//------------------------------//
// ...Die By The Sword 
// Story: Tainted Silver 
// by Bluecatcinema 
//------------------------------//

After dinner, Sterling went up to the bathroom to wash up. After he finished washing his face, he gazed wearily into the bathroom mirror.

'How am I going to make things right with Cherry?' He thought. 'Nothing I've tried so far has worked...'

As Sterling looked away from the mirror, he spotted the morning newspaper on the towel rack. He took note of the date; It had been fifteen days since Father made his ultimatum.

'Now I've only got half a month left before the Forefathers hunt me down.' Sterling mused. 'And wipe out anypony who get in their way...'

Sterling was once again overcome with guilt and fear over what would happen if the Forefathers came to the homestead. The thought of any harm coming to Big Red and his family was almost too much to bear.

'I need a drink...' Sterling thought. 'And another, and another. Enough to get my mind off things.'

Sterling made his way over to the kitchen, where Big Red was reading the evening newspaper.

"Hey, Red, I was thinking of heading to the bar for a quick drink." He announced. "Wanna come with?"

"Nah, Ah'm good." Big Red shrugged. "I don’t wanna have two hangovers in one week, ya know? You go on ahead without me, m’kay?”

“Okay, suit yourself.” Sterling frowned, having hoped for a bit of company, “I guess I’ll see you when I get back.”

“Jest don’t be out all night.” Big Red declared, “And try to not get blind-sided by a barstool again.”

“Hmph, funny.” Sterling rolled his eyes, “But I’ll try.”

Sterling left the homestead, and made his way to the bar in town.

"Hey, Sterling." Suds said in greetings.

"Evening, Suds." Sterling half-sized. "The usual, thanks."

"Comin' right up." Suds nodded.

After receiving his drink, Sterling sat at the bar. He heard a radio, in the middle of a newscast.

“In other news, it has been mere days since the end of the viral outbreak that had plagued the Changeling colony. With an estimated death toll of over a thousand  changelings, ponies are still wondering: who is responsible for the  cause of this pandemic?”

’Aw, crap…’ Sterling silently cursed.

"Officials have surmised that there is a connection between the attack on the hive, and the recent attack on Canterlot." The broadcast continued. "If this is true, than who is behind these attacks? Whoever the perpetrators, they clearly have access to a great many resources."

'You have no idea...' Sterling frowned.

The Royal Sisters have pledged to put every resource they have into finding whoever is behind these loathesome attacks, and making them face justice."

'I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you.' Sterling thought.

“We had tried to get a  statement from the Royal Defense Legion’s director, Elite Everest, but  he was unavailable for comment. As of now, we have no further news on  these fiends, but rest assured, when more information becomes  available, you will all be the first to know.”

"Whoever they are, those scumbags deserve to be locked away for what they did." One patron snarled.

"Don't you mean executed?" Another spat.

"Even that's too good for them." Suds scowled. "It's filth like that who make things worse for ponies like us. If I ever ran into one of those guys, I'd take 'im out into the desert, bury him up to his neck in sand, and leave him for the vultures."

Sterling let out a groan as he glanced at his glass.

’Typical… Every time I try to forget about the Forefathers, something always have to smack me in the face with them.’ Sterling growled. ’Here I am, halfway towards certain oblivion, drinking as if it will change anything. I'll never be able to get away from the Forefathers. I should have learned from what happened with Jetstream...’

Sterling threw the contents of the glass down his throat.

"Same again." He called.

Suds brought him another drink. After downing, Sterling called for another, and another. But no matter how much he drank, he couldn't shake his woes.

'This isn't working.' Sterling despaired. 'Keeping this all held inside is driving me nuts. I need somepony to talk to. And I think I know just where to go...'

Sterling  quickly left the bar, and headed over to the home of Marshall.  Fortunately, he had overheard from the other patrons that Marshall was out of town, having to make an overnight trip to Appleloosa to testify at a court case regarding some traveling cow-rustlers. And that worked out just fine, as Marshall wasn’t the one Sterling wanted to talk to.

After Sterling knocked on the door, it was answered by Shooting Star.

"Sterling?" Shooting Star smiled, both surprised and pleased.

"Hey, Shooting." Sterling smiled weakly. "I was in the neighborhood, and thought I'd drop by. You don't mind, do you?"

"Well,  I would have preferred you called ahead." Shooting Star admitted. "But  since it's good to see you, I'll let that one go. Come on in."

Sterling followed Shooting Star into the house. It was a modest dwelling, just right for a stallion pulling in a Sheriff's wage.

"Got anything to drink?" Sterling asked.

"I got some apple cider." Shooting Star nodded. "I'd offer something stronger, but... it smells like you've already had some."

"Yeah, that's... part of the reason I'm here." Sterling admitted.

"You don't say..." Shooting Star frowned. "Take a seat on the couch. I'll be right back..."

Sterling sat down on the couch.

'Can't believe I'm actually doing this.' He mused. 'But I need to vent to somepony, or I'll go nuts...'

It wasn’t long before Shooting Star had come back with two small glasses of apple cider, as Shooting sat on the couch aside him.

"So,  what brings you here?" Shooting Star asked. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you decided to drop by, but the look on your face suggests something's up."

"That obvious, huh?" Sterling remarked. "I'm  just… been going through the motions these past couple of days, and I really needed somepony to talk to. Then I remembered that offer you made to me back at the party.” He gave a small smirk at Shooting. “I figured I’d take you up on it now.”

“Well, how about that?” Shooting Star smiled… before faltering a bit, “What exactly changed your mind?”

“Oh,  nothing really.” Sterling admitted, “I've just had a lot on my mind  lately, and…” He rubbed the back of his head, “Whenever I talked to you before, I always felt better.”

“Well, consider me flattered.” Shooting Star chuckled lightly, “So… what’s eating ya?”

‘Eh, where do I begin?’ Sterling thought to himself.

The  statement had some truth to it. He really wasn’t sure how to go about  explaining how he was on the run from a powerful organization  responsible for the deaths of many ponies and other creatures alike, and how he was given one month to either go back to them or being hunted  down. Or how he experiencing bouts of severe guilt and depression over  the acts he had committed in their name. And he was definitely not sure how to explain the ghosts of his past coming back to haunt him.

At this point, all he could do was focus on the most relevant and least troubling of issues.

“Well, to begin…” Sterling admitted, “There’s this issue with Cherry.”

“Cherry?” Shooting Star frowned, “What’s the problem with her?”

“I  just think she really doesn’t like me.” Sterling grimaced, “I mean,  ever since I started living at the house, she's been wary of me.”

“Hmm, that doesn’t really sound like Cherry.” Shooting Star admitted, “She’s one of the sweetest mares I know.”

“I  know, and that’s what bothers me.” Sterling nodded, “I admit, we didn’t  really get off on the right hoof at first, but I thought I was making headway with her over the past weeks, but now, she detests me more than  ever.”

“Now, I’m sure there’s an explanation.” Shooting Star  patted his shoulder sympathetically, “Seeing how Big Red seems to like  you, I bet Cherry shouldn’t take much longer to warm up to you.”

“Somehow,  I doubt that.” Sterling sighed, “And honestly, I don’t blame her. After all, she’s a mother of three kids, and I’m just some hitchhiker they picked up out of nowhere. She may not know me…” He closed his eyes and shook his head, “But I’m sure she has me pegged. As if she already knows  the kind of stallion I am…”

"What do you mean by ‘the kind of stallion you are’?" Shooting Star asked.

"Well, I..." Sterling muttered. 'Way to go, you stupid buck! You've said too much!'

"Come on, Sterling." Shooting Star urged. "You can tell me."

“Well…” Sterling glanced away, unsure how to proceed.

Sterling  had no intention of telling Shooting Star the cold truth. He knew deep  down that would have been tantamount to simply turning himself in to  Marshall, and destroying whatever it is he had with Shooting Star. He looked into Shooting Star's eyes. Something about the look she was giving Sterling compelled him to at least come clean as to why he was upset.

Sterling let out a sigh, his head bowed in shame.

“The truth is, Shooting… I’m not a good pony.” Sterling admitted.

“What?” Shooting frowned, “Of course you are!”

“No, I’m not.” Sterling shook his head, “I have done things, Shooting. Things that I am not proud of.”

“So did everypony at some point in their life. I don’t see how that makes you a bad pony.” Shooting Star frowned.

’If you only knew…’ Sterling thought forlornly.

“It  makes me a bad pony because I hurt ponies.” Sterling admitted.  “Everypony I come into contact with, I hurt… it doesn’t matter who they are. And no matter how much I want to not hurt anypony, somepony always get hurt. Either by my own hooves or through events caused by them.  Either way, me being in their life turns that life to crap.”

"Well,  that's just plain ridiculous." Shooting Star snorted. "Everypony's life touches everpony else's. Sometimes, it results in good, and sometimes in bad. And you're only focusing on the bad."

"I can't help it." Sterling frowned. "There's a whole lot of bad."

"Look,  no matter what's going on in your life, Sterling, shutting ponies out  is the last thing you should do." Shooting Star declared, placing a hoof  on his shoulder.

Sterling felt a warm sensation run through him. It had been so long since he had known the soft touch of a mare... But  he quickly recomposed himself.

"It is if I want to keep them safe." He sighed.

"Ignorance isn't bliss, you know." Shooting Star pointed out. "And besides, if you  always keep ponies at hoof's length, then you'll always be alone. You  don't want that, do you?"

"Of course not." Sterling nodded. "But it's the way it has to be. It's better for everypony."

"Everypony  but you." Shooting Star declared. "I don't know just what you meant by  all that 'everything you touch turns to crap' nonsense but you shouldn't  be afraid to be close to other ponies. I, for one, would hate that.  Sometimes, you have to risk getting close to others in order to form a  connection. And it's the connections between ponies that are truly  important. I know I wouldn't mind making a connection with you..."

"Neither would I." Sterling admitted, smiling indulgently.

"Figured on that." Shooting Star smiled slyly. "So don't be afraid that you're  going to destroy my life. I'm a big mare. I can handle whatever happens.  Besides, something tells me it'd be worth it."

As Shooting Star smiled at him, Sterling once again felt that warm sensation.

"Thank you." He said quietly.

"No problem." Shooting Star grinned. "You just think on what I've told you."

"I will." Sterling nodded. "You're an amazing mare, you know that?"

"Oh, hush." Shooting Star blushed. "Don't ruin the moment with more cheesy pick-up lines."

"I  mean it." Sterling declared. "There aren't many mares like you in the  world... at least, not many I've had the pleasure of knowing. You're  really something special."

"So are you." Shooting Star said softly.

"You really think so?" Sterling asked.

"Yep." Shooting Star nodded. "From the day we met, I could tell there was somethin' in ya no other stallion had."

Sterling  smiled awkwardly, Shooting Star smiling back. The moment seemed to last  forever; a wonderful eternity, in Sterling's eyes. Then, the two embraced, kissing each other deeply.

'Wow...' Sterling thought, overwhelmed by the sensation.

The two separated.

"So... that happened." Sterling said weakly.

"Yeah, it did." Shooting Star nodded.

They then kissed again, longer and more passionately.

“Wait, wait…” Sterling pulled away a bit, “Are you sure you want to do this? With some guy you barely know?”

"I sure do." Shooting Star grinned. "Here, allow me to demonstrate..."

Shooting Star took Sterling's hoof, and led him upstairs...

Elsewhere...

In his workshop, Loveless was hard at work, putting together a new device to be used in the field.

"Now, after installing the rotor, I should attach the wiring..." He told himself. "Then... then..."

Loveless froze, unable to remember what to do next.

“Aw, buck it all to hell!” Loveless cast his tools aside, placing a hoof to his forehead, “Why is this so damn difficult?”

Despite  such a question, Loveless knew full well why he couldn’t complete what would be a simple task for an inventor like him. It has been half a  month since Father had given Sterling his ultimatum, and half a month  since Loveless sent all the best agents he could gather to find him.

Unfortunately, despite this, there had been no sign of him, and with only a few weeks  left till Sterling would be forever expelled from the Forefathers and  hunted down.

The very thought that his protege and close friend  was out there, lost and alone, with a death sentence looming over his  head was eating at him, images of the young stallion laying in some ditch, bloodied and broken, begging for his help. Or worse, lying on the  ground, dead. The thought alone had robbed him of his appetite,  evident by the many untouched plates of food stack on a nearby table,  and of his sleep, evident by the bags under his eyes.

“It’s bad enough I can’t eat or sleep, now I can’t even finish a stupid piece of  junk.” Loveless rubbed his eyes, “Sterling, where the hell are you? Why  haven’t you come home already?”

One of Loveless's assistants approached.

"Will you be turning in, sir?" He asked.

"No, thank you." Loveless said flatly. "Now, please, a little privacy, if you will."

"As you wish." The agent nodded, departing the workshop.

Loveless let out a sigh, as he turned to face his workdesk once more, hoping to try and continue working on  the device… when he then glanced at an old photo frame that was propped  up next to him.

The aged frame contained a very old photo, showing  himself, a younger Sterling, and Jetstream, standing on the upper walls  of Infinity, overlooking the frigid valleys. It was a photo taken  shortly a year after Loveless found Sterling in juvie.

Seeing the smiles on his and two friends’ faces brought about a sense of deep sadness, as he glanced intently at Jetstream.

"Oh, Jetstream." He sighed. "If only you were still here… what would you do?”

Many years ago...

An airship landed at Infinity, and an older, taller, and stronger-looking Sterling disembarked. Three years had passed since the mission from Brayzil,. Sterling had gone on many more missions, experiencing great success and greater experience, climbing up the ranks of the Forefathers. He was currently ranked as a "Senior Agent", one of the highest ranks an non-Ouroboros could reach.

Currently, Sterling had just returned from another successful mission, having  infiltrated a meeting between some Russiaddlian mobsters who held a grudge against the Forefathers. Apparently, one of their own members, a pony by the name of Lazarevic Darkside, was killed by Black Knight, and they were pretty nettled about it.

Fortunately, through some  bribes and disguising himself as a waiter at one of their local haunts, he had  gathered some information about the meeting and where it would be, and dropped an "anonymous" tip about the meeting’s location, and watched as  the cops took care of the rest.

All in all, it has been a productive day.

As Sterling entered the Infinity, his fellow agents cheered him on.

"Way to go, Sterling!" Clay cheered.

"You're the stallion!" Granite whooped.

"Your grand deeds bring honor to us all!" Baritone declared.

"Hey, I'm just doing my job." Sterling chuckled. "Love to chat more, but I'm starving. Time for a well-deserved lunch..."

As Sterling made his way to the lunch room, he passed a group of agents.

"Did  you hear about what happened over at Minostan? One asked. "One of the  blimps carrying our load of Mithril ore crashed."

Sterling froze in place.

“How the heck did that happened?” An agent gasped.

“I  heard that they found a few holes in the blimp’s balloon. But that’s  not the crazy part.” The first agent frowned, “I heard that these holes weren’t caused by wear and tear. They were cut into the balloon!”

“Sabotage?” An agent gaped.

’Oh no…’ Sterling grimaced.

“You  think that’s bad?” Another agent scowled, “You know that supply boat  that was making the run from Minostan? Their entire cargo full of fire gems  ‘mysteriously’ fell overboard’."

“Oh, yes.” One agent sneered, “An  entire cargo, that was locked tight in the ship’s hold, somehow managed  to unstrap itself, drag itself up onto the deck and throw itself  overboard.” He then growled, “I smell a rat!”

“He does have a  point.” A older agent admitted, “There have been a bunch of missions going awry over the past couple years. At the alarming rate these  mishaps been occurring, these incidents cannot be accidents.”

“Yeah. Maybe Tropics was onto something when she said there was a traitor in our ranks.” The first agent mused.

“Oh,  please, that witch has been going on about that for years.” The third  agent scoffed, “In fact, she seems to think that Jetstream is the  traitor, and that he’s the reason that they lost that book.”

“You'd think after all these years, she would learn to let things go.” One agent grimaced.

Sterling did not stick around long enough, his mind racing.

It  has been so long since the mission in Brayzil, and since he'd overheard Tropics’ allegations that Jetstream was the one who set fire to the tent that destroyed the tome. The thought that his mentor would deliberately sabotage their own mission was a thought that he didn’t want to consider.

As days and months passed by, Sterling  saw no sign of any illicit behavior on Jetstream's part, convincing him that what had happened in Brayzil was a one-off occurrence. whether it  was an accident or not, he wasn’t sure, but it gave him hope that things  would soon be back to normal.

However, not soon after, there were reports of missions being messed up, whether it be from "accidental" losses of the objective, or from "equipment failure".

To make  matters worse, Sterling began to notice a change in Jetstream. As the  years passed by, he noticed how Jetstream never seem to smile with the same wit and snark he usually had. In fact, he seem to have become  aloof, becoming distant from both him and Loveless. Many times when they  were supposed to train together, Jetstream would take a rain check, saying that he was either too tired or busy.

And while Sterling  didn’t want to believe it, the fact that missions started to go wrong at  the same time as Jetstream’s change in personality was all too damning.

’It just can’t be…’ Sterling thought, ’Jetstream  is my friend. My mentor. There’s no way he would do this. He’s an  Ouroboros for Faust’s sake! Why would he betray the Forefathers now,  after all these years?’ He shook his head, ’There has to be some explanation for it! Whoever this traitor is, it has to be somepony else, it just has to!’

These  thoughts circling in his head, Sterling made his way to the lunch room,  hoping a full stomach would take his mind off matters. Just as he  arrived at the entrance, somepony called out to him.

"Yo, Sterling!"

Sterling turned to see Ricochet approaching him, having not changed a bit over the three years.

"Hey, Ricochet." Sterling smiled, putting his worries aside for the moment, “How goes it?”

“Pretty fine. You just got done with that mission in Russiaddle?” Ricochet asked.

“Yeah. It was child’s play.” Sterling smirked, “I was just going to grab a bite to eat at the canteen.”

“What, that trash?” Ricochet scoffed, “Dude, why would you eat the crap here?”

“Um… because it’s the only place to get hot meals?” Sterling frowned in confusion.

“I  don’t think so.” Ricochet wrapped a hoof around Sterling and lead him  away, “I refuse to let any good buddy of mine eat at such a lousy  establishment when there’s better food to be had elsewhere!”

“Like where?” Sterling laughed in disbelief, “Is there some Hayburger joint I don’t know about in this old place?”

“Oh  no.” Ricochet chuckled, “I just so happen to know a place in the  higher levels that serve the best food in all of Infinity, if not the  whole wide world!”

“Really? How come I never heard of it?” Sterling asked.

“Well, aside the fact it’s in the higher levels, it’s off limits to lower agents.” Ricochet explained, “Also, it’s kinda a private lounge for Ouroboros only.”

“Then why are you taking me there? I’m not a low-ranked agent anymore, but I’m no Ouroboros either.” Sterling pouted.

“Hey, they say it’s for Ouroboros only. They said nothing about those Ouroboros bringing friends.” Ricochet grinned.

“And why have you waited so long to tell me about this place?” Sterling deadpanned, “I have been here for nearly four years.”

"Eh, I figured you liked the mess hall just fine." Ricochet shrugged. "But hey, time to try something new..."

Ricochet led Sterling up several levels, passing through an ornate set of double doors, reaching an exclusive  lounge. It was a large room, filled with mahogany tables and plush seats, mosaics on the walls (including the Forefathers symbol) and a bar.

“Whoa, nice place!” Sterling whistled.

“Thank  you.” Ricochet smirked, “We called it the ‘Snake Pit’, or ‘The Pit’.  This is where we big kahunas go to hang out sometimes. It’s also where  my best pal work!”

“Your best pal?” Sterling repeated.

“Is that good ol’ Ricochet I hear?!”

Sterling  glanced towards the bar, where a orange-coated young Earth Pony  stallion with green eyes (behind rectangular-framed glasses), a mane of  red and a deeper orange partially hidden under a chef's hat, and a Cutie  Mark of an open flame, emerged, coming from the back room.

“Ignite! My main stallion!” Ricochet chuckled, as the two approached the bar, “How’s it hangin’?!”

“Oh,  same ol’, same ol’.” Ignite shrugged in a thick Neigh Orleans accent,  as he glanced at Sterling, “Who is this now? Ain’t seen him around  before.”

“This here is Sterling Cross. He’s Loveless and Jetty’s boy.” Ricochet declared.

"Well, nice ta meet ya, brah." Ignite smirked, “The name’s Ignite Bunsen. I heard many things about ya.”

“All good I hope?” Sterling asked.

“Indeed. Mr. Irons and Ronin speaks very highly of you.” Ignite smiled, “And from I can tell, ya look to be a good stallion.”

"Thanks." Sterling grinned. "You too."

"Well, I do okay..." Ignite shrugged.

“So, what’s your deal?” Sterling questioned, “Are you an agent like us?”

"Oh, yeah." Ricochet nodded. "Top notch, actually. You won’t find a pony here who can brandish a knife like he does."

"Aw, yer makin' me blush." Ignite chuckled.

“Is that so? How come I never seen him on one before?” Sterling frowned.

“Oh,  that’s easy.” Ricochet smiled. “You see, Ignite here happens to be the  master chef and caretaker of the ‘Snake Pit’. For his quota, he gets to  take care of this place, and cook us breakfast, lunch, and dinner,  whenever we want it. We only pull him out of the kitchen for the real  important stuff.”

“Huh, sounds like a pretty cozy position you got here.” Sterling mused.

“Oh, it’s pretty alright.” Ignite said humbly, “It’s a place that I feel most useful to the Forefathers.”

“Ya  got that right.” Ricochet smirked, “Ignite here is one of the best  chefs you will find for thousands of miles! You wouldn’t believe some of  the stuff he can make. Hell, he’s so good that even Father himself  likes his cooking!”

“Really?” Sterling couldn’t help but be intrigued, as he turned to Ignite, “You’re that good, huh?”

"What can I say?" Ignite grinned. "I'm always coming up with a new recipeh, and I jus' gotta try it."

"Ya got any requests?" Ricochet asked Sterling. "Whatever you crave, Ignite can make it, ten times better."

"You sure about that?" Sterling asked Ignite.

"You just watch me." Ignite grinned. "Whatevah ya ask, I'm'a gonna make it."

"Well,  if you really insist... I wouldn't mind a little baba ghanoush."  Sterling sighed nostalgically. "It's been forever since I've tasted  some."

“Baba… what?” Ricochet asked, stupefied.

“Cooked  eggplant, mixed with tahina, a condiment made from sesame seeds, olive  oil, and a few seasonings. I take it you’re from Haygypt?” Ignite smirked.

“Born and raised there, yeah.” Sterling murmured, “It’s been awhile though since I’ve been there…”

“Well, this will be easy.” Ignite smiled, with a tap of his hoof, “One taste a’ home, comin’ right up!”

Ignite dashed into the kitchen. Several minutes later, he returned with the Haygyptian dish.

"Y'all are gonna love dis!" He gave the plate to Sterling, with a fork jabbed into the cuisine. "Bon appetit!"

Sterling  grabbed the fork, and helped himself to the baba ghanoush. The moment  the food enter his mouth, he was overwhelmed by the amazing taste that consumed him.

“Mmmm….” Sterling moaned, his body nearly melting,  as he took the fork from his mouth, “Holy crap… this tastes just like  home… except-”

“Ten times better?” Ricochet finished knowingly.

“Yeah!” Sterling declared proudly.

"That's what I like ta hear." Ignite grinned. "Ain't nopony ever not liked one of my dishes, and ain't nopony ever gonna will!"

"I'm  not surprised!" Sterling declared, taking another bite. "Seriously, I've never seen a cook as good as you! Why are you up here in Infinity, when  you could be running your own restaurant or something?”

“Ah, who has the time?” Ignite shrugged, “I'm a stallion that lives not for fame  or fortune. I love cookin’, but I ain’t up fer runnin’ a whole dang  restaurant. Ya see, cookin’ an art form. If I were to own a restaurant, I'd haveta abide by rules and procedures. It limits the creativity.  But here, I could be as creative as I want. It ain’t about the money none, but about doin’ what I love, and havin’ folks love ya for it. That’s mah way of living a fulfilled life!”

"That's a really good way of looking at things." Sterling admitted, impressed by Ignite's words.

“Yeah.  I’ll tell ya, Ignite here is the greatest part of being an Ouroboros.”  Ricochet chuckled, “...Well, that and having ponies do what you say…” He  then lit up, “Hey, maybe you oughta try for a spot in the Coils! That  way you can have this taste of home whenever you want?”

"Yeah,  having this guy for a chef is one of the biggest perks of being an  Ouroboros." Ricochet chuckled. "Maybe you should apply for a position  with us? That way, you could enjoy a taste of home whenever you want."

"Me, an Ouroboros?" Sterling snorted. "Yeah, I don’t see that happening anytime soon."

"Why  not?" Ricochet asked. "You've really been crushin' it with your  missions, you are well-liked among your peers, and you have two of them  for your teachers! You would be a shoe-in for sure!”

"Maybe,  but let's not forget what happened last time I tried to play with the  big boys." Sterling frowned. "You recall that ambush on Black Knight? I  only got in one hit on him, then ended up getting pounded by his  British friend. I got too cocky and that almost got me killed."

“Oh,  come on, man, that’s all in the past.” Ricochet urged, “You can’t let  that one slip-up stop ya from becoming more than you can be!”

“I  appreciate the pep talk, Ricochet, but I’m not going to make the same  mistake I did all those years ago.” Sterling sighed, as he recalled a  certain old stallion who never came back from that mission, “I'll try  to get into Coils when I’m good and ready.”

“Oh, but Sterling…” Ricochet whined.

Suddenly, the doors to the Pit opened as familiar faces came into the room.

"I still say we should do something." Solomon declared. He had recently been promoted to Ouroboros, after attending to a troublesome senator who threatened to expose the Forefathers.

"Listen to him." Gridlock snorted. "Only just become an Ouroboros, and already he thinks he knows everything."

"He has a point, though." Doc pointed out. "This is a worrying issue..."

"And a potentially embarrassing one." Harlhooves added.

"Which is why it must be dealt with as soon as possible." Nahlik frowned.

“Hey, guys, whaddup?” Ricochet greeted.

“Oh, hey,  Ricochet, we were wondering where…” Solomon noted… before his gaze  shifted to Sterling, a familiar scowl appearing on his face, “And just what is he doing here?”

“Yeah, this is supposed to be a private establishment for the truly elite!” Nalik growled, “Just because it’s called the Snake Pit, doesn’t mean vermin are allowed!”

“A little late for that.” Ignite scoffed.

“What are you doing up here, kid?” Gridlock grunted, “They make you a waiter, something?”

“Hey,  lay off, you guys.” Ricochet said firmly, “I invited him here. I wanted  him to meet Ignite and show off the Pit. Show how awesome we Ouroboros have it here!”

“Hmph, all you’re doin’ is getting his hopes up for nothing.” Solomon sneered mockingly, “After all, if he had only stuck  with me, he wouldn’t need an invitation to enjoy such luxuries.”

“Wow, you’re still on about that, huh?” Sterling glared, “You really need to learn to let things go.”

“And  you need to remember your place.” Solomon growled, “I’m your superior now and I will not tolerate such disrespect from a worthless piece of-”

“Okay, that is enough out of you.” Doc grunted, getting in between them.

“Honestly,  Solomon, you’ve only been a Ouroboros for a few months.” Harlhooves tutted. “Such a title doesn’t automatically mean you get to lord it around.”

"Wanna bet?" Solomon sneered, as they took seats at the bar.

"Hey, Doc." Sterling declared. "How ya been?"

"As well as I can be, all things considered." Doc sighed, the loss of Dysley clearly still weighing heavy on him. "I have been focusing on my projects, mostly. There have been some... interesting developments, as of late."

"That's... great." Sterling nodded weakly, remembering the questionable project Doc was working on. "Where's Loveless?"

"Still in his workshop, I suppose." Doc shrugged.

“So, what were you guys talking about just now when you came in?” Ricochet asked.

“I suppose you’ve heard the news, right?” Doc turned to Ricochet, “About all those recent accidents?”

"Oh, yeah." Ricochet nodded glumly. "There's been way too many of them lately."

"Indeed." Harlhooves agreed.

"Way too many to be considered 'accidents' anymore." Gridlock sneered,

“Ah,  yes. I have been hearing from the low-class wretches that there might  be a saboteur.” Nalik mused, “A saboteur… from our own ranks.”

“Do you really think there is a traitor among us?” Doc frowned.

“How  else do you explain all those screw-ups we been having?” Gridlock  growled, “In all the years I have been in this organization, we never had this many botched operations in such a short amount of time.”

“He  does have a point.” Harlhooves declared, “The Forefathers always  performed with the utmost discretion, and with little missteps here and  there, barring the obvious exceptions from the RDL…” Gridlock snorted in response. “The fact that these ‘accidents’ have been occurring at an  alarming rate suggests that we have a saboteur who just so happens to know without fail where one of our operations was going to be.”

“There’s  no mistake about it!” Solomon snarled, “There is a rat in Infinity. A  rat that must be flushed out and exterminated!” He slammed his hoof,  sparks coming off it.

Sterling shifted uncomfortably.

“Cool your jets, Solomon.” Harlhooves shook his head, “It does us no good to get worked up about it now.”

“Yeah,  Lightning, relax!” Ricochet declared, using the nickname he had just  came up for him recently, “Let good ol’ Ignite smother your woes with food!”

"Good afternoon, sirs." Ignite declared, as if on cue. "Any'ting I can get y'all?"

"Just the usual, Ignite." Harlhooves declared.

"Comin' right up, mistuh big-shot senator." Ignite nodded stiffly.

"I'll have the hayburgers. Extra sauce." Gridlock added.

"Sure t'ing." Ignite said flatly.

"Basil and tomato soup." Doc requested.

"I'll throw in a spoon for ya, while I'm at it." Ignite joked.

"I'll have the potato salad." Solomon said curtly.

"I'm sure y'all will." Ignite humored him.

"I'll have the ginger and beetroot stew. And be quick about it." Nalik sneered.

"Yes, suh." Ignite declared. "With extra spit, jus' fer you..."

"Some Prench-fried 'taters, thanks." Ricochet requested.

"Comin' right up, Ric." Ignite smiled.

"Now, about this saboteur..." Solomon pressed the issue.

As Ignite made his way back into the kitchen, and the Ouroboros fell back into discussion, the doors to the Pit opened again. Sterling turned to see none other than Jetstream come in. The last few years had not been kind to him; His face had more lines, there  were heavy bags under his eyes, and streaks of grey in his mane.

“Oh, hey, Jetstream.” Sterling smiled, albeit a bit awkwardly, noting his appearance. “Where have you been?”

“Eh, sleeping in.” Jetstream shook his head, taking a seat, “Had a long night last night. Couldn’t sleep a wink.”

“...Oh…  I’m sorry to hear that.” Sterling frowned, before noting the pastry envelope in Jetstream’s hoof, "What's that you've got there?"

"Oh,  this?” Jetstream held up the food in question, “It’s pastel. It’s a  dish from Brayzil. I had Ignite made me some last night.” He broke off a piece. "Wanna try some?"

"Sure, why not?" Sterling accepted. He took a bite, savouring the mozzarella and pepper filling. "Mmm, not bad."

"Ignite's really got a knack for food, huh?" Jetstream grinned.

"You got that right." Sterling nodded.

"Yeah, it's good to know there are still some things in life that can bring you joy..." Jetstream sighed.

Sterling  frowned, confused by that statement. Before he could question it, the  rest of the Ouroboros took note of Jetstream’s arrival.

"Ah, there you are, Jetstream." Nalik remarked with a sneer. "You look terrible."

“Nice to see you too, Nalik.” Jetstream grumbled.

“He is right, though. You do look a little under the weather.” Harlhooves frowned, “Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s  just peachy.” Jetstream shook his head, “I just had more than a few  missions lately, a lot of them not going over so well.”

“Ah, yes,  we were just talking about that.” Doc declared, “About all those  ‘accidents’ that have been occurring lately… and how they might not be  ‘accidents’.”

“We believe that there’s a traitor among us.” Solomon growled.

“Oh, give me a break.” Jetstream scoffed, “Have you been listening to Tropics again? That stupid cadela  has been ranting on about somepony sabotaging the missions ever since  that mission in Brayzil. She still thinks I burn that tent down!”

“Look,  I know you and the mare haven’t seen eye to eye since then, but this is  serious.” Gridlock grunted, “Operations left and right are going under. Things may not look bad now, but what about later on? What if an  ‘accident’ happens to one of our projects?”

“Oh, Faust no…” Doc murmured.

“Ugh,  Gridlock for once has a point.” Nalik begrudgingly admitted, “Even if  that feather-brained whore is wrong about there being a traitor, this is  something we can’t ignore. The fate of our projects could be in  jeopardy.”

“Please, you’re all being melodramatic.” Jetstream  scoffed, “Last I checked, all the missions that have failed lately were  pretty much inconsequential. The only thing these accidents caused was a  little inconvenience.”

“You know, you are acting pretty calm about all this.” Nalik frowned.

“Well, one of us have to keep a level head here, and Loveless isn’t around right now.” Jetstream glared.

“Really?” Harlhooves mused, “Since we are on the topics of missions… there is something I just realized.”

"What do you mean?" Jetstream asked.

“Well…  after looking over all the mission debriefings, I noticed that most of  the missions that had these ‘accidents’ were missions that you had a  part in.” Harlhooves declared.

Sterling felt his blood freeze, as the air grew tense. He glanced at Jetstream, who in turn, adopted a fierce glare.

"...What are you getting at?" Jetstream scowled.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Solomon declared, “You have been slacking!”

“...What?” Jetstream seethed.

“You  heard me.” Solomon sneered, “This saboteur has been going around,  ruining missions after missions right under your nose. It’s like you are  incapable of spotting and disabling these acts of sabotage before they  happen.” Solomon gave a scoff, “Perhaps you're starting to slow down in  your old age. To the point where your skills are no longer as sharp as  your blade. If they were, these ‘accidents’ wouldn’t be happening.”

"How dare you!" Jetstream snarled. "How dare any of you blame me for this?!”

“Hold  on there, Jetstream, we aren’t blaming you!” Harlhooves frowned, as he cast a glare at Solomon. “What Solomon meant to say is that you should try and be a bit more aware so that no more missions will go under!”

“Well, if you ask me, some of those missions deserve to tank!” Jetstream snarled.

“Say what?” Solomon growled.

“I  mean, look at what we've been doing: kidnapping, blackmail, assassination, weapon smuggling... We're supposed to make Equestria a better place, not add to the problem!”

“Are  you seriously questioning how we do things around here?” Gridlock asked  incredulously, “Come on, Jetstream, you had been here for years. You of  all ponies should know you can’t make omelets without breaking a few  eggs.”

“Oh, like how you lead an entire village full of our agents and innocent changelings to their death?” Jetstream challenged.

“Now,  wait a minute, that wasn’t our fault.” Gridlock growled, “It was all Black’s. If he hadn’t fed that stupid lie to the RDL, Project:  Infestation would had succeeded!”

“Yes, and instead of a village  dying, the entire world would become a infected wasteland filled with  fungus-spewing abominations.” Jetstream seethed, “That would had been so  much better!”

“What the… what is he-” Sterling was legitimately confused by what he was talking about.

“What  do you know, Jetstream?” Harlhooves growled, “I’ll have you know that  me and Gridlock had taken steps to make sure such an outcome wouldn’t  occur.”

“Well, here’s one step you could have taken, you spineless twit: NOT BUCKING DOING IT!” Jetstream roared.

“Okay,  as entertaining as it is to see you get all pissy, perhaps you might  want to take it down a notch?” Solomon chuckled snidely.

“Oh,  that’s rich coming from you.” Jetstream sneered, “A psychotic freak  who’s answer to everything is to fry everything that looks at him funny!  What are you going to do if I don’t, sparky? Zap me to death like you did that old suit?”

"Watch your mouth, Jetstream!" Solomon growled. "Don't forget, I'm an Ouroboros too!"

“Oh,  that’s adorable, you think you’re my equal.” Jetstream huffed, “You’re  only here because of your lightning magic. Take that away and what are  you?”

“I'd watch your tone if I were you, Jetstream." Nahlik stepped in. "A stallion of your... leanings should be more respectful."

"By 'leanings', you mean 'not a Unicorn', right?" Jetstream snarled.

“Oh, good, I was afraid I was being too subtle.” Nalik grinned.

“Well, here’s a newflash for you, you frickin’ conehead!” Jetstream growled  fiercely, “The only reason a bigot like you is even in this organization  is because of your money. You’re no good to us otherwise.”

“What?” Nalik laughed, a bit affronted, “That’s so not true. I offer plenty to this organization!”

“Really?  You can’t throw a punch. Can’t wield any weapon. Can’t shoot for crap.  Your magical abilities are atrocious. And you’re dumber than Ricochet!”  Jetstream listed off, “Oh, and the fact that no pony in this entire  monastery likes you!”

“How dare you!” Nalik screeched, outraged, “You wretched pigeon-back! I’ll kill-”

“That  is enough!” Doc spoke up, as he glared at Jetstream. “Look, Jetstream, I  know some of us aren’t the best ponies, but that doesn’t give you the  right to outright insult them! Like it or not, we all give something to  the greater cause!”

“You mean like Dylsey did?” Jetstream asked.

The  room went silent, Sterling and Ricochet’s jaw dropping, as well as  astonished looks from Gridlock, Harlhooves, Solomon, and especially  Nalik.

“I...um…” Doc felt this throat grow dry, taken aback by the mention of his deceased partner.

“Dysley  was a good stallion who gave to the ‘greater cause’ and look where he  is now.” Jetstream snarled, “Dead… because he was considered no longer useful. Tell me, Doc, was Dysley worth losing for this ‘greater cause’?”

Doc took a step back, visibly shaken

'What the hell, Jetstream?!' Sterling thought, appalled.

“Okay,  man, that was a cheap shot!” Ricochet stepped up, putting a comforting  hoof on Doc, “I get that things have been rough for ya lately, but don’t  take it out on your fellow agents. You just gotta relax! We’re all on  the same side, y’know?”

"Typical Ricochet." Jetstream said coldly. "Always gotta go with the crowd, huh?"

“...I’m not following ya.” Ricochet frowned.

“Let  me spell it out for you.” Jetstream scowled, “You’re nothing but a dumb  sheep that does whatever he's told. Doesn’t matter if it’s morally  reprehensible. Doesn’t matter if ponies get hurt. As long as you get to  be the cool pony, you will do anything to be a part of the cool crowd…  even if the crowd is a bunch of monsters and spineless cowards!”

Ricochet flinched, a bit taken aback from his fierce words.

“Okay,  that is it!” Gridlock got up, cracking his hooves, “If you ain’t going  to shut that damn mouth of yours, I’m gonna shut it for ya!”

“Go ahead and try.” Jetstream sneered, reaching for his katana, “I could do with a good laugh."

“Oh, you’ll be laughing without teeth when I’m through with you!” Gridlock roared.

“Kick his ass, mud-pony!” Nalik barked.

“Don’t get me started, princey!” Gridlock snapped back at Nalik.

“Stop  it! Stop it right now!” Doc yelled, his distorted voice sounding more  hoarse than usual, “This is neither the time nor the place for your  petty squabbles?”

“But Doc, he’s-” Gridlock tried to protest.

“I  know!” Doc grunted, casting a sideways glare at Jetstream, “But we're supposed to be the Ouroboros. What would Father say if he saw us fighting among ourselves like foals on a playground?!”

"...You know what, I'm outta here." Jetstream huffed, as he turned and left the room.

"Well, good riddance!" Gridlock sneered.

"Aw, Jetstream, don’t be like that..." Ricochet sighed.

Jetstream slammed the doors behind him.

"Insolent featherbrain." Nahlik scowled.

At that moment, Ignite returned with the food.

"Okay, there ya go!" He passed out the dishes.

"Thanks, but I'm no longer hungry." Doc declared.

"I find I've lost my appetite too." Harlhooves scoffed.

"I'll still take mine." Gridlock sneered. "But I won't like it."

"I do require nourishment." Nahlik scowled. "Even your sub-par fare."

"My thoughts exactly." Solomon added.

"Yer welcome." Ignite said indignantly.

'Jetstream, what's happening to you?' Sterling thought worriedly, looking in the direction of the door.

After quickly finishing his lunch, Sterling rushed over to Loveless' workshop.

"Oh, hello, Sterling." Loveless looked up from his work. "What a pleasant surprise."

"I'm afraid this isn't a friendly visit." Sterling declared. "I need to talk to you about Jetstream."

Loveless lowered his screwdriver.

"I knew this day would come." He sighed.

"So you've also noticed that he's... not himself lately?" Sterling asked.

"Unfortunately, yes." Loveless nodded.

"I  don't know what's wrong with him." Sterling frowned. "He's been acting  off for a while now. Maybe he's depressed, or something."

"I fear Jetstream may be in far more trouble than that..." Loveless said cryptically.

"What do you mean?" Sterling asked.

"I  have my worries regarding Jetstream." Loveless sighed. "But until we  know exactly what is wrong with him, they are just that: Worries."

"Maybe we should try talking to him about it." Sterling suggested.

"Perhaps." Loveless mused. "But Jetstream isn't the most open of fellows at the best of times."

"Worth a try, though..." Sterling smiled.

Sterling  departed the workshop, and made his way to the gym, betting that  Jetstream would be there, as he often did when he needed to blow off  some steam.

'I know him so well.' He thought. '...Or do I? Something's happened to him, and I have to know what...'

Sterling  made his way to the gym, and saw to his delight that his guess was  correct; Jetstream, was indeed there, attacking a punching bag with  gusto.

"Hey, Jetstream." Sterling said nonchalantly.

"Hey, kid." Jetstream acknowledged Sterling's presence.

"So...  that was pretty crazy back there, wasn't it?" Sterling said awkwardly  as he approached. "That whole lunch discussion. Got a little heated."

"Yeah."  Jetstream punctuated the word with a punch. "I'm sorry you had to see  that, kid. That so-called comrades of mine just got under my skin."

"It's  more than that, isn't it?" Sterling asked. "Something's bothering you,  and it's been bothering you for a while. What is it?"

Jetstream didn't answer, instead hitting the bag a few more times.

"Come  on, Jetstream." Sterling pleaded. "You can tell me. We're more than just teacher and student, more than just fellow agents. We're friends."

Jetstream stopped hitting the bag.

“...Okay.” Jetstream sighed, “It’s just… I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, ever since that mission to Brayzil.”

“Really?” Sterling asked, “What about?”

“Plenty  of things.” Jetstream admitted, glancing intently at Sterling, “And the  more I thought, the more I’ve started to see things differently.”

“Different how?” Sterling questioned.

“It’s  hard to explain really.” Jetstream shook his head, “It’s just… when I  first joined the Forefathers, everything seemed so clear cut. Anything  the Forefathers wanted done, I would have done it, without a second  thought. Sometimes the job was a bit iffy, but it was all a means to the  same end: making Equestria a better place. There was black and there  was white. Plain and simple.”

“Well what changed between then and now?” Sterling frowned in confusion.

“More than you can imagined.” Jetstream lowered his head, “I mean, look at what has happened in Brayzil…”

“You mean with the tribes that were forced out of their homes or killed by Tropics and her crew?” Sterling declared knowingly.”

“Yeah.”  Jetstream nodded, “I mean, they weren’t doing anything wrong… hell,  they weren’t even doing anything. But Tropics and her ponies…” Jetstream felt his hooves clenched, “They cut them all down, just because they  were in the way.”

“I’m not going to say that what they did was  right, Jetstream.” Sterling cringed, trying to avoid a resurgence in his  own doubts, “But surely you must be used to it by now. I mean, remember  Saddlevale?”

“Ah, yes, another mission in which we had to destroy  an entire village full of ponies, even though they did nothing wrong.”  Jetstream scowled, “Hard to forget that day…”

“Well, I remember  what you told me. That it was not our place to question why we do these  things.” Sterling quoted, “That sometimes, you have to get your hooves  dirty if it means making a better world.”

“Yes… but to what  extent?” Jetstream frowned, turning to Sterling, “How far would you be  willing to go to fulfill Father’s vision?”

“Well, it’s obvious, I would fight for it till the very end!” Sterling said firmly.

“Really?” Jetstream challenged, “So you would be willing to do anything for Father?”

"Yes." Sterling said confidently.

"Oh, yeah?" Jetstream frowned. "Like blowing up buildings full of ponies? Stealing from orphans? Murdering an entire species?"

"I, uh..." Sterling stuttered, unnerved by the questions.

“Would you continue to fight for this better world, even if it means forfeiting the lives of ponies you know and loved?” Jetstream  stared intensely.

“...I… I don’t know.” Sterling lowered his head.

“...Yeah,  me neither.” Jetstream glanced away sadly, “You see, Sterling, ever since Brayzil… black and white began to blur together, to a point where everything's just gone gray. And honestly? I just don’t know what to do  anymore…”

“...Do you wanna spar?” Sterling asked.

“Say what?” Jetstream frowned.

“Do  you wanna spar?” Sterling repeated himself, trying to put on a smile,  “It has been way too long since our last session. How about a round, for  old time’s sake.”

"...Sure, why not?" Jetstream smiled weakly. "I've been getting tired of beating these things anyway."

The two stallions got into position, taking battle stances.

"Don't expect to go easy on ya." Jetstream smirked.

"Never do." Sterling grinned.

The two stallions started to spar, grappling with each other. Jetstream suddenly grabbed Sterling and flipped him.

"You always fall for that one." Jetstream smirked. "Pun intended."

Sterling responded by sweeping Jetstream's hooves, knocking him down.

"Speaking of falling..." He joked.

"Not  bad." Jetstream declared, as they both stood back up. "But you've still  got a lot to learn. Don't forget who's always won these sparring sessions of ours."

"Times change." Sterling smirked.

The two  clashed once more, exchanging throws, flips, and submission holds. Sterling lunged at Jetstream, who grabbed him in a headlock, then pinned him to the floor.

"Looks like I win again." Jetstream declared.

Sterling, summoning a burst of strength, broke free, reversed their positions, and trapped Jetstream in a half-Nelson.

"You were saying?" He grinned.

Unable to summon the strength to escape, Jetstream reluctantly tapped the mat three times, indicating his forfeit.

"How about that?" Sterling smirked triumphantly as he let Jetstream up. "I did it. I finally beat ya!"

"You sure did..." Jetstream said quietly. "Good work, kid."

"Hey,  I did have a great teacher." Sterling said humbly. "You taught me how  to fight, and now, the student has surpassed the master."

“That you have… that you have…” Jetstream mused, deep in thought, “...I guess my work here is done…”

“...Is everything alright, Jetstream?” Sterling tilted his head quizzically.

“Oh,  yeah.” Jetstream quickly nodded his head, “You know what, I’ve been  thinking, and I think it’s time we take things up to the next level.” He  then pulled out his katana, smiling at Sterling, “I’m gonna teach you  how to use a sword.”

"Whoa, really?" Sterling gaped.

"Sure,  why not?" Jetstream chuckled. "I remember how you handled my katana in  Brayzil. You might just have the makings of a fine swordspony."

"Thanks,  Jetstream." Sterling grinned. "I did take fencing classes when I was a  kid. Even got my Cutie Mark in class. I haven't practiced in a while,  but I think I still got the knack for it."

“Well, I look forward  to seeing what you can do.” Jetstream smirked, “In fact, take this.” He  handed Sterling a sheathed short sword, “It’s something I nabbed from  the armory. A little something to practice with in the meantime.”

Sterling took the blade in his hoof, drawing it a bit to admire its simple design.

“Wow, thanks, Jetstream.” Sterling grinned, “When do we start?”

“How  about start of next week?” Jetstream smiled, “It’ll give you a chance  to get the feel of it, because come next week, I won’t be taking it easy  on you.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Sterling declared, as  he glanced at the clock. “Well, I gotta go. I have a mission over in  Vanhoover...” He then gave a worried frown. “Just… try and  ease up a little, okay? For me?”

"I'll try." Jetstream nodded, “Give ‘em hell, Sterling.”

With a small smile, Sterling left the gym. As he did, Jetstream’s smile soon gave way to a guilty frown.

“...I’m sorry, kid.”

Sterling made his way to the briefing room, satisfied with the discussion, and  with the prospect of new training, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Jetstream was still not in the best of places.

'I'm not giving up.' He told himself. 'I'm gonna help Jetstream through this, no matter what...'

A couple of nights later, Ignite was retiring to his quarters after doing some late night recipe making and cooking.

"Ooh, I can't wait for everpony to try my newest masterpieces..." He whispered to himself.

Suddenly, there was an odd noise.

"Huh? Who's dere?" Ignite looked around. "Come out an' be showin' yerself!"

There was no answer, only silence.

"Okay, be dat way..." Ignite frowned.

Ignite started walking in the direction he heard the noise, finding a door wide open.

"That's the storage area." He mused. "Who would be in dere at this time a' night?"

As he entered the room, he froze in outrage.

"Whattaya think yer doin'...?" He started, but was cut off by a flash of red. "ARRRGGGHHH!!"

The next morning, Sterling climbed out of bed. As usual, Ward leapt up to greet him.

"Arf! Arf!" Ward barked.

"Morning, Ward." Sterling chuckled. "I'll have breakfast for you in just a sec, 'kay?"

"Ruff!" Ward yapped.

After washing and feeding Ward, Sterling left his quarters. As he walked down the corridors, he encountered Loveless.

"There you are, Sterling." Loveless smiled. "I was just coming to see you."

"Ditto." Sterling nodded.

"Let's head over to my workshop." Loveless suggested. "We still have much to discuss."

"About  Jetstream, right?" Sterling frowned, as they continued down the corridor. "I talked with him yesterday, and well… there is something  definitely bothering him."

"I feared that would be the case." Loveless mused. "What did he say exactly?"

“It’s  odd, really.” Sterling frowned, “He mentioned starting to ‘see things differently’ since Brayzil, and brought up what Tropics’ group did to the natives during their expedition… then, he started to get really weird.”

“Weird how?” Loveless asked.

“Well, I  compared the situation to what happened in Saddlevale, then Jetstream  started spouting these scenarios, asking me how far I would go to fulfill Father’s visions. The way he looked at me… it’s as if he think we shouldn’t be doing these things we’re doing… no matter what Father  says.”

"That is disconcerting." Loveless frowned. "Father wouldn't like knowing that one of his Ouroboros is thinking that way.”

After rounding another corner, Sterling and Loveless saw a group of agents gathering around the infirmary.

"What's going on here?" Sterling asked.

"One of our fellow agents must have been wounded." Loveless surmised.

"It must be pretty bad, to draw a crowd like this." Sterling frowned. "Maybe we should see for ourselves."

"Indeed we should." Loveless agreed.

Loveless  and Sterling edged past the crowd and entered the infirmary. To their shock, they saw Ignite lying on a bed, bandages wrapped around his eyes, a distraught Ricochet beside him.

"Ignite?" Sterling gasped.

"Sterling?" Ignite look around blindly. "Is dat you?"

"Yeah, it's me." Sterling stepped forward.

"Ignite, this is Loveless." Loveless declared. "What happened to you?"

"Last  night, I caught somepony stealin' some a' the bismuth in our storage  area." Ignite revealed. "But before I could make out who it was, I was  blinded by somethin' red, then somepony slashed my eyes out."

"Oh, Faust..." Sterling said, horrified.

"I stumbled out inta the corridor." Ignite continued. "I woulda been done for, if I hadn't ran inta Ricochet."

"Yeah,  I... I was just headin' back to my quarters after a trip to the bar."  Ricochet said, his voice shaking. "I found Ignite wandering out. I thought he'd been tryin' a little too much of his cookin' brandy at  first..." He shuddered heavily. "Then I saw his eyes. I got him here right away. Been here ever since."

"Who would do this?" Sterling frowned.

"A  very good question." Loveless said darkly. "Barely anypony knows this  is our headquarters, let alone where we would keep anything worth stealing..."

"No offence, fellas, but that's the least a' my  worries right now." Ignite said, his voice quivering. "Without my eyes, I  ain't no good fer anythin'. I can't cook, I can't go on missions... my  quota's gonna go down the drain!"

“Oh, Iggy…” Ricochet tried to comfort him, “It’s going to be fine…”

“I can’t believe this happened to you…” Sterling whispered, “I’m so sorry, Ignite.”

"Ricochet, come with me." Loveless instructed. "We must gather the rest of the Ouroboros for an emergency meeting."

"I'm coming, too." Sterling declared.

“I  appreciate the concern, man, but you’re not an Ouroboros.” Ricochet  pointed out, “And this is one thing I can’t really invite you to.”

"I'm still going." Sterling growled. "Nopony does this to one of ours and gets away with it."

"Very well then." Loveless nodded. "But we'll have to see if the others feel the same way."

As  it turned out, the others didn't feel the same way, and so Sterling was  forced to wait outside while the Ouroboros discussed what had just  happened.

"Why didn't I see that coming?" Sterling pouted as he stood outside the door.

Inside, the Ouroboros were talking animatedly about Ignite's encounter, Father presiding over them.

"How can this be possible?" Harlhooves frowned. "How could anypony infiltrate our headquarters?"

"They  couldn't." Gridlock snarled. "We don't have all these security measures for nothing. Well, that, and we’re in the middle of a bunch of huge frickin’ mountains!”

"Not to mention Ignite's attacker slipped away as easily as he came in." Doc added.

"There can only be one explanation." Solomon declared. "One I think we all knew for awhile… there is a traitor among our ranks."

"I never thought it would come to this..." Loveless sighed. "But it would seem to be the logical conclusion."

"Well,  what do you expect?" Nahlik scoffed. "If you let just anypony into this  organization, this sort of thing is bound to happen sooner or later."

"Will you knock it off with the 'Unicorn supremacy' garbage?" Gridlock spat.

"Are you going to make me, mud-eater?" Nahlik retorted.

"Why, you-!" Gridlock started.

"Enough."  Father said firmly. "Now is not the time for your bickering. We must  focus on the matter at hoof. This traitor… I believe we are in agreement  that whoever he is, he is also the one who has been causing those  ‘accidents’, correct?"

“Considering how we hadn’t had somepony get their eyes sliced 'till now when these sabotages are happening, I think that is a safe assumption.” Harlhooves nodded.

“Speaking of which…” Ricochet spoke up, turning to Doc, “What’s going to happen to Ignite? Is he going to be able to see again?”

“Considering both eyes were sliced open, it is very unlikely.” Doc shook his  head. “To be frank, Ignite should consider himself lucky that the attacker didn’t outright kill him.”

“But surely there’s gotta be something you can do to help him, right?” Ricochet asked.

“Ricochet,  I’m a doctor, not a miracle worker.” Doc huffed, “Even if there was a  way to restore someone’s sight, medical science hasn't come far enough  to done so.”

“...No…” Ricochet whispered, as he turned to Father  worriedly, “Father, I know we have this ‘fill your quota or be shot’  thing, but couldn’t we give Ignite a mulligan or something? We can’t cut  him loose just like that, can we? Not like we did Dysley, right?”

“...It  is something I’ll have to take into consideration, Ricochet.” Father  declared, “But as it stands, Ignite cannot do much without his sight.”

“Well, personally, I think we can manage without some glorified chef." Gridlock said coldly.

"Yes, while it is very tragic, Ignite wasn't exactly 'indispensable’ personnel." Halrhooves added.

“I  mean, for Faust’s sake, we must have plenty of ponies in this organization that can cook our food. It isn’t an exact art, y’know.”  Solomon crossed his hooves.

“And maybe this time, we can get a  cook that is a little more respectful… and doesn’t spit in your food  because his stupid little Earth Pony feelings were hurt by my facts.”  Nalik huffed.

“You are unbelievable, all of you!” Doc snarled, “A pony was robbed of his sight and possibly his life, and all you can say  is ‘we’ll get a new one?’. This is a pony being! Not some broken tool!”

“Doc is correct.” Loveless said sternly, “You all ought to show a bit of respect for our fallen comrade!”

"I'd sooner show respect to a garbagepony." Nahlik sneered.

Gridlock and Solomon let out a snigger, with Harlhooves, though not outright laughing, was struggling to keep it in.

"I  can't believe you guys!" Ricochet snarled. "Ignite was one of us! Well, not ‘one of us’ one of us, but he was still a vital part of this organization! He made us great food, he made laugh, he made us cry. One  could say he was a family guy, but that’s aside the point! You four can  buck off for all I care, but I’m not going to let this traitor get away  with this! I’m going to find this piece of crap, and kick his ass! If  you don’t wanna help, then get out of my way!”

Suddenly, he remembered Father was in the room, having observed his outburst.

“I mean…” Ricochet cleared his throat sheepishly. “If it’s cool with you, sir.”

“I’ll  allow it.” Father nodded, “I know much Ignite means to you,  Ricochet, and given your determination and vitriol, I can think of no pony better to go after the traitor. Go forth and find him, for Ignite’s  sake.”

"Thank you, sir." Ricochet smiled.

"As for the rest  of you, stay on your guard." Father announced. "Until the traitor is  found, we cannot afford to take chances. For all we know, they could be close..."

"Yes, Father." The Ouroboros chorused.

"Good." Father nodded. "You are dismissed."

As they made to follow Father's orders, Ricochet noticed something.

"Hey, where's Jetstream?" Ricochet asked.

"Probably off polishing that fancy sword of his." Gridlock sneered.

Outside, Sterling sighed with relief as the passageway to the Coils finally opened.

'Finally.' He thought, as he rushed to catch up with Loveless and Ricochet. "So, how did it go?"

"After some discussion, we're reached the conclusion that we have a traitor in our midst." Loveless announced.

"...Seriously?" Sterling said awkwardly.

"Deadly  so." Loveless nodded. "It is the only viable explanation. And we have  concluded that this traitor and the one who has been sabotaging missions  of late are one and the same."

"This.. this isn't good." Sterling sighed. "A traitor in our ranks. One who attacked Ignite..." He grit his teeth.

"It  is demoralising." Loveless declared. "But we cannot allow ourselves to be shaken. We still have a mission to carry out, after all."

"Yeah, we do." Sterling nodded, “So… what now?”

“I  tell you ‘what now’.” Ricochet said fiercely, “Father put me in charge of finding Iggy’s attacker, and I’m going to make him rue the day he  bucked with my friend!” He turned to Sterling, “But I can’t do this alone. That’s why I’m making you my partner for this mission!”

“Me? Why not the others?” Sterling frowned.

“Doc and Loveless here are busy with their own stuff, and the others are  just assholes!” Ricochet growled, “You're one of the only ponies I can count on to help me get this S.O.B.”

“Well, if you put it that way, I’m in.” Sterlig said boldly, “I want to take this guy down too, for Ignite’s sake and everypony else.”

“That’s what I like to  hear!” Ricochet whooped, “And mark my words, once we get this guy, I’m going to make sure they make you an Ouroboros! So I rub it in their  stupid little faces!”

“For now, let’s focus on finding the guy  first.” Sterling nodded awkwardly, “You’re taking the lead here, what do  you want to do first?”

“I’m gonna double check and see if the guy  made off with anything else.” Ricochet declared, “How about you go and  check the crime scene? Fair warning, it’s not pretty.”

"You got it." Sterling nodded.

"Good luck, both of you." Loveless declared, “And be careful…”

Sterling  made his way to the storage room. He looked upon a blood stain on the  wall, no doubt from when Ignite's eyes were damaged.

'Whoever did that must've had a blade.' He thought. 'A fairly long one, too, for the blood to splatter like that...'

As he continued surveying the scene, Sterling spotted an orange glob on the floor.

'What the...' Sterling dipped his hoof in the glob and tasted it. It tasted like mozzarella and peppers, as if from a pastel. 'No... It can't be... But it is...'

Sterling rushed back into the corridors. He found Ricochet, who was returning from his own investigations.

"Back already?" Ricochet frowned. "That was one fast examination. Did you find anything?"

"Yeah." Sterling nodded. "Let's talk in private, though. Just in case..."

"Okay, then let's head to my quarters." Ricochet nodded.

The  pair rushed over to Ricochet's quarters. Sterling had barely a moment  to register the messy bed and empty cans strewn across the floor.

"What  did you find out?" Ricochet asked, as he took out a beer bottle, and cracked it open, "Anything that will lead us to the guy?”

“I can you do one better…” Sterling declared, his eyes filled with dread “I think I know who did it.”

“...Whoa, really?” Ricochet gaped, “Holy crap, I thought this would take a lot longer! And you say you’re not Ouroboros mater-”

Ricochet noted the look in Sterling’s eyes.

“Sterling?” Ricochet frowned, “What’s wrong, buddy?”

“Ricochet… it’s Jetstream.” Sterling revealed, pain in his voice, “Jetstream is the traitor.”

“Say what now?” Ricochet gaped now.

“Jetstream  is the traitor!” Sterling repeated, each word like acid in his throat,  “He’s the one who attacked Ignite, and stole the bismuth. And possibly the one who sabotaged all those missions! It’s all him!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa…” Ricochet held up his hooves, “There’s no way Jetstream can be the traitor!”

“The  clues suggest otherwise, Ricochet.” Sterling sighed, “The attacker had a long blade, like a katana, and I found a glob of mozarella and peppers, stuff you find in a pastel! Not to mention we haven't seen him at all this morning..."

“No… no, no, no…” Ricochet stood up, muttering “This can’t be…”

“I don’t want to believe it, but it’s true…” Sterling felt his heart sank, “The evidence don’t lie.”

“...That son of a WHORSE!” Ricochet roared.

“Ricochet?!” Sterling jumped, surprised by his outburst.

“I  can’t believe he did this to us!” Ricochet ranted, pacing back and  forth, “He betrayed me! He betrayed you! He betrayed all of us! And now,  Ignite is on Death’s doorstep, and that asshole rang the doorbell!”

"E-easy, Ricochet." Sterling stuttered, not liking how angry he was getting.

"Easy  nuthin'!" Ricochet spat, as he reached into a nearby pile of dirty  clothes, pulling out his crossbows. "I'm gonna kill him! I’m going to  fill his body with holes! And fill those holes with even more holes!  That probably makes no sense, but I don’t care! I’m ANGRY!"

“Ricochet, wait, let’s not get ahead of ourselves-” Sterling tried to step in front of him.

“Don’t try to stop me, man! He may be your teacher, but he's also dead meat!” Ricochet snarled, pushing past him.

“At least let me talk to him first.” Sterling pleaded.

“What?! Why?!” Ricochet demanded.

“Look,  you come after him, crossbows ablazing, you’re gonna scare him into  running.” Sterling frowned, “Give me a chance to talk to him. Maybe I  can convince him to turn himself in, and no more ponies can get hurt.  Okay?”

Ricochet’s face scrunched up in distaste, before letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Oh,  alright.” Ricochet growled, “But I’m givin’ ya a half hour. If  Jetstream ain’t comin’ quietly by then?” He cocked a crossbow, “It’s  open season.”

Sterling nodded silently, then raced off to Jetstream's room. He hadn’t been there much in his time with the  organization, but he knew where it was and figured it was the one place  Jetstream could be right now. But as he came to the quarters, he noticed  the door was ajar.

“What the…” Sterling murmured. He entered the  room. It was surprisingly sparse, with shelves and a closet, all of them empty. In the middle of it was none other than Loveless, his face  emotionless.

"Loveless?" Sterling frowned. "What are you doing here? Where’s Jetstream?"

“Sterling…  I found this.” Loveless held up a letter, his name was on the back, “I  was going to talk to him about the traitor… but I found the door open, and this note on his bed.” He handed it to Sterling, “It’s a confession.  He claims responsibilities for the sabotages and what has befallen Ignite.”

“What?!” Sterling gasped, as he glanced the letter over, “...No…”

“...Something tells me you already knew.” Loveless frowned.

“Me and Ricochet both found out just now.” Sterling cringed, “And Ricochet’s really pissed. I was here to convince Jetstream to come peacefully. Else, Ricochet's comin’ after him… and I don’t think I want to  see that.”

“Ugh, how did it come to this?” Loveless sighed,  “Somehow, I always knew it was Jetstream. But I didn’t want to think…  oh, how did I miss the signs?”

“Loveless… I’m sorry.” Sterling shook his head, “Look, we gotta find him before Ricochet-”

Suddenly, they both heard a commotion outside.

"What the...?" Sterling frowned.

As  they stepped into the corridors, they saw several agents rushing by.  They followed them into the the main operations room, where the other Ouroboros were waiting.

"What is this?" Loveless asked. "What's going on?"

"What does it look like?" Gridlock growled. "We're putting together a crew to find and terminate that traitor!"

“Traitor?” Sterling gaped, “How could you-”

“That’s right! Otherwise known as… Jetstream Ronin!” Solomon snarled.

“Ricochet…” Sterling whispered, outraged, “He said he’d give me a chance! That he wouldn’t tell-”

“Ricochet?” Nalik frowned, “What are you prattling about? We found this out ourselves.”

“Wait, what?” Sterling turned to Nalik in shock.

“You  didn’t actually think we were going to let Ricochet run the  investigation, did you?” Harlhooves scoffed, “For Faust’s sake, the drunkard can’t sit through a episode of ECSI, let alone find a traitor. If we did, we’d be skin and bones!”

“While you two were  goofin’ off, we had our research team ran the investigation.” Gridlock  declared, “They found molted feathers, matching Jetstream’s color in the  munitions chamber, witnesses saw him running through the upper halls  shortly after the attack, and the fact he hadn’t been seen all morning…  it became clear as day.”

“I feared this day would come, but it  can’t be helped.” Doc nodded solemnly, Jetstream must be found and  apprehended. By now, he must know we’re on to him, so he’ll try to  escape. Most likely by air.”

"Meaning that all the Pegasi agents  can finally make themselves less useless." Nahlik scowled. "As for  everypony else, take the airships. That traitor must not be allowed to  escape! Ooh, I can’t wait to smack him in his stupid chicken face!"

"Enough talk." Gridlock said sternly. "Time to get moving. That means you too, Loveless."

"Of course." Loveless nodded, sharing a sad look with Sterling as he followed his fellow Ouroboros out of the room.

’Oh Faust… Jetstream, how could he… hold on…’ Sterling froze, ’Escape  by air, that would be too obvious. Jetstream wouldn’t go for that. He’d  go where ponies less expect it… the ground entrance!’

The ground entrance was a secret tunnel under the Infinity, leading down to a  frozen lake. According to the older agents, it was the original  entrance to the Infinity, but when the advent of airships and  Pegasus-pulled carriages came, everypony started coming through the air,  and the entrance fell into disuse. But Sterling knew it well enough to  know it would allow for a quick getaway.

'I'm coming after you, Jetstream...' He thought.

Sterling  made his way to the rear of the Infinity, down a series of stone steps,  and into the tunnel. As he headed down the dank stone passage, he heard  some groaning noises up ahead.

"Who's there?!" He called.

"Sterling?" A familiar voice groaned. "That you?"

"...Ricochet?"  Sterling rushed further down the tunnel. He found Ricochet on the  ground, covered in cuts and bruises. "What happened? What are you doing  here?"

"Same as you, I'm guessing." Ricochet cringed. "I was  waitin’ in my room, as I promised you, but then I heard that the others  found out Jetstream was the traitor. Those idiots thought I couldn’t do  it.”

“Ricochet, focus, who did this to you?” Sterling urged

“Sorry…  it was Jetstream. I figured only an idiot with wings who ticked us off  would go through the air.” Ricochet explained, “So I went down here, and lo and behold, Jetty was there with the bismuth… unfortunately,  I forgot he could kick my ass.”

“At least he didn’t kill you.” Sterling cringed.

“Yeah…  but you should know that I got him good in his left flank with my  crossbow.” Ricochet hissed, the pain still raw, “That should had slowed  him down a little. If ya hurry, ya might be able to catch him."

"I will." Sterling nodded. "Thanks, Ric."

"Give 'im one for me, kid." Ricochet chuckled as Sterling raced down the tunnel.

Sterling  reached the end of the tunnel, seeing the frozen over river that ran  through the nearby mountain range. As his eyes readjusted to the light,  Sterling spotted Jetstream limping away, a bag of what was presumably bismuth in tow.

'Oh no, you don't...' Sterling thought.

Sterling put on a burst of speed, catching up to Jetstream.

"Jetstream!" He yelled. "Stop!"

Jetstream halted, and slowly turned around.

"Oh, jeez." He groaned. "I was hoping to avoid this..."

“Jetstream…”  Sterling glared at his former comrade, “...You’re the traitor… I didn’t  want to believe it… but it’s true, isn’t it?”

Jetstream remained silent, unwilling to face him.

“So…  that night in Brayzil, after that fight with Sundowner… you really did  burn down that tent, didn’t you? Destroyed the tome! The tome ponies  died for!” Sterling scowled.

Jetstream did not respond.

“Was  that when it started?” Sterling growled, “Those sabotages? Ruining one  mission wasn’t enough for you? You had to ruin so many others?!”

Jetstream’s hooves began shaking.

“And  now, here you are, running away with stolen goods, like a thief!”  Sterling snarled, becoming more angry, “And what’s worse, you blinded  Ignite! A pony who did nothing-”

“I didn’t have a choice in that  one!” Jetstream cut him off, his eyes ridden with guilt, “Look, Ignite  wasn’t supposed to be there! I panicked! It wasn’t supposed to happen  that way!”

“Well, you’re right about that one.” Sterling sneered, “It wasn’t supposed to happen… none of it was supposed to happen!”

“Look, Sterling, I can’t begin to explain this to you-” Jetstream sighed.

“Well,  start explaining now!” Sterling roared, “Why are you doing this?! Why  have you turned against us?! You of all ponies! All those lessons you  taught me about loyalty, dedication, honor… you left me in the middle of  the buckin’ woods for three months and try to have me kill my dog, for  Faust’s sake! What?! Was all of that just a bunch of horsecrap?!”

"No, of course not!" Jetstream yelled. "It's just, well..."

"And you sabotaged all those missions!" Sterling growled.

"The missions were wrong!" Jetstream yelled. "I know Father paints them as being for the greater good, but all they do is cause more pain! I can't be a part of all this anymore. Right now, it's the only thing I know..."

“What about the oath?!” Sterling growled, “You took the same oath I did,  right?! To serve the Forefathers, and make Father’s dreams a reality? You swore your loyalty to this organization! Or was all of that just a  big joke to you?!”

“Shut up!” Jetstream snapped.

Sterling flinched a bit at the Pegasus’s outburst.

“You  wanna know something, Sterling?” Jetstream growled, “There was no pony  in this Faust-damn world that values loyalty and honor as much as I did. And you’re right, I did swear the oath to serve the Forefathers. I've done things in the name of the Forefathers, awful things, and did so without questioning them. I gave this organization my soul, my frickin’ soul…” His eyes began to well up, “...And it cost me everything…”

“Wha-what are you talking about?” Sterling frowned, taken aback by the tears on his face.

“I’m talking about my grandfather, Sterling!” Jetstream roared, hurt and anger in his voice, “That gang war my Grampa Legs got caught in the middle of? It was set in motion by the Forefathers! They sold those gangs the automatic crossbows that killed my grandfather! They’re the reason he’s dead!”

“No…” Sterling whispered, appalled, “...There has to be a misunderstanding-”

“There  is no misunderstanding!” Jetstream snarled, his snout quivering, “I  looked into it, and it was laid bare for me. Those monsters murdered my  grandfather… and I became one of them…”

“But why now?” Sterling challenged, “Why not before?!”

“...Because  I had a promise to fulfill.” Jetstream glanced sadly at Sterling,  “Despite what you may think of me, I didn’t want to leave you and  Loveless alone till I felt you were ready. Until you were, I bided my  time, disrupt a few missions, so they could hurt less ponies, for all  the good it did, and when the time was right, I would take my leave and  make off with some valuable materials, hence the bismuth...”

“So, me beating you that day… that was when you decided to leave?! Without so much as a goodbye?!” Sterling growled.

“Well, I was never good with goodbyes.” Jetstream admitted, “Hence why I was trying to avoid this.”

“And where exactly will you go?” Sterling challenged. “Back to ‘Os Ventos Destrutivos’?”

“Hmph,  no. I am grown rather tired of being part of a group of murderers.”  Jetstream grumbled, “I’ll probably find myself a nice hideaway far away  from here. Sell off the bismuth to get myself by. Might even start up a drug ring. Just so I can have a ringside view to the Forefathers bucking up our world as we know it! Faust knows it’s not long before they do…”

"You  can't mean that." Sterling shook his head. "The Forefathers are trying  to make the world better. I don’t know what happened with your  grandfather, but surely they wouldn’t-"

“Pitiful…” Jetstream  sneered, “You’re becoming no better than the rest of them. Even after  what I told you, you still defend them? Why? So you can hope to be an  Ouroboros?!” Sterling glared at him, “...That’s right. I heard about Ricochet’s little promise. If you helped take me in, you will become an  Ouroboros. A head honcho of a bunch of murderers!”

“Do you really think I care about that?!” Sterling snapped, “I can care less about some  lofty position! This is not about me! This is about Ignite!”

“...Ignite?” Jetstream murmured, his anger quickly dissipating.

“Yes!”  Sterling growled, “I didn’t know him long, but Ignite was a good stallion. He was doing what he loved! And because of you, he’s in the infirmary, blind! Surely, you know what comes next?” Jetstream lowered  his head, “They’re gonna put him down. Just like they did Dysley. And you’re okay with that? That somepony is going to die because of you?!”

“Sterling…”  Jetstream began… before shaking his head, “I am sorry… I never meant  for things to get this bucked up… the last thing I wanted was for  anypony to get hurt... but I had no choice…” He then glanced at Sterling  solemnly, “And it seems like you're not giving me a choice either..."

"But I am." Sterling insisted. "Turn yourself in, Jetstream. The Forefathers might go easier on you if you do."

"No can do." Jetstream shook his head.

"That wasn't a request." Sterling drew the blade Jetstream had earlier given him. "I'm taking you in. By force, if I have to."

"You think you can take me?" Jetstream scoffed.

"I did it before, didn't I?" Sterling smirked.

"In  hoof-to-hoof, yeah." Jetstream admitted. He then unsheathed his katana. "But I have this. And you may as well be wielding a butter knife."

"We'll see." Sterling retorted. "I have been practicing..."

"For what it's worth, I'll try not to hit anything vital." Jetstream took on a battle stance.

"Don't do me any favors." Sterling raised his sword.

Jetstream rushed forward. Sterling was barely able to block the first swing in time.

"You weren't kidding." Jetstream noted. "You do have some moves..."

"I'm just getting started." Sterling pushed the katana away, then made a move of his own.

Jetstream  parried Sterling's attack, then retaliated. Sterling had to move  quickly to evade and defend, but he wasn't quick enough; Just as he  deflected one swing, Jetstream knocked his sword aside with another.  Then, using the flat of his blade, Jetstream struck Sterling's ankle.

"Arrrgh!" Sterling dropped on one knee.

"I said I'd go easy on you." Jetstream declared.

"And I said not to do me any favors!" Sterling got back up.

As the fight resumed, it was clear that Sterling was outmatched.

'Guess I'm a little rusty.' He thought. 'I hate to say it, but if I'm going to win this, I'll have to fight dirty...'

As  Jetstream charged again, Sterling side-stepped his charge, flipped his  sword around, and hit the wound Ricochet had given Jetstream with the  handle.

"Gahhh!" Jetstream yelped, glaring at Sterling."Aiming for my wound, Sterling? I'm surprised at you."

"Just returning the favour." Sterling said coldly.

"So that's the way it is, huh?" Jetstream growled. "So be it."

Jetstream  continued his assault, but the pain from his wound slowed his  movements. He still fought hard. After he and Sterling locked blades, he slowly pushed Sterling's sword downward, until it was forced into the ground.

"I warned you, Sterling." He sneered. "In your hooves, that sword is little more than a butter knife."

Sterling suddenly kicked Jetstream in the face. As he stumbled back, Sterling pulled his sword out of the ground, and swung it, leaving a cut in Jetstream's side.

"What does that make you?" Sterling smirked.

Jetstream stared at the cut, dumbfounded. Then he grit his teeth in angry, and swung his katana at lightning speed, cutting one of Sterling's legs.

"Arrh!" Sterling groaned.

"Guess you're a faster learner than I thought, Sterling." Jetstream admitted. "SO I won't go easy on you anymore..."

Jetstream lunged at Sterling, slashing and swinging like never before. Sterling was barely able to defend himself, let alone fight back. With one mighty swing, Jetstream's katana shattered his sword.

"Gotcha." Jetstream kicked Sterling in the side.

“Gah!” Sterling fell to the ground, the broken sword at his side.

Suddenly, he felt the warm red blade of Jetstream’s katana next to his throat. Sterling glared at the wielder of the blade.

“...You fought well, Sterling.” Jetstream said firmly, “A little dirtier than I would've liked, but you were a worthy opponent. Now, under normal circumstances, this is where I would kill you… but as things are, I  don’t want another pony’s death on my conscience. This is where I leave  you.”

"What's the matter?" Sterling scowled. "Too much of a coward to finish the job?"

"Don't call me a coward, Sterling." Jetstream snarled.

"It's what you are." Sterling insisted. "You attacked Ignite in the dark, when he defenceless. I never thought you could stoop so low. You're a disgrace."

"Quiet!" Jetstream yelled. He flipped the katana around, so he could strike Sterling with the hilt.

In an instant, Sterling grabbed what remained of his  sword, and darted forward, slamming the broken end of his sword right into his bad flank.

“AGH!” Jetstream cried. The pain in his flank was so great that it caused him to lose his grip on his katana.

As  fast as he stabbed it in, Sterling pulled out the broken sword, tossing  it aside. Jetstream fell to his knees, the pain robbing him of any stamina or energy to move.

Taking advantage of Jetstream’s moment of weakness, Sterling grabbed the katana, holding it in front of him.

"It's over." Sterling said firmly.

“...Huh,  those things you said…” Jetstream panted, the blood loss in his flank  getting to him, “You did that to get a rise out of me… damn, I taught  you well…”

“Hey, I learned from the best…” Sterling gave a sad smile.

“...Really, after what I did, you still consider me…” Jetstream frowned.

“Of  course I do.” Sterling said firmly, “Look, no matter what happened,  you’re still the same pony who taught me how to survive in this crazy world. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you and Loveless. Despite what you may think of the Forefathers… they’re the reason I met you two.  No matter what, I’m grateful to them.”

"And having you as a friend was a true honor." Jetstream smiled. "No matter what happens, I want you to know that."

"The honor was mine." Sterling declared, moving in closer. "You and Loveless... you were like family to me. You meant more to me than my parents ever did. You taught me so much, helped me become a better stallion... I wouldn't be who I am today without you."

As Sterling’s words sunk in, Jetstream felt his eyes watering once more, as he let out a chuckle.

“Heh-heh…”  Jetstream sniffed, “I guess… I was wrong about you. You’ve grown so much, Sterling. And come so far… yet, somehow, you’re still you.  Loveless told me you were not like the others… and I think now… I’m  finally seeing it.” He let out a small sob, “I’m real sorry, kid… I’m  sorry for being such a fool… can you ever forgive me?”

"Of  course." Sterling nodded, tears in his eyes. "Look, I don’t know how…  but I’m sure there is a way we can fix this. Just… come back with me.  Maybe if I vouch for you, I can-”

“There’s no point.” Jetstream  sighed, letting out a deep breath, “The moment I hurt Ignite, my life  was already over. No matter what I do, the Forefathers will have me  killed. There’s no forgiveness for me.”

“Don’t talk like that!” Sterling sniffed, “There’s gotta be something I can do…”

“I’m  afraid there isn’t.” Jetstream shook his head, resting it on Sterling’s  shoulder. “But there is something I can do… my life may be over… but I  can end it on my own terms…”

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sterling asked.

“...Tell Loveless… thanks for everything.” Jetstream whispered.

*SHINK*

“Gah?!” Sterling cried out in horror.

Within an instant, Jetstream grabbed Sterling’s hooves, still holding his katana, and forced them forward, piercing his chest.

“No...no...“ Sterling gasped, tears streaming down his face, stupefied by what he had done.

“Guh… goodbye... Sterling…” Jetstream gurgled, “No… no matter… what happens… don’t let… let them change..you...”

With a final wheeze, and a few drop of tears, Jetstream slumped against him, falling silent forevermore. Gently, Sterling set his body down, pulling out the katana. As he gazed at the blood-splattered weapon, tears sprang to his eyes, he broke down sobbing.

"ARRRRGHHHH!!" He bawled unashamedly.

For what seemed like an eternity, he heard familiar voices.

"He's over there!" Harlhooves called, as he and most of the other Ouroboros (along with several agents) approached.

“Dude… are you guys seeing this?” Granite gasped, “Sterling killed Jetstream!

"You see that?" Granite gasped. "Sterling killed Jetstream!"

"But, I..." Sterling stuttered, still holding the bloody katana.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Gridlock smirked, “The kid actually defeated Jetstream!”

"Didn't know you had it in you." Doc declared, a bit put off.

"I  don't like to admit I was wrong about somepony." Solomon admitted. "So I  won't. However, since you killed the rat, I think that’s commendable."

“Three cheers for Sterling!” Granite declared.

"Sterling! Sterling! Sterling!" The agents cheered.

Sterling  looked at the katana, the blood of its’ master barely discernable from  the red steel, then at Jetstream's body, and felt only sorrow.

'Jetstream... why did it have to end like this?' He thought.

The  next few hours passed in a blur. All he could recall was all the agents  he come across hailing him a hero for finally ridding the Forefathers  of the one who had been messing with their operations, as well as him  spending a hour giving a full debriefing of events that transpired  leading up to Jetstream’s death. And during all of this, he held onto  Jetstream’s katana (now back in its sheath), not wanting to let it go.

As  of now, he was now standing in the Coils, before all the Ouroboros  (save for Loveless, who wasn’t around for some reason), with a bandaged Ricochet among them. Father was where he normally was, gazing intently  at Sterling.

“Agent Sterling Cross.” Father declared, “You have  done the Forefathers a great service today. With the removal of the traitor, Jetstream Ronin, you had preserved any and all future missions  from interference from within the organization. From the bottom of my  heart, I thank you.”

“It was nothing, sir.” Sterling murmured, his  gaze constantly shifting to the katana at his side, “...I’m glad I was  able to help…”

“Now, I believe an award is in order here.” Father  declared, “Ricochet told me of the promise he has made to you, that  he would vouch for you to become an Ouroboros, should you help him find  the traitor who had attacked Ignite. And after discussing it with the others, I think the time has come...”

“Wait… what?” Sterling gasped.

“A promise’s a promise, Sterling.” Ricochet smirked.

“Sterling  Cross, as of today, you no longer stand before me as an agent… but as  an Ouroboros.” Father declared. “I bid you welcome into our inner  circle.”

The Ouroboros all applauded, some more enthusiastically than the others.

"This... this is a real honor." Sterling said awkwardly. "But... I can't accept."

"What?" Harlhooves gaped. "Why not?"

"I... I don't deserve it." Sterling sighed. "Not one bit."

"Well, that's just crazy!" Gridlock snorted.

“Only a fool would pass up such an opportunity!” Solomon snarled.

“Come on, man, you earned it!” Ricochet frowned.

"No, I didn't." Sterling shook his head, “I can’t be an Ouroboros… I just…”

“Hmm,  I see…” Father nodded, “You do not want the position, because you feel  you earned it by spilling the blood of somepony you respected and care for… am I correct?”

Sterling nodded sadly.

"Seriously?" Gridlock snarled. "Jetstream betrayed all of us!"

“Yeah!”  Nalik growled, “Even if it’s a mudpony like you, you shouldn’t pass up  this glorious opportunity! That piece of chicken filth deserve-”

"That  will do, Nalik." Father said firmly. "Sterling, if you wish to take  some time to grieve before assuming the role, you may. Take as much time  as you require."

"Thank you, Father." Sterling said quietly.

"Come on, Sterling." Ricochet stepped forward. "Let's go check in with Ignite."

"Okay." Sterling nodded, he and Ricochet departing the Coils.

"Unbelievable." Nahlik snarled. "Why would anypony want to grieve for that traitor?"

"Sterling can mourn the traitor all he likes." Gridlock snarled. "The rest of us are perfectly happy cursing his memory."

Sterling and Ricochet soon arrived at the infirmary. Ignite was still in bed, slowly recovering from his ordeal.

"Hey, Iggy." Ricochet smiled.

"How are you holding up?" Sterling asked.

"Hi, guys." Ignite smiled. "Nice to see... I mean, hear ya."

"We got somethin' else you'll be glad to hear: that S.O.B. who did this to you? We got him." Ricochet announced.

"Ooh, dat is good news." Ignite asked. "Who was it?"

"It was... Jetstream." Sterling confessed. "He... he's dead now. Because of me..."

"Oh." Ignite's smile faded. "I'm sorry about dat, pal. I know how much he meant to you."

"It's okay." Sterling sighed. "After what Jetstream did to you, you have a right to hate him."

"What  he did to me..." Ignite frowned. "I'm blind, 'cause a' him. I can't  cook, can't go on missions no more... I'm probably gonna be put down any  day now..."

“Oh, Iggy…” Ricochet frowned. “I really wish there is something we can do for you.”

“It ain’t yer fault, Ricochet.” Ignite frowned. “At this point, it would take a miracle to save me now…”

“Not necessarily.”

Ricochet and Sterling lit up as they turned to see Father at the door.

“Um, Ricochet. Did you suddenly learn how to imitate? Or is that really-” Ignite gasped

“Nope, it’s Father.” Ricochet nodded.

“Oh mah Faust…” Ignite gaped.

"What are you doing here, sir?" Sterling asked.

“I have come to see Ignite.” Father declared, as he walked over to Ignite,  Sterling and Ricochet quickly make way for him, “How are you faring, my  son?”

“Well, if I could be frank… I had better days.” Ignite admitted.

“Indeed you had.” Father frowned, “...And I wish to apologize.”

“Apologize? What for, sir?” Ignite asked, a bit confused.

“For  what has befallen you. Jetstream was one of the Ouroboros. A pony I thought I could trust. I had failed to see the signs that things weren’t right, and because of it, he had robbed you of your sight. For that, I  am sorry. A agent of such acumen as yours did not deserve this.”

“Aw, sir, there’s no need to blame yourself.” Ignite frowned, “It’s not like anything can be done about it now…”

“...That  is where I beg to differ.” Father declared. He turned to Ricochet and  Sterling. “You two might want to look away. Things might get a little  bright.”

“Huh?” Ricochet and Sterling said in unison.

“Sir? What are you-” Ignite asked.

“You might feel a bit of a tingle.” Father warned.

Father  placed his hooves over Ignite’s bandaged eyes. A glint of light blinked  from Father’s hood, as his hooves suddenly lit up in a brilliant gold  haze.

“What the…” Sterling gaped.

“Whoa, trippy.” Ricochet mused.

Soon, the golden haze disappeared, as Father pulled his hooves away.

"What was dat?" Ignite asked, his face scrunching. "I feel funny…”

"See for yourself." Father smiled.

Suddenly,  by some sort of magic, the bandages began removing themselves from  Ignite’s face, ultimately revealing Ignite’s eyes, fully restored to the way they were before.

“Wha…” Ignite gasped with wonder, sitting up, as he waved his hooves in front of him. “Oh, Faust… my eyes… they’re… they’re…”

“Oh my Faust.” Sterling gaped.

“Holy crap on a crap sandwich, with crap on top!” Ricochet yelled, stupefied.

“Suh…  I… I… don’t know what to say…” Ignite stuttered, his eyes welling up,  as he then buried himself into Father’s chest, “T-thank you, suh! Thank  you so much…”

“It was the least I could do.” Father said humbly,  pulling away, “The power I use just now is a power I only use in the most rare of occasions. Had the circumstances been different, and  this was a result of the enemy, I would not do this. But considering  that Jetstream was your attacker… I didn’t feel right letting you suffer  for his or my mistake. And besides…” He glanced at Ricochet knowingly,  “Ricochet made a compelling case.”

"Alright!” Ricochet cheered, as he hugged Ignite, “Ya hear that, Iggy?! You’re going to be okay!”

“I’m  so happy for you, Ignite.” Sterling smirked, “At least something good  had come of this…” His smile soon faded, as he gazed at the katana.

"Sterling, a word, if you please?" Father urged.

"Um… yes, sir." Sterling nodded, a bit confused by the request.

Father led Sterling outside the room, as Ricochet and Ignite continued rejoicing the miracle that had just happened.

“Is there something wrong, sir?” Sterling asked.

“I  feel I should be asking you that question, Stelring.” Father declared,  “The others informed me of what had been said between you and Jetstream  down at the lake.”

“Yeah… what about it?” Sterling frowned.

“Well,  I can sense what it is you’re thinking right now.” Father gave a small  chuckle, “‘Did the Forefathers actually sold those weapons to those  gangs in Brayzil so we could exacerbate a gang war?’ Is that what you  wish to ask, Sterling?”

"...The thought had crossed my mind, sir." Sterling admitted.

“Then  you know that we intended to do nothing of the sort.” Father announced.  “You see, two of our agents had sought to make a quick Bit. They stole  those crossbows from our armory and took them to Brayzil to sell them.  No one in this organization was aware of their actions.”

“...Wait, seriously?” Sterling gaped, “So… what happened to Jetstream’s grandfather…”

“...Was  just part of a series of unfortunate events." Father shook his head  sadly, “After they had made their sale, we had quickly discovered what  they had done. The two agents were promptly dealt with, and we worked as  fast as possible to secure all the weapons that were sold… but by then,  it was too late. There was nothing I could do.”

"...I see." Sterling mused. "...Thank you for telling me, sir."

"I  had to." Father nodded. "You should know I had every intention of  telling Jetstream the truth of what happened… but by the time Jetstream  had learned the truth in Brayzil, he was gone. There was nothing you or I  could have done to prevent this fate for Jetstream."

“...Unbelievable.” Sterling shook his head, “All this happened… because of a misunderstanding…”

"A recurring theme in this world, unfortunately." Father admitted. "I'm afraid I must return to the Coils.” As he made to leave, he glanced back  at Sterling, “You have my sympathies, Sterling..."

"Thank you, sir." Sterling bowed his head as Father departed.

Shortly after, Sterling arrived at Loveless's workshop. Loveless had been absent since the agents were gathered, and Sterling knew this was the most likely place he could be. As he entered, he found Loveless waiting  for him, the misery of a lifetime painted on his face.

"Hello, Sterling." Loveless said, his voice strangled with grief. "I heard about what happened with Jetstream."

"Loveless,  I... I..." Sterling stuttered, his eyes tearing up. "I'm sorry! I'm so  sorry!" Sterling flung himself at Loveless, holding him tightly as he  wept endlessly. "I didn't mean to kill him! He... he grabbed my hooves, and forced the katana-"

"It's okay, Sterling." Loveless comforted him. "I believe you. I know you would never willingly harm Jetstream."

"He just wouldn't let me take him in." Sterling sniffed. "He chose death instead…”

"He  always was a stubborn one." Loveless admitted. “Then again, there’s no  telling what the others would had done to him if he had come back.”

“I  still can’t believe it…” Sterling whimpered, “I mean… he betrayed us.  He may have lost his grandfather… but he still had us… why weren’t we  enough?”

“I’m afraid I cannot tell you, Sterling.” Loveless said glumly. “...But we shouldn’t let recent events color our memories of  him. He was still a noble warrior, an excellent teacher and a good  friend. We should not forget that."

Sterling grabbed the sheathed katana from his side, glancing at it solemnly.

"Here." He gave it to Loveless. "I don't know if you'd want to keep this. But I can't. Not after what happened with it."

"I  shall hold onto this." Loveless took the katana. "To honor the memory  of the Jetstream we once knew. The Jetstream I spent years working  alongside."

"I never thought to ask before, but... just how long did you two know each other?" Sterling asked.

“For  a very long time.” Loveless mused, “I was the one who discovered him  after he made work of that crime boss. He was a bit like you when we  met: rough around the edges, but such great potential within. I took him  under my wing and did my best to help him become all he could be. He  was a devoted student… a loyal comrade… a dear friend...” He sniffed,  wiping a tear from his eye, “No matter what happened, this is how I  choose to remember him. I don’t care what he did or why he did it… he  was my closest friend.” He turned to Sterling. “You should do the same…”

"I'll try." Sterling sighed. "I'll try..."

Despite  his words, Sterling once again felt doubt gnawing away at him. He had  lost one of his closest friends. Even though he knew Jetstream would be  at peace now, he can’t help but feel that his world had grown darker for  it...