//------------------------------// // Chapter 70 // Story: The Mask Makes the Pony // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// A subdued pall hung over the guild, which stood out in sharp contrast to the previous day. Still somewhat damp from his shower and not fully awake, Flicker was finishing breakfast. He stared down at his plate, and not at his companions. He hadn’t slept well, there had been troubling dreams, but he could not remember what they were. But he had slept, and he did feel rested, but he lacked the feeling of contentment that came with a good night’s sleep. “Uh oh,” Hennessy murmured as Mister Balister drew closer. Lifting his head, Flicker looked up. Mister Balister looked as stern and stony as ever. He twirled his swagger-stick in the air beside him, and hummed to himself as he approached. Lifting his fork, Flicker ate the last of his fried eggs and began chewing as he looked into Mister Balister’s eyes. “Mister Nicker.” The hard teacher came to a stop about a yard away from Flicker. The swagger-stick flipped in the air and was caught in Mister Balister’s magic. “I came to inform you that you will be joining me for remedial dual-wielding right away.” Having trouble with what he was hearing, Flicker blinked and responded with, “What?” “Wax in your ears, colt?” Something that was almost a smirk or a smile could be seen on Mister Balister’s face and there was a cruel-kind glint in his eye. He lifted his swagger-stick and waved it at Flicker. “I’m sure I could shake it out for you, Mister Nicker.” Piper, looking up from her plate, focused a hard, steely stare upon Mister Balister, which did not go unnoticed. No, hard gazes and stern glares were graded in this fine establishment, and Piper was learning. After a cursory glance, Mister Balister returned his focus to Flicker, while Hennessy just focused on eating. “I admire you for what you did, colt.” Mister Balister’s neck stiffened and his smirking smile became a little more real. “But I failed,” Flicker said to his teacher. “I’m being punished. And you, you are going around the rules.” “Yes. Yes I am.” Mister Balister’s grin vanished and he became cross-looking again. His short, bobbed tail swished behind him, making slapping sounds against his hips, and he took a step forwards. “Dueling has been a farce for quite some time. At least yesterday, it was an entertaining farce, colt.” “I don’t understand.” Flicker, wary of the swagger-stick and how it was used to drive home a lesson, kept a weather eye on it. “At some point, dueling changed from being a learning experience involving the exchanging of blows to a contest on who could end it in the fastest, bloodiest manner. Not much was being learned from anypony involved, the crowd or the combatants. I myself went along with the changes, because that is how you survive in this business.” Mister Balister’s eyebrows furrowed and shallow grooves formed on his forehead. Shuffling, he went on, “Flicker, colt… son… your beloved guild is dying. We’ve been on life support for a while. We have fifty eight students and nineteen masters. We can’t afford to have anypony down with a crushed muzzle or a broken leg.” The starch in Mister Balister’s back vanished and his spine sagged a little. “We live in a building designed to house hundreds. Every year, our numbers dwindle just a little bit more, and the job becomes a little bit harder. Dangerous, life-threatening tasks that used to be special assignments have now become the everyday lessons out of necessity. Had you crippled Mister Gambit, our guild would only have become just a little bit weaker at a time when such weakness cannot be afforded.” Flicker sighed. “The next generation will be mostly regular doctors and layponies.” Mister Balister’s voice sounded strained. “That’s why we’re becoming the Ministry of Plagues, Pestilences, Diseases, and Magical Maladies. I’ve been assured that a few of us will survive the transition, and that our order, as iconic as the masks we wear, will survive. But all of this, all that you see, all that you know, it is coming to an end. Which is why I wish to impart as much of my skill as I can to you. You are the vessel of my hope, Mister Nicker.” “This agency can’t die,” Piper whined. “It can and will,” Mister Balister replied. “Things change, Miss Pie. Like our duels. At one point, they were a means of education. Much was learned. At some point, they became bloodsport. Sure, there was still a lot of importance to them, and there was a lesson to be learned, the lesson’s impact is greatly diminished by the spectacle that dueling has become.” “And I unwittingly took part in that.” Flicker’s expression soured. “You can’t be faulted.” Mister Balister lifted his head and gave Flicker a nod. “Wicked planned the duel. He knew that the guild needed to blow off steam before something bad happened. Everypony is all tense, all worked up since the riots. Canterlot is ready to explode since the harbour was sabotaged. This whole city is ready to collapse in upon itself. The tension is thick enough to cut with a knife. Everypony has gone paranoid with fear, doubt, and loathing. Such things give sustenance to our unmerciful enemy, Grogar. The Royal Pony Sisters have started moving military hardware south. Tanks roll through Equestria and ironclads sail the seas. Yesterday, you gave the guild just what it needed, colt. A good laugh, before we lose our damn minds.” “Is it really that bad?” Piper asked in a low whisper. “It’s worse than anypony will admit to,” Mister Balister replied. “There has been a huge fight in Manehattan. Again. Some horrid pony named Belladonna is the new face leading Grogar’s forces. She made a bold attack on the city and assets of the Crown. The Ascendancy arrived to take advantage of the chaos. Many of the guild members in Manehattan were killed while acting as peacekeepers. The death toll approaches the thousand mark. Meanwhile, beneath Canterlot, an army grows in number. Baltimare continues to be plagued by supernatural monsters. At some point, the pressure will no longer be contained, and all of this will explode into a giant mess.” “And you know what Manehattan, Baltimare, and Canterlot all have in common?” Hennessy asked in a low, cautious voice. “Do tell, Mister Walker.” Mister Balister’s back stiffened once more and he waited. “Rats,” Hennessy whispered. “No doubt sabotaging everything while acting as the enemy’s eyes and ears. Keeping everypony on edge, so that when something does happen, it’s worse. This Grogar fellow, he has us by the balls, don’t he?” “More so than anypony will admit,” Mister Balister said to Hennessy. Making a strange sound in the back of his throat, Flicker pushed his plate away, even though there were a few more bites of pancake and some syrup pooled upon it. He folded his forelegs over his barrel while slumping down in his chair, a chair that might have been broken, or might not have—repair spells were wonderful things. “Finish up, colt. I intend to work you over today.” And with that, Mister Balister turned and left. Doctor Sterling looked scared. Flicker wasn’t used to seeing the good doctor like this. Standing in the hallway, he waited for the doctor to say something, but he seemed out of sorts. Shuffling on his hooves, Flicker knew that he had to be practicing with Mister Balister right now, and he hoped for mercy for his tardiness. “Doctor Sterling?” Flicker could see the corner of the doctor’s eye quivering and his mustache was crooked. “The world has gone mad, Flicker. Utterly mad.” Doctor Sterling drew in a deep breath, held it for but a moment, and then let it out in a pained, slow exhale. “A mare stole a piece of her own son’s soul to give to her master, Grogar. Many have died…” The doctor’s words trailed off. “Mister Balister mentioned something about Manehattan,” Flicker said. “A filly named Moon Rose was attacked in her own home by talking, intelligent rats that cast spells.” Doctor Sterling swallowed, and it was obvious that he was having some trouble speaking. “She was magicked away to Manehattan to keep her safe… which is just what the enemy wanted. A piece of her soul was stolen as well.” The doctor trembled with both rage and emotion and his silvery-grey eyes flashed with dangerous malice. “Many of my dear, dear friends in Manehattan have died… not just guild members… but dear friends. They stood in defense of these poor foals and paid the price for their steadfastness and their bravery. They died with a stiff upper lip, all of them.” “Doctor Sterling?” Flicker began feeling distressed at the sound of the doctor’s voice. “Flicker, put your gear on. Get Piper and Hennessy. We’re going tracking. Wicked wants us to start at the scene of the attack and then go combing through the sewers. It’s my territory, so it is very familiar to me, as it is to you as well.” Doctor Sterling’s voice quavered in pitch and volume with each word. The colt did not question his orders, but nodded his head. He understood action and the need for it, because he was a doer. Grief and rage would have to be put aside, it seemed. There was a job to do. Flicker, in a peculiar moment of empathy, reached out and touched Doctor Sterling. The good doctor started, then looked down at Flicker’s hoof resting on his foreleg. He blinked a few times, his face contorting with pain that he could not hold back, and a tear rolled down his cheek. “This is not the same country I grew up in,” Doctor Sterling whispered to Flicker, his voice strained and reedy. “It has become strange to me… a grotesque parody of what it once was. Things have felt wrong since Mister Mariner’s failed gambit. All of my friends are dead, and I wasn’t there to die with them. A mother has done something unimaginable to her own son, the blackest, most vile thing… such a thing that I cannot even begin to comprehend.” “Doctor Sterling…” Flicker looked up at the doctor, his mentor, his teacher, and Flicker realised, his friend. Words failed Flicker, he had no idea what else to say or how to bring his mentor any measure of comfort. He kept his hoof where it was though, and looked up into the doctor’s eyes. “Come, Mister Nicker, we have dirty business to do today.” Some of the resolve returned to Doctor Sterling’s voice as he spoke. “Flicker… I need you… with me. You’re like my son, you know that, right? Because of circumstance, because of how I am, it is unlikely that I will ever have foals. I just wanted you to know how I felt… we live in strange times, Flicker… strange times. Nothing should be left unsaid.” Saying nothing, Flicker nodded. It felt good to be wearing his face again. Flicker slowed his breathing so that he could appreciate the sound, the marvellous sound of his mechanical respiration. Piper and Hennessy were suited up as well. Flicker had checked them both over, making certain that everything was just so. Hennessy was being used as a pack pony and was loaded down with almost seventy pounds of traps. Piper had her sword out and was examining the blade. Doctor Sterling was making a few last minute checks of his own gear. Flicker was eager to go, there was killing to be done. His own blades, all three of them, had been double-checked at least a dozen times now. The miséricorde known as Heartfinder was secured beneath his heavy cloak, out of view. His twin swords were secured to his sides and he was ready, ready to go. Barbed steel darts were secured in hidden sheaths on his front legs and back. Flicker could hurl them with enough force to drive them clean through a four inch thick slab of timber. A bola was hidden away in the pouch pocket on the belly of his protective gear. “Mister Nicker, you will take the lead. I trust your senses.” Doctor Sterling’s voice sounded strange inside of his mask, as if he wasn’t quite himself. “Mister Walker, Miss Pie, you are to observe and learn. Remain alert. Do everything I tell you to do and obey my every command. I’ll bring up the rear. We’ll go to Moon Rose’s house and begin combing the sewers there. I’m betting that Mister Nicker’s senses will prove quite useful. Any questions?” Hennessy shook his head no, and the pale white beak-like protrusion on his mask moved from side to side. The lenses of his mask flashed red in the shadows beneath the brim of his hat in the harsh glare of the electric overhead lights. The traps were piled high on his back and sides, connected with a series of clips and straps. Piper slid her sword away while adjusting her hat and cowl. She was the smallest of all of them, but looked no less frightening. Indeed, something about her small stature and menacing costume was terrifying. The incendiary grenade she carried seemed much, much larger when compared to her small, slight frame. Gesturing at the trapdoor in the floor that lead to the sewers, Doctor Sterling turned to look at Flicker. “Mister Nicker, let us descend into the darkness together…”