There was half a glass of juice and the remains of a small sandwich on the table in front of Pale. Manehattan seemed to be full of sidewalk cafés. Against her wildest expectations, she had become a regular at them. There was little else to do when she had exhausted all her leads in searching for the elusive group the guild had designated the Weeds.
Café aficionado or not, Pale still had a job to do. She kept watch, searching for familiar faces, somepony paying her too much attention, or any other small clue that could give her a new angle to pursue.
She sat back in her chair, glancing at the newspaper in front of her. On the front page, and deservedly so, was a story about a new Princess in Equestria.
A mare named Twilight Sparkle had become an alicorn and been designated the Princess of Friendship. This was after representing the Magic portion of the Elements of Harmony with her friends. All of Equestria had been taken by surprise, but enthusiastically welcomed the new Princess.
Meanwhile, Pale was trolling Manehattan for those who wanted everypony in Equestria dead.
Not for the first time, she wondered if going to the authorities with information about the Blight would help. Why was it secret in the first place? Could powerful allies like Princesses bring about the end of the Blight? Why was the guild founded as a covert organization, rather than, say, a public health group?
Mass panic was part of it, Pale reasoned. Everypony would worry that any cough could be their last, or somepony else’s could be the start of a new infection. There was also the potential that, if the Blight were truly a manufactured disease, those that had originally produced it would do something drastic if they were to be found out.
Not to mention that going public would expose the guild’s activities. Murder was difficult to justify in any circumstance.
Pale straightened up from the newspaper and furtively glanced around. Even when fighting a mysterious group that seemed to want to wipe out all life, she wasn’t used to watching her back. Having been on the hunt for so long, Pale didn’t welcome the idea that somepony might be after her instead.
That is, if anypony actually was after her. She sighed and turned the page, using the opportunity to again covertly survey the street. It had gotten to the point that she was almost hoping somepony would make an attempt on her life. That would at least mean she was on the right track.
Elsewhere in Equestria, the guild was still routinely eliminating twitchers. Pale had been staging her Manehattan activities from the house in Trottingham and occasionally exchanging messages with the others. Piper had been sending reports, which were more information than Pale felt she needed, but she read them anyway.
She caught sight of a griffon down the street. He was coming in her direction, and Pale was startled to recognize him. It was Gilderoy.
He spotted Pale and came over to her table. He gestured to the other chair. “Do you mind?”
Meeting him was a surprise, perhaps even unwelcome. But what could it hurt to hear what he had to say?
Pale held out a hoof. Gilderoy sat. He leaned forward and spoke quietly, though conversationally. “I caught sight of you the other day. I was hoping I would run into you again.”
“What do you want?”
Gilderoy looked hurt, but said, “I was hoping you could help me.”
Pale considered it. “What did you have in mind?”
“A friend of mine needs a change of scenery. I was hoping you could find a place for him.”
Pale avoided looking at a parasprite hovering nearby. Piper would know how big this was, she didn’t need to emphasize it. “Are you serious?”
“A ‘no’ would have sufficed.” Gilderoy spread his talons. Recently manicured, Pale noted. “Look, we’re both in the business of preserving life, in a roundabout way, right? This griffon, this friend of mine, needs a second chance.”
“What happened?”
“He killed the wrong griffon. Look, I know how that sounds. It was a bad situation, he had to make a snap decision, and it was an accident. Trouble is, one mistake is ruining his life. I just thought maybe you could help him get a fresh start.”
Pale studied the parasprite out of the corner of her eye, looking for some kind of signal. None came.
The guild would be stupid to simply trust an outsider. But if Gilderoy was telling the truth, they could use a new member, especially now that the Weeds were in the picture.
“I’ll think about it,” said Pale. “Meet me here tomorrow morning.”
Gilderoy smiled and got up. Pale watched him walk away.
Meeting like this was dangerous. If somepony from the Weeds was watching her, Gilderoy had just made himself a target.
Even still, Pale didn’t see any signs of Weeds for the rest of the day. She went back to the house in Trottingham as the sun was setting.
She talked to Piper that night. It was limited, slow communication trying to use a parasprite’s movements to interpret his meaning.
Pale determined that Piper was as curious as she was about a new member. He didn’t say no. He didn’t say yes. It was probably a good idea to wait to meet this guy, anyway. The way the parasprite seemed to gesture to her, Pale wondered if Piper wanted her to actually make the decision.
Pale was in Manehattan early the next morning. She took her time scouting the area around the café before approaching. She got a table, a drink, and a newspaper.
The headline today was still about Princess Twilight. Friendship good enough to be an actual magical force, and growing into an alicorn princess? Some ponies had all the luck.
Pale frowned. Meanwhile, all her own associates were assassins. However, technically she had been born a princess, the daughter of a queen.
Pale decided that she didn’t have much use for royalty.
Gilderoy walked up, another griffon trailing him. The newcomer was mostly brown with sparse feathers atop his head and a loose sash around his neck for belongings. It was poor form of Gilderoy to bring him, perhaps trying to get Pale to feel bad about saying “no” to his face.
Pale had already decided to accept the offer - with conditions - but did wonder if Gilderoy thought a guilt trip would actually work on somepony who literally couldn’t count the lives she’d taken.
“I think we can find room,” said Pale. She emphasized, “On a trial basis.”
The new guy licked his beak. It seemed to be a nervous tic akin to licking lips. “Sounds good.”
“I’ll be watching you closely,” said Pale. “I hope you understand the need for secrecy. I can’t exactly trust you on the first day we’ve met.”
The new guy ran his talons through the meager feathers on his crest and looked at Gilderoy.
“I suppose I’ll be going, then,” said Gilderoy. He started to turn.
“A word, first?” said Pale, standing up. She glanced at the other griffon. “Have a seat.”
He did, still throwing random tics. This time, it was swallowing.
Pale and Gilderoy walked a short distance away, behind a planter. Pale said, “Before you go, you need to know that there’s a group intentionally spreading the Blight.”
“The what?” said Gilderoy. “You mean the coughing disease?”
“Right.”
Gilderoy considered it. “What evidence do you have?”
“A confession from one of their members. We also started noticing ponies being infected without ever being exposed to a coughing fit.”
“How do they transmit it?”
“Blood, maybe saliva or other body fluids. Somehow they’re infected, but not dying like the victims.”
Gilderoy wore a deep frown. “Do they have a name? Where do they operate?”
“I don’t know what they call themselves. We’ve seen the most activity from them right here in Manehattan.”
“I suppose that explains your presence here,” Gilderoy noted. He shook his head. “Intentionally spreading the disease? How can they do that? How are they doing it? If they’re behind it, stopping them could end it completely.”
Pale nodded. “Now you know as much as I do.”
“I’ll have to, ah, take some precautions,” said Gilderoy. He nodded to her and started to turn away, but stopped. He gestured back towards the table. “Oh, and I hate to say this, but if you hadn’t agreed to take him on...we probably would have killed him.”
He walked away. Pale frowned and returned to the table. What had that last comment been about? Another attempt at guilt-tripping? A warning?
She sat down. The griffon shifted uncomfortably, glanced at her face, and looked away.
“Do you have a name?” Pale asked.
“Yeah, kind of. I’m not really attached to it, though. A change in perspectives, a change in everything, I guess.”
“I’m sure we’ll think of something,” said Pale. She watched as he fidgeted.
Could he be a twitcher? Was it Gilderoy’s intention to set him on her? If so, would he really be that blatant?
At any rate, she had no intention of letting the new guy anywhere near the cave until he’d proven himself. She’d already decided it would be a few weeks, minimum.
“Let’s go,” said Pale, getting up. She decided she could better judge him if he had more to focus on than her.
They followed the sidewalk. Pale gave him a rundown on the basic requirements of the job. He already knew the part about the Blight and eliminating twitchers. The Weeds seemed to be news to him. His nervous reactions got worse as they discussed the topic.
Other than being, well, twitchy, he didn’t seem to be infected. He wasn’t displaying any overtly destructive tendencies, more of a nervous reaction than anything.
“If they transmit through blood, what am I supposed to do if I can’t touch them?” he asked. “I usually-” he made a slashing motion with his talons.
Pale considered it, and then gave him one of her knives. That carried a risk, though she judged it a small one. With their talons, giving a griffon a blade wouldn’t make them any more dangerous than they already were.
He looked at it briefly before stowing it in his sash. “I don’t know if it’s going to stay put. I sometimes move fast.”
Perhaps in all directions at once, Pale mused. He never seemed to relax, even for a moment.
“So, um, what are you?” he asked.
Pale looked at him. He grimaced and looked away from her face.
“Maybe I’ll tell you someday,” she said.
He came to an abrupt halt and Pale nearly ran into him. “Hey, isn’t that the waiter from the breakfast place?”
Pale looked. Sure enough, it was. He was about half a block behind them and heading in the same direction. “Stop staring.”
He instead looked at her. “What are we going to do?”
“Keep walking, for now. If he follows us, we’ll get him alone and grab him. If he’s a Weed, we’ll ask him a few questions.”
“And then kill him?”
Pale held back a sigh. “Yes.”
“Just wanted to be sure.” He cleared his throat.
The two of them changed direction a few times. It seemed like their pursuit was indeed following.
Pale considered her options. “How well do you know Manehattan?”
“I’ve been here a few times.” It seemed as if he wanted to look at their backtrail but was constantly restraining himself.
“I remember seeing an abandoned building near the river. I don’t know if it’s possible to get inside, but that would be ideal. He’ll probably follow me instead of you, so we’ll split up.”
Pale told him where the place was. She wasn’t sure if he understood.
This guy was starting to get on her nerves. It wasn’t that he was incompetent - he’d even spotted the tail first - he just didn’t seem to have his wits about him. Pale remembered what Gilderoy had said about the wrong griffon. Pale almost wondered if he would function better with some kind of sedative. Perhaps Shard could help.
But that was for later. They had a problem to solve now. The two of them split at the next corner, Pale continuing towards her destination. She made a couple of halfhearted attempts at evasion, just so her pursuer wouldn’t think it was too easy.
She found a padlock on the building when she arrived, but picked it in seconds. The inside contained old machinery and trash.
The new guy was supposed to show up in a few minutes. Pale waited to see if her pursuer would also arrive.
Seconds later, she got her answer as he and the stallion crashed through the door in a grapple. The griffon seemed to have the upper hand, pummeling his opponent’s face with lightning-quick blows.
“The knife!” Pale shouted. They’d already discussed not getting into any closer contact with potential Weeds than could be helped.
He did grab the knife, which allowed the stallion a fraction of a second to get up. The griffon made wide, sweeping slashes, the blade whooshing through the air, which the pony backpedaled from, barely dodging.
Pale caught movement out of the corner of her eye and reacted with an instinctive buck, knocking a mare wearing a utility vest into the air. The target landed several feet away, and Pale whirled, already covering her with a knife.
While she had time, she glanced at the other fight. The griffon was still swinging his weapon like a tornado. Around the room, he’d unintentionally knocked a few things over.
The knife sparked across a piece of equipment in one of the wild swings, breaking the tip off. That didn’t stop the griffon from continuing his attack, which tore the blade’s remaining jagged metal through the stallion’s throat.
Pale had been in a few brawls, but avoided it when she could, especially now that they knew Weed blood might be infectious. The new guy didn’t seem to know how to operate any other way. Fortunately, it seemed that he hadn’t gotten any blood on him.
He hurried back over to Pale, still holding the broken knife. “Did you get one?
He raised the knife as he approached, intent on the prostrate mare. Pale stopped him with a raised hoof. “We haven’t talked to her yet.”
While she was momentarily distracted, the mare plunged a hoof into her vest. Pale saw it coming and was already moving when the mare pulled a knife.
She threw it with a quick flick of her hoof, aiming directly at Pale’s face. It wasn’t a great throw, but the mare could have meant it as a distraction more than anything else.
Even still, Pale barely had time to juke her head to the side. Almost on its own accord, the hoof she’d raised to defend herself snatched the knife out of the air.
“Did you-” the new guy started to say, staring at Pale with wide eyes.
The mare bolted.
He jerked his head and shot after her, slamming his knife down on her shoulderblade in a strike that took her to the ground. He pulled the knife out. She convulsed, trying to pull herself away. He stabbed again, this time not pausing and raining blows like a jackhammer.
He must have stabbed her a dozen times before Pale physically pulled him off. “You could have just stopped her!”
He blinked and looked at the knife. “I just thought...she attacked you…”
“We weren’t able to question her.” Pale shook her head and looked around. “Let’s get this place cleaned up.”
“Cleanup?”
Was that a foreign concept? Concealing one’s evidence? He certainly hadn’t made it easy, leaving so much of it spread all over.
Pale decided that if he ever proved himself worthy of a name, she was going to suggest the Whirling Havoc.