//------------------------------// // Operation Running Dog // Story: The D.S.P.I. // by DungeonMiner //------------------------------// Silver never knew that the Department had autocarriages. He also didn’t know that there were autocarriages that could move off road. He was just learning so much tonight. The stout, sturdy autocarriage leapt over the muddy hill as they chased their quarry. Spike was at the wheel, driving like a madman before he yelled into his communicator. “Sniper! Do you have a visual?” “On thermal,” she answered. “He’s running fast, half a klick ahead of you.” “Roger that!” Spike called as the autocarriage leapt over the peak of the hill, and slammed back into the ground, jostling the ponies in the back of the open-topped vehicle. “Call him again, Assault!” Spike ordered. “Cinnamon Toast!” Silver called through the bullhorn. “Halt! This is the department!” “He’s not stopping,” Silk reported. Spike growled. “Demo! Spring the trap!” “Yes sir!” she answered, before a set of explosions roared ahead of them. Spike spun the vehicle, passing through the spaces between the trees and charged towards the explosions, even as another set of explosions erupted in the trees ahead of them. “They’re working like a charm, Commander,” Silk said as she flew above them. “They’re leading Cinnamon straight to the bottom of the cliff.” “This ain’t my first rodeo, Sniper,” Spike said in a slight drawl. “Just keep your eyes on him, our work’s just getting started.” The autocarriage made another leap, landing hard on its wheels. If this were any normal carriage, then those same wheels would have shot through the floor of the cabin, but the superior suspension allowed them to bounce harmlessly across the forest floor. More explosions sounded ahead, and there, just ahead of them in the trees, a shock of chocolate brown hair was caught in the spotlight. “There!” Neon said, as he spun the spotlight he was working to try and center on the lycan. Spike floored the gas, and the carriage weaved through the trees, barely missing the trunks by inches as the Commander spun the wheel. Silver’s hooves clenched around the tiny little handlebar by his door, as if it could save him from death. Another sharp corner, the carriage began to drift sideways, sliding on the leaves that covered the ground before they finally halted. A small box canyon of sorts acted as a dead end, leaving the only exit blocked by the team and the carriage. Neon spun the spotlight again, and centered on the beast that was caught in the trap. Standing as tall as the princesses, a massive, bipedal monstrosity glared at them with tiny, bloodshot eyes. It’s chocolate brown fur, decorated with cinnamon-colored swirls across the terrifyingly muscular monster was the only thing that still connected it to the pony this monster once was. He bared a snarl filled with three-inch fangs, and razor-sharp claws clenched and unclenched around an invisible pony neck. It growled and grunted, puffing out its chest and reveled in its massive, bulging muscles. Spike ignored these. He simply frowned as he stepped out of the vehicle, and shook his head. “Cinnamon, Cinnamon, when will you learn?” The lycan roared in answer. It’s breath smelled of death, and bits of meat flew out of it teeth as a wind rushed passed them. Again, Spike ignored this. “You know what happens when you run, Cinnamon. It means you’re trying to bite the alpha, and we both know the alpha bites back.” The lycan snarled, and Spike loosened his belt, and let his pistol swing free of his hip. The rest of the squad took their positions, raising their silver-tipped weapons and leveling them at the lycan as he was forced back against the wall. Spike took one last inhale before his muscles began to coil. “And I am the Alpha.” The small dragon launched himself at the lycan, the smaller, reptilian body slamming into the muscular canine like a wrecking ball. They both landed hard on the ground as the wrestling match began. Claws met claws and jaws snapped shut as they rolled in the leaves and dirt. Silver and the others waited, their weapons leveled. The dragon rolled the lycan under him, slamming the massive, furry beast into the ground, but the lycan only growled in answer. “Bad dog! I am the alpha!” Spike roared. Again Spike threw the beast, slamming him into the dirt, and the lycan went scrambling to get it’s paws under him. Spike wouldn’t let him, throwing himself onto the lycan’s back. Claws, muscles, and flame were dragged against scales and fur, and still the fighting waged on. Silver, Silk, Neon and the others  watched on, waiting for any sign that Spike needed help. Finally, Spike pinned him. Grabbing the beast’s leg in one hand, he forced the beast’s knee into the dirt, and forced him down. Cinnamon tried to claw away, tried to force himself up and out. But Spike didn’t let go. “I am the Alpha, Cinnamon!” The lycan kept scrambling, trying to get his feet under him. “No!” Spike yelled. “I am the Alpha!” Neon raised his pneumatic crossbow. “Not yet!” Spike said, glaring at his assault. “He has to have no fight left in him. Not yet.” The lycan kept clawing, slowly becoming more and more frantic as his small eyes began to grow wide fear. Spike held him. And then finally, finally, the lycan went still. “Now, Support,” Spike ordered, before the unicorn fired a single dart. The silver-tipped hypodermic needle pierced skin, and the clear fluid that was held in the small vial was quickly emptied into the lycan’s blood. The beast struggled for a second, before the needle did its work, and Cinnamon hit the dirt, asleep. Spike sighed, releasing the lycan’s leg even as he began to shrink. “Alright, guys...get him in the back, let’s get him home, so we can get on our way.” “Yes, sir,” Amber said, as she hovered over the beast that was still transforming into a pony, before lifting him bodily into the air. Spike watched, keeping his eyes on Cinnamon as the medic carefully set him down in the open back of the carriage. “He would have been safe. He would have been quarantined. He wouldn’t have gotten free. All you had to do was take the staff.” Spike climbed back into the vehicle as the team began to gather and pile into the back. “Let’s go team.” ===ᐁ=== “I’m so sorry!” Cinnamon said, the small pony now standing smaller than Silver. He seemed oddly quiet now that he wasn’t a massive canine that was going to rip the nearest thing it could find to pieces. “I’m so, so, sorry.” “It’s alright, Cinnamon,” Spike told him as he stood in the doorway of the baker’s home. “I was locking up,” Cinnamon explained. “I was getting the vault closed, when I suddenly realized that I needed to grab one of the...suppressants. I-I thought I had time, but the second I stepped out of the vault it happened. I...oh...I hope I didn’t hurt anypony?” “No one was hurt,” Spike said. “We were in the area when your alarm went off. We caught you before you got to anyone. You were lucky tonight.” Cinnamon shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Commander Spike.” Spike shook his head and offered a small smile. “Hey, at least you’ll be good for a couple more hours, right? You’ll have some time to get things in order.” The baker sighed. “I think I’ll just lock myself up in the vault. I’m not going to risk this anymore tonight.” Spike nodded. “Alright. Want us to check up on you in the morning?” Cinnamon sighed. “I guess...I probably messed up something else anyway…” “Hey, don’t—” Spike began only for Cinnamon to close the door. The dragon shook his head. “You’ll make it Cinnamon, you’ll make it.” Turning, he went back to the Department’s autocarriages, where the team waited for him. “He’ll be fine till morning. We need to get going.” “Yes, sir,” Silver answered before the whole team slid into the seats, waiting for the vehicle to begin driving forward. “We don’t have much time, we need to get there before daybreak,” Spike said. They had one more civilian asset that they needed to tap. Madam White, a ghost of some kind that was once a fortune teller has been sticking around for decades now. She still performed her fortune teller bit, but now that she had a more direct line to the spirits, she was more accurate than she had ever been. Spike had offered his help once he found her. Tried to find out what her unfinished business was, but she politely refused, and offered her services. Honestly the Madam worried him a bit. She offered her help but asked for none in return, she even outright refused help offered to her by any department worker. The only exception was Sweetie Belle. The two had a strange report that Sweetie would not explain. She kept her silence, and continued to offer aid, but Madam White always gently refused. However, once more it seemed that the Department would need her services again. Every other asset, every network of information had come up with nothing. There were no signs of the Crimson Covenant after their attack on Canterlot.  Even with the Royal Guard helping the Department look for them, there had been no signs at all. All he had left was Madam White, and Spike had learned long ago that spirits were vague at the best of times, and outright cryptic and misleading at worst. But now he had no choice. He drove out of the city and floored it once he hit dirt. Madam White would be gone with the dawn, and even if spirits were the most misleading of beings, they were all he had. ===ᐁ=== The autocarriage slowed to a stop in front of the old, raggedy tent. It looked not unlike a circus tent, peaked with a small, white pennant that stood in stark contrast of the faded stripes that ran down the sides. They were red and white once, though now the red was a faint pink, and the white was the color of plaque. “Spread out, team,” Spike ordered, and they moved to obey. “Do not enter the tent. I’m going alone. I just need you to secure the perimeter, am I understood?” “Sir, yes sir!” They answered. Spike nodded, holding tightly to the grip of his number one assistant as it sat in its holster. He nervously gulped down a final breath of fresh air, before he finally stepped inside. A thick, heavy, and heady incense filled Spike’s nostrils. The softly smouldering rowan bark mixed with cinnamon and rosemary assaulted his sense of smell so that it almost gave him a headache within seconds of smelling it. Waving the smoke away from his nose, he walked in. Ducking beneath the charms and totems that hung from the ceiling. The Madam had admitted that they held no power, but they disturbed Spike nonetheless. “Hello, Commander, I have been expecting you,” a wizened, breathy voice said from inside the smoke. Waving yet more smoke away from his head, his eyes finally fell on the old, robe-clad mare. Heavy wrinkles hung around her eyes and mouth, leaving long creases all across her face in a mess that could only be described as the fingerprint of time. Her robes and the headdress she wore was tattered on every edge, with frayed threads hanging like spiderwebs. Her white fur made it impossible to tell if her hairs were greying, but Spike was sure that if she had a any other color, she would be silver now. The only thing about her that seemed new or young, were her eyes. Those cerulean orbs bore so deep into his soul that he could almost see his secrets laid out before her, and even though that was disquieting enough, there was something about them that was far, far worse. They reminded him of... “You have come back to me, young Commander, as I was foretold,” the ancient ghost mumbled. “I have. I need your help,” Spike answered. “Always help, yes, yes. Never to say hello, never to stay.” Spike watched her as she made her way to the table, decorated with a tattered, silk tablecloth and a dusty crystal ball. “Has Sweetie Belle been failing in her visits?” Spike asked. “She’s supposed to keep you company.” “Not the same as the living, no. Never the same,” she replied, before she sat at her table. “Come then, come. Let us see what the dead wish to say.” Spike stepped forward, sitting in the small chair opposite the ghost, who stared into Spike’s eyes. They looked exactly like hers… The charms began to shake as all the ghosts still left in this world moved to speak to tortured soul before the dragon. “Why do you summon us?” the Madam mumbled as the dead began to speak through her.. “What is the meaning of this? Leave us be.” Spike waited. “Just a moment, just a moment. To keep the living alive,” the fortune teller whispered. “I will speak then, let the others go.” “So be it, come, speak to us then,” Madam White said, before turning to Spike, her eyes sparkling in the darkness. “What do you wish to know?” the ghost asked, now pulled from its wandering place. “What do you know of the Crimson Covenant?” Spike asked. “The living who serve the dead, and the dead serving their king. They hide in their shadows, they kiss their wicked blades, and stab at the dark to lap at the blood of their victims.” Spike nodded. He knew this. The Crimson Covenant was populated by vampires.They had cattle beneath them, but they were vampires. “The shadows are thick, and reach far into the past. They grasp and grab anything they can, but crave amethyst above all.” Amethyst? Did he mean literal gems or something else? “Where are they now?” Spike asked. “Far in your past, and near in your future. They cling to the darkness of the great cities, and the darkest caves of the world beyond. They hide from you at every turn, such is their design. Do not be deceived, it is your attention they crave.” “And I would give it to them,” Spike said. “Just let me know where they are.” Madam White simply stared at him with her massive, sad, blue eyes. “Look to the East. The city where the Founders rang the first bell in defiance of the old world. They hold the secrets of the sanguine pool. They hold the shadows as black as night. In the dregs of their sewage you will find them.” Fillydelphia. They were gathering in the Fillydelphia sewers. Spike had his answer. “I have what I need.  You may release the ghost.” Madam White nodded, and the ghost left, back to wander the earth and fulfill its business. Released, the fortune teller then turned to the Commander and sighed. “So it is done.” Spike nodded. “We’ll make sure that they’re stopped. No one else is going to die by their hooves. I promise.” “Good, good. You are yet the savior you always were, Commander.” The words had a bite to them. It was subtle, almost as if she didn’t mean the sarcasm in them. Honestly, Spike wasn’t sure. She could have been sincere and his own conscious was the source of the vitriol. After all, he hadn’t done anything to the Madam. He had done nothing but help the ghost through every means he had. He had done nothing to deserve that sarcasm from her. At least, as far as he knew. The terrifying thought that there was something he had done, that he was somehow responsible for whatever business she had not taken care of, hovered in the back of his mind. It taunted him with a terrible, terrible prospect that it was all his fault. It was his fault once again. Another pony dead because of him. She could have been avenged. Her and everyone else. You just had to be tyrant for one week. “I’ll see you soon, Madam,” Spike said back. “Perhaps, perhaps not,” she said. “I wish it were so.” Spike looked over at her. “Can you not see it?” The Madam smiled and shook her head. “No, no...you know how this work. Vague and immediate events only.” Spike shook his head, and began to move. “Goodbye, Madam White.” “Farewell, Commander,” she answered. "Until next we meet." As Spike walked out of the tent, the sun was just coming over the horizon. The golden rays of Celestia’s sun peeked over the hills and filled the valley with a growing warmth as it dispelled the mist that surrounded them. Alpha team was waiting for their Commander, and they slowly began to relax at the sight of him. Spike sighed, and pulled one of his paper cigarettes and lit it with a puff of flame. The smoke rose into the air, disappearing with the mist as the sun continued to rise. He turned, and sighed as the last, gossamer threads of the tent disappeared before his eyes. He took a long drag, and focused back on his team. “Alright, Alpha Team. I’m giving you a choice. Gamma’s trying out their own Firebrand, and Phi’s still out in Vanhoover. Do you guys wanna hit the Covenant's base for a change?” Silver smiled. “That’s why I signed up, sir.” Spike nodded. “Then we’re heading to Fillydelphia. We’ll rest for the day, and then it’s time for some payback.”