drooping shoulders, “Sounds like natural selection just doing its thing to me. I mean, what good is a pegasus that can’t fly anyways?”
Crimson Sky took a deep angry breath and pulled away from her ‘comforting’. “Round up the unit,” he said darkly. “Three hours of PT, three hours of ISBU training, then Dizzitron until supper. I have some things to do.”
He took a lesson from Lightning Dust and stormed out the door, slamming it behind him before his fellow wingpony could even respond.
“Gesundheit,” said Babs Seed with a humorless laugh as Bright Eyes sniffled and rubbed furiously at his muzzle. Last night had been educational, to say the least. She knew her cat was affectionate towards any living creature but she would never have expected Bright Eyes to be the same right back to the little fur-ball. When she left to get him blankets the cat was twining around his gnarled legs and purring while Bright Eyes stared in confusion, and minutes later when she returned the two were curled up together at the foot of his bed already fast asleep. She also would have never guessed that changelings could have allergies. Bright Eyes had been stuffed up all morning thanks to the cat and every time he sneezed he would flicker back to his true form for a split second. It brought a brief smile to her face every time although, in light of recent events, it wasn’t enough to cheer her up.
Apple Bloom…
She couldn’t stop thinking about her cousin, degraded to a criminal and thrown in prison. She had read the report over and over again, that her cousin had shot and killed Lieutenant Twitch, fled the scene, resisted arrest, and opened fire on Rumble. It seemed like an open and shut case, except she simply couldn’t accept it. She was well aware that as a family member and old friend she wasn’t being unbiased, but as an inspector she knew never to dismiss a case without all the answers. What if there was more to this that had been, for one reason or another, left from the report?
“GAH-SHNNX!!!”
“Gesundheit,” said Babs with another weak chuckle. “Go down to the canteen and get yourself a coffee. It’ll clear your sinuses.”
Bright Eyes sniffled loudly and stared at her in silence like he didn’t know what to make of the offer; even in his pony disguise he didn’t have any interest in speaking or doing normal pony things. Ideas like snack breaks or small talk appeared to be alien concepts to these creatures.
“Like I said the other day. You’re on my bit now. You can go get coffee or snacks if you want. Call it, uh, disguise practice: get to the canteen, grab a snack and coffee, and get back without blowin’ your cover.”
The fake pony face lit up and nodded eagerly; from the looks of things she had finally figured out one way to appeal to the little bug. He hopped from the couch with a loud sniffle and headed to the door, stopping briefly at the mirror to double-check his disguise.
“Grab me a coffee too, would ya please? Two sugars,” said Babs to Bright Eyes who nodded silently and let the door close behind him.
Good. Now I can hopefully be alone for a bit.
Since seeing her cousin sprawled lifelessly on a prison floor all Babs wanted was to be alone. Thankfully Bright Eyes seemingly was able to sense that last night and, rather than follow her like normal, had kept his distance which helped but wasn’t good enough. She wanted to be all by herself and alone with her thoughts. She had hoped that, since Starlight was off with his unit until noon training she could think up a snipe hunt of some sort to keep Bright Eyes out of her mane for some alone time, but no joy. The news that she had captured Silver Spoon had spread like wildfire through the ranks already. After the fourth guard came knocking to offer congratulations Bright Eyes had given up and just remained in his disguise, and she had given up on ever being left alone. Even a few R.E.A.F. fliers had stopped by her window on the sly to cheer her on.
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
“Have mercy…” she said under her breath as she faced the door. “Not now!”
“Is this a bad time?” said the regal voice of the Princess from outside, “I’m just checking on you. I can come back later.”
The inspector stifled herself as the Princess entered and held a hoof out, gesturing for her to keep quiet as the door closed behind her. “Babs,” she said with a note of amusement in her tone, “We’ve been over this. Feel free to give the propriety a rest behind closed doors.” She trotted across the office and flopped into an undignified slouch on the couch, still holding her hoof to keep the silence as she abruptly wrenched her neck to the side with a loud pop. “Finally…” she said with a self-satisfied sigh, “Slept the wrong way I think. Now then, truth be told, I would much prefer if we could talk on equal footing when in private. Just… for the love of all things good, please do not call me ‘The Dink.’”
“As you wish, Princess,” said Babs, hiding her brief flicker of a smirk behind a scratch of her nose.
“Now then, first things first, allow me to congratulate you on apprehending Silver Spoon. I’m not sure if you are aware of the significance of what you have done, but you accomplished something the combined efforts of the royal guard and the R.E.A.F. were unable to do,” said the Princess as she nodded slowly with approval, “I had faith in you and you did not disappoint. However… I simply must know: Did you have any luck locating the crown?”
“No,” said Babs Seed, “And Spoon’s the kind of pony that doesn’t ask questions. She stole it for somepony, but doesn’t know who or why.”
“Yes…” said the Princess, whose expression turned somber, “Which brings me to the other reason I’m here. About your cousin—”
“I wanna talk to her,” said Babs firmly, “Not an interrogation or questionin’ or anythin’ like that. Just talk.”
“I can’t, and won’t allow it,” said the Princess.
“Why not?!” snapped Babs, struggling to keep her emotions in check in front of royalty, “I have to! I… I just have to know why!”
“Babs…” scolded the Princess as she stood up to stand face-to-face.
“Please…” Babs pleaded.
The Princess laid a hoof on Babs’ shoulder and spoke gently. “Babs. Please try to understand. I am not allowing it because I…” she went quiet and hesitated to continue, but swallowed and continued uncomfortably, “I went and spoke to Apple Bloom just this morning. I had hoped she had been a victim of circumstance, perhaps that as a refugee from overseas she was caught in the wrong situation and reacted badly.” She paused again, waiting for Babs to look her in the eye. “It was a deliberate, intentional murder. She is one of them, Babs. She is with the Rainbolts.”
Babs felt as if the blood was draining out of her body and her strength gave out. An unseen force caught her before she collapsed to the floor and instead coaxed her onto the couch. For a moment she was dead; there was no sound, no feeling, no thought outside of the crushing reality she had been refusing to accept since she watched her two comrades drag the shadow of Apple Bloom into that cell.
“I won’t even try to comfort you with words, Babs,” said a compassionate voice, “but if there is anything I can do, please let me know.”
Babs kept her face buried in the cushion. All she wanted right now was to vanish from all existence until she felt better. Never in her life had she wanted to be alone so badly, a feat she knew was impossible with her little surprise house guest—
—and in a flash she remembered the sadness in the little bug’s eyes last night. “Princess, there is somethin’.” She sat up and collected herself as best as she could to face the Princess, who was sitting at the other end of the couch and waiting patiently for her request. “It’s about Featherweight’s changelin’s.”
“Babs,” said the Princess with an uncomfortable, humorless laugh, “I understand, of course, but I can’t get rid of them—”
“No, it’s not that. I… I think they’re bein’ mistreated. Badly.”
The Princess was caught completely off guard; for a moment her mouth hung open in pure confusion. “Why say that?” she said curiously.
“Just a hunch,” said Babs, not wanting to reveal the existence of Bright Eyes to even the Princess herself.
“You are absolutely full of surprises Babs, and believe me I trust your hunches. But listen to me and trust me on this one, Babs Seed. You don’t know those… things… like I do,” said the Princess in a suddenly malicious tone, “You’ve never been up close and personal with them.”
Hearing that made Babs consider how, without even hesitation, she had welcomed one of those ‘things’ into her home at night because it had nowhere else to go, and how the creature had spent the night cuddling her cat like he was a teddy bear. “It’s just… I…” she stammered, carefully trying to choose unsuspicious words as the Princess’s lone eye scrutinized her curiously, “All I’m gettin’ at, is we’ve gone far enough to integrate ‘em into our forces, can’t we at least make sure they’re not bein’ mistreated?”
“The only reason we ‘integrated’ them,” said the Princess darkly, “was Rumble refused to harm them when they surrendered and we weren’t about to leave them wandering around.” She stared coldly at the curious look Babs Seed answered her with and, after a moment’s consideration, her horn glowed softly and the office door’s latch snapped shut. “It was one of our first missions. Rumble and I accompanied Her Majesty to an old ruined city in the desert south of Canterlot, chasing a rumor that the changeling queen and what was left of her invasion force were holed up there.” The Princess’s face crumpled into a vicious, disgusted sneer as she paused to recount the events of that day. “We saw first-hoof how they lived. Ponies… wrapped up in slimy cocoons like livestock… barely even alive. It was… sickening to say the least; just one of many events that make me curse this memory that never forgets. And then they attacked; they were in a weakened state but outnumbered us grossly. Rumble and I held off the main force while Her Majesty faced their queen.” She removed her regalia as she spoke and lifted her under vest to show off the razor-thin scars spread out over her belly and back. “Hoof-to-hoof combat is Rumble’s specialty and he came out without a scratch. Admittedly without my magic I am a novice fighter at best and there were so many from all directions I was swarmed before I could cast a single spell—”
“Princess,” interrupted Babs Seed as she picked up on the discomfort that radiated silently from the violet mare, “I understand. You don’t have to finish.”
“Long story short, then, Her Majesty delivered the coup de grâce just in time and, with their leader down, the followers surrendered immediately. Both me and Her Majesty wanted to finish the job once and for all,” she said in a cruel tone, “but Rumble would not have it. He would not allow harm to come to enemy forces that surrendered. Not even changelings…”
Babs Seed struggled to swallow the uncomfortable feeling that welled up from hearing about such dark events. She had never given any real thought to how or why Featherweight’s group of changelings were on their side, but she never imagined they came from something so horrible as an extermination mission. “Rumble…” she said sadly, “He really fought to protect them after all that just because they surrendered?”
“He’s the consummate soldier,” said the Princess, “Not really cut out for or interested in anything else in life. I think it’s why he relinquished his title of prince, to be honest. But… for whatever reason, Her Majesty indulged him.”
“He never told me about any of this…”
“Of course not,” said the Princess as she patted Babs’ shoulder, “After some deliberation we all agreed it would be best for the hoi polloi to never learn of these events. Truthfully I really shouldn’t have told even you, but… I trust you.” The Princess stood up to dress herself once more and began to head for the door. “Now, if there is nothing else and you will excuse me I really must be on my way. Oh, and Babs?” she said right before she left, “I really think you need to get out more, especially after what has happened as of late. If you want some time off, you know who to ask.”
“That’s fine, Princess, but no thanks,” said Babs Seed sadly, “Being home won’t change out I feel, and there’s work to be done.”
“I figured you would say that, and I appreciate the dedication,” said the Princess. “Just don’t push yourself too hard. Please don’t make me force you to take time off.”
With that she left and closed the door behind her, isolating Babs in her office alone with her thoughts. She just sat, for what felt like hours, savoring what little time she would have by herself. Starlight was due to arrive shortly and Bright Eyes could be back any second now, meaning she didn’t have long to do so. She absentmindedly looked all around her office while rogue snatches of thought screamed at her from random directions, still managing to notice what a mess she had left it in despite the cacophony of unpleasant images that circled her head, when she noticed something on her desk.
She walked over and sat down, staring at the yellow piece of paper that had been folded into a makeshift envelope and placed dead-center on her desk, and wondered where it had come from as she opened it. “Tell nopony of this letter and more will come,” she said as she read the message out loud, “Elements of harmony. Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Fluttershy, Applejack, Twilight Sparkle.” Rainbow Dash’s name had been circled, Twilight Sparkle’s was crossed out, and Fluttershy’s marked with a question mark. Even though she saw no reason such a pony would give this message to her, she never the less felt a twinge of worry and paranoia creep through her body as she recalled the Princess’s warning that there may be a spy in the palace. How many ponies had come by her office today? Too many to count: guards, palace staff, even a few airponies, and any one of them could have put it there. Or perhaps none of them did; her office had been empty all of yesterday and last night, and only locked with a simple latch which any clever pony could jimmy open. Now that she thought of it, had she even remembered to lock her window last night after what happened—?
“Boss?”
Babs Seed flinched and nearly fell out of her desk. “Star!” she yelped, “You scared the life outta me!”
“Sorry, Boss. I thought you heard me come in,” said Starlight, “There’s, uh, somepony here to see you.”
Babs turned to the door to find the same R.E.A.F. captain from last time at her door, waiting patiently to be invited in with the same scowl that seemed to be permanently affixed to his aged face. “We need to talk,” he said as his eyes turned to Starlight, “Alone.”
Starlight started to leave but Babs stopped him. “We’re a team,” she said forcibly, “If it concerns me, it concerns him too.”
The Captain nodded in respect to that and nudged the door closed. “The truth is I need your expertise on something, Inspector,” he said as he gave her an envelope. “What do you make of this?”
Babs carefully read every single word of the militant report that detailed a meeting between two parties near the ruins of Ponyville. What immediately caught her attention was the name “Rainbow Dash” and the mention of the element of loyalty, when as sudden and shockingly as a bucket of ice water being dumped on her it hit her. Ponies on their way to get the element of loyalty and its owner, Rainbow Dash, circled on paper. Her Majesty’s name was crossed out; did that mean they already had her element of magic? She looked up from the paper at the Captain, making no attempt to hide the worry on her face, and judging by the complete lack of reaction from him he expected her to take it that way.
“Exactly,” he said sternly, “and I was never here.”
“Hold on!” she said as he turned and hurriedly began to leave, “Why bring this to me?”
“Just in case,” he said over his shoulder as he stopped at the door, “I have known Lightning Dust for a very long time. She is the best friend I have and I trust her with my life. However, she is a fool; a proud fool who sees this as nothing more than a means to satiate her bruised ego. You’re a former guard so you have ties with them; with you involved we’ll hopefully get all of us involved for once and deal with this properly.”
“Wait!” said Babs Seed as she jumped up to stop him from opening the door, “What you’re saying? I agree. Stick around. Anythin’ you say or do for us’ll be between you, me, and my deputies. Promise.”
“No,” he said flatly as he gently eased her hoof from the door, “I have no interest in joining your team. I simply have a responsibility to Her Majesty to keep this from swirling down the crapper like Broncton did. I don’t care what Lightning Dust’s opinion of the guard is, nor do I care what your opinion is of us. I have a duty to serve Her Majesty… and to protect the mares and stallions under my command. Now excuse me. I’m in a hurry.”
Babs closed the door behind him and ran to her chalkboard to begin scrawling notes. “Starlight! You’re the history buff; what do you know about the elements of harmony?”
“Well, Boss, other than her Majesty who held the element of magic, the other bearers were Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, Rarity, Applejack, and Fluttershy. They all lived in Ponyville and were all scattered by its destruction. The only confirmed death was Rainbow Dash, and even her element is now unaccounted for.”
“What about the element of magic?” interrupted Babs as she wrote, “What’d it look like?”
“Honestly I don’t know,” said Starlight, “The books are surprisingly vague on their appearance. All I know is they were necklaces of some kind, except for the element of magic which was… different.”
“Different how?”
“Just different.”
“Like a crown or tiara, do you think? Like the one that was stolen from our princess?”
“You think so? Why?”
“Because it all adds up!” said Babs Seed as she gestured to the names she had written on her chalkboard and linked with lines and circles, “Look: element of magic is stolen, and now ponies are after the element of loyalty. Now what of the Rainbolts? We know Pound Cake and Pumpkin Cake are among their ranks, and they were the adopted children of Pinkie Pie who had laughter. Fluttershy is their leader, she had kindness. And now my cousin…” she said with a gulp, “her sister was Applejack, who had honesty. Now my cousin’s involved as well.”
“So you mean—” said Starlight as his face melted into a look of dread, “Oh, crap. You think—”
“Yeah. I think the importance of that crown just took a violent kick up the list.”
The door swung open and both Babs Seed and her deputy flinched. Bright Eyes strode in nonchalantly, coffees in a little cardboard holder balanced precariously on his back, and with a massive jelly donut of some kind in his mouth which he seemed particularly proud of discovering.
“Bright Eyes I love you!” said Babs as she greedily snatched her drink and took a huge gulp.
“Uh… thanks,” said Starlight as one of the three coffees was offered to him; apparently Bright Eyes had the foresight to get one for him as well. With that done the changeling, still in his disguise, took his spot on the couch and began happily munching his snack. “So what now, Boss?” Starlight said softly, “Knowing the Rainbolts may have some elements doesn’t do us any good right now; we don’t even know where they hide out.”
“True,” said Babs amid sips of her drink. “However, there’s still the element of generosity.”
“Rarity’s” said Starlight. He went to drink and stopped himself, briefly studying the cup like he was somewhat uncomfortable trusting a beverage given to him by a changeling, but quickly gave in and took a sip. “She’s been unaccounted for since Ponyville, though.”
“Her sister ain’t,” said Babs Seed. “Sweetie Belle. If they’re looking for the elements they’ll probably go after her.”
“Sweetie Belle… Sweetie Belle…” said Starlight as he took a moment to think. “Wait, that weirdo miner who finances Environment Equestria? I doubt she’d cooperate with them.”
“Exactly, Star. They went far enough to pay Silver Spoon to steal right from the palace. I’m worried about what they might do to Sweetie Belle if she refuses.” Babs Seed went to her closet on impulse to get her jacket, not remembering that she had thrown the torn and stained thing out until she saw it’s empty hanger, and settled for a saddlebag to carry her badge in. “First things first, though. I’m gonna go talk to my cousin. This is bigger than family matters now; I need to know if she knows anythin’ and I’ve just gotta hope the Princess’ll understand if I get caught.”
“You will get caught, though. My unit does sentry there; visitors to the holding cells have to sign in, and the visitor lists are reviewed by higher. With rumors floating around about a spy, you’ll be in deep.”
“I know.”
“I’ll go,” said Starlight firmly.
“I can’t ask you to do that, Star.”
“You’re not,” said Starlight, “I’m just doing it. You made me, a sentry, your deputy for reasons I’ll never understand. But now it’s paying off; nopony will give a second glance if I march into those cells with my armor on and weapon over my shoulder.”
Babs Seed put a hoof to his cheek. “But if you’re caught…”
“That’s the best part,” said Starlight with a devilish smile, “I won’t get caught. I owe Bedbug a favor and she’s posted to the holding cells tonight and that’s like the worst tasking there is. I’ll be a nice guy and take her place to pay her back. Then I’ll just sort of strike up a conversation with the prisoners. Worst case, I get chewed out for being talkative.”
“Starlight, you are… are…” began Babs Seed appreciatively. She didn’t have to even finish; the look on his face, the proud smile and nod he gave her, made it clear he knew exactly what she wanted to say.
“That being said, her shift doesn’t start until late tonight and if you’re leaving now to see this Sweetie Belle there’s no reason for me to be here.” He winked knowingly like he had planned this right from the start. “I might as well go home and take a good long nap.”
Babs Seed smiled ear to ear as he laughed triumphantly and trotted happily out of her office. “When in doubt, rack out,” she said under her breath as she recalled the old saying she and her former Stormfront comrades used to say. She turned to her only remaining company in the room; Bright Eyes was on his back on the couch with the donut pinned between all four of his hooves, devouring the sugary treat with more pleasure than she had ever seen anypony get from a simple snack. She sat on the couch beside him and watched him finish his last bite and lick the little bits of frosting that had been left behind. Thinking about the Princess’s story she couldn’t help but wonder if Bright Eyes had been one of the changelings to swarm the Princess. She wondered if he really was such a vicious animalistic creature and patted his belly, making him flinch and stare at her with alarm. “Bright Eyes?” she said gently, “I trust you, okay?”
In typical Bright Eyes fashion he didn’t seem to really understand what she meant and merely cocked his head to the side in silence.
The pile of rags didn’t answer and the only movement that came from her was the gentle rise and fall of her chest as the scorpion mare sucked deep uncomfortable breaths, each one accompanied by a low hiss as the air was dragged through a set of clenched teeth. As they had climbed higher and higher, Scootaloo’s companion had begun to slow down; if the shape of her head covering was anything to go by it was quite clear the shambling thing beneath those rags was a unicorn which meant the thin air of the mountains would be harder on her than a pegasus, and that heavy mess of random clothing she kept draped over herself didn’t help either. The more Scootaloo paid attention to her movement it also became clear the thing had been dragging her hind leg with each step, a clear sign of an old injury that hadn’t healed properly. Finally they had stopped to rest and spent the last hour sitting and staring into each other in silence.
“Rainbow Dash brought me up here a few times,” said Scootaloo as she flexed her bad wing, “back when I still could have learned to fly. We’d just relax and practice breathing the thin air; it was good practice for flying she used to say.” She paused and waited for a response that never came, and laughed as she reminisced about the happier times, “Not that it did me a lot of good, but the idea was it would give us more energy when we went lower.”
“Interesting,” said the scorpion mare in a bored tone that made it very clear she couldn’t care less, although she at least did take the advice and start taking in quicker breaths. “Now be quiet. I have a headache.”
“Let’s go back down then and—”
“No!” snapped the thing in rags. “No. We have wasted too much time as it is. I…” she said as her voice faltered and became rich with exhaustion, “just need to catch my breath.”
Scootaloo studied the scorpion mare as closely as the disguise would allow; it was slowly beginning to show just how weak and crippled whoever was beneath actually was. Her broken stride, her labored breathing after becoming exhausted from the climb, her lurching movement and hunched posture, all were clear signs of a pony that had been pushed to the absolute brink of death and yet managed to pull herself back.
Like me… no, she’s worse. Much worse. How did this thing manage to sneak up on me?
“Are you sure you want to do this?” said Scootaloo. “I think I have a pretty good idea what you’re planning and—”
“I don’t need your pity or concern,” interrupted the scorpion mare amid her weakened breaths.
“I get you, okay?” said Scootaloo persistently, “Believe me, I know better than most just how messed up the world is now. It’s just… you know what you’re up against, right? The Wonderbolts tried to fight back and got slaughtered. The entire Crystal Empire tried; they put up a good fight, yeah, but they had an entire military led by the Cadance and Shining Armor.”
“You ‘get’ nothing,” said the scorpion mare as her head rose. Although Scootaloo couldn’t see so much as a hair of her face, she could feel the vengeful glare seeping through the disguise. “The Wonderbolts were weak; circus performing clowns that danced to the tune of an air force. And the Crystal Empire was…” she trailed off with a sorrowful exhausted sigh, “It does not matter now.”
“But—”
“Do yourself a favor, little one,” said the scorpion mare in a cold business-like hiss. “Stop caring about others and care only about yourself. You are a survivor like me so don’t pretend you don’t know how the world works. We are not allies; I am merely using you as you are using me. What I intend to do with the element and what may become of me is my problem, not yours.”
“But what do you get out of this?” said Scootaloo, “Revenge?”
“This is nothing as petty as simple revenge,” growled the scorpion mare, “A pony such as you would not understand.”
“Oh yeah?” said Scootaloo in a snotty tone. Although it really was none of her business she was curious and hoped to goad some manner of explanation out of her ‘companion’. “Try me.”
The scorpion mare sighed angrily and patted at her forehead as if to soak up sweat with her coverings. “If I indulge you will you leave me in peace?” she said in a tired tone. Scootaloo nodded and the scorpion mare stared up at the sky. “I was young. Young and overconfident and inexperienced in the ways of running a kingdom. I misjudged that purple mare; we all did. It cost me dearly,” she said as a low growl joined her voice, “my kingdom, my subjects, and my love, all ripped right from my hooves while I was left for dead in an uninhabitable wasteland.” She lowered her head, staring right into Scootaloo with her soulless shaded glasses and finished with a defeated sigh, “The carelessness of youth…”
Scootaloo stared in dumbfounded silence as this thing that hid itself beneath a pile of discarded rags spoke of a lost kingdom. Her imagination had created numerous possible appearances for whatever lurked beneath that cloak, but never in her life would Scootaloo have assumed it was royalty. “Who are you…?” she said stupidly.
“‘Who are you’ says the pony to the one in the disguise,” said the royal scorpion mare, her voice once again feminine and seductive, “Who am I, or rather who I used to be, is of little importance.” She stood up and stared up the summit of Winsome Falls, not moving at all other than her cloak that billowed gently in the wind. “Let us just get moving. Lead the way, little one.”
“It’s Scootaloo.”
“Arpeggio.”
Scootaloo nodded and stood beside the so-called ‘Arpeggio’, staring up the mountain and hoping she could remember exactly where Rainbow Dash had hidden her element of loyalty. She hadn’t decided if she believed Arpeggio’s tale of being royalty; there was absolutely nothing about this rag-wearing stranger that seemed even remotely royal, and the musty scent of mold and wet fabric that blew from the cloak and past Scootaloo seemed to scream ‘LIAR’. She reached up and adjusted her bandana, deciding that one thing Arpeggio said was true: it really wasn’t her problem one way or the other.
I’ll be reunited with Fluttershy… and with any luck maybe Arpeggio can deal that purple psychopath a bit of damage.
“Rainbow Dash had a fake rock with a hiding place underneath it,” said Scootaloo as she looked around the nostalgic yet unfamiliar landscape, “I can’t remember where exactly it is.”
“We split up,” said Arpeggio.
“Right. You take down here, I’ll take the summit.”
Arpeggio gave no response and lurched away, diligently kicking each rock she passed, as Scootaloo jogged up the path to reach the peak. Admittedly she actually did have a good idea where it was but she wanted to make sure she found it first; as things stood right now she trusted this Arpeggio character about as far as she could fly and wouldn’t put it past the thing to simply scuttle off with the element while she was left searching. A short distance’s jog and she was at the highest peak, and a wave of familiar memories hit her. The thin air and the vertigo that had made her feel more alive than anything else followed by fond memories of her idol. Rainbow Dash always acted differently here; it was like she always wore a mask on the ground, even when she was with her circle of friends. Up here, when the two of them were alone, they were like different ponies.
“Like sisters…” said Scootaloo softly as a happy tear rolled down her cheek.
“HEY DOWN THERE!!!”
The sound of the friendly voice bit into her like fangs and Scootaloo dropped low ready to fight; it was the unfamiliar voice of a stranger and yet it made the hair on her neck rise and her blood boil. She couldn’t remember where or when, but she had heard this voice a long time ago and it was setting off every alarm in her body. “Show yourself!!!” she spat angrily as she wrenched her head around trying to find the source.
“Up here, squirt!” said the voice and Scootaloo looked up. The blue face of an aged mare was peering down from a cloud above and smirked devilishly. “A little slow, huh? It’s okay.” She tumbled from the cloud and did a lazy flip as she fell, only flapping twice to slow her descent as she landed a few feet away. Scootaloo took a step back at the sight of her gray R.E.A.F. flight suit and her leg band that bore the rank of major. “So… where’s the one in the cloak?” she said as she removed her red goggles to scrutinize Scootaloo with her golden eyes. “No matter. I like it better one-on-one anyways. So tell me, squirt. Tell me all about Rainbow Dash.”
Scootaloo gasped quietly. It wasn’t the mention of the name but rather how the mare said it; it was so horrifyingly familiar that it almost made her collapse. “What do you know about Rainbow Dash?!”
The mare laughed humorlessly. “Don’t even. I came here all fired up to beat the answers out of you and your little cloaked clown as well, but I’m giving you a chance to walk away. Look at that ragged wing of yours; it just wouldn’t feel right beating a cripple to death. Now tell me.” She glared at the silent Scootaloo and her hoof shook with anger. “Tell me. About. RAINBOW DASH!!!”
Those last two words echoed in Scootaloo’s head over and over and it felt as if her heart had been tied into a knot. She couldn’t breathe as her mind replayed it over and over again. She had heard that voice a long time ago, on that night. Bit by bit the night returned to her: the warmth of Fluttershy’s leg as the little filly clamped to it in fear, the sounds of blasts in the distance, and the silhouette of a murderer illuminated atop a hill. Time slowed to a crawl as panic and fear roared through her and paralyzed her; she tried to scream but no sound came out. She had to get away and yet she couldn’t do it; something was keeping her from fleeing.
“Scootaloo, I need you to do something very important for me.”
Rainbow Dash had counted on her that night and she had failed her friend; her fear and her inability to fly had made her nothing but a liability to everypony.
“You two be my eyes and ears while I stay out of sight.”
Silver Spoon and Apple Bloom had counted on her in Broncton and she failed again; she fell apart at the sight of the one who had almost killed her.
Before she knew it she was running. Like a jungle cat charging it’s prey she was running straight at the murderer in front of her. The blue mare was too slow to react and Scootaloo pounced, locking her hooves around the mare’s wings and tackling her over the side of the mountain. Everything was silent as they fell, as the mare frantically pawed at Scootaloo’s head desperately trying to get away and save herself while they plummeted to the ledge below.
The two ponies hit the dirt hard and Scootaloo’s grip loosened; the blue mare struggled free and hooked her hoof beneath the strap of Scootaloo’s goggles to land a savage punch to her face that broke the strap and sent Scootaloo stumbling backward. “Slippery little jerk,” she said angrily as she stomped the goggles and ground them into pieces in the dirt. Her face lit up when she looked Scootaloo in the eye, “Hah! No wonder you didn’t spot me before!”
Scootaloo threw a hoof to her forehead feeling for her bandana; it must have slipped off during their scuffle and was lost forever to the wind. She glared at what was left of Rainbow Dash’s goggles and then right back into the eyes of the murderer. “You killed my friend,” she said coldly, “and I almost died that night because of you.”
“You almost died that night?! Almost?! Boo-friggin’-hoo, squirt. You know how many ponies did die that night? Any one of them’d take a gibbled wing and a bad eye over, y’know, death any day, you self-entitled little brat. As for Rainbow Dash, well, I didn’t mean to.”
“Liar!”
“I mean that,” she said as she pulled a pair of dog tags from her flight suit and dangled them long enough for Scootaloo to clearly see Rainbow Dash’s cutie mark engraved on them. “I never liked Rainbow Dash, she was a complete putz with her head so far up her butt I don’t know how she didn’t suffocate, but I always respected her as the one heck of a flier she was.” The blue mare draped the dog tags around her neck and spoke nostalgically like she was reminiscing about an old friend, “Looking back, I honestly wish I hadn’t killed Dash. If not for her I would have never been tossed from the Wonderbolts and I’d have never met the Queen. I should have shaken her hoof and said thanks, but I was angry and I had orders and, well, one thing led to another. Wanna know how she died?”
“You killed her,” spat Scootaloo.
The blue mare stared in disbelief. “Uh, yeah. But that’s the cliff-note version. Truth is, it was sad. She didn’t want to fight. She tried to give me one last chance to ‘do the right thing’ and help evacuate Ponyville. She gave me this cheesy speech about how she ‘knew I was a good pony’ and ‘this was bigger than our grudge’. That kind of crap. She was so busy preaching that I got in a good blow that busted up her wing. She went down swinging but she didn’t stand a chance after that, and I guess I got a little bit carried away. Punched her just hard enough in just the right place and she went down. Stopped moving.”
“Rainbow Dash was a hero,” said Scootaloo, “She was looking out for everypony. You took advantage of that.
“Yeah, I’ll give her that,” said the mare with a nod, “but she was a moron. A… professional, like me, would have prioritized. To heck with the townsponies for now, take the opponent down quick, run to help the yellow one and… you, I guess, and then gone to help the others. It’s not brain surgery.” The blue pegasus circled slowly, studying the raw anger on Scootaloo’s face, and smiled. “Besides, I don’t know why you’re pinning all the blame on me.”
“Why shouldn’t I?!”
“Look, squirt. I leapt at the chance to take on Dash, I really did, but in the end I was just following orders. If it hadn’t been me, it would’ve been Sky or Twitch or one of the other outcasts she had slipped under her wing behind Celestia’s back. I mean, do you kick the mailpony when he delivers a bill?”
The words cut deep into Scootaloo. Hearing how Rainbow Dash, the element of loyalty, had been so utterly and intentionally betrayed by one of her closest friends was hard to hear. She remembered the last time they were together on this mountain, how Rainbow Dash had been worried about Twilight Sparkle acting funny. “What happened between those two?”
The R.E.A.F. major shrugged. “Heck if I know, squirt. I started doing jobs for her after I was bounced from the Wonderbolts. She never talked about her friends; she was too busy spouting off about how something bad was going to happen and how her friends wouldn’t have listened to her and she had to stop it and blah blah blah. Honestly, I didn’t care. She had ties to the royal family and I was going to use that to get ahead in life.” She reached over and patted the black band on her leg that identified her as a major, “Life’s funny sometimes, you know? But whatever, it’s not like it matters after all these years, right? Now come on, last chance. Just tell me what I want to know and I’ll go beat the cloaked one down instead. Don’t make me be the mare that had to beat the little crippled orphan to death.”
“Just try it!” hollered Scootaloo as she charged the mare, who was ready for it this time. Scootaloo swung and missed, and deftly dodged the counter attack. The two of them threw blow after blow, missing each and every single one; Scootaloo was no doubt the stronger of the two and only needed one solid hit to win, but the mare was faster and was slowly beginning to take control of the fight. The mare finally managed to strike Scootaloo in the stomach and hurled her over her shoulder, slamming her into the ground with a loud thud.
“You’re tough,” huffed the older mare as she planted her hoof on the back of Scootaloo’s head to hold her down, “I’ll give you that. A lot tougher than Rainbow Dash was. Y’know, without her wing she didn’t stand a chance but you did pretty good, and with a missing eye too. If Dash had been more like you she’d have beaten me.” The mare shifted to keep Scootaloo face-down in the dirt as she got ready to deliver the final blow, “You made me do this, squirt. We could’ve just chatted like pals but no, you had to be so stubborn. But hey, you’ll be able to tell ol’ Dash how you grew up to die just like her.”
Scootaloo writhed under her grip, struggling to reach for Rainbow Dash’s broken goggles. She pressed down on a piece of broken glass, cringing as it pierced her sole and became embedded in her hoof, “You really need to stop comparing me to Rainbow Dash!!!” She twisted and punched the mare’s wing, struggling free as the mare screamed in pain. Scootaloo was on her hooves and ran toward the mare that was too busy clutching the piece of glass that was stabbed through her wing to react, and punched her over and over again. She wasn’t even thinking about the fight anymore; all her years of loneliness and guilt shot through her veins like fire, moving her body like a marionette and making her hit Rainbow Dash’s murderer over and over until there was nothing more to hit. The murderer was on her back on the ground, unconscious, and with a badly broken bleeding muzzle. Finally Scootaloo began to calm down, gasping huge gulps of air with each breath and just staring at what she had done. It was like nothing she had ever felt before; a surge of feelings she couldn’t identify had overtaken her and she felt like she could hardly stand.
“Be smart. Finish her off,” said Arpeggio with an uncharacteristic level of interest as she stared down at Scootaloo’s handiwork.
It occurred to Scootaloo what she could do. She had the murderer’s life in her hooves. She could avenge Rainbow Dash, and herself, once and for all; the murderer was unconscious and at her mercy, and absolutely nothing could stop her. She wanted to do it so badly, and yet, “I…” she said weakly, “I can’t…”
“Suit yourself.”
Scootaloo reached down and took Rainbow Dash’s dog tags, feeling the weak breath from the blue mare as her hoof passed the mare’s mouth. She put them on in silence as the image of Rainbow Dash and her mother came to mind, staring at her with contempt knowing she had killed a helpless pony. Even that pony. The thought of it was enough to bring a tear to her eye and she simply could not bring herself to do it. “You found it, then?” she said softly.
“Along with a bonus. For you,” said Arpeggio as she placed a small weather-worn note at Scootaloo’s hooves. Scootaloo scooped it up and unfolded it, instantly recognizing Rainbow Dash’s messy and hasty printing:
Squirt,
I more wrote this for myself then for you, but if anything ever happened to me you’re the only pony who knew about my hiding place (Unless you blabbed ha ha). I know it might seem dumb to write a letter like this just in case, but lately I just can’t help but feel like something bad is coming. Even Pinkie Pie is spooked and that never happens. Look, I’m bad at this kind of thing Nevermind you know I’m awesome. I always thoughtYou and IWe were What I’m trying to say, is you were like the little sister I always wanted and I always had a lot of fun when you were around. And if my element is still there, consider it you’res. Actually, you can have all my stuff except the autographed flight suit: Pinkie Pie called dibs on that one already. And the simbilcimbilcymbil METAL CIRCLE CLACKY THING playing monkey. Stay co Twilight wanted my cloud sculpting kit for some reason. Stay cool, Squirt.
I’ll always love you as a friend and a sister.
The coolest pony alive, Rainbow Dash.
P.S. Don’t forget: I told you the toilet story in confidance. You swore not to tell ANYPONY!!!
Scootaloo smiled and held the letter to her chest; for the first time in a long time she felt at peace. She glanced up at Arpeggio knowing the scorpion mare had the element of loyalty buried somewhere beneath the mountain of rags she shuffled around in. “Alright,” she said, wishing she didn’t have to give the element up like that, “A deals a deal. Pay up.”
Arpeggio giggled softly and placed her hoof on Scootaloo’s shoulder. “Let’s get you home to your dear friend Fluttershy then,” she said in a mockery of a mother’s warm voice.
Scootaloo took one final look at Rainbow Dash’s unconscious murderer, and began descending the mountain with Arpeggio.
Sweetie Belle stared down at the old photograph she had found in Twist’s quarters, only vaguely aware that she was smiling at the scene depicted on the image. Other than this photograph, Twist’s room was as barren as the emotion the red head had normally displayed. The room had very little in the way of personal touches with nothing done to mold the room to suit her tastes, making it look much more like a hotel room rather than somepony’s personal living quarters. A few spare arrows, one of which had a hairline crack running up the shaft, were leaning in the corner next to a writing desk that, going by the thin layer of dust on it, had never once been used. An empty dresser was beside the desk with nothing on top but a solved Rubik’s cube and a few empty candy wrappers, and across the room from that was a bed that looked like it had never once been made. The closet only held three identical outfits along with a t-shirt that must have been a gift from Daydream: it was stylized to resemble the label of a hazardous chemical with the slogan “Irritant: DO NOT TOUCH!” and still had all the tags hanging on it.
“Look how little I was…” she said softly as she traced the tip of her hoof over the image of the little pale gray unicorn that would one day grow up to be her.
Sweetie Belle was lost. Everything had all gone bad so quickly that it felt as if her life had come crashing to a halt and she simply didn’t know what to do or think anymore. She had spent the entire day aimlessly wandering the mines and the quaint little underground town she had helped create for her diamond dogs, and then had slumped around her own quarters trying to find a way to fill the void. She eventually wandered into Twist’s room and, much to her surprise, had found a photo of the two of them along with a young Apple Bloom and Scootaloo. Even with all the years that had passed she immediately recognized it: Diamond Tiara’s cute-ceañera where the trio had first met. She had stared down at it for so long she had lost track of time.
“Why did you two have to come back?!” she lamented, thinking about her last meeting with them. She growled and swatted the photo from the table, and sat down on the foot of the bed. “You two should have never come back. I never wanted to see either of you again.” Sweetie Belle just stared down in silence, not even thinking anymore, and just wallowing in self-pity. “Who am I kidding?” she said softly as she picked the photo up and placed it back where she had found it, “I missed you two so much…”
As she left the room she flinched at the sound of a voice. “Miss Belle,” said Camélia, who had apparently been waiting patiently outside of the room, “Forgive me, I did not want to interrupt.” He held out a handkerchief and turned his head to pretend he didn’t notice the tears in her eyes.
“Camélia?” said Sweetie Belle with a sniffle, “I thought you and Daydream left before sunset.”
A rare break in Camélia’s professional visage came in the form of a smirk. “That was the intention, Miss Belle. However, Ms. Daydream got roped into a game of fetch with several of the diamond dogs.”
Sweetie Belle sighed as she gave the handkerchief back, wishing she could find the same level of joy in chasing a tennis ball that those dogs could. “You didn’t join in?”
“No, Miss Belle. Personally I am a stallion of the Frisbee,” he said with another faint smirk, “But all mirth aside, there are a couple of visitors here to see you in the main hall. They seem quite adamant in speaking to you about what they claim are ‘serious matters’, though if you wish I could shoo them away.”
Another heavy sigh came from the pale gray mare, “No, I had better see what is so serious.”
As Sweetie Belle approached the hall she could hear one of her visitors. “I said knock it off!!!” one of them bellowed in a heavy Manehattan accent, “He ain’t done nothin’ to any of you! Next one what gets outta line losses all their teeth, we clear?!”
Sweetie Belle broke into a jog and entered to find two ponies surrounded by sever angry diamond dogs. One of them, a young-looking blue stallion, was trembling with fear and cowering beneath his rather large companion. The companion, a tall and muscular mare, held herself low to protect him and was just barely holding herself back from making good on her threat; one of the dogs was looming close, bearing his teeth and growling low in his throat at the terrified stallion.
“Stop it!!! What’s gotten into you?!” Sweetie Belle yelled angrily to the dogs who all leaped back and, after a brief sheepish look her way, all hurried out of the hall. “I am so sorry,” she said to her visitors, “I swear I’ve never seen them act that way before.”
“It's fine,” said the big mare who stood up and coaxed the still-shaken stallion out from under her, “thanks.” The stallion said nothing; he merely stared up at the mare in silent awe as if he was genuinely surprised she had defended him like that.
“So,” said Sweetie Belle as she eyed the pair up and down, “I understand there is something ‘serious’ you wish to speak to me about.”
“Sweetie Belle, we’re inspectors with the Canterlot Criminal Investigation Department,” said the mare as she held out a badge that bore the department’s insignia.
Sweetie Belle wasn’t impressed. “And?”
“I’d like for you to answer some questions for me, if—”
“Oh, knock it off,” said Sweetie Belle with a roll of her eyes, “Just spare me the rhetoric—”
“I heard growling and yelling; what happened?!” said a panicked Daydream as she burst into the room and froze as a huge smile spread across her face. “Friends of yours, Lambkins?”
“Used to be,” said Sweetie Belle. “Right, Babs?”
Daydream’s expression turned remorseful as she spotted the badge and sensed the apparent animosity in Sweetie Belle’s tone. “Perhaps then… you two should be alone, yes?” She trotted up to the little blue stallion and leaned down. “Hi!” she said cheerfully, “Let’s give these two some privacy, ‘k? Come on, cuddle bug, we’ll have some tea and cake!”
The stallion shot an alarmed look at Babs, who looked back and spoke softly almost like a mother would, “It’s okay,” she said, “you can trust her. I’ve heard all about her.”
Sweetie Belle watched Daydream drag her latest victim to the dungeon of tea and pointless stories, waiting until the two of them were alone. “He seems a bit… young to be an inspector.”
“He’s what you’d call a… specialist.”
“Whatever,” said Sweetie Belle, forcing herself to sound civil to her old friend, “It has been a very long time, hasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” said Babs as she removed her hat and wiped sweat from her brow, “How many years has it been, anyway?”
“Too many for mindless pleasantries,” Sweetie Belle said curtly. She couldn’t help but see the face of Twist’s murderer contorted into that cruel sneer as the fatal blow was delivered whenever she looked into her old friend’s eyes; every word her old friend said was accompanied by the cackling laugh made as the murderer flew out through the skylight. She wanted nothing more than to watch her dogs grab Babs and hurl her outside, preferably into a nice fresh mud puddle, but if she played her cards right she might be able to milk some answers about Twist. She strode to her chair and kicked a pillow to the ground at Babs’ hooves, and tossed herself into the comfortable seat. “If you don’t mind I am rather busy. You said something about some questions?”
Babs expression filled with sorrow, as if she had been expecting something more of a reunion, as she gently took a seat on the pillow she had been given. “You’re not under arrest or in trouble or anythin’. Let me make that real clear first of all. Before I ask anythin’ else, though, you’ve heard of a group called the ‘Rainbolts’, right?”
Sweetie Belle scoffed at the rather dumb question. Though public opinion of them varied wildly from terrorists to revolutionaries, most ponies had heard of them: a group of rejects and outcasts that were obsessed with bring down the Queen’s reign over Equestria but had barely managed to accomplish anything. Personally, Sweetie Belle held a rather low opinion of them; their dedication to their hopeless cause had gone far beyond the point of admiration and made them rather pitiful in her eyes. “Of course I have.”
“Yeah,” said Babs with a solemn nod. “They’ve been quiet as of late. Real quiet. Personally, I had hoped it meant their group had fallen apart or disbanded. That’d be real nice, but then everythin’ started to go to pot all at once outta nowhere.”
“…Like?”
“It don’t matter,” said Babs flatly, “I just wanna ask if you’ve come into contact with anypony you think may have ties with them?”
“No,” said Sweetie Belle. As things stood right now she refused to believe Twist had any ties with that group despite that mottled sword-carrying degenerate and the smooth-talking mustachioed goof that had popped up the other day.
Babs took a small notepad from the drab saddlebag she wore and quickly began to write. “Anypony, then?” she said with the pen still clenched between her teeth, “Any unusual, unexpected, or unwanted visitors?”
“We’ve had a lot lately it seems,” said Sweetie Belle in a tone that dripped with anger. “Between airponies here to do wet work and the other half of the Cutie Mark Crusaders both popping up out of nowhere, it’s been a real busy week.”
The pen fell to the stone floor with a soft clack. “‘Other half?’” said Babs Seed in a surprised voice, “You mean… Do you mean Scootaloo’s alive as well? You saw her?! Is she okay?!”
Although ‘okay’ isn’t the word Sweetie Belle would choose, she nodded nevertheless with a cold sneer. “So you knew about Apple Bloom already. Let me guess, Inspector: you were the one tracking her after she did whatever she did to tick you guys off, right?”
Babs Seed’s ears drooped down over the sides of her guilty face, answering Sweetie Belle’s question. “I… I didn’t know it was her…”
“Like it would have mattered to you,” snarled Sweetie Belle.
“Course it does!” roared Babs as she punched the ground in anger, leaving a crack in the stone. “I’m tryin’ to HELP PONIES!!! Not sittin’ in here on my rump pretendin’ the rest of the world doesn’t exist anymore! I’m only one mare; there’s only so much I can do! Least I’m still tryin’! I haven’t given up on ponies to sit here surrounded by those dogs and lettin’ my rear end grow to fit a nice comfy chair!!!”
“How dare you?!” spat Sweetie Belle. “How dare you march in here like this after everything that’s happened and claim you want to ‘help’ ponies! I know all about what you did in the Crystal Empire! The unit you served with! You were the ones who destroyed the Crystal Heart!”
“They started that war!” growled the huge mare with low controlled fury, “We had no choice but to—”
“—doom their entire country in the process,” interrupted Sweetie Belle, “and force them to flee to parts unknown just to stay alive.”
“What would you have done?” asked Babs angrily, “sit back and let them bring the fight to us? You’re right Sweetie, I was there. I saw the force they were musterin’ to invade us with. I almost died fightin’ them and…” she went quiet and held a hoof over a scar on her belly, “No. Fine. Go ahead. Blame me for everythin’ bad that’s happened. I don’t care anymore! Sweetie Belle, I gotta do somethin’ about all this before it gets any worse. Ponies are dying, Sweetie. It’s only gonna get worse.”
“So why come to me?” said Sweetie in a cold tone, “Why would you think I’d get off my apparently growing rump to come and help you?”
“I’m not here for your help,” said Babs, “I’m here to help. Look, I get that we ain’t friends anymore, right? Rifts form and friendships end. Sad as it is that’s life. I still care about you though, Sweetie. I don’t see us meetin’ in the bar to shoot pool anytime soon, but I still wanna keep you safe. I’ll be blunt: I think you’re in danger.”
Although she was still angry, Sweetie Belle’s eyebrow rose in morbid curiosity. “Fine,” she said with a shrug as she dropped back into her chair once more, “I’ll bite. What’s on your mind, Babs?”
“I can’t tell you much. Ongoin’ investigation and all. This group I think is tryin’ to gather up the Elements of Harmony. I’m worried they’re gonna target you to get the one your sister had. They mean business too, Sweetie; you know what Silver Spoon grew up to be, right? They hired her and sent her marchin’ right into the palace to target our princess.
Sweetie Belle found herself smiling at such a thought. She had heard about Silver Spoon, the once schoolyard bully with a bad attitude from a foppish rich family whose only real talent in life seemed to be causing trouble for others. She had recently resurfaced and gotten quite good at weaponizing that talent to become a rather notorious thief and all-around reprobate willing to do just about anything for a bag of bits.
“Yeah, it’s real funny,” said Babs sarcastically, having picked up on the smile. “Now you ain’t exactly the most flexible of ponies. No offense. What happens if they decide the easiest way to get what they want outta you is to pull some lunatic out of the bag and aim them at you?” A hint of unsettled desperation rose in her voice as she continued, “Sweetie, I even have a few guards waitin’ on the zeppelin. They’re good friends of mine and you can trust ‘em; with your permission I’d like to post ‘em here as protection—”
“I’m not having them set hoof in this place,” said Sweetie Belle, “Not after what happened to… to…” she slowly trailed off as a rather chilling realization hit her. Twist. Ever since the funeral Sweetie Belle had been haunted by the troubling suspicion that Twist had been doing ‘jobs’ on the side for extra money, though even if it was true she still felt as if Twist had been a true friend who she could trust.
There’s no way she was here for that…
Babs Seed immediately picked up on her apprehension. “Sweetie Belle, if there’s somethin’ you wanna tell me, it will be just between you and me.”
“Just go,” said Sweetie Belle as she fought off tears.
“Sweetie Belle!”
“Get out!!!” screeched Sweetie Belle as she began to sob loudly, “Just get out of my life and never come back!!!”
“Lambkins!!!” called Daydream as she hurried down the hall and into the room, followed by the little blue stallion. “Lambkins, no… don’t cry…” she said softly as she stood in front of Babs Seed and put a hoof on the big mare’s chest. “I think you had better leave.”
“Sweetie, please!” Babs said frantically as she tried to push past Daydream, “You gotta listen to me!”
“That is quite enough,” said Daydream in a forceful yet still soft tone as she tried to lead Babs toward the exit, “I’m asking you politely to please leave.”
“Get your hooves off ‘a me!!!” roared Babs as she reared back and put all of her weight into a fierce haymaker to Daydream’s face—
THUD!!!
Daydream might as well have been a stone statue; she hardly even flinched. There was no pain at all in her face, just a look of complete wide-eyed surprise as Babs Seed shakily lowered her hoof. “OWWWWWWWW!!!” whined Daydream like a little foal who had just been pinched by a sibling, “What was that for?!” She rubbed her cheek dramatically while Babs Seed took a step back, clearly caught off-guard and even a bit intimidated. Daydream took a step to close the distance and once again laid a hoof on Babs’ chest, and spoke in such a calm and friendly tone that it was a bit creepy, “Now, I would really appreciate it if you would please leave.”
Babs gave a longing, defeated look over her shoulder at Sweetie Belle and affectionately swatted her companion on the shoulder. “Let’s go, Bright Eyes. We should make it back to Canterlot by mornin’.” With her head slumped down she slowly began to walk down the hall, being closely followed by the little stallion. She stopped to throw a hoof over her mouth and wretched out a series of guttural coughs while the little stallion clamped his hooves over her shoulders to steady her. With that she nodded appreciatively to him, gave one final look back over her shoulder, and vanished down the hall.
Daydream watched them leave with unusual focus and walked over to stand beside Sweetie Belle. She tried to lean in for a hug but was pushed away. “I’m fine,” said Sweetie Belle as she dabbed the corner of her eyes, “…Thank you.”
Daydream sighed and fidgeted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say. “I know ponies hate those little guys,” she said as if to change the subject to something more pleasant, “and while I do understand why they are still really cute.”
Sweetie Belle stared up at her pink friend, confused as she always was at Daydream’s random musings, and shrugged it off. “What about you? I heard that punch from here.”
“Huh? Oh. Yeah,” chirped Daydream as she patted her cheek with a goofy smile, “Oh, no, it’s fine. Thank you. She doesn’t hit hard at all.”
“Daydream, she’s the size of a house,” said Sweetie Belle in disbelief to which her friend just shrugged. “Never mind. Daydream, you know how I hate to ask for favors—”
“Ask!” chirped Daydream happily.
“I need you to keep an eye on things here for a while,” said Sweetie Belle, “On the diamond dogs. I need to leave for a while and take care of some things and, well, you’re… the only pony in the world I would trust to keep them safe.”
Daydream’s chipper expression softened and became dead serious. “I would stand against the Queen herself to protect them,” she said without even a hint of joking in her tone. For the first time in her life Sweetie Belle was the one to hug Daydream, catching the tall pink mare completely by surprise. The shock of the moment kept Daydream as stiff as a stone statue for a moment before he returned the hug with a grip tight enough to make Sweetie gag. “But you have to promise to come back. I can’t bear the idea of losing a friend. You know how lonely I get sometimes; I even tried building friends once—”
Sweetie Belle shushed her friend before she degenerated into hysterics. “Don’t ruin the moment.”
“Your turn, Mau-Olhado. Ready to pay the piper? Ready to meet those you killed on the other side?”
Apple Bloom looked to her left and her right, cringing at the feel of the rope around her neck as she did. On her left was Silver Spoon’s scarred body, hanging lifelessly from the noose, and to her right were the two youngsters from the neighboring cell. They had left her alive to the end so she could watch it happen. “Just get it over with.”
“Any last words?”
“Don’t call me Mau-Olhado,” she said as she closed her eyes.
She could still see them. Even through closed eyes she could see the ocean of judging gazes staring at her. An uncountable number of forgotten or unrecognizable faces with one and only one in the dead center she recognized. It was the kid from Graywater Pass, the one who just got lucky and caused Sunflower and Peppercorn’s deaths, the one who had pleaded for his life as she held him down with the barrel of her pistol to his forehead, was staring longingly with the still fresh crown of bullet wounds dotted above his sullen eyes. “Eu não quero morrer...” he said followed swiftly by the loud crank of the gallows as she fell—
—And Apple Bloom was awake, back in her cell, staring up at the drab ceiling and gasping for air as she clutched her throat.
“Nightmare?” asked Silver Spoon who was still leaning against the bars with her back to Apple Bloom’s.
“Eeyup.”
“A few more hours to go is my guess,” said Silver Spoon, “Let me guess: dreaming about the gallows?”
Apple Bloom nodded solemnly and felt Silver Spoon’s body twitch as the gray mare let out a merry cackling laugh. “You think all this’s funny?!”
“I think it’s hilarious! All of this is!” she said in a chipper tone, “Think about it, Blank Flank. How many times did we try and kill each other? Honest question; I lost count. We’ve been to so many places, seen so many things, and we’d always meet. I could count on it like clockwork; you with that gun and your stripes, me with my knives and whatever scumbags I’d dragged along that time, and we’d always both get away. I’d swear fate had tied us together if I believed in it. I always kind of thought we’d have ourselves a little final battle one day and finally put an end to it once and for all.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“And after all that, all that hate, what did it amount to? Nothing. Diddly… squat. None of it might as well have even happened. It’s just this: noose at dawn. We die side by side like old sweethearts. How is that not the funniest thing you’ve ever heard?”
“You’re insane, Spoon.”
“So I’m told. Beats having regrets.”
Apple Bloom exhaled heavily. “Ah regret all of it. Ditching Scootaloo, not going back to Sweetie Belle—”
“Yeah, that was pretty dickish of you,” said Silver Spoon.
Apple Bloom frowned over her shoulder into the attentive purple eyes of the pony she had hated for so long, “Ah regret coming back at all. Pavel was right; ain’t no place for me here anymore. Ah’ve changed far too much. Ah should’ve stayed back home, on the farm with Ma and Pa. They’re gonna think… that Ah just never bothered to come back…”
“Me?” said Silver Spoon triumphantly, “No regrets. I just hope they hang me last; closest I’ll ever get to winning our little war.”
“You can have it,” said Apple Bloom sadly, “Ah’ll put a word in for you.”
“Appreciate it, Blank Flank. When we get to Hell, you can have the top bunk.”
Apple Bloom sighed again, shuddering at the thought of her impending death, “Appreciate it, Spoon.”
For a moment there was nothing in the world. No sound, no movement, until Silver Spoon let out a breath she had been holding and fell limp. “No, no, that’s not true. I do have one regret, I think. I want to see Clear Rivers one more time. If I could do that, well quite frankly I could go right ahead and die in peace I think.”
“Who’s Clear Rivers?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Ah suppose not,” said Apple Bloom, dismissing this ‘Clear Rivers’ as no doubt some slimy stallion she had been having a fling with on the side.
“You regret not taking their deal?”
“Nope. Ah’d never be able to live with myself.”
“The witch offered me a similar setup,” Silver Spoon said, spitting on the ground as she did, “I’m not falling for that one again. Last time they tried to throw my arse right back in prison once they were done with me. This way, at least I get to see Diamond Tiara again, right?”
Apple Bloom perked up at the sound of that old name. “How did she go out?” she asked, assuming outright Tiara must be long dead, “If you’ll indulge me.”
“Why not?” said Silver Spoon sadly, “I picked the absolute worst night in history for a sleepover in Ponyville, and she shoved me out of the way of one of those blasts. It tore through her like paper mache.”
Apple Bloom felt a pang low in her stomach. She never liked Diamond Tiara; she had wished ill on that miserable little spoiled brat a few dozen times over, but hearing she had gone down in such a surprisingly noble manner was hard to hear. “Ah’m sorry.”
“We had this plan, you know?” continued Silver Spoon. “I hated my parents. I was the dirty little mud pony in a house full of unicorns. Daddy’s little mistake. My brother was okay I guess, at least he was nice to me—”
“You had a brother?”
“And three sisters. All unicorns. They went to Jerklestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns” she said, mocking the title in a goofy baby’s voice, “I went to Ponyville’s Schoolhouse with all the plebs to rot. At least there I met Tiara, and we made this little plan: ditch town one day and stow away on a ferry to who knows where. We just never had the guts until that night happened, you know?” She draped her head, laughing humorlessly as she reminisced about what must have been far happier memories. “Me and Tiara always said we loved each other, yet she was the one who proved it. Guess I was in shock; next thing I knew I was on a ferry with a bunch of other survivors from the town.” She paused once more for a few more humorless chuckles, “And you know what’s real funny? I’m pretty sure my family thought I died too, and I’m pretty sure they didn’t give even a fraction of a crap.”
“Ouch,” said Apple Bloom. “Hold on… You mean you and Tiara liked each other liked each other?”
Silver Spoon scoffed once more. “Yeah. Don’t sound so surprised. You could see it from across the ocean, Blank Flank.” Apple Bloom began to laugh low in her throat and Silver Spoon elbowed her through the bars, “What’re you cackling at?! You think that’s funny?”
“Hilarious,” said Apple Bloom over her shoulder, taking a quick moment to enjoy the anger aimed at her from her old enemy, “It means Ah owe Sweetie Belle 20 bits that Ah never have to pay back.”
Never in a million years would Apple Bloom have expected what came next. Laughter. Not Silver Spoon’s typical malicious cackle but genuinely amused happy laughter. In seconds Apple Bloom was laughing as well and for a precious instant all was forgotten: their feud, their impending doom, their past, their present. They were just two ponies united in a good joke and laughing heartily together.
“Psst!”
Apple Bloom and Silver Spoon flinched in unison and fell silent. They both looked at each other and nodded; they had both heard it.
“Pssssst!” said the mystery voice again, followed by a quiet quick whistle, “Pound! Pumpkin!”
“Dorian?!” snapped Pumpkin from the neighboring cell.
A young unicorn timidly slunk out of the shadows from the corner outside the cells and ran to the bars to hug his two friends. Apple Bloom rubbed at her eyes in disbelief as she got a clear look at his scruffy mane and pale-blue body; it was the kid with the coat, who she had helped out of trouble in that alley. “Guys!!!” he whispered happily as they cuddled as best as they could through the metal barrier.
“What are you doing here, Dor?!” scolded Pound.
“I could ask the same thing! You two just up and vanish in this direction without a trace, then I hear about the ‘twins’ who were arrested and—”
“Please tell me you brought Pip,” said Pumpkin.
“Uh… no. He was out, so I came by myself. C’mon, we have to get out of here before the guards come back!”
“How did you get in here, kid?” said Silver Spoon as she stood and let herself drape through the bars to eye the kid up and down.
Dor stared at her uneasily the way a shy child would. “I… I stowed away inside a crate to get in town and I think the guards are short-staffed or something; I slipped in during the shift change when there was no sentry.”
“Youngster after my own heart,” said Silver Spoon in genuine approval. “How do you like that, Blank Flank? We’re not even high-profile enough of prisoners to miss a shift-change over. I feel so unloved. Well, kid? Hurry up and spring us.”
“I… right,” stammered the kid as he looked left and right. Still holding himself low as if it kept him more hidden, he fidgeted nervously as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do next.
“Great,” said Silver Spoon as she slapped a hoof over her face. “Let me guess: you charged right in without a plan.” The unicorn’s nervous grin of fear confirmed Spoon’s suspicion and she growled with frustration. “Stupid kid! You’re going to get yourself killed like that. Luck loves to turn her back on you so always have a plan, and have a plan for when that plan fails!” The kid stared at her sadly from her scolding, so overtaken with anxiety that he looked ready to cry. “Sheesh. Calm down, rookie. Start by observing your surroundings. What do you need, and how do you get it?”
“A key.”
“Right, a key,” she said in a supportive tone, “Who has one? The guard. So go take him down!”
“M-me?!” sputtered the young unicorn, “I can’t fight!”
“What are you even doing here then, you stupid little—” she cut herself off at the sound of the door to the holding cells opening and slamming shut. “Well, you’re not getting past them now, so it sounds like you have to learn and quick or you will die. Feel that in your stomach? That feral fear? Don’t fight it, use it. Use the adrenaline rush and bash his head in from behind!”
The kid panted with fear, looking between the prisoners and the now audible sound of armored hooves just down the hall around the corner, and ran for cover. He scrabbled beneath the small wooden bench along the wall just in time as a duo of pleasantly chatting sentries walked into the room.
“…and Homerun is all like ‘I wouldn’t do that with a carrot’ and… I’ll tell you later,” said the rust-colored mare, “Well, here they are Starlight. Hey, thanks again for this, you’re a lifesaver. I was the only one posted her tonight and it was driving me up the wall.”
“No sweat, Bug,” said Starlight as he looked over the prisoners and seemed to settle his gaze on Apple Bloom. “I’ve got it here, if you’ll take the reception desk.”
“Alright,” nodded Bug, “Backup will be here in a bit. They just screwed up the schedule; didn’t fill the positions properly.”
“Once backup arrives you’re good to leave for the night,” said Starlight to Bug, who nodded appreciatively once more and headed back down the hall. Starlight paced absentmindedly back and forth with his spear draped lazily over his shoulder, until his comrade was gone and he immediately headed to the cell to stare down at Apple Bloom. “Apple Bloom, right?”
“Eeyup.”
“I’d just like to ask a few questions—”
“Well, look who it is!” chirped Pumpkin with a smirk, “So you just here to talk again? Ready to try the thing I told you about with the handcuffs?”
Starlight shuddered uncomfortably and faced Apple Bloom once more with a reassuring smile. “Nothing like that,” he said softly, “This isn’t an interrogation. I just have a few questions for you concerning what happened in Broncton, okay?”
Apple Bloom shrugged. “Shoot.”
“First of all—” he began but was cut off. The unicorn sprang from beneath the bench with a growl and pounced on his back trying to take him down. Starlight struggled and whipped his head around, and easily bucked the kid off and kicked him in the stomach to knock him down. He ran for his spear but Dor was up quickly and kicked it out of reach. “Come on!” taunted Starlight as he adopted a fighting stance. The young unicorn threw two easily blocked punches and was thrown to the ground and subdued. “Gotcha,” hissed Starlight as he wrenched the kid’s hooves behind his back and cuffed him, “Now where did—AAAGH!!!”
“Got you,” said Silver Spoon in a low hiss, having managed to reach his spear and stab him in the leg with it, “Hey… I recognize you too. You’re Babs Seed’s little toady. Not so tough now that you don’t have the tub of lard to do the fighting for you, huh?!”
Apple Bloom tried to stand and collapsed, still weak from the oilroot extract they had injected her with, and instead dragged her frail body to the bars. “Wait, don’t kill him!”
“Why not?” said Silver Spoon as she cruelly twisted the spear.
“He… he’s my cousin’s friend,” said Apple Bloom in a pleading tone.
By now the kid had gotten the key to his cuffs and freed himself. He pulled the cell keys from Starlight’s armor and, with a quick glance down the hall to make sure Bug hadn’t heard the fight, threw the keys to Pound. “Come on, let’s just get out of here!” he said as he put his cuffs on Starlight and took a roll of adhesive bandage from the stallion’s first aid kit to tightly bind his muzzle shut.
“Fine,” said Silver Spoon as she callously dropped the spear, “I guess I do owe you one, kid.”
Dorian opened Silver Spoon’s cell and she gave him an affectionate punch to the shoulder as she passed. He opened the lock to Apple Bloom’s cell last and, upon recognizing her, he smiled triumphantly. “Told you I’d pay you back,” he said as he held out a hoof to help her up.
“Stallion of your word,” said Apple Bloom as he helped her to her hooves, only to manage one shaky step and collapse once more. It was no good; she just didn’t have the strength in her legs to walk.
“Oooh, hard luck, Blank Flank,” said Silver Spoon mockingly as she stole Starlight’s service knife and strapped its sheath to her leg. “But hey, I know you. If anypony could pull through this, it’s you. Rotsa ruck, pal.”
“She’s coming with us,” said Dorian firmly.
“Fine,” laughed Silver Spoon. “You carry her, then.” Without hesitation the kid nosed his way under Apple Bloom, grunting as he stood and supported her weight on his back. “Mr. Hero. Well, whatever. But if you slow me down I’m leaving you behind. I’ll die before I go back to the clink.”
“Hey,” said Apple Bloom to the bound stallion, “Tell my cousin Ah’m sorry ‘bout all this.”
Starlight just glared in response and Apple Bloom clung to the kid’s back, desperate to survive as the group snuck quietly down the hall and stopped at the corner. Silver Spoon took the lead, keeping low and peeking carefully around the corner to try and find cover to sneak up on the guard at the reception desk. “Sheesh, you’re heavy,” whispered Dorian quietly.
“Not the kind of thing you say to a lady, partner,” whispered Apple Bloom.
“Will you idiots be quiet?!” snapped Silver Spoon under her breath, “I am this close to freedom and you clowns are not going to screw this up for me. I’m going to go snuff that guard, so be quiet and let me do my thing. This is what I do, okay? Sit back and let the expert go to work you bunch of retards!”
With that came a loud crash and a pained cry of surprise from around the corner. Expecting their cover to be blown the group sprinted into the open to find the rust-colored sentry unconscious on the ground with a dinted folding chair laying over her and Pumpkin Cake brushing her hooves with a smirk. Apple Bloom blinked in surprise, trying to figure out how she had gotten over there like that, and Pound just shrugged. “She does that. Don’t ask how.”
“Kids these days,” said Silver Spoon appreciatively as she skirted the wall and made her way to the unconscious mare. Satisfied with having looted a second service knife she ran to the door. “We just won the lottery!” she chirped as she peered through the view hole out into the streets of Canterlot, “Blank Flank! I saw you drive like a lunatic at Desconhecido Ridge. Think you can drive that?”
With help from Spoon and Dor Apple Bloom peered through the view hole at the machine parked across the street that bore an uncanny resemblance to trucks she was used to driving back home; though it had been built with a carriage in mind, the overall shape and design made it evident it was a motor vehicle. “If Ah can drive the spud catcher, Ah can drive that monstrosity. Ah hope.”
“We don’t have a choice,” said Silver Spoon, “Reinforcements are already on their way, and the whole city’ll go into lock-down as soon as they get here and find us free. They’ll expect us to sneak out, so I say we surprise the crap out of them and escape full Eastern Sonhos Vale style: full speed in an armored vehicle, running over anypony that gets in our way. By the time they even realize what happened we’ll be halfway to Hollow Shades. From there we go our separate ways and, Blank Flank, you and I can settle scores the next time we meet.”
“Ah’ll hold you to that, Spoon,” said Apple Bloom.
“Love you too, darling,” said Silver Spoon. She opened the door a crack and looked all around. “Clear!” she said as the door swung open and the group moved quickly and quietly past the empty guard station and to their only chance for escape. “Alright, me and the twins will take the back to keep any unwanted passengers off. Kid, you’re useless in a fight so you’re riding shotgun with the load there.”
“I’m riding the what?!”
“Just get in the passenger seat,” said Silver Spoon flatly as she busted the lock to the driver’s door with her knife, “These things run off of a unicorn’s magic; you’re the power source.”
“I can do that,” said Dorian as he helped Apple Bloom into the driver’s seat and climbed inside to take his spot beside her.
Apple Bloom looked around the cab of the vehicle, marveling at the similarities it shared with Eastland vehicles and wondering if it was perhaps based off of them. Though it was a bit more simplistic in design, it had a gas, brake, clutch, and steering wheel all in the right places. It had a few controls she was unfamiliar with; a lever on the side of the steering wheel labeled with arrows and a few switches on the dashboard he hoped weren’t important, and of course the large glass enclosure mounted in front of the passenger’s seat which must have been the power source. “You ponies really need to discover diesel already,” she said dismissively as she buckled her seatbelt and reached over to strap the kid in as well. With that done she grabbed the black bowler hat from the dash and plopped it on her head, “Ah feel naked without a hat.”
“Get down!” said Dorian and the two ducked as a pegasus sentry flew slowly overhead.
“I gotta know,” said Apple Bloom quietly, keeping a cautious eye on the overhead sentry who carefully followed his patrol route, “Why’d you stick your neck out for me like that? All Ah did was save you a jacket.”
The kid patted his coat, “It’s all I have left of my parents,” he said softly, “And… you kind of remind me of my mom.”
“Ah sure hope not.”
“I mean it,” he said, “I wish you and her could’ve met; you’d have gotten along for sure.”
Before Apple Bloom could answer a loud alarm blared from the prison behind them. “We’re outta time!” she said as she sat up straight. “Start it!” Dorian cringed and his horn glowed, making the glass piece illuminate. The entire thing began to vibrate and Apple Bloom could hear the engine spinning. “Hang on!” she yelled as she slammed the thing into gear and stomped on the gas pedal, making the thing lurch forward with an unexpected burst of speed.
“So…” said Pound quietly, being the first of the three hiding beneath the tarp that covered the rear box of the vehicle to break the silence. He carefully peeked up at the circling sentry through an eyelet on their covering and continued, “It’s uh, Spoon, right? What sort of things are you into?”
Silver Spoon looked away from the eyehole she had cut and stared at the young pegasus with absolutely no expression on her face. She shifted her body lower against the heavy metal tank she reclined against and put her hind legs up on a toolbox.
“I mean like, when this is all over, I don’t suppose you wanna, you know, just go someplace quiet and talk?”
She drew her knife and dug at a particularly stubborn chunk of gravel that had embedded into a crevice on her hoof. “I’m a little old for you, don’t you think kid?”
“No!” he said matter-of-factly, “Not at all. I think true love conquers all.”
With a humorless laugh of disbelief, Silver Spoon turned to the kid’s sister. “Tell me he’s not serious.”
Pumpkin sighed. “He is.”
“For crying out loud… Have you ever talked to a mare before, Pound? Besides, the only raise I’m interested in right now is raising hell, got it?”
“So that’s a maybe, then?” said Pound hopefully, “As in, like, maybe later?”
Silver Spoon pointed her newly acquired service knife at his snout and spoke seductively, waving the blade up and down as she did, “No, stud, it’s maybe as in, like, maybe I’ll give you a nip and tuck down there if you don’t keep it in your trousers.”
“Uh…” said Pound with a quick peek at his hindquarters, “I’m not wearing trousers.”
“Did he fall on his head or something as a foal?” whispered Silver Spoon to Pumpkin.
“Repeatedly.”
The gray mare struggled for some manner of insult to shoot the little punk down with but came up dry. Instead she tapped the wall of the cab, “What are you doing in there? Reading the owner’s manual? C’mon what is the hold up?! Cabrão,” she whispered in quiet anger as she put a hoof to her face.
The trio fell dead silent as an alarm blared from the prison behind them. As if on cue the vehicle rumbled to life and Silver Spoon clung to the sides on impulse, smirking as her two allies were thrown to the rear of the box by the momentum. They bounced roughly over the narrow cobblestone streets that clearly were not intended to accommodate such a monstrosity and the three ponies cringed beneath their tarp as they felt the vehicle swerve and drag against something.
“What are you doing?! Hey, HEY! HALT!!!” screamed a masculine voice followed by a cowardly yelp as the vehicle swerved again no doubt to miss him.
“Just run ‘em over, Blank Flank! They’ve got life insurance and full medical coverage!” yelled Silver Spoon, already aware her voice was lost to the noise of the shocks bouncing over debris in the streets and the roaring engine. Something thudded against the rear of the vehicle and onto the tarp, scrabbling for the cab which brought a cruel smirk to Silver Spoon’s face. She drew her knife and stabbed up through the tarp, enjoying the cowardly yelps of surprise as she missed. She stabbed over and over again, laughing as their unwanted stowaway leaped and bounced trying to stay away from the blade. He finally fell on top of Pound, who kicked upward and sent him clear off of the tarp.
“Teamwork!” said Pound jovially as a loud thud and a grunt of pain came from the street behind them.
“They’re fast,” remarked Pumpkin Cake as another guard managed to charge the vehicle from the side and ram them with little effect.
“No,” yelled Silver Spoon, “This crate’s too slow; my mom could outrun it. Too late now though; there’s no way we’re changing plans at this point. That’s why we’re here, to keep them off of it. The cab is priority one; protect it at all costs!” Silver Spoon and Pumpkin went to work cutting the ties that held down the tarp while Pound readied himself. Their covering flew airborne and into the distance behind them giving the trio a clear look at their pursuers: three guards on hoof and two in the air were charging from behind and slowly closing the gap.
“We’re screwed, aren’t we?” said Pumpkin.
“Hardly,” said Silver Spoon. “We had a harder time escaping Fort Lodestone in an Eastland truck.” She frowned and stomped the wooden cab, “And those things were built for this kind of thing.”
“What planet are you from, anyways?” said Pound Cake.
“Maybe give the flirting a rest and read a newspaper sometime, huh kid?” said Silver Spoon passively as she readied for the one guard that was close enough to jump. He leaped onto the back of the vehicle and she snatched his service knife, struck him in the forehead with the handle and knocked him clean out and off of the back, and twirled to throw it at one of their airborne pursuers. It struck him handle-first right on the muzzle, sending him careening into the side of a building with a loud crash. “Wow,” she said flatly, “I’m a bit out of practice I think.”
“Corner!!!” screamed Dor’s voice from the cab.
On instinct Silver Spoon dove to the floor and braced as they turned hard to the left and skidded, slamming into the side of a building. Pumpkin tumbled and fell, rolling and hitting the side of the vehicle’s box put Pound stumbled and fell over the side. “Gotcha!” yelled Silver Spoon as she sprung forward and caught him by the hooves. Silently grateful for how much lighter pegasi were than other ponies she managed to heave the stallion back into the vehicle with a grunt of effort as the tires squealed and it sped down the hill. She passively returned the hoof-bump to the young pegasus and peered over the side to get her bearings. She recognized this area of town; they were near the heart of Canterlot and headed east. “Hey! Turn this thing around! Head for the main gate!” she screamed as she banged on the rear window of the cab, “Head south!!!”
“The gate?!” snapped Pumpkin, “It’ll be locked and crawling with guards!”
“So we smash right through.”
“Are you insane?!”
Silver Spoon just grinned as a response. They turned another corner and it appeared their driver took her advice: with a hard left they headed south across the bridge. Abruptly the vehicle screeched to a halt at the dead center of the crossing, nearly throwing the trio in the back overboard. “What in— oh crap.”
They had ridden right into a trap. Two large carts weighed down with spare armor had been pulled across the bridge behind a line of guards, each waiting with a spear aimed directly at the cab. Silver Spoon swallowed nervously as the huge pegasus in the center stared into the group with sheer murderous intent in his eyes. “End of the road,” growled Captain Rumble, “Surrender.”
Silver Spoon leaped onto the roof of the cab and threw her knife right for his head and, without even wincing, the massive stallion nonchalantly turned his head to let it ricochet from his helmet. His eyes never even left the vehicle; he didn’t even care about her little attack. The engine revved twice and Silver Spoon dove into the back to take cover, screaming for the twins to do the same just as the carriage exploded forward straight for the barricade.
With an ear-splitting crash of buckling metal their ride lurched as it slammed into the captain and dragged to a stop. The wheels screamed in agony as rubber spun against concrete and filled the air with smoke and a horrible burning stench, almost drowning out the feral roar of the thing that was somehow overpowering them. Just as the group thought it was over and just as the guards moved into position to jump aboard and finish them off, machine won over monster and he buckled. He went down and the entire vehicle lurched and bounced on its shocks as it ran over him and crashed through the carts. The engine sputtered, the entire thing wobbled slightly on a damaged front wheel, but they were moving once more.
“He ain’t so tough,” said Silver Spoon as she patted the empty knife holster on her leg.
THUD.
“No,” she said in complete disbelief as an armored hoof reached up from behind and gripped the tailgate with enough power to bend the metal. Though she would never admit it to anypony Silver Spoon felt true fear surge through her veins as that thing glared over the back of the vehicle. His armor was scuffed and scraped, but the most the heavy cloud carriage had done as it drove over his prone body was make him mad.
Pound lunged forward and punched him in the face, but might as well have been hitting stone. Rumble reached back and clubbed him with the side of his hoof, hurling the poor kid into the metal tank in the back hard enough to make it wobble.
“Perfect,” said Silver Spoon to the stunned pegasus. She threw herself behind it and with every ounce of strength in her scarred body she pushed the heavy tank over. Caught by the momentum of the speeding vehicle the tank rolled and struck the captain just as he was hurling himself into the back, knocking him off and into the streets with a grunt of pain. Silver Spoon savored the sight of the heap as it vanished into the distance behind them and took a deep breath. “Couldn’t have done it without you, kid,” she said mockingly as she kicked Pound in the sole of his rear hoof to jolt him conscious.
“What, did we make it?” said Pound, still too dazed to realize her comment was sarcasm.
An arrow shot between them and embedded into the wood bottom of the vehicle’s box. “I’m going to go ahead and say… no,” said Silver Spoon.
“Auntie!!!” hollered the raspberry colored pegasus that swooped down and quickly gained on them. Silver Spoon instantly recognized her as the little punk that claimed to be the Blank Flank’s niece and drew her knife, hoping to carve that smug grin off that face once and for all. She shot right past the rear of the vehicle, dodged a lamppost, and flew beside the driver’s seat. “You’re mine now,” she growled as she readied an arrow and aimed it through the window. The vehicle lurched slower as the arrow fired and missed, and sped up once more. The pegasus wasn’t even fazed and she was quick; she soared right in front of the windshield and, between dropping three, managed to fire two more arrows through the windshield as the vehicle swerved desperately to the left and right.
“Can’t believe I’m doing this,” muttered Silver Spoon. She sheathed her knife, not wanting to waste her last one, and grabbed a heavy spanner wrench from the toolbox. Silver Spoon wound up and threw the heavy tool, striking the pegasus dead-center in the forehead and making her shoot her arrow harmlessly into the air. Stunned from the impact she swooped and bounced on the roof of the vehicle with a cry of pain, and in an attempt to recover she swerved sideways and careened right through the window of an apartment building.
“Ten points!” chirped Pound.
Silver Spoon couldn’t help but laugh and patted the pegasus on the back as they turned another corner. Silver Spoon once again got her bearings; they would be close to the front gate if they were on hoof. By vehicle they would have to loop around 14th street and through who knows how many more ambushes and roadblocks. Worse yet, the vehicle was in a sad state: dinted and beaten up, with smoke rising from the now chugging engine and dripping fluids. At this point it likely wouldn’t survive smashing through the front gate. The vehicle spun around another corner, nearly running over another guard, and an idea came to Silver Spoon’s head. “Hey Blank Flank!” she screamed as she pounded on the rear window, “I got me an idea! Do two laps of the block and take 14th to the gate! Trust me!”
“Ah don’t trust you!”
“Well today’s a day for new milestones, sweetheart! JUST DO IT!!!”
“Fine!”
“Well,” she said to the twins, “If you guys don’t make it there or if I don’t survive the trip, it’s been swell. Lots of luck finding your mom.” Before they could answer she jumped over the side and caught a clothesline, riding it downward like a zip line with the momentum of the vehicle behind her and all the way to the end. She was thrown through a window and crashed across a coffee table, scrabbling quickly to her hooves and snatching what she could from the little pile of jewelry on the kitchen counter before kicking down the door and sprinting into the hall. Dodging a surprised mare in the hallway she ran out the fire escape and jumped to the neighboring rooftop below, letting out a crude “Oof” as she rolled messily and kept moving.
That’ll hurt in the morning…
She pushed herself to run faster, jumping the narrow alleyways from rooftop to rooftop knowing the guards would be too busy chasing the vehicle to worry about one earth pony on the rooftops. She slid down a water spout and was immediately spotted by the two sentries still manning their posts at the gate.
“Freeze!” said one of them as the other approached.
“I surrender,” she said softly as she sat back on her haunches and put her forelegs on her head. The sentry pulled out a set of hoofcuffs and as soon as he wrenched her foreleg behind her back she spun, kicking him in the stomach and using the hoofcuff as a blackjack to knock him out. The other guard charged and she threw her knife, once again hitting her target handle-first and knocking him unconscious. “My aim is crap without my glasses,” she mused as she snatched a ring of keys, unlocked the gate, and helped herself to the two sentries’ service knives. With her job done she just had to hope her ride could make it and climbed to the lookout platform to wait. At the top she briefly gave in to her exhaustion and slumped against the guardrail as she lit one of the cigarettes she had stolen from Apple Bloom as the redhead slept. “Big bro was right,” she said passively as she took a good long drag and listened to the roaring of the vehicle and scattered yelling of guards in the distance, “I should’ve become a teacher.” As she spoke the vehicle lurched around the corner and sped for the main gate. Silver Spoon calmly finished her cigarette, blew a smoke ring, and jumped for the cab. Her landing was less than graceful but she made it; she landed dead center in the back of the vehicle’s box just as it slammed through the gate. “Miss me?” she said, trying to salvage the dignity.
“I did!” said Pound.
“Shut up,” snapped Silver Spoon. She looked around at the trees that whizzed past as they sped into the darkness of the forest and saw no guards or other immediate threats. “So. What did I miss?”
“Few more guards,” said Pumpkin passively, “and the pegasus with the bow came back. We handled it.”
“Apparently,” laughed Silver Spoon. “And I thought I hated the Blank Flank.”
“I think we’re in the clear, guys!” cheered Pound as he draped over the damaged back of the vehicle and watched the cobblestone pathway race by and vanish, becoming a dirt trail. “So what now, Spoon?”
“Keep moving until this crate dies,” said Silver Spoon, “They’ll be hot on our trail so we can’t stop yet. Then—” She was cut off as the vehicle clipped a tree and skidded, nearly going off the road. “Hey Blank Flank! Go easy on the gas, huh?!”
“The brakes are out!” yelled Apple Bloom from inside the cab.
“Aw hell,” muttered Silver Spoon. She ran to the side and looked toward the engine; several arrows were embedded into the side of the vehicle and one was bleeding what must have been brake fluid. “I am going to kill that little brat.” Going far too fast for this narrow dirt trail the vehicle veered erratically back and forth as the group in the back struggled to hang on. “You know what?” said Silver Spoon as she climbed onto the side, “It’s been fun, I’m out.” She gritted her teeth and jumped from the box, rolling as she hit the dirt and crying out in pain. She slumped on her side and watched the vehicle speed away into the darkness before mustering the strength to stand. “Here’s to you, Blank Flank,” she said as she mockingly waved in the direction of their escape, “That was some fine driving. Lots of luck.” Silver Spoon stole quietly into the bushes, confident that the inevitable pursuers would be too busy trying to track her ‘friends’ to ever find her. She made it almost ten steps into the bushes and, once she was certain she was out of sight, let her aching body collapse and pass out.
Crimson Sky was silent as he descended to the gate of Canterlot, guided to the ground by two sentries. As if things hadn’t gone bad enough, the only reason showing ID at the gate would be mandatory is if there had been a situation in his absence. He landed and shoved his card in the face of the young guard at the entrance, making it quite clear he was not happy with the distraction given the circumstances. The kid faltered, too busy staring at the injured blue mess that was draped over Sky’s back, and he snapped, “She is INJURED! Let me pass. NOW!”
“Y-yes, sir! Sorry!” sputtered the armored yellow mare as she nodded to her partner who opened the gate.
He broke into a light trot, trying to move as quickly as possible without jostling his injured teammate. Admittedly she wasn’t in as bad of shape as he had thought when he first encountered her, flopped lifelessly on her back with a badly pummeled face, but he wasn’t willing to take any chances. “You’re a fool, Dust,” he scolded softly as he turned the corner to the infirmary, “A stupid, arrogant fool. I told you to take a squadron. I told you to take me and Merrilay. You didn’t listen and look at you: you got the ever-loving crap kicked out of you. You’re tough, Dust, but you’re not a one-mare army. You have an entire air force at your command; use it. What’s the point of spinning those recruits all the way to Tartarus and back on the Dizzitron if you’re going to leave them at home twitching their tails while you go in alone? What were you even trying to prove?!”
“Sky…” slurred the weak voice of Lightning Dust from his back, struggling to form consonants through a painful and injured mouth, “you mouthy piece of trash… I’m conscious… you know…”
“I know,” he said coldly.
“You disobeyed a direct order…”
“I know.”
Crimson Sky shoved the door open and the medics inside jumped to life, one running for a stretcher while another ran to ask what happened. “Sky…” said Lightning Dust weakly, “You can’t tell anypony I got trashed by a cripple… I’d never live it down…”
“What happened to her?!” asked the medic.
“Training accident,” said Crimson Sky as he helped ease her onto the stretcher they had brought, “She was being stupid in the mountains and got herself hurt.”
He ignored the insistence of the medic that he wait in the lobby and followed the stretcher to a room, keeping his gaze locked onto Lightning Dust’s venomous glare every step of the way. She didn’t like it one bit when he talked down to her and this time he didn’t care; he didn’t like it when she pushed her luck for no good reason. The medics milled about the room, getting their gear ready as Sky just sat beside the stretcher, staring at her beaten face.
“Don’t ever pull a stunt like that again, Dust,” he said softly, the way he would speak to his daughter, “Dust. We lost Twitch. I… lost Twitch. Don’t make me lose you too.”
“Sir?” said one of the medics in an understanding tone, “We really need you out of the way. Your friend’s injuries thankfully aren’t severe, but we need to be able to focus if we are going to treat them.”
Crimson Sky hesitated for a moment and nodded. “Fine,” he said as he stood up and began to leave.
“Thanks for coming for me,” said Lightning Dust, quickly and quietly as if she didn’t actually want him to hear it.
He gave her the embellishment and left the room without so much as a glance, grumbling softly with frustration and exhaustion as he let the door shut behind him. Technically he had followed his orders to get some sleep: he took a nap before his meeting with the inspector and ultimately flying after Dust to keep an eye on her, but it wasn’t nearly enough to and he found himself feeling almost sick with fatigue. Still, he could push himself a bit longer; he wanted to know exactly what had happened while he was out and if it was something that concerned the R.E.A.F. With Dust out of commission for the time being he was the acting commander, which meant he had some decisions to make before he could even think about sleeping.
With any luck it’s some trivial guard matter and I can spend a solid day in the sack.
Before any of that, though, as long as he was at the hospital he had something else he wanted to check in on first. He had been meaning to check in on Pinstripe all this time and hadn’t gotten around to it yet. After a quick trot down the hallway and, silently hoping he had gotten the room right, he entered 116.
Both Pinstripe and Sandback were chatting and abruptly threw their hooves up in a salute, with the former quickly letting out a hiss as a bolt of pain quickly reminded him of his injured shoulder. He clutched it and clenched his eyes shut with a deep breath before looking up apologetically.
“Easy, now,” said Crimson Sky with a weak laugh and a half-hearted salute of his own, “I don’t need any of that right now. How’s the shoulder?”
“Good, sir. I’m supposed to be out of here tomorrow,” said Pinstripe as he nervously studied his bandages, no doubt afraid he had reopened his would, “Figures, right? I finally get a roommate to keep me company a day before I’m released.”
Crimson Sky glanced over at the pony in the bed next to them, a white stallion and undoubtedly a guard judging by his build, was sleeping off some manner of injury. Sky sat at the foot of the bed and patted the small stack of letters on the bedside table, “From the family?”
“No, sir, the unit,” said Pinstripe, his voice sounding somewhat somber, “…My parents never even bothered to answer the letters I wrote them.”
Sky felt a twinge of guilt from bringing it up as Lightning Dust’s words from the other day about their unit being built out of ‘castaways’ came to mind. “I…” he began and trailed off; he simply was not good at this kind of thing. “So… Was there some kind of incident last night?”
The kid’s face lit up nervously, “Uh… I don’t really know the details. Uh, sir. I overheard some doctors talking though. There was a prison break in the holding cells last night and a lot of guards were injured. Sir.”
“WHAT?!”
Both Sandback and Pinstripe recoiled from the outburst. “I don’t think anypony was killed,” said Sandback as he gestured over at the sleeping white stallion, “That guy there was one of the sentries. He got stabbed and they stole his keys.”
Crimson Sky came this close to losing his temper but kept himself in check. Both Silver Spoon and Twitch’s killer were in those cells, along with those two little Rainbolt punks. The guards, the R.E.A.F, and even that glue bag Featherweight and those disgusting little things that followed him around had devoted way too much time trying to capture those prisoners and in one deft little act of stupidity they all escaped. He threw himself to his hooves and stormed over to the guard’s bed determined to get some answers, and felt another set of hooves wrap around him and hold him back. “Sir! NO!”
Sky glared at Sandback who, having seen the anger on his face, was restraining him. He took a few deep breaths to calm down and let his muscles relax, and the young medic released him. Calmly he walked up to the side of the bed and gave the frame a firm kick, “Rise and shine, soldier. I want some answers.”
The stallion flinched in the bed and grumbled as he awakened to the apparent pain from his stab wound. He rubbed at his eyes and faced the captain, his white disheveled features looking tired and sore beneath his shaggy mop of a mane, and silently stared as if he wasn’t sure what to say.
“Hold on,” said Crimson Sky as he instantly recognized the guard from the other day, “I know you. I thought you were an inspector; since when do you guys do sentry detail?”
“I… oh…” said the stallion nervously as he spotted a faint red patch that bled through the white sheets, “I… yeah. They were short-staffed, a schedule mix-up I think, and I owed a sentry a favor.”
“Sandback,” said Sky, “Fix that bandage of his.”
“Sir.”
As the young medic went to work, the old captain scrutinized the guard. His gut was telling him something wasn’t right about all of this. “Double-tasking, huh?” he said, holding his suspicion behind his usual cold mask, “Wasn’t aware you guys did that kind of thing.”
“Not often, sir,” he said, giving a silent nod to Sandback in appreciation for the fresh bandage, “Desperate times and all that, right?”
“That’s for sure,” said Crimson Sky. He stared, trying to think exactly how to word himself. “Listen. I know us and you guys don’t have the most… amiable… of backgrounds, but it’s like you said: desperate times. I need you to help me out here. Tell me what happened. How did four prisoners escape their cells and waltz out of Canterlot?”
“Five, sir,” corrected the guard, “They had help. A teenager, by the looks of it, got in and jumped me. I took him down no sweat but one of the prisoners got my spear. One of them managed to drive those… things that Environment Equestria drives around and they brute-forced their way out of the city.”
“A cloud carriage?”
“Nopony’s ever pulled a stunt like that. We weren’t ready and had no means to stop it; even Captain Rumble was injured.”
“He’s not—”
“You kidding, sir?” said the stallion, “He’s indestructible. Bit of a limp and a scuffed knee is all. But—”
“Starlight!!!”
Crimson Sky stepped back as the inspector and a young stallion he didn’t recognize burst into the room. She threw her hooves around him, quietly ranting about how glad she was that he was okay while inadvertently crushing the life out of him. A quick gagging noise caught Sky’s attention; Sandback had a hoof over his mouth and was making an almost successful attempt to keep from laughing at the sight in front of him. Crimson Sky wasn’t amused; he couldn’t help but be somehow troubled by that young stallion with the inspector. He looked young and harmless enough, too young to be a guard, and there was just something… off about his movements. Sky had been a fighter since his youth and knew how ponies moved; earth ponies, pegasi, and unicorns had subtle differences in their movements and postures that were quite noticeable if you knew what to look for. This earth pony moved as if he was used to having wings, and for some reason it was bothering Sky to no end.
Focus, Sky. You’re just rattled from all that’s happened. Leave the kid alone.
“Inspector,” he said abruptly enough to surprise the huge mare and catch her attention, “About your offer the other day…”
The inspector’s face lit up and almost instantly became worried. It took her all of a second to realize why he changed his mind; she was good. “Why the change of heart? What happened to the Major?!”
“She was taken down,” he said, pausing long enough to shrug off the worried glances from his subordinates, “She’ll be fine. But the perps got away and I found no sign of this ‘element’ thing they were talking about. However, I found this.” He reached into his flight suit for the tattered bandana he had found stuck on a rock near the cliffs, the same one that one-eyed pegasus from the other day had worn, and gave it to her. She perked up at the sight of it, her eyes becoming wide as she stared down at it. She definitely recognized it. “What do you make of it?” he said.
“I… don’t know. It’s old, I know that much. Looks hoof-made, probably by a foal.” Her eyes shifted between the bandana and Sky, “Sorry. I thought I recognized it but… this ain’t what I was thinkin’ of. No, I don’t know what to make of it.”
“Alright,” said Crimson Sky. “Thank you, Inspector. Hang onto that, why don’t you? I’ll be in touch so we can formulate a strategy, but for now if you’ll excuse me, I’m acting-lacking until the Major recovers and I have work to do. Sandback, I need you with me.”
“I’m coming too, sir,” said Pinstripe as he stumbled and stood up straight, keeping his one leg curled and held against his chest.
“No,” said Crimson Sky, “You’re in no condition to fly. Stay put.”
“Sir, with all due respect, I can still do paperwork. Load munitions. …Sweep the unit?”
Crimson Sky found himself smiling in spite of all that had happened. “You won me over. Head to the unit.” He shot his hoof out and stopped the kid from saluting on impulse. “Get going. Inspector, thanks again.”
He and Sandback left the room and headed for the door as Pinstripe hobbled toward the lobby and in the other direction to clear out of the infirmary. “Sir… um… not that I’m criticizing—”
“Criticize,” ordered Crimson Sky as he held the door open, “You know me better than that, Sandback. Speak up; I won’t bite your head off.”
“It’s just… well… we never work with the guards. Is the situation really that bad?”
As they headed outside Crimson Sky abruptly turned and headed to the side of the hospital, beckoning the young medic to follow him where nopony would hear them. “Sandback, did any of that seem strange to you?”
“Yes, sir. That stallion with the inspector gave me the creeps. Don’t know why.”
Somepony shows up and springs them right during a short-handed shift. What are the odds?”
“High, sir,” said Sandback as his typical joker smirk slowly encroached his face, “The guards aren’t exactly… competent.”
“Let’s try to keep this at least somewhat serious, Sandback.”
“Sorry, sir,” said the medic as he quickly wiped the smile off his face, “Who knows how long he or she had been waiting? They might have just gotten lucky and pounced on an available opportunity.”
“Maybe… hopefully.”
“Sir…?”
“I know exactly where that bandana I gave the inspector came from. It belonged to the civvy I found near Loamstone Valley. No doubt the same one who beat the Major senseless,” he said in a low growl as he reflected on having helped her soon-to-be attacker, “The inspector recognized that bandana; she was lying her ass off. Why?”
“Uh… I don’t know, sir?”
“I was talking to the Lieutenant. The red head who murdered Twitch and escaped that cell is the inspector’s cousin. The same one who happened to escape thanks to a convenient little screw up—”
“Sir, hold on,” said Sandback as the gears finally spun in his head, “You don’t honestly think…”
“At this point?” interrupted Crimson Sky with a shake of his head, “No. Nopony in the Criminal Investigation Department has access to the sentry’s schedules. Personally I think she’s loyal and want to give her the benefit of the doubt… but the possibility’s there and I’ve been wrong before.” He took a moment to stare up at the sky. The sun was just rising over the mountains in the distance; most everywhere but here ponies would be going on with their daily lives as if nothing bad was happening in the world. It was a blissful ignorance he found himself envying more and more with age. “For now, this stays between you and me, understood? There are enough waves in our forces without pointing hooves at that inspector. But we’re keeping her close so we can make use of her talents and keep an eye on her.”
“Understood, sir.”
“Now where’s the Lieutenant? Don’t tell me she went off after the escapees?”
“No, sir,” said Sandback, “She took part in the chase last night; got cut up by broken glass and took a good blast to the chest from a unicorn. She’s being treated as we speak, sir.”
“Then I hate to do this to you, Sandback, but you’re on roundup duty. I want every available airpony at HQ in a half-hour. Lose the lethal munitions and suit them up with flashbangs.”
“We’re going non-lethal?”
“Yeah. We’re dragging those fugitives back here kicking and screaming so they can tell us who sprung them. And if somepony in our ranks is a traitor…” he said, feeling a low anger build over the possibility, “They’re going to wish all I do to them is drop some bombs.”
Sandback stood at attention and sharply saluted. “Sir, yes Sir!” he said, all fired up at the thought of it, and exploded from the ground and tore away so fast he missed Crimson Sky’s proud salute and vanished from sight before the Captain’s hoof lowered. He took to the air himself, soaring high enough over Canterlot that he could no longer hear the ambience of the guards as they scrambled about the streets. He couldn’t see the damage the fugitives had done to the city from this high up but could still feel the impact they had left. He thought of one of those cloud carriages, those bulky and ungainly things that rolled about at the whims of some strange engine he didn’t understand, rumbling down the streets and simply overtaking anything and anypony that got in its way. He thought of it slamming into the bodies of guards, rolling over Captain Rumble with enough weight to injure him…
…and what if it had been daytime? Civilians everywhere and Skedaddle, still too young to fly, trotting home from kindergarten as it tore around a blind corner…
He cringed and forced the thought out of his head as he hovered outside the bathroom window of his home; they always kept it unlocked so he could swoop in at any hour and make use of it without disturbing the household. He let the sink run to get good and cold so he could splash water in his face and stared into the mirror. He looked like death warmed over. He washed his face in the cold water and rubbed it briskly with a towel when he caught a glimpse of the door slowly opening.
“…Daddy…?”
“Oh Skedaddle…” he said softly as he turned off the sink and scooped his little filly up, cradling her head over his shoulder, “Did I wake you?”
“Mm-hmm…” she said quietly, still dopey and half-asleep.
He rocked her gently as he carried her past her room and to the master bedroom, wishing every step of the way he could have a few hours of sleep as well, and tucked her into bed with her mom. She looked up at him, blearily blinking her young little eyes, and he gently ran a hoof over her head and sat beside the bed. He watched her with a serene smile on his weathered old face as she closed her eyes and rolled over, hoping she would dream something pleasant for him as well, and kissed her and his wife on the foreheads. He took one more look at his family, snoring softly in a place he’d give almost anything to be in as well, and quietly closed the door behind him.
“Daddy’s got some work to do,” he said darkly as he climbed back out the window and soared towards headquarters.
“Alright,” said Babs Seed, letting the large duffel bag drop to the floor as she kicked the door shut and clicked the lock, “All clear.”
The young stallion that had accompanied her for the past day let out a very relieved sigh and erupted in green fire, leaving Bright Eyes in his place. The changeling stretched and buzzed his wings as he stood, making the sound a hornet produces as it angrily buzzes against a window seeking freedom. He made it look as if it took effort to remain in disguise or at the very least it was uncomfortable to walk around in the guise of a pony. For whatever reason, Babs settled on the notion that it must be like clenching a muscle.
One heck of a useful talent, though. Wish I could be somepony else for a while…
She thought about the near four hours she had spent in the room with Starlight while Bright Eyes patiently studied the wall. “Sorry ‘bout that, Bright Eyes,” she said passively. “I’m curious, by the way. What makes you choose the appearances you pick? You have favorite colors?” She paused, finding the notion rather funny for some reason, “Favorite race? Gender?”
He was silent as always and answered with an oddly confused furrowed brow. He didn’t seem bothered by the question in any way, but rather like he didn’t understand the significance of such things to begin with. His gradient eyes darted left and right as he contemplated an answer, but ultimately just shrugged and headed for his couch.
Her musings only delayed the inevitable; she quickly felt the all-too familiar feeling of dread take hold as she stared into the duffel bag that had been delivered to her by Harrier and Pavot. It contained everything that had been found in Apple Bloom’s home in Broncton. She had to face facts: her cousin was involved in all of this and staring at her from across the divide, alongside the same ponies that rallied against everything she stood for. She wanted to believe there was something she missed, but that little shred of hope was becoming harder and harder to hang onto as Rumble’s cold words from the other night echoed over and over.
Ponies change. But even then: what’ll I do when I come face to face with her? Am I strong enough to do what I might have to do?
She told herself over and over that it was her only lead as she dug through the bag searching for clues, despite being well aware that deep down she just wanted to find her cousin and know the truth. Know why. “Even then, she said aloud to herself as she tried to focus her thoughts, “What other choice do I have? I got nothin’ on the Cake twins and Spoon might as well be a ghost. That thing they escaped in could be miles away in any direction; can’t count on chasin’ it down anytime soon.”
The bag she dug through was that of a professional, consummate soldier; it only contained issued gear and nothing in the way of personal effects or knickknacks. It held several uniforms that bore a foreign emblem of a jackal and were colored to match the drab sands of a desert. A knife, haversack, canteen, a belt pouch that carried what was undoubtedly ammunition and a cleaning kit for the gun she used, and the all-important tin cup used for everything from boiling stew, drinking water, or brewing coffee. It was frighteningly similar to the issued gear Babs carried in her Stormfront days, yet so different at the same time with their cloth and leather gear that emphasized mobility and flexibility in a hot environment rather than heavy defensive armor. Babs shuddered at the thought of facing an entire regiment armed with this kind of gear; she never wanted to be one of the unfortunate souls facing an army of foes each carrying accurate distance weapons that had been powerful enough to actually damage the black armor the royal guard wore.
So deadly that the users didn’t bother with armor; the enemy couldn’t get close enough.
All that was left in the bag were a pair of pendants, obviously dog tags, with one reading ‘Peppercorn, 07031983, Zebra, E.D.F’ and the other with similar information and the name ‘Sunflower’, and a strange gemstone that immediately caught her attention. She put the tags aside and studied it closely; there didn’t seem to be anything special about it and yet it felt so out of place compared to the bags contents that it seemed important. Babs held it up to the light and, as she studied the way it refracted through the small stone, she began to feel strange. Everything around her began to feel out of sync, like she was falling asleep yet fully aware at the same time. She stared and stared and quiet, strange-sounding hoofsteps began to echo louder and louder from a source she couldn’t pinpoint.
“I’m not happy,” said a deep voice she instantly recognized as Rumble’s, despite it sounding distorted like it was underwater. It seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time.
“Yes…” said a feminine voice, dripping with anger. “I swear that one is like a little gray cockroach. Never in my life have I hated a pony so much as Silver Spoon. Just… hearing that name offends me in a most sickening way.” The sound of that angry growl just barely masked by the all-familiar elegant tone told Babs Seed this voice belonged to the Princess, and she did not sound happy. “Oh how I wish your ex had just twisted her head clean off when she had the chance, for all the good it did us to take her alive.”
“Nopony has ever done a stunt like this before.”
“Yes. And that little escape of theirs was disgustingly easy thanks to it,” said the Princess, followed by the trademark heavy exhale she did when she collected herself and quelled her temper. “We’ll have to have a word with that company; until they install some manner of lock-out device to prevent such insurrections again those vehicles will be disabled. What do you think? A key, perhaps?”
“Focus,” scolded Rumble in a way that chilled Babs to the bone. He sounded furious; much angrier than she had ever heard him before.
“Very well. What do you think?”
“I think the Queen should get involved.”
“No,” said the Princess. “No, there is no need to disturb her rest over this. Though a serious blow to our credibility, and even considering my personal investment in Silver Spoon for the neck ache she gave me, admittedly they were low-value prisoners to say the least. Let them crawl back into their hole and cower for a while; chasing them down will give Lightning Dust and her minions something to chew on. Heh… at the very least, their escape did save me from having to give the mother of all awkward explanations to Babs Seed.”
Explanation…?
“What’s the plan, then?” asked Rumble curtly.
“Stay the course,” said the Princess, “I can suffer a blow to my ego from time to time. All I truly care about is preventing collateral damage and keeping the hoi polloi in line while the Queen prepares her little solution. We each have our part to play, my friend, and we cannot lose sight of that just because some grains of sand got caught between the gears.”
“The Queen taught you well.”
“Taught us well. The Queen’s going to do what those spineless royal sisters and their crew of bobble-head element bearers never could, and we’ll be there every step of the way to help her drag this mess of a nation, kicking and screaming if necessary, into a golden age. One where two little foals don’t have to watch their families die right before their eyes because one princess had a tantrum and decided our hometown was a great place to settle it.”
“Suppose the grains of sand find the rest of the elements,” interrupted Rumble. “Contingency?”
“We won’t have to worry about that,” said the Princess in a smug tone, as if she knew something she wasn’t letting on, “Provided they don’t pull anymore stunts like the Canterlot debacle and make us look incompetent, which of course encourages bandwagon jumpers and more collateral damage, then they can feel free to scurry like lice to the tip of the longest hair and claim victory for all the good it will do them. Perhaps we’ll get real lucky and your ex will capture the one who pulled Silver Spoon’s strings to boot; she’s quite good at that sort of thing it seems.” She sighed heavily with frustration, which sounded like a demonic growl due to the distortion, “You truly are the smarter one. Oh how often I wish I had been the one to renounce my title and leave such headaches to Prince Rumble.”
“You weren’t run over by a truck.”
Like abruptly waking from a nightmare Babs Seed fell limp to the ground and cried out, clutching her hooves to her forehead trying to soothe the throbbing headache the assault to her senses had given her. She clenched her eyes shut to bear the pain and blindly waved her hoof around, finding somepony to hang onto who helped pull her back to her hooves. “Thanks,” she said, absentmindedly assuming it was Starlight as usual until she looked and saw gradient blue eyes staring at her with confusion and concern, “…partner,” she added. Bright Eyes released his gnarled grip on her and she went to retrieve the gem, stumbling once from her still-pounding headache as she picked it up. She had only heard of these things up until now. They were something the crystal ponies had come up with to store information; although Babs wasn’t clear on how they worked these gemstones could store sound and play it back like a record. Of course Equestria had appropriated them for use after the invasion, but despite their usefulness these stones hadn’t caught on due to the headaches they caused. “This ain’t somethin’ Apple Bloom would’ve been carryin’, Bright Eyes,” said Babs as she studied the thing, “and none of this adds up.”
Bright Eyes cocked his head to the side, apparently not understanding what she meant. Rather than return to his couch, though, he took a seat attentively like a dog awaiting an order.
“Somepony else planted this there, pal,” she said as she was lost in thought, “Somepony who knew I would find it. Wanted me to find it. The question is who?” She didn’t like this one bit. What possible reason was there for some unknown pony in the palace to be slipping her this information? If the Princess was right and there was a spy in the palace, why would he or she be helping her? Did that mean she was being used, and is playing into the spy’s hooves by continuing her investigation? Perhaps it wasn’t a spy at all; perhaps it was just one random pony in the palace who wanted to help her on the sly, but again the question was why? Why help her, and why keep it a secret?
And why send me this of all things?
The entire conversation she had listened to had disturbed her in a multitude of ways she couldn’t understand. She had no clue what that conversation was about and yet it had sounded so threatening and ominous. And why would this unknown benefactor send her this recording at all? “And for that matter,” she said the unusually attentive Bright Eyes at her side, “how did they get this?” Babs Seed wasn’t sure what the range of these gemstones was, but it made logical sense that they could only record things within earshot. Sneaking up on Rumble and the Princess just to eavesdrop, or even slipping it into their clothing, is a pretty bold move for somepony to make just to give her a recording of a conversation that meant very little to her to begin with. As fond of Rumble as she was, and as pleasant as the Princess is when she’s in a good mood, those are two ponies no sane pony would ever cross in a million years without a very good reason.
Just who is this pony?
Babs Seed sighed as what was left of her headache finally subsided. As things stood right now, everything seemed to hinge on these ‘Elements of Harmony’. If these ponies, her cousin included, were indeed seeking them, then her best C.O.A. seemed clear. She had to find them. That would aim her right in the direction of these ponies. The problem was that all the records were incredibly vague; many of them didn’t even mention the elements and none gave useable details. Even Starlight, who could have easily been a historian with his knowledge on such subjects, knows little about them. “However,” she said as she recalled the names Starlight had listed off, “I do know of the ponies who had them.” As troubling as Rumble and the Princess’ conversation was, she had no choice but to just trust them with that end of things. She had a plan of her own—
BANG BANG BANG!
Babs Seed and Bright Eyes both jumped at the abrupt knock on their door and the changeling hurriedly disguised himself before Babs answered. A young pale yellow stallion stood at her door that she instantly recognized with his bandaged shoulder and one leg curled against his chest. “In… uh… Inspector,” he said nervously, “Uh… Captain Sky, ma’am, he sent me to get you.”
Babs patted the nervous little thing’s shoulder and tried to reassure him with a smile, “Easy there,” she said softly, “I don’t bite. What do you mean ‘get me’?”
The young pegasus took a deep breath and meekly dabbed the sweat from his head. “We, I mean some of our fliers, they found the… uh… the thing the escapees uh, escaped in. Uh, the tracks it left anyway. The unit’s deploying in 15, on hoof so they’re not seen above the tree line.”
“And you want me to come along?” asked Babs curiously.
“The Captain does. Uh, ma’am. Truth is, none of us really know about ground tracking. We… we could really use the help. Ma’am.”
“What about Me— I mean, the Lieutenant?” said Babs Seed, “Me and her don’t exactly… click. Might cause problems if we’re both along.”
“Uh… none of us know where she— I mean, the Lieutenant is… uh… out right now. Unavailable. She won’t be along.”
“Fifteen minutes?” confirmed Babs. “Tell your captain to wait for me.”
The young pony perked up, “Yes, Ma’am!” he said as he turned and limped quite quickly down the hall on three legs.
Paydirt.
With any luck this meant things were starting to look up. Hopefully they’d track them down and she could face her cousin one-on-one. “I just have to know why,” she said as she latched the door and winked to Bright Eyes, signaling it was all-clear to return to his true form, “It’s true what Rumble said: ponies change. But for what reason, pal? Maybe she has a good reason, or maybe she is just a victim of circumstance. No matter what, as long as I can help it, nopony’s gonna lay a hoof on her ‘till I find out the truth behind all this.”
Bright Eyes only blinked twice and made an odd warbling noise; Babs couldn’t even tell if he was agreeing or not.
“Now then,” said Babs as she turned to face the changeling, “I need to ask somethin’ of you, but before I do, you remember your first day here? When I told you I expected you to do as I said?” The changeling eagerly nodded. “Well, this is nothin’ like that. I got a job for you, but let me make it clear I’m not tellin’ you to do it. I’m askin’ you.”
The changeling was perplexed. He didn’t understand at all what she was getting at and simply shrugged in silence.
“I have no clue where these elements could be, Bright Eyes, but I know of the ponies who originally had ‘em. I also know the R.E.A.F’s first mission was to apprehend those ponies. It ended in failure; not a single one was brought in, but there would be mission logs. Logs that explained where they searched, perhaps even logs of encounters or chases. The problem is those logs are way above my pay grade and they’d never lend ‘em to a guard.” Babs Seed rested her hoof on the changeling’s shoulder, smiling to reassure him as he flinched slightly from the contact. “What I’m askin’ you to do is disguise yourself as my cousin Merrilay, go in there, and swipe their oldest mission log. Pretty sure the fliers are all out right now but if any happen to spot you, you gotta just say nothin’; from what I hear she’s pretty abrasive to her comrades and they won’t suspect a thing. Let me make something perfectly clear before you even consider agreein’ to do this, though: if you get caught, you’re toast. There’ll be nothin’ I can do to protect you and whatever they’ll end up doing to you won’t be pretty.” She took a moment to stare into his worried blue eyes, “So I’m askin’ you if you’ll do it. If you don’t want to, that’s fine. I wouldn’t wanna do it either. I’ll figure out somethin’ else; I always do. It’s your choice, Bright Eyes. Your call.”
Bright Eyes nervously bit his lower lip and sat down for a moment as he thought. Without much hesitation he looked her in the eyes and nodded. Babs Seed lunged and scooped the changeling up in a big bear hug which made him panic. She refused to release him as he struggled and kicked his gnarled hooves against her and cried out in a fearful hissing chatter. In a moment he began to relax; he stopped struggling and very hesitantly put his hooves around her back and returned the hug, gently nestling his head against her chest as he did so. Babs took a moment longer to cradle the little black creature; his vaguely equine face was so full of sorrow as he stared off into nothing with his head against her that she couldn’t bring herself to let go quite yet.
“I’ll be back in a little while, Bright Eyes,” she said softly as if he was a foal, “You head out whenever you’re ready.”
The day had turned dark and miserable as the sky was blotted out by ominous storm clouds and a deluge of rain, making the late afternoon seem like dusk. The weatherponies had missed a scheduled rainfall and now their only means of catching up was a sudden downpour, which had left the streets of Hoofington almost completely deserted. The only sound to be heard outside was the loud hiss of rain and the occasional wet tramping of a miserable guard covered head-to-hoof with a poncho. One by one the lights came on in the small two-story house, shooing out the shadows and bathing the rooms in the warm orange light of oil lamps. Clear Rivers was an expert; he held the flint striker masterfully in his mouth and lit the wick of the final lamp on his first try, and adjusted the wick just right with no difficulty. The young colt placed the striker on the table and enjoyed the warmth of the lamp for a moment, before something caught his attention and he perked right up as his mother shambled into the room. She looked like death warmed over, with bags under her eyes and a rather ratty coat of fur, but she was up and around which was definitely a change for the better.
“Well done, my boy,” said Silver Spoon, her quiet voice lost to the torrent of rain as she watched the silent conversation between mother and son through the window. She wasn’t even aware of what it was she was complimenting him for; she simply felt proud of him in some strange way she didn’t understand. She continued to watch from her hidden vantage point, in a tree in the neighbor’s yard where she couldn’t be seen from the streets, until the two of them left the room into a part of the house she could no longer see.
She gave it no more thought and let herself drop, catching the branch she had sat on to slow her fall and land in the mud with nothing more than a dull splat that was lost to the rain. Breaking into a quick sprint she was across the lawn and easily scaled the six-foot fence to land in what was once her own yard.
Cloudy Cradle’s yard.
Silver Spoon didn’t bother to enter the dull and gloomy unlit house; no doubt the guards had ransacked it searching for the witch’s crown and probably tore the place apart just for good measure. Thankfully there wasn’t much of anything in the home worth retrieving. There were some books and little knick knacks that belonged to Cloudy Cradle, not her, and would be useless to her now that she had been forced to drop the alter-ego. As she passed the porch she noticed the book she had been reading that morning still sat there, touched only by the rain that had blown in and soaked it to the point of being unreadable, along with her novelty mug that was filled to the brim with rainwater. Silver Spoon sat motionless against the porch letting the dark coloring of the poncho she had ‘borrowed’ from a guard one town over render her invisible against the gloomy day as a lone sentry trudged past in the street. She took the time to plot the best route to get to her destination, having two choices available. One was to merely walk in the open with her head down: anypony who saw her would assume she was nothing more than a lone pony in a poncho trudging home and odds are even the guards would ignore her, but there was always the chance a guard might recognize the poncho or just stop her for the heck of it. The alternative was to make a beeline through private properties: she’d get there much faster, but would look very suspicious and anypony who spotted her would take notice right away and might even try to apprehend her.
With the guard she hid from now out of sight and probably up past the store by now, she quickly settled on the latter option and sprinted across the street and through the yard of that obnoxious white mare who constantly stuck her muzzle in other pony’s business. Silver Spoon watched through a knothole in the fence as the same guard she had passed earlier was stopped at the store getting a drink. She gave the empty cup to the grocer, and the two rubbed noses briefly before the guard continued the route. “Sheesh, pal,” Silver Spoon whispered as she realized it was the same guard that was flirting with him that morning, “Thought you had better taste than that.”
She thought no more of it and shot across the street, wishing she could stop in the store for one of those mincemeat tarts she loved so much, and hopped over the all-familiar white picket fence. Silver Spoon felt a twinge of relief when she saw G&P shrouded in darkness. Trixie lived on the second floor and the gray mare had been dreading the possibility of running into her, but if nopony was home she could get in and out without anypony knowing she was ever there. As she inserted a pair of hairpins into the lock and went to work setting the pins, she silently thanked herself for her obsession with planning ahead: there was one possession she had left in this town and she had the foresight not to hide it in her home, knowing there was a good chance her cover might one day be blown. The lock snapped open and she smiled as she quietly eased the door open.
The muted sound of the rain spattering on the ceiling and windows soothed Silver Spoon as she crept down the darkened hallway and past the classroom towards the small room in the back where she used to spend her days. She loved the rain. While it had it’s obvious perks for one in her profession, such as making it harder for enemies to see and hear as well as making them less vigilant, there was something about it that made her feel at peace. She hated sand and snow and the sun, but the rain just felt clean somehow. She thoroughly enjoyed the rain that hissed against the window of the back room as she plucked the heavy textbook from the shelf, a dated reference guide of ear pantomimes for communicating with the deaf that she knew nopony would ever bother to read, and opened it…
And it was empty.
Being able to resist the urge to throw the book out the window and ransacking the room was a testament to Spoon’s years of honing her self-control. “Where is it?!” she hissed quietly, “Where did it go?! Even if somepony did find it, why would they ever take it?!”
“Cloudy,” said a familiar tired voice from behind.
Aw hell.
Silver Spoon slowly turned to face her old friend, who stood in the doorway with nothing on but that gaudy old wizard’s hat she always insisted on wearing. She hoped Trixie wasn’t going to try and stop her; she had been forced to do some nasty things to ponies she was fond of in the past, but getting physical with the pony that had shown her such kindness in the past was not something she wanted to do. “Trix,” said Silver Spoon as she tried to gauge the unicorn’s expression, “A fan of hanging around in darkened buildings?”
Trixie yawned softly. “Only when Trixie falls asleep in the room,” she said, clinging to her annoying habit of always speaking in the third-pony, “Trixie’s been kept busy since her helper left.”
“Sorry about the inconvenience.”
“Clear Rivers keeps asking where you went,” said Trixie as she leaned against the doorframe, speaking the same way she always did before she knew of Spoon’s true identity. “His mom’s doing a lot better now that she can afford her medication. She said that little colt talks about you all the time. He thinks the world of you.”
“Is that so?” asked Silver Spoon.
“Mm-hmm. And he told me he thinks of you like a big sister.”
Silver Spoon scoffed and turned to face the elderly blue unicorn. “I sure hope not,” she said in a harsh tone, “I used you, Trixie. I used you, your kids, and Clear Rivers as cover. Cloudy Cradle was an act, Trix. Nothing more than a disguise to keep the guards off me.”
“You’re lying. There’s more to you than that.”
“No, Trixie, there isn’t,” said Silver Spoon forcibly, “I don’t care about you or those foals. All of you were meat-shields. End of story. I made everypony think I cared so nopony would suspect me. Got it?”
Trixie’s expression didn’t change. “If that was true, you wouldn’t have given Clear Rivers that gem in secret. There’s no way you didn’t know how valuable it was.”
“So he blabbed, huh?” said Silver Spoon with a frown.
“No,” said Trixie as a smug smile crept across her face, “you did. Just now. Though Trixie did assume beforehand. Little known fact about rocks: fire-red beryl is only found around Canterlot.”
“That…” said Silver Spoon as she found herself smiling in spite of everything, “that’s well done, actually. Well played.”
“Trixie might know you better than you like to think,” said Trixie as she gestured for Spoon to wait and left the room. She came back a moment later with a photo in her mouth. “You came for this, right?” she said through her clenched teeth.
“Yeah,” said Silver Spoon as she snatched it, “You wouldn’t believe what I had to go through to get it back the last time I lost it.” She looked down at the photo, which depicted a memory from so long ago it didn’t even seem real anymore. It was her sixth birthday. She posed alongside Diamond Tiara, who at the time she had only known for a few months, both with huge smiles on their faces. She was wearing the pearl necklace given to her by Tiara’s dad, and although the pearls were fakes she didn’t care. It was the first thoughtful present she had ever been given. “…Thanks,” she said as she returned from her fantasy and back to reality.
“You have to do better than that,” said Trixie as she pointed at the bookshelf, “My brother used the same trick to hide his allowance. Didn’t take Trixie long to realize he’d never have read a book titled Magic as Conductive Energy.”
“That obvious, huh?”
“Trixie knows you better than you think.”
“You don’t know jack, Trixie!” snapped Silver Spoon. “Look. I have a soft spot for foals, okay?! It doesn’t mean I’m a good pony!” She threw her poncho to the ground to show her old ‘friend’ her scarred and mangled body. “You don’t even want to know how I got these scars. Or about the things I’ve done. So take this self-indulging preaching and jam it down the throat of a pony who wants to hear it!”
Trixie was silent. She quietly studied and traced the scars that ran up and down Spoon’s body with her eyes, and reluctantly took her hat off.
“What the hell?” said Silver Spoon with disgust. She had heard rumors about Trixie’s horn, but never expected something like this. Numerous small black crystals, each about the size of a piece of chalk, were jutting randomly out of Trixie’s horn. Spoon could actually see the tiny cracks around where they had pierced through it and cringed; it looked painful.
“Trixie… I visited Ponyville a long time ago. Back when I was a performer. Things went sour, one thing led to another, and I lost everything. I hated every single pony in that town, especially that one purple unicorn that showed me up. I lost everything because of her…”
“When you say ‘purple unicorn’, you don’t mean—”
Trixie nodded. “Her. Before all of this, of course. I wanted payback. I worked my hooves to the bone on a rock farm scrounging up every bit I could possibly save and spent every available moment studying and learning, looking for a way to make that whole town pay. I hardly ate, hardly slept; it was like an addiction. And when I finally found a way to challenge her…”
“Hold on,” interrupted Silver Spoon. “You expect me to believe you challenged the Queen, head on, and lived?”
“Like I said, it was all before this,” said Trixie softly, “but even then, right away I knew something was very wrong with her. Her eyes… the way she spoke… even the way she moved was… just wrong. I don’t even remember how it happened; it was like a nightmare when she did… something to me I had never seen before. I thought she was going to kill me. Next thing I know her own friends are holding her back and one of them was telling me to run,” she said, smiling sadly, “Funny, right? It was the group of ponies I hated who saved me.”
“Hilarious,” said Spoon sadly.
Trixie reached up and touched one of the black crystals, cringing in pain as she did, “…and I haven’t been able to use my magic since. I had nothing left, Cloudy. Nothing. I didn’t even want to go on living anymore. Not until I ran into him again…”
“Who?”
“One of the ponies who dragged that ursa into town that night. I hated that little colt so much… and yet…” she said, wiping away a tear, “It was a day after the tragedy in Ponyville. He was a survivor, and he had been wandering since that night dazed and hurt and in shock. So dazed he didn’t even realize he was half-dead from exhaustion. I felt so bad I took him in and… and…” she trailed off as she began to sob softly, “something inside of me changed when I took him in. I found something. Peace. He ended up rescuing me, Cloudy. Without him, I don’t know where I would have ended up.”
“Why are you telling me this?” interrupted Silver Spoon.
Trixie paused to replace her hat. “You’re right, Cloudy. Silver Spoon. Whatever your name actually is. I don’t know what things you may have done, but I know enough to see you’re going down the same road I was once on. And Silver Spoon? It’s not too late. You can find the same peace I found. There is a life for you here, Silver Spoon. All you have to do is want it.” She walked over and placed her foreleg gently on Spoon’s shoulder, “Silver Spoon, please.”
Silver Spoon couldn’t breathe for a moment. “I’m a wanted criminal, Trix. I can’t stay even if I did want to.”
“We’d find a way. Somehow. It’s not too late to turn back and find redemption.”
Spoon pulled away and walked toward the door. “What makes you think I deserve it, Trix?” she said sadly.
“Silver Spoon…”
“Tell me, Trix,” said Silver Spoon, “whatever happened to this little colt of yours? Why didn’t he stick around to help you with this school of yours?”
“He... he passed on some time ago.”
“I’m sorry,” said Silver Spoon as she stopped to face her old friend.
“Not as sorry as I am,” said Trixie. “He was my friend, and the one who saved me. In the end, though, I couldn’t save him and I lost him. He left, just like you’re doing now, and ended up marching straight to his death.”
Silver Spoon turned her back and began to leave. “Bad things happen sometimes,” she said softly, “and sometimes they don’t. That’s life, Trix, like it or not. Best thing you can do is keep your head up. And smile, if you can. Nothing’s so bad you can’t have a good laugh every now and again.” She walked down the darkened hallway in silence, only now noticing the single flickering candle in the classroom, surrounded by clutter on Trixie’s desk.
“Take this with you,” said Trixie as her hoof caught the front door before it closed.
“Trixie…” said Silver Spoon firmly as she turned back, but stopped herself when she saw what was being offered to her. A gold necklace of some kind with a blue gemstone in the shape of what looked like a balloon, and a note in a sealed envelope. Whatever the necklace was, it looked valuable. “You’d honestly trust a mare like me with that?”
“The family that owned the rock farm I worked on all those years ago. A hoofful of years back their daughter passed through town and recognized me. I figured the least I could do was offer her a bed to sleep in. She turned it down, saying she was in too much of a hurry and off to do something drastic, but asked if I’d hang onto these for her.”
“So you’re giving it to me. Why?”
“Pinkie Pie asked me to keep them safe and not tell a soul until I met the right pony to give them to. The necklace is yours, and the note is for her kids,” said Trixie as she handed both over. “And she told me ‘smile if I could. Nothing’s so bad I couldn’t have a good laugh every now and again.’ Word for word.”
“Fine,” said Silver Spoon as she snapped the necklace around her neck and shoved the envelope in her pocket. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She stared down the blue unicorn, knowing in her heart they’d never meet again. It was better that way. “Thanks for everything.” She closed the door before Trixie could answer and trudged down the steps, once again into the loud hiss of rainfall. As she walked, too miserable to even care if somepony saw her at this point, she found herself remembering something from the holding cells. That obnoxious pegasus she had the misfortune of being stuck beside had gone on and on and on about his mother; if she remembered correctly, he had called her ‘mama Pinkie’ at one point. “Why not?” she said to herself, not even caring anymore that it was the coincidence of the century. “So was running into the witch, and into Blank Flank. For this necklace and for all his whining about his mom, the least I can do is give him this darned letter.”
“Hey!” snapped that same guard she had passed before as she slapped an armored hoof on Silver Spoon’s shoulder, “So where’d you get that poncho?!”
Silver Spoon punched the guard as hard as she could, knocking her out instantly and leaving her in a collapsed heap face down in the mud. “Keep your hooves to yourself,” muttered Silver Spoon as she brushed the muddy hoof print off of her shoulder. She took one final longing look at Clear River’s home in the distance, at the windows which all glowed softly with warm lantern light. “Good-bye, Clear Rivers,” she said before sprinting into the distance.
“There was some kind of fight here, anyways. One of them took a nasty header into the wall by the looks of it,” said the older stallion as he pointed to a freshly-patched portion of the drywall that had yet to be painted over. He walked behind the receptionist’s desk and motioned for Sweetie Belle to follow, waiting until she came within view before he pointed at the tile floor. “And we found some blood here. There were a few drops out in front of the desk, too, going toward the door.”
“And the arrow?” asked Sweetie Belle, “Where did you find that?”
“Ah, right,” said the stallion as he clicked the tip of his hoof on the floor. He lifted a clipboard that had been strategically hung to conceal the damage to the rather expensive-looking desk, “Right there.”
Sweetie Belle studied the indent and turned to face the entrance. There was an open window high above the door, and the angle from the rooftop across the street down through the window and into the lobby was just right. “That was a heck of a shot,” she said softly, admitting to herself that Twist could have easily hit her mark from that distance.
“Sorry I couldn’t be more helpful,” added the gray stallion, “one of those airpony psychopaths swiped the arrow for whatever reason; I’d’ve let you keep it otherwise.”
“No, you’ve been more than helpful, Mr. Shill,” said Sweetie Belle with a fake smile, “Thank you so much.”
“Anytime.”
Sweetie Belle bid farewell to him and left Silver Shill to his duties as she walked out into the streets of Broncton. The townsponies were very busy repairing the damage caused by the air force’s ‘heroics’, filling the air around her with chatter and the sound of construction. Had she not known beforehand that it was in fact an attack that was responsible for the damage to this small hamlet she would have never guessed the cause had been so dark. The mood of the ponies around her was eerily chipper, with townsfolk talking pleasantly and foals running about and playing while the damaged buildings and streets were mended. She had wandered this town all morning asking for information about her friend, but other than this Silver Shill who had cleaned up the aftermath of that fight, not a single pony had so much as caught a glimpse of Twist. “What did you get yourself involved in?” she said softly as she sat on a bench and stared upward as a pegasus soared overhead hauling a small load of sand in saddlebags. “You weren’t one for heroics, Twist…” she said watching another pegasus with another load of sand fly by, “You always avoided confrontations, Twist…” Another pegasus flew overhead, only briefly catching her attention, “You were always… always…” She cut herself off and leapt to her hooves; that last pegasus didn’t have a load of sand. She was a familiar raspberry-colored mare that wore a drab coat and had a very familiar bow slung over her shoulders.
You.
Sweetie Belle gave chase, making a point to stay behind and in the killer’s peripheral vision where she wouldn’t be noticed. Maybe she couldn’t get answers about her friend, but she could jam that bow down that murderer’s throat and that was almost as good. She pressed herself against the wall of a building and carefully peered around the corner to find the killer in front of a house, talking to a pair of guards.
“…wanted me to give the place another once-over,” said the killer.
“We’ve searched the place already,” said one of the guards with a note of scorn in her voice, “There’s nothing in there anymore.”
“I know,” said the killer, making an earnest but unsuccessful attempt to sound civil and friendly, “But orders are orders, right? Red tape’s a killer.”
“Right,” said the other guard, making an even less successful attempt at sounding friendly, “Got some paperwork, then? I’m going to need ID and written authorization from Inspector Seed.”
“You’re… kidding,” said the killer angrily.
“Orders are orders,” mimicked the female guard, “Nopony goes in without authorization. It’s still a crime scene.”
The killer reached into her drab coat and pulled out what looked like a lieutenant stripe to shove in their faces. “I couldn’t care less about your authorization. I’m going in there whether you two pongos like it or not!”
The male guard laughed. “Look, flygirl. We don’t give a flying feather about your rank. Our orders come from the inspector, who was given full authority over this investigation by Captain Rumble. Don’t like it? Take it up with him.”
“Tell us first though so we get to watch the beat-down,” added the female guard.
As the trio continued to bicker like schoolyard foals, Sweetie Belle slipped back and down the alleyway so she could cross the street out of sight. Whatever was in that house, if it concerned that murderous psychopath it was of interest to her as well. If she was especially lucky it might be something about Twist. She walked casually to avoid drawing attention while the trio’s argument escalated, effectively guaranteeing nopony would even look in her direction.
“Well that won’t stop us from beating your candy-colored flank if you try it, so back off!” snapped the female guard as Sweetie Belle tried the back door which was, to her surprise, unlocked.
Nice and secure crime scene. Fantastic work, you two. You’re a credit to the guard.
She cautiously stepped into the small bachelor suite, being careful not to make a sound; she could no longer hear the arguing outside and she had no way of knowing if the walls were absorbing the sound or if the fight had stopped. Whatever sparse furniture the building had once possessed had all been smashed and thrown about, and the floor was filthy with the distinct hoofprints left by the armor worn by the royal guards. No less than four of them, if she was correct. “Why were you so interested in this place?” she said quietly with a deep breath—
—and she froze and sniffed the air. Though it was very faint she knew that smell. A ghost of a stench of rotten eggs lingered in the air, one which she had caught a sniff of not long ago. It was similar to sulfur dioxide, which was a bad smell in a mine; years ago the diamond dogs had taught her various methods to test and monitor for toxic gasses and improper levels of oxygen, all of which could prove fatal in minutes if one was not ready. Sulfur dioxide was easily detectable by smell, and she had instantly noticed the faint and similar smell on Apple Bloom when they hugged during their reunion. She had surmised it came from the freshly-fired hoof gun worn carried by her former friend, and now she could smell the exact same scent in the air of this building.
Now it makes sense.
The murderer had mentioned something about going after Apple Bloom. If this was indeed her house, then no doubt the murderer had come here in an attempt to track her. Unfortunately there didn’t seem to be anything left behind. The guards had trashed the place and, from the looks of things, either swiped everything that wasn’t nailed down either for evidence or greed, and smashed the rest purely out of spite. All that was left intact was an oil lamp hanging from the ceiling.
Unless…
Sweetie Belle found herself thinking back to her days in Ponyville, when the trio would hang out in their old clubhouse. After they had been kicked out of their clubhouse by Babs Seed, Apple Bloom had the idea to remove the nails from a floorboard to create a hiding place to stash valuable possessions. It was a practice she learned from her brother, who allegedly kept a bottle of alcohol stashed beneath the barn in a similar manner. The clubhouses hiding spot was almost in the center of the room but nearest to the rear, right over the center of the tree that supported it to create a natural cubby hole, and so Sweetie Belle lined herself up and kneeled down. Sure enough, one particularly short floorboard near the front door was missing its nails. “You really haven’t changed,” she said with wistful nostalgia as she removed the board and found a box with a note tied to it:
Ms. Apple Bloom, my dearest ma’am:
It becomes my very painful & unwelcome task to inform you that your fiancé, Corporal Peppercorn, and his sister, Corporal Sunflower, were instantly killed in action by the enemy yesterday morning. The engine of their vehicle was struck by a burst from a unicorn dragoon, which detonated their fuel tank. This will be—
She wiped away a tear and folded the note shut, instead choosing to see what had been enclosed. Inside was a hoofgun, no doubt it had been one of the two soldier’s service weapons, as part of it appeared to have been damaged by fire. Sweetie Belle took a minute to study how in Equestria an earth pony could hold this monstrosity, concluding that the hoof must nestle between the wood grip and the smaller, curved piece of metal that together formed a u-shape. It had a small lever on the side, no doubt the trigger, which looked like it was meant to be pressed by rolling the pastern joint into it to make it fire. She had to admit she was impressed; even holding one of these things seemed like a chore, let alone aiming and firing in the heat of combat. “If anything,” she said softly as she stared down at the loose surplus of two kinds of ammunition for the weapon, “I think I have a newfound respect for ponies who manage to use these things.”
Suddenly a sound like a soft creak, one she knew all too well from watching Twist practice, made her freeze. “Turn around,” said a cold female voice, “nice and slow like a good little mare.”
Sweetie Belle knew she had an arrow aimed at her so she complied. As she moved, she carefully lifted the gun with her magic and kept it hidden in her vest and aimed in the direction of the voice she turned to face. Just as she looked the killer in the eyes, the same one who now had Twist’s bow aimed right at her, she let her vest go to make the weapon visible.
The killer grinned with intrigue. “Well, now…” she said calmly, “things just got interesting.”
Obviously Sweetie Belle had no clue how these weapons worked, but hopefully neither did the killer; with any luck she could bluff her way out of this. She glared into the face of Twist’s killer, which had a number of fresh and untreated cuts all over it and a nasty black eye, and gestured at the bow. “Drop it.”
“Or what?” laughed the killer.
“Take a wild guess.”
“Go right ahead,” said the killer, “even if you do hit first the arrow’ll still fly. And you’re not the first unicorn I’ve fought; don’t think you can do something cute like catch the arrow in midair with your magic. Believe you me, I’ve never seen a unicorn quick enough to block a bomb, let alone one of these puppies.”
“And you won’t stop me from hitting this trigger,” growled Sweetie Belle.
“Well this is what you call a dead heat, Giggles.”
“For now,” said Sweetie Belle, “But I wonder just how long you can keep that arrow nocked. This gun is a lot lighter.”
The killer chuckled softly, “I guess you got me there. Though nothing’s stopping me from calling to those two clowns outside for help, save for getting chewed out and my own sense of dignity. You know something, though? I really don’t want to give them the satisfaction. So let’s relax and get to know one another.”
“Start by telling me why you killed my friend.”
“Huh. So what’s-her-name it the green weenie, huh?” she said with a cackle, “Oops.”
“Wrong answer!!!”
“Easy there, Giggles. All I did was return the favor. You know, she wasn’t so very nice to that kid in our unit who she shot. That was a tricky shot, too… I wonder if she was trying to wound, or kill. Or if she would have even cared if she did. Actually… now that I think about it, it’s too bad I did kill what’s-her-name. Sounds like me and her could have been bros.”
“Twist was nothing like you!” growled Sweetie Belle through her clenched teeth.
“You’re right. She’s worse. I wouldn’t have shot the kid; I’d have aimed for the Captain. The threat, not the easy target. Poor little Pinstripe,” she said mockingly, “his mommy and daddy never loved him. Joined the forces to make a name for himself, only to get shot for the laughs by some lunatic with a bow. Me? I don’t do what I do because it’s fun.”
“You sure enjoyed stabbing my friend.”
“Just caught up in the moment I guess,” she said with a sigh, “If my life has taught me anything, it’s that you eat… or be eaten. You think things like love or hate, or friendship… destiny… special talents… you think any of that garbage matters? Lemme tell you all about ‘true love’. My parents? They ‘loved’ each other for all of two hours, thanks to a love potion. They hardly even knew each other until somepony thought it would be funny to slip them a mickey and make them crazy about each other for an afternoon.”
“So that’s it, huh?” snapped Sweetie Belle, “You expect me to believe you’re just a poor little filly crying because mommy and daddy didn’t love each other?”
“Believe whatever you want,” laughed the killer, “but at the end of the day, compared to ponies like you where everything is personal and everything is fueled by these artificial emotions, I’m actually a very good little pony. I could have shot you the second I snuck in. I could have dropped that bomb of mine though that skylight the other day purely on a whim after I left. You’re welcome, by the way, for sparing your pointless little existence twice only to get a gun shoved in my snout for it. No… at the end of the day I don’t do anything because it’s fun. I do what comes naturally because why not? How do we know what’s right or wrong when there’s no set standard? What do things like emotions or good and evil mean when they’re so easily manipulated? So easily created or destroyed? They… have no meaning.”
“Keep blabbering,” said Sweetie Belle angrily, “You’re starting to make shooting you sound worth getting hit by that arrow.”
“Do it. I don’t actually care,” said the killer once again in an aloof tone, “When you’re dead, you’re dead. That’s the end of it. No matter what big plans you had or whatever great potential, the world will never know, never care, and never change. I wouldn’t be around to regret the loss anyways and, trust me on this, nopony else cares. That’s just how pointless life is.”
“You do a lot of bragging for a pony who knows nothing of death,” said a male voice as the lantern on the ceiling wobbled and fell to the floor, shattering and soaking the boards beneath the killer’s hooves with lantern oil.
“Th’heck are you?!” snapped the killer as she almost took aim on impulse but stopped herself, realizing she’d be leaving herself wide open to gunfire.
A familiar yellow unicorn stepped slowly out of the bathroom, threateningly waggling a lit match over the spilled oil. “How about a little fire, Scarecrow?”
The killer looked back and forth at the match and the gun and slowly took a step back. “Well this sucks. Looks like I lose. Time to fold my cards I think.” The instant she finished she fired her arrow through the window and leaped through with a burst of speed. Sweetie Belle smacked the trigger over and over, but other than dull clicks the gun did nothing.
The sound of the two guards outside yelling to each other and fidgeting with the lock made both the unicorns flinch. “Time to go,” said the unlikely rescuer, “do hold your breath.”
With no time to argue or decide, she took a deep breath as his horn lit up and the two of them were wrapped in a crushing intense glow that blotted out every sensation except for the feeling of some unseen force in the light squeezing her body. In a minute it was over and she was left to drop to what felt like tarmac beneath her hooves, and she thrust a hoof over her mouth to keep from throwing up.
“It wasn’t loaded…” gasped the unicorn between heavy, almost painful breaths as he gestured at the hoofgun that now lay on the surface where they stood, “Too bad… rumor has it they’re… rigged somehow… won’t fire when held with… with magic…” He fell to his side, wheezing like he had run a marathon, “Wanted to see it… in action…”
“You okay?” said Sweetie Belle, looking back and forth at her nearly incapacitated savior and out over the edge of the roof they now stood on. She could see the house in the distance; the two guards had kicked the door open and vanished inside.
“That… took a lot out of me,” he said softly as he tucked the hoofgun and the note back into the box it had been found in and slid it to her. “Hang onto that. Word is there is a surplus of them overseas now that their war is over. Give it time and they’ll be flooding over here by the boatload.” He smirked and winked, “You had one before it was cool.”
“Yeah, right,” said Sweetie Belle as she stuffed the entire box into her side bag. She didn’t want it, but she wasn’t about to leave it behind for some foal or that killer to find. She looked the stallion up and down, “So, Mr. Friend of Twist’s. To what do I owe the pleasure of this rescue to?”
“You’re welcome,” said the stallion in a mix of sarcasm and amusement. “Would you believe I did it out of respect for our fallen mutual friend?”
“No,” said Sweetie Belle bluntly.
“Then I am correct in assuming you are not going to take my advice from earlier to just move on and not get involved?” he said with a growing smirk, “Good. I have a job for you.”
Sweetie Belle scoffed at the unicorn’s audacity. “I’m supposed to do this job for you because you saved me?”
“Of course not,” said the unicorn, “The rescue was a necessity of recruitment. As a rule, Sweetie Belle, I don’t do anything for anypony for free. However, I don’t expect anything for free either.”
“So what’s in it for me?” asked Sweetie Belle as she shifted the now-heavy side back she wore that was making her shoulder ache.
The stallion looked down over his glasses at her. “Closure,” he said softly, “About Twist. About your friends Apple Bloom and Scootaloo. And somepony else, but that’s a surprise; if I told you, odds are you wouldn’t want to do it. I won’t lie, not this time: I’m offering the truth, though not necessarily answers you want to receive. So… what do you say?”
“You’re not giving me much incentive to do it.”
“No, I suppose not, but if you’re curious…” he said as he pulled what looked like a crudely-drawn map out of his pocket and levitated it to her, “Here is the time and place. I… sincerely hope you’ll be there.” The stallion took a pocket watch out of his coat and checked it, looking quite worried for a moment as he studied the time, “This reminds me. Here.” He took a second, identical watch out and tossed it to her, “That was Twist’s. She’d want you to have it.” With a wink and a smile, his horn glowed and he vanished in a burst of colored smoke.
Sweetie Belle watched the smoke clear before picking up the watch. It had stopped ticking and didn’t seem to have any means of winding it or even setting the time. She couldn’t make any sense of it at all; it had no numbers and was marked with thirteen notches on the face. She squinted at the vague heart design that was engraved behind the hands; she knew she had seen it before but couldn’t remember exactly where. After staring at it for what felt like an hour and getting nowhere, she stuffed it and the map into her pocket and looked around the roof. “How in Equestria do I get down?”
