CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ABLE TO TAKE HARSH
A massive M shone brilliantly against the clouds over Canterlot. Fancy Pants checked his pocket watch with an air of patience and offered a small smile to the night.
Razorwing arrived first. He swooped down and slid along the rooftop, shooting out four thin trails of sparks from his metal-clad hooves. He skid to stop next to the spotlight and bowed. “I’m at your service, Sir,” he said.
“Welcome, Razorwing,” said Fancy Pants. He glanced around. “Where is our caped crusader?”
“Here.”
Fancy Pants jumped and spun around where Mare Do Well stood still and silent. After clearing his throat and smoothing down his mane, Fancy Pants checked his pocket watch again and said, “Ninety seconds. Rather impressive, you two. Or perhaps it’s a slow night?”
Razorwing waved. “Hi, Mare Do Well. I didn’t know you were back in town.”
Fancy Pants raised his blue eyebrows at Mare Do Well. “Oh, have you been away?”
“I visited a friend in Trottingham,” she said.
“Ahhh, yes, the hero of the ancient city. What is it that he calls himself?”
“Harness,” she said, “and he deserves to be called Trottingham’s hero. An excellent protector for the ponies there. I can’t imagine better.”
Razorwing’s eyes narrowed behind his helmet.
“Excellent,” said Fancy Pants. “Between your success here and in Manehattan, it seems to me that the nation is warming up to its cities heroes. I can’t thank you two enough.”
“Did you need something from us?” Razorwing asked, tapping the spotlight.
“My sources have discovered an influx in the crystallized ‘sap’, as they call it, among dealers and users in the city,” said Fancy Pants. “They believe that its producers, members of a griffon’s gang—”
“Falcon,” Razorwing said.
“—have been recruiting stray members of the Mangled Marks and the Gonne into their folds. Now, both gangs have divided into several factions with their own leaders, but I have it on good authority that they won’t last long. Between poor leadership and violent rivalries, the Marks and Gonne will soon fade out of existence.”
“That sounds like an overall good thing,” Razorwing said.
Fancy Pants winced. “Well, yes, but… their dissolution only gives more power to Falcon. I’m not sure that I made myself clear: his influence is growing daily in Canterlot, and is already overwhelming in Cloudsdale.”
Razorwing paled. “Oh, shoot… that’s my fault. I’ve been paying a lot of attention to Canterlot and…”
Fancy Pants shook his head. “It is by no means your fault, dear Razorwing. You have done excellent work here in the capitol. Now it’s time to focus on a new threat.”
“We’ve already begun,” Mare Do Well said. “Razorwing, did you find where the drugs are being produced?”
“Uhh… yes,” Razorwing said, shuffling his hooves. “I met Falcon there, in fact.”
“Did you really?” Fancy Pants smiled. “Well, that’s excellent!”
“Ehhhh….” Fidgeting, Razorwing mumbled, “He almost strangled me so I stabbed him in the claw and ran away.”
“You went on your own?” Mare Do Well asked. “Why didn’t you ask Spritemare to help?”
“Well, I wasn’t planning on bringing down the whole operation solo style,” Razorwing said, rolling his eyes. “I was just scoping it out and Falcon snuck up on me.”
“Razorwing, now he’s onto us!” Mare Do Well shouted. “They’ll move the base and we’ll have to start from scratch to find them all over again!”
“Hey, whoa, what?” Razorwing took a step forward. “None of that would have happened if you had let me come to Trottingham with you. Maybe big handsome Harness is hiding something I would have noticed!”
Mare Do Well gawked. “I-I didn’t say anything about him being handsome. And besides, checking up on another hero isn’t a job for two ponies, unlike infiltrating a renowned drug lord’s primary factory!”
“It was just a bunch of tents, I didn’t know!” Razorwing shouted, tossing his hooves above his head. “Come on Mare Do Well, what’s wrong with you? I made a mistake, big deal, I’m sorry! Now let’s go do some sleuthing and find out where Falcon is together, right?”
“I have to go to Phillydelphia,” Mare Do Well said. “Harness told me about a mare called Facetfire that needs my supervision.”
“Okay, then let me come with you this time so I don’t mess everything up again,” Razorwing said.
“No. If Facetfire isn’t taking the job seriously, I don’t want your influence to encourage her.”
Razorwing gaped. “You… you don’t think I take this seriously?” he asked in a venemous tone.
“Prove me wrong,” Mare Do Well said. “Go get Spritemare and take down Falcon while I’m gone.”
“Who are you?” Razorwing asked.
Without another word, Mare Do Well ran to the edge and jumped off the roof.
Razorwing stared at Fancy Pants. “What the heck was that?”
Fancy Pants’ mouth was tightly pursed. He shook his head slightly. “I can only imagine the stresses of your lifestyles. Perhaps a bit of time apart is indeed the right approach.”
Razorwing offset his jaw and sighed. “Yeah, well, what do you know? How do I even know we can trust you?”
“I suppose you can’t,” Fancy Pants answered quickly. “I wish you the best of luck. By whatever means, Falcon must be stopped. He is a dangerous individual.”
Razorwing rubbed his neck. “Hmph… tell me about it.” He flew off with a knot in his stomach and an ache in his heart, searching the nearby streets in vain for Mare Do Well.
(/\/\)
“Thanks for the new costume, Sweetie Belle,” Apple Bloom said, tucking it into her travel bag. “At this rate you’ll need yer own Carousel Boutique with me as its only customer.”
Sweetie giggled. “I actually really enjoy it. Don’t tell Rarity, she’d never let me live it down.” She blushed a bit and looked away. “I, uh, made a few modifications to the outfit. I hope you don’t mind. Nothing compromising, of course, you’ll still look like Mare Do Well.”
Apple Bloom gave her a sour look and reached back into her bag.
Sweetie stuck out her hoof. “No! Don’t look at it now, just wait until you put it on. I promise you’ll like it.”
Without changing her expression, Apple Bloom left the bag alone.
“Can I just say,” said Sweetie Belle, “it’s kind of amazing that we’re friends?”
“Huh?” Apple Bloom blinked.
Sweetie Belle smiled. “Remember how, back in the Cutie Mark Crusaders Clubhouse, it would sometimes dawn on us that our sisters were real Equestrian heroes?” Her eyes glistened. “Most of the time we never thought about it, but every once in a while it hit us hard and we couldn’t believe how lucky we were to have such amazing ponies so close in our lives.”
“Oh, come on, Sweetie Belle,” Apple Bloom said, turning away with a suppressed smile.
“That’s you now, Apple Bloom,” Sweetie said. “Think of how far you’ve come. From a little filly in Ponyville pining for your Cutie Mark to the Hope of Harmony, the Protector of Ponykind, the Hero of Horses!”
“You made those up,” Apple Bloom mumbled.
“I’ve heard all of those and more around town,” Sweetie said. She jumped forward and hugged Apple Bloom from the side. “I know better than anypony that it’s not all Sunshine and roses for you, but I want to remind you how amazing you are. You’re doing something really special, Apple Bloom. So many ponies are inspired by you.”
Apple Bloom closed her eyes and sighed deeply. “Thanks, Sweetie. That’s nice to hear. To be honest, I’ve been extra stressed lately.” She picked up the purple hat, balancing it on the end of her hoof, and frowned. “Lyra and I fought. I got mad at Razorwing. I dunno, it’s startin’ to get to me, I think.”
Sweetie hugged her tighter. “Maybe you should take a break.”
“Maybe. But not right now.” Apple Bloom tucked the hat in her bag and zipped it shut. “First to Phillydelphia. I had a great experience in Trottingham. You should meet Harness one day. He’s really somethin’.”
Sweetie Belle winked. “Is he, now?”
“Oh, hush,” said Apple Bloom, but she felt her cheeks turn as red as her hair.
(/\/\)
Mare Do Well looked over the glowing city of Phillydelphia from the top of the towering Corncast building. The Delamare River sparkled with the yellow light of the city, and even from so high above she could see the many trees along its streets and around its borders.
It had been easy enough to access the top of the tower and change into her costume. Never had she glided from such a high post before, and her stomach churned while her muscles twitched in anticipation. Finally, she leapt, free-falling alongside the buildings’ thousand windows. With a slow, calm breath, Mare Do Well pulled open her new cloak and swished away from the skyscraper into a speeding glide.
The costume was indeed modified, as Sweetie had said. The colors were darker, the eyes of her mask shinier, and the edges of the her cape more rigid. She found it remarkably simple to turn her flight into a wide turn, surveying the city far below. She stole a glance at how tightly the suit hugged her body and immediately thought of Razorwing. Surprised, she shook the thought out of her mind and continued her slow spiral over Phillydelphia, watching for any sign of Facetfire.
“That was brave,” said a voice in Mare Do Well’s head.
She smiled to herself. “Hello, Unsung,” she said.
“Was I paying too much attention, or were you totally staring at Harness’ plot back in Trottingham?”
Mare Do Well gasped. “You were watching me?”
“Yup, the whole time.” There was a smile in Lyra’s voice. “I just didn’t say anything. I was grumpy.”
“Yeah… so was I.” Mare Do Well closed her cape briefly, then threw them open to catch the wind and regain a bit of altitude. “I’m sorry, Lyra. You were right, Applejack deserves to know that I’m all right. I just… I feel so far from home.”
“I understand, Bloom,” said Lyra. “I’m sorry I told her without asking you first. I knew I shouldn’t have and felt bad before I even said anything to you.”
Mare Do Well’s heart felt warm. “Thanks, Lyra. I’m glad you’re talking to me again. It gets lonely out here.” She paused. “Was I really staring at Harness like that?”
“Oh, girl.” Lyra laughed. “You had it so bad for him, it started to wear off on me, and I’ve got twenty years on the poor stallion.”
Mare Do Well laughed. “More than twenty, I reckon.”
“Hey, now, careful!”
“Then you saw me get fussy with Razorwing, too?” Mare Do Well asked. She was nearing the city’s lower rooftops.
“No! What happened?” Lyra asked.
Mare Do Well shook her head. “Never mind. I just blamed him for something that wasn’t his fault. I don’t know, I gotta get it together, Lyra. Startin’ to fall apart over here.”
“Starting to lose your growly voice, too,” said Lyra. “Careful, you’re getting close to the nightlife.”
“Thanks.” Mare Do Well swooped straight down and landed hard on a building near a long walkway by the river. Sure enough, several strolling ponies looked up in surprise, but none of them could see her in the shadows.
“I’m just here to find Facetfire,” Mare Do Well whispered. “Then I’ll take some time for myself and sort out my thoughts. I know I’m mad at Razorwing for no good reason. If I learned anything from Applejack, I should just be honest with him upfront and settle whatever weirdness there is between us sooner than later.”
“True,” said Lyra. “The sooner the better.”
“Right. But first, how to find Facetfire.”
“How did you find Harness?”
“I asked the locals at an inn,” Mare Do Well said. “Friendly bunch.”
“Head down there and ask one of them, then,” Lyra said as Mare Do Well peered down at Phillydelphia’s night owls headed for a trot by the river.
“They’re not going to know,” said Mare Do Well. “This city is gigantic. Trottingham was just old.”
“Might as well try,” Lyra said. “You might make somepony’s night.”
Remembering the little cold in Trottingham, Mare Do Well grinned and followed Lyra’s advice, flying down into the middle of the walkway.
A dozen ponies gasped and leaned away when she landed. A few fallen leaves swirled around her as her cloak settled. She turned dramatically to the stunned onlookers, already whispering among themselves.
“I have heard of a mare here that calls herself Facetfire,” Mare Do Well said loudly. “I would greatly like to meet her. Have any of you seen her?”
The ponies reacted immediately with smiles and affirmations.
“Yes, yes, I love Facetfire!” one young mare shouted.
“Oh my gosh, Facetfire and Mare Do Well teaming up right here in Phillydelphia?” voiced a loud stallion. “Dream come tru-uuue!”
“You two are going to look so cool together!” said another mare.
Lyra whispered in Mare Do Well’s mind, “Didn’t Harness say she was a bit of a hooffull?”
“Do you know where I might find her?” Mare Do Well asked.
Everypony in earshot pointed together toward the center of the city.
“She’s always in Flanklin Square!” the youngest mare said. “If you hurry, you can catch her before somepony asks for help!”
“What the…” Lyra said.
“Thank you.” Mare Do Well galloped past them toward the city.
“Did that strike you as weird or is it just me?” asked Lyra.
“Let’s not waste any time finding out,” said Mare Do Well, her cape billowing behind her racing hooves.
It did not take long to find Flanklin Square, a large park featuring a gated fountain, an old fashioned carousel, and enormous trees along a red brick path. Though the carousel had closed for the night, a crowd was gathered around it, several of whom carried flashing cameras.
“Facetfire! Look over here!” cried one of the photographers.
“Huh.” Lyra chuckled. “I get the feeling Facetfire takes a different approach to the hero business than you, Miss Mysterious.”
Quietly, Mare Do Well ran around the perimeter of the park and approached the carousel from behind. She vaulted its low fence with ease and climbed onto the dormant platform, then slunk between the plastic seats to get a better look at Facetfire.
Even with her flowy costume of white “flames” made of fabric, and the decorative, masquerade-like mask over the top half of her face, Facetfire’s true identity was immediately clear to Mare Do Well and Lyra. Her pink coat, blue eyes, and purple-and-white striped mane were all too familiar.
“Holy horseapples,” said Lyra, holding back laughter. “Is that—?”
“Diamond Tiara.” Mare Do Well gawked. “What the hay is she doing in Phillydelphia? Dressed like a flaming cupcake, no less.”
Lyra snorted between giggles. “This is absolutely ridiculous. I think we should leave.”
Mare Do Well shook her head. “No way. I have to know what’s going on here.”
Facetfire posed and smiled at the crowd of two dozen ponies in front of her. “Oh, precious citizens, fear not! I am here to restore the old ways of life to our beloved city and assure your collective safety!” With that, she shot a stream of brilliant fire straight into the air from her horn.
“Whoa-ho!” Lyra said, with similar reactions chiming among the audience. “Where did she learn to do that? Advanced pyromancy is super hard!” Mare Do Well heard Lyra flick her own horn. “Believe me, I’ve tried to learn a few tricks for concerts in the past. Not easy!”
“Hmm, yeah. It's especially impressive considering she's an earth pony."
Lyra made an exasperated sound. "What? How is she...?"
Mare Do Well. crouched, watching the way Facetfire twisted and smiled, more like a model than a sworn protector of Phillydelphia. “Some kind of fancy artifact, no doubt, like what the Spur had. Regardless of where she got the magic, what is she doing here?”
“The way the filly on the walkway made it sound, she’s here often,” said Lyra. “What did she mean about somepony asking for help?”
As if on cue, one stallion suddenly pushed through the crowd. His screams disrupted the merriment of the moment and all eyes turned to him, concerned.
“Facetfire, please, you have to help!” he bawled.
“Of course, dear citizen!” Facetfire said in a voice caked with concern. She rushed forward and stroked his cheek with a hoof. “How may I protect the natural born rights of every Phillydelphian this night?”
“Somepony’s trying to steal the Unity Bell!” he said.
The crowd gasped.
Facetfire puffed out her chest and cast her eyes over the group. “Never fear. Facetfire’s here!” She galloped off as the crowd cheered. Many followed behind her.
“Kinda dramatic,” Mare Do Well said under her breath.
“Well, so are you,” Lyra said. “Don’t be too quick to judge.”
Mare Do Well rolled her eyes and followed the ponies at a distance.
The legend of the Unity Bell was famous throughout Equestria. As one of the first cities built after the union of the three tribes, Phillydelphia was founded on the principles of friendship and harmony. The Unity Bell was built and placed in a tower of the Town Hall. Its powerful ring reminded the citizens of their victory over hatred, and would often result in spontaneous acts of goodwill between the earth ponies, pegasi, and unicorns that lived there.
The Bell stayed proudly in its post until Discord’s arrival. His magic, more obnoxious than destructive, turned much of Phillydelphia on its head. The Unity Bell, however, embedded with the magic of friendship, resisted the chaotic changes until Celestia and Luna put an end to Discord’s rule. When all was said and done, the magical stress on the Bell left a long crack in its side, but the iconic symbol remained intact.
Unfit to ring, it was placed in the center of town as a resounding symbol of ponykind’s resilience and their undying, all-conquering love for one another. Mare Do Well could almost hear Scootaloo gag at the thought.
By the time Facetfire and her followers reached the pedestal that displayed the Unity Bell, however, the symbol of pony goodness was gone.
“Oh no!” exclaimed the stallion that had brought the bad news. “They’ve already taken it! We’re doomed!”
The crowd, which had grown on its way to the crime scene, began to scream and run around the streets wildly.
Facetfire got their attention with a tall stream of fire. “Please, good citizens, stay calm! The perpetrators shall not get far with our beloved bell. Facetfire is on the case!”
In increasingly familiar tones, they cheered again.
“Okay, this is getting annoying,” Lyra said. “Get in there and help.”
Mare Do Well nodded and sprinted through the scattered crowd from her place in the shadows. A long, final leap landed her in front of Facetfire. Predictably, the audience gasped, and Facetfire’s face fell.
“M-Mare Do Well?” she stammered. “What are you doing here?”
“I stand for Unity as much as Harmony,” she said. “Let’s get that Bell back.”
Facetfire gulped. “Uhhh… y-yeah, definitely!” She leaned closer and whispered, “Follow me, quick.”
Mare Do Well narrowed her eyes, but nodded.
Facetfire took off at a full gallop. With Mare Do Well at her side, they outran the excited ponies trailing them and escaped into a series of alleyways. Mare Do Well didn’t stop until Facetfire skidded to a halt, listened for a moment, and then sighed an all-clear.
“What kind of show are you running here, exactly?” Mare Do Well asked.
Panic rose in Facetfire’s features. “Okay, don’t be mad, I already have everything planned out.” Her expression quickly changed into a curious smile. “But first, I have a few questions. Who are you under there?” She reached forward to pull off the dark mask.
Mare Do Well grabbed her hoof and pinned it to the ground. “There’s a reason you don’t know.”
“Oh, sorry!” Facetfire yanked away her hoof. “It’s just… I mean, I’m sure you know who I am,” she said, flipping her mane. “You’ve got to be from Ponyville, right? That’s where Mare Do Well started, so of course you recognize me.” She flashed a grin and waggled her eyebrows.
Mare Do Well sighed. “Yes, Diamond Tiara, I recognize you.”
Facetfire squealed. “Okay, so now your turn. Who are you? Or, wait, I’ll guess if you don’t want to tell me up front. Give me a hint. How old are you?”
“I’m not going to tell you who I am, and I’m surprised you’re so flippant with your identity,” Mare Do Well said. “But we can discuss that later. We might not have much time to track down whoever stole the Unity Bell.”
“Riiiight.” Facetfire smiled sheepishly. “About that… well, you don’t have to worry about it, basically. I know where it is.” She gasped. “Oh! But you can help me get it back if you want! I bet the ponies would love to see a team up.”
“Calling it now: she stole it herself,” said Lyra.
“Diamond Tiara… did you steal the Unity Bell?” asked Mare Do Well.
“No, of course not!” She bit her lip. “Well… not really. Since you won’t tell me who you are, I don’t know how well you know me, but something you should know is that I’m very good at getting other ponies to do what I want.” With a wily grin, she continued, “I infiltrated this little group of troublemakers and convinced them to steal the Unity Bell. I even told them where to take it so it would be ‘safe’. Ha! Now all we have to do is gather a big crowd and get it back, and the citizens of Phillydelphia will be delighted!”
Mare Do Well gaped at her. “Are you kidding me? You’re creating your own problems? Don’t you realize there’s enough crime happening in Equestria without you adding to it?”
Facetfire raised her hooves. “No, no, no, it’s not like that! Look… you’re the real hero here. That’s very obvious. But I figured out that all I have to do is foil a few elaborate schemes every week, and since nopony knows I’m behind them, the overall crime rate has dropped a lot because bad guys are scared of Facetfire!” She reached out a hoof. “And the only reason they’re scared of Facetfire is because Canterlot bad guys are scared of you.”
Mare Do Well looked down, her eyes twitching.
“Oh boy,” said Lyra. “Deep breaths, Bloom. It’s gonna be okay.”
“Harness was right,” Mare Do Well finally said. “You’re not taking this seriously.”
“What? Harness? Pffft!” Facetfire rolled her eyes. “Mister Big’n’Quiet? Yeah, because it’s real heroic to tell me how to do my job.”
“Harness is protecting his city. You’re putting yours, and yourself, in great danger.”
“No I’m not!” Facetfire’s voice was strained. “Look, I can’t kick flank like you and Harness, okay? I don’t know how to sneak through shadows and beat ponies senseless. But this, what I’m doing?” She stood tall and looked down her muzzle at Mare Do Well. “I can give this to Phillydelphia. I moved here after school and fell in love with this city. I just want to do my part to make Equestria a better place, and even if my methods aren’t the same as yours, I’ve seen real progress here. I’m making a difference!”
Mare Do Well frowned. “I want nothing to do with this,” she said. “When your schemes are unearthed and Phillydelphia falls ill to evil, I’ll return to make it well.”
“What? No…” Facetfire slouched. Her eyes brimmed with tears. “No, don’t say that… I-I’m doing my best.”
“Perhaps it would be better if you did nothing at all.” With that, Mare Do Well spun around and scaled the nearest fire escape, vanishing above the building.
“Poor filly,” said Lyra. “That was kinda harsh, Bloom.”
“She should be able to take harsh,” said Mare Do Well. “She dished it out my entire foalhood.”
(/\/\)
“Wow… I’ve never stood on a cloud before,” said Spritemare. Timidly, she bounced her hooves on the fluffy surface. “This is amazing.”
Razorwing grinned. “What, there are no clouds in Manehattan?”
“There are so many buildings I hardly notice them.” Spritemare slammed her hooves down, sending tiny puffs of cloud shooting in all directions only to slowly drop back into the main mass. “It’s so amazing!”
“If you think this is cool, you should see Cloudsdale,” said Razorwing. He jumped off the tiny cloud and circled around it twice. “It’s a whole city made of clouds.”
“Wow… maybe I can visit before I go back home?”
“Sure!” Razorwing pointed down to the forest below. “Just as soon as we take care of the big, bad griffon and his hard drug factory.”
“What are we waiting for?” Spritemare asked. “Let’s get down there!”
Razorwing glanced at the setting Sun. “Let’s let it get a bit darker. If anyone’s still down there, it’d be better if we took a stealth approach.” He gulped and glanced at the blades on his wings, shining orange in the day’s late glow. “Rather than, you know, launching straight into an all-out fight.”
“Good idea,” said Spritemare, nodding. “Let’s head down once we can count a hundred stars.”
Razorwing raised an eyebrow. “That’s oddly specific.”
She put a hoof over her masked mouth and laughed. “Sorry. It’s an old zebra saying, I guess. The stars are sacred in many zebra tribes. Everything is about stars.”
“Wow. That’s really cool.” Razorwing looked up. “We say ‘Luna’s stars’ a lot, as a sort of exclamation, I guess. Sometimes I’ve wondered where that comes from. Like, I’ve heard ponies say by Luna’s stars, I’ll make sure this or that happens, like an oath. Maybe pegasi used to hold them sacred, too.”
“It makes sense,” said Spritemare. “Stars are beautiful.”
“Yeah.” Razorwing smiled and didn’t say much else as the Sun dipped under the horizon and the constellations came to life.
“That’s definitely more than a hundred,” Spritemare said quietly after a few minutes. She spread her wings and rose a few inches above the tiny cloud. “Let’s go.”
Razorwing saluted, rose up onto his hind hooves, and tipped over backward, diving silently into the woods. Spritemare beamed in secret and folded in her wings, following Razorwing through the branches.
Razorwing landed at the base of a giant tree and sniffed. Spritemare landed next to him.
“Do you smell that?” he asked in an excited whisper. “I smelled that last time I was here!”
Spritemare hesitated for a moment, but shrugged it off and reached for the bottom of her red mask, lifting it just above her nostrils to inhale deeply. Razorwing noticed, but didn’t say anything.
“Oh, yeah,” she said grimacing before pulling the mask back down to her neck. “That’s something chemical for sure.”
“Maybe they didn’t leave…” Razorwing peered through the trees. “I thought for sure we’d have to scour the forest for clues, but do you think maybe they never packed up in the first place?”
“Maybe. Doesn’t seem very smart to me,” Spritemare said.
Razorwing nodded. “Yeah, true. Let’s be careful. Look for big yellow tents.” He crouched low and took a step forward, pausing for just a moment to say over his shoulder, “You have a pretty mouth, by the way.”
Without waiting for a response, he snaked deeper into the Everfree Forest. Spritemare blushed and touched her mask before creeping in a different direction.
All too quickly, Falcon’s method of dealing with Razorwing’s discovery became clear. He did not pack up and run as Mare Do Well had imagined: instead, he had filled the premises with as many eyes as possible. Hulking griffons and burly ponies patrolled the forest all around the yellow tents, eyes peeled for pesky vigilantes. Razorwing was grateful they had waited until nightfall, wary of the way his armor glistened even in the starlight.
Spritemare and Razorwing stayed on the fringes of the site, sneaking around opposite sides of the perimeter and observing all they could until they met on the far end, deep into the forest.
“Did you see how many griffons he has in there?” Razorwing whispered. “I’ve never seen so many in one place!”
“There aren’t many griffons in Manehattan to begin with, let alone griffons so huge.” Spritemare gulped. “What do we do?”
Razorwing pushed his tongue into his cheek. “We have to scare them. How many yous can you make at a time?”
Spritemare winced. “I don’t know. It’s exhausting to make too many.”
“That’s fine, don’t worry,” said Razorwing, putting a hoof on her shoulder. “I’m not asking for a hundred, or any number, really. Just, how many can you make, comfortably?”
Spritemare wobbled her head from side to side. “Like… four? Maybe five.”
“Perfect!” Razorwing peeked over a bush at the yellow tents a stone’s throw away. “Okay, so here’s the plan… try making four, then fly in a group above the tents and get their attention. If you can, try grabbing something or slapping someone upside the head, I don’t know, just something so that they’ll follow you away from the tents.”
“Got it,” said Spritemare. “I’ll take them in different directions through the forest.”
“Exactly. Then I’ll come in and find Falcon, and…” He glanced at his wings and gulped. “And I’ll, uh… I’ll incapacitate him.” He nodded. “Yeah. I’ll just… get a wing or something.”
Spritemare leaned closer. “Razorwing? Are you okay?” she asked.
Razorwing nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Okay, no problem, let’s do this.” He crouched. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m ready.”
Spritemare didn’t move. “You know… I don’t know all the details, but I’ve heard about what happened in Canterlot.”
Razorwing glanced at her. “Huh?”
She sighed. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine… I’m sure it’s hard to deal with having… you know, killed somepony.” She brought a hoof to her face. “Er, sorry, that… that was insensitive. I’m just trying to say, I’m sure it’s hard, and… if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.” She slumped a bit. “You’re a good pony, Razorwing.”
A tiny smile pulled at Razorwing’s lips. “Wow… thanks, Spritemare.”
“It’s Abawe,” she said. “My name’s Abawe.”
His smile doubled. “I’m Silver Medal. Thanks for saying all that. Means a lot.”
She nodded, then vaulted over the nearest bush and buzzed toward the yellow tents. Five other copies of her approached the clearing from other shadows of the surrounding forest. They came together quickly above the center of the site and drew the gaze of every startled griffon and pony around.
To Razorwing’s surprise, Spritemare didn’t have to say a word before the onlookers shouted in fear and collapsed, kneeling to the six zebras hovering back to back.
“What the…” Razorwing said under his breath.
From one of the largest tents, Falcon emerged with an expression on his face no less than horrified. With a mighty flap of his wings, he bounded over several bowing griffons and landed near the Spritemares, offering a deep bow of his own.
“Good Zebras, I hate to disappoint you,” said Falcon. “I did not expect a visit so soon.”
Spritemare glanced at the bush where Razorwing hid. She saw his form shrug in the shadows.
“What is the meaning of this?” Spritemare asked loudly, adopting a thick accent similar to her Baba’s.
Without rising from his bow, Falcon swept an open claw to his right. “These are my most trusted friends. We had an unfortunate breach not long ago, and I thought it prudent to increase security despite your good king’s disapproval.”
Spritemare grinned under her mask, but maintained an authoritative tone. “Who are you to defy the requests of our King? Send them away at once!”
“Of course,” said Falcon. He turned around and barked, “Begone! Now!”
All of the ponies and most of the griffons took flight, hurrying back to their homes and far from the production site. Razorwing beamed as they vanished beyond the tops of the trees. Aside from Falcon, only three other griffons remained.
“You will, of course, allow these fine fellows to say,” said Falcon.
Spritemare ignored him. “Our King demands a report.”
Falcon cleared his throat and swallowed hard. “Production here is continuing flawlessly. Sales are… slower than we would like.”
“Unacceptable,” said Spritemare.
Falcon’s eyes filled with panic. “We are doing everything we can and have seen great success in Cloudsdale. Canterlot… is proving more difficult.” He scowled. “Which is primarily due to the meddling of an overzealous vigilante murdering our competition and terrifying our customers.”
“Is your product not sufficiently stimulating?”
Falcon’s brow furrowed. He was quiet for a moment. “Would that not be the fault of your contribution?” he asked.
“Excuse me?” asked Spritemare.
Rising slowly, Falcon stared at the Spritemares. “Who are you?”
“Servants of our King,” Spritemare answered quickly.
“And what is the name of your King?”
Spritemare froze.
Falcon turned to his companions and pointed at the group. “Kill them!”
The zebras dove into the forest in three different directions, and Falcon’s three cronies reacted immediately. While they gave chase, Falcon fumed and spun in place. “Where are you, little pony?” he shouted. “I know you’re there!”
Razorwing literally tore through one of the yellow tents, spilling a sizzling fluid onto the forest floor. “Whoops!” he said, shooting a dramatic grimace at Falcon. “You really ought to have more regulation around here. Thought about putting up some safety notices?”
“How did you know about the zebras?” Falcon shouted, lunging at Razorwing.
Darting to the left, Razorwing dodged Falcon’s heavy talons. With a gently twirl, he tore open the fabric of yet another tent, revealing racks of cooling trays filled with hardening crystal sap. “Well, lookie here! Is this the top notch production you were just talking about?”
“Get away from there!” Falcon cried.
Razorwing pulled his mouth into an O. “Where? Here?” he asked, stretching a wing toward the trays.
“No!” Falcon leapt at him with wings outstretched.
Razorwing scooped up a couple of the trays and threw them at Falcon. The griffon tried to avoid them, but they shattered against his beak and fell to the ground in pieces.
“You fool!” Falcon reached down and manically picked up the largest shards. “Do you have any idea how much every ounce of this is worth?”
Razorwing noticed a bandage around one of Falcon’s claws and smiled. “I have some idea, yeah. Do you know how much bringing down one of the last organized crime rings in central Equestria is worth?” He bucked the racks standing in the tent; sheets of sap crashed loudly and cascaded all over the tent. Razorwing sighed dreamily. “Priceless.”
“Raaaugh!” Falcon roared, a terrific noise somewhere between that of a lion and the screech of an eagle.
Razorwing’s face fell and he darted away from Falcon’s vicious attacks. “Hey, whoa, yikes! Simmer down, big guy!”
“I’ll rip the meat from your puny bones!” screamed Falcon.
“Jeez, you griffons have a crazy temper!” Razorwing said. As Falcon leapt up to grab him out of the air, he dove down and slipped between Falcon’s hind legs, tapping a protruding ankle bone as he went.
Falcon screeched and grabbed his ankle in his claws. He soon went quiet, clearly surprised at the lack of blood, and glared at Razorwing.
The pegasus nonchalantly flew over the yellow tents, dipping his wing into their tops so that they fell open like banana peels. “He loves me… he loves me not,” he said after each noisy rip. “He loves me… he loves me not… he loves me…”
The open tents revealed humming machinery, striped barrels of fluid, and complex chemistry sets linking colorful liquids in beakers and glass tubes.
“Hey, what’s this?” Razorwing asked, tapping on the top of a striped barrel. “Hmmm… from the conversation you had with those zebras, I’m guessing this is some of kind of secret ingredient from the Zebrahara?”
Panic returned to Falcon’s face and he waved his claws about wildly. “No, not those! Please, you don’t understand, it’s extremely dangerous!”
“So you bake it and sell it to ponies for profit?” Razorwing snorted. “Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.”
“Please, there is more going on here than you realize,” said Falcon. His voice was low, serious, and quavering. “Please, back away from there.”
Razorwing put a hoof to his chin. “Uhhhh… hmmmmm… no.” He looped a quick backflip and ran the blade of his wing along the middle of several striped barrels.
“No!” Falcon screamed, shielding his face with his claws.
A sharp smelling substance spewed out of the cuts, spraying far enough to mix with the beakers and vials. Razorwing watched a trail of fire rush back along the fumes toward the barrels and realized too late his mistake. He flew as fast as he could toward Falcon and tried to tackle the massive griffon into the forest beyond.
The barrels exploded in a thunderous display of blazing white fire, laying waste to the production site and its grove of mulberry trees.
(/\/\)
Spritemare hid among the thick branches of an enormous tree and watched the griffons below scramble after doppelgangers she made appear and disappear in impossible places. She couldn’t help but giggle as they began to swear and scream at each other, desperately poking their heads behind every trunk in sight.
Her laughter halted in a gasp when the edge of the forest burst into flame. A ball of fire bubbled up and momentarily engulfed the trees, leaving behind a dozen burning treetops and smoldering wood.
The griffons flinched at the boom and looked at each other. Without a word, they completely abandoned their search for the zebras and flew off like frightened sparrows.
“Razorwing...” Spritemare said under her breath. She shot out of the tree and flew faster than she’d ever moved to the site of the explosion.
The tents were reduced to bubbling yellow plastic. Crisp leaves littered the ground among broken glass and frothy poisons. Spritemare darted all over the clearing in search for Razorwing, but the night was dark and his armor plated body was nowhere to be seen.
“Razorwing!” Spritemare shouted. “Where are you?”
She turned around and gasped at what was once the intimidating frame of Falcon, crumpled face down in the dirt, covered in ashen feathers and roasted flesh. His wide back and limp wings were scorched, blackened along with the wilted trees around his body. Spritemare covered her masked mouth with her hooves and gagged, unable to tear her eyes away.
Blood was pooling in the dirt under Falcon’s body. Spritemare narrowed her eyes. “Blood?” she said to herself.
After quickly forming a copy of herself, Spritemare and her doppelganger tucked their hooves beneath the giant griffon and flipped his body over, revealing a still and unconscious Razorwing pressed into the dirt. His armor and fur were slightly singed, but it seemed as though he had avoided most of the blast.
“Oh my gosh!” Spritemare’s double disappeared and she carefully pushed his bladed wings aside, gently running her hooves over his body to check for misaligned joints or broken bones. “Razorwing, can you hear me? You’re not breathing…”
Spritemare glanced at Falcon, lying motionless, and cast her eyes around the clearing. Seeing no one, she pulled off her mask and cast it aside, leaning close to Razorwing and examining his helmet. After undoing a few latches, she gently pulled it out of the dirt and away from his head. Tilting his head back in her hooves, she placed her lips over his and blew in a lungfull of air.
Her wings pulsed in time with her hooves when she pressed hard on the tight breastplate over Razorwing’s heart. After leaning in to give him more air, she repeated the process, staring at his expressionless face as she pushed on his chest.
“Come on, Razorwing! Breathe!” she said, bending down to breathe into his mouth once more.
His eyes flew open halfway through the breath and he dropped his jaw, sucking in a deep, cold breath around her mouth. Spritemare jumped back as Razorwing coughed, rolling to one side and twitching his wings into a more natural position. He breathed hard and put a hoof on his own chest while lying on his side facing away from Falcon.
“Are you okay?” asked Spritemare.
Razorwing grinned and looked at her. “You have a pretty mouth,” he said in a rough voice, coughing hard immediately.
Spritemare laughed and shook her head. “I like the color of your mane,” she said.
“Huh?” He stood up slowly and reached for his head, touching his ear with the armor around his hoof. “Oh. Well, that makes sense I guess,” he said, looking around for his helmet. “It’s probably a mess. Helmet hair, you know?”
Spritemare giggled at the tufts of his mane poking in random directions. “Mine only covers my face,” she said, shaking out the long, skinny braids draped around her neck.
Razorwing looked at her for a long time. “Huh… I thought your eyes would be blue,” he said with a smirk. “Because of your mask, I guess.”
She picked up the red and blue mask and brushed off some blackened dirt. “Nope. Brown as can be.”
“Ehh, blue eyes aren’t all they’re cracked up to be,” said Silver Medal, crossing his own. His smile softened. “Thanks for doing that,” he said, rubbing the metal over his chest. “I know I’m a goofball, but… I realize how serious that was. Thank you.”
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” said Spritemare. Her eyes shifted to Falcon. “Unlike…”
Razorwing noticed Falcon’s body for the first time. “Whoa!” he said, jumping back. “Oohhh, gross!” He dropped to his haunches and dropped his face in his hooves. “Sweet Celestia… I did it again.”
Spritemare trotted to his side. “What do you mean?”
“I just… I don’t realize how dangerous I am,” he said. “I just do stuff I think is funny or cool and it ends up killing. Gah!” He smacked his own forehead several times.
Spritemare reached out and grabbed his elbow. “Hey, stop that. It’s not your fault.”
“I cut the barrels that blew everything up!” Razorwing shouted. He pointed at Falcon. “He even told me to stop, but I—”
“Oh, do shut up,” croaked Falcon.
Razorwing and Spritemare both screamed and backed away quickly.
Falcon slowly opened one eye and growled. “You’re so pathetic, little pony. So eager to save the world, but terrified of the repercussions.”
“Razorwing, what should we do?” Spritemare asked. “He’s seen our faces!”
Falcon laughed, a course and hollow sound. “Hhha hha! You won’t have to worry about me, zebra. I’ll be dead before these fires go out.” He rattled out a cough and closed his open eye. “Tell me, though, before I die: how did you know I was working with zebras?”
“We didn’t,” said Spritemare. “We just got lucky.”
“Hmmm.” Falcon sighed. He looked completely at ease. “Perhaps you’re meant to save this world. Perhaps it was just dumb luck.” He turned his head and looked Razorwing in the eye. “King Zimbaya is a ruthless clan leader in the northern Zebrahara. He is a powerful warlock and will not be brought down easily.”
Razorwing gulped and stepped closer to Falcon.
“He plans to overtake Equestria in its current weakened state. He’s headed for Ponyville now through Ghastly Gorge. I was supposed to infiltrate the capitol with this drug to weaken its citizens and make many of them reliant to encourage a peaceful takeover. Now? I fear he will destroy this land. Zimbaya is… very angry.”
“Why?” asked Spritemare. “I’ve never even heard of him. What does he want with Equestria?”
Falcon shook his head. “Power? Perhaps revenge. He is… very angry.”
Razorwing blinked several times. “I don’t understand. A zebra warlock headed for Ponyville? Why are you telling us this? What are we supposed to do about it?”
Falcon was silent. Razorwing and Spritemare looked at each other.
“I think we should find Mare Do Well,” said Spritemare.
Wide-eyed, Razorwing nodded. “Now.”