//------------------------------//
// Chapter 14: Caballeron’s Heist 
// Story: Daring Do and the Hand of Doom 
// by Unwhole Hole 
//------------------------------//

The doorbell rang. That in and of itself was unusual. Most of those in the employment of Wun Perr-Synt had never heard it used before. Few guests came unless they had been summoned, and when they did, the mistress of the house almost always seemed to be aware of them before they arrived. She would quickly dispatch servants to deal with them.
Upon hearing the delicate ringing of the bell, several perpetually angry bison began to converge on the door. Their suits were impeccably pressed, as always, and each one used twice as much cloth as it took to make a tent for a whole family in what ponies now called the Appleoosan desert. The suits were meant to hide the fact that each of the bison was built of almost solid muscle- -which, depending on who opened the door, they were preparing to use.
When they opened it, a tall pony in a delivery uniform was standing on the steps. A pile of boxes was in his hand, and the brim of his ballcap was pulled down over his eyes.
“What do you want?” said one of the bison.
The pony checked some notes. “Oi, sorry to disturb you this late, mate, but I’ve got an order here of twenty six pies.” 
“We didn’t order pizza,” growled the other bison. “We don’t even like pizza. Go away.” 
The pony looked up at them. His mane was red, and styled into long mutton chops. A scar ran through his left eye. He stared at them for a moment, and then shrugged. “Bloody heck,” he sighed. “Sorry to bother you, mate. Must have been another darn prank.” He began walking away, the bison watching him for any sign of a false step. “But,” he said, pausing. “For the record? They’re not pizzas. These are APPLE pies.”
The bison both gasped and their eyes widened. They turned toward each other as if inquiring if the other had heard right. At the same time, they began to sniff the air. The scent of freshly baked apples met their noses, as well as a hint of cinnamon and nutmeg. There was no questioning the identity of that scent. The delivery pony was correct: those boxes were filled with twenty six whole, fresh apple pies.  
“On second thought,” said one of the bison hurriedly. “Yes. We DID order those pies! Definitely!”
“Yes. Yes! We certainly did! For the party!”
The pony raised an eyebrow. “The party that was over four hours ago?”
“Yes!” shouted one of the bison. She reached out and took the pies from the pony. “You’re late! That means we get them for free!”
Before the pony could react, the bison had pulled the pies indoors and slammed the door. There was a brief pause, and then the door cracked slightly. One of the bison stuck his nose out. “NOW you can go away!” he ordered before slamming the door again and dead-bolting it.  
Rogue stared at the door for a moment, and then pulled his hat down over his eyes. He was unable to cover his smile, though. 

The bison pulled the pies into the main hall and stared at them in awe.
“Look at all of these!” cried one of the pair, who was currently drooling. A third and fourth had arrived, attracted by the smell.
“Did you order these? Did ANY of us?”
“No! These pies are FREE!”
A gasp moved through the room. “Free pie? That’s the BEST kind of pie!”  
“But,” said one. “Is it really moral for us to eat these pies? What if they were meant for someone else?”
“Now is not ethics time! Now is PIE time!”
One of the bison threw open box and began to eat the pie within. The others immediately joined him, devouring the pies with gusto. They ate so fast that none of them noticed an unusual taste present in the filling and crust of the mysterious pies. 
A bison suddenly stood up, instinctively realizing that something was wrong. “Hey,” he said as he started to wobble. “Do you guys feel…” He yawned deeply. “Sleepy?”
The others did not have a chance to answer. Each of them suddenly fell to the floor, snoring loudly. They were completely and totally asleep.
Another group of bison poked their heads around from a side entry, their noses twitching. They had smelled the pies to, and arrived as quickly as possible. A few of them approached the pies and their unconscious comrades.
“Look!” cried one of them. “They ate those pies and passed out! Do you know what this means?!”
The bison looked at each other. Then, in unison, they answered the question. “More for us!”
They immediately dug in. After a few second, though, the sleeping powder took effect on them as well. They all yawned and fell, landing in a heap with the others. 
Several minutes later, at about the time a pitch-black griffon was attaching a canister of gas to the roof intakes for the house’s ventilation system, the last of the bison guards discovered their comrades.
“Oh no,” said the eldest among them. He picked up a piece of pie filling on his hoof and sniffed it. “Hmm. Smell.”
He held it out to his comrade. She sniffed it and winced. “Sleeping powder,” she said. “They’ve been drugged.”  
The other bison nodded in agreement. 
“We should sound the alarm,” said the elder. “This is a very poor sign.”
“But…” said another.
“But what?”
“But they didn’t finish the pie. It’s all right there. Fresh…and warm…with sweet filling, and buttery crust…”
All of the bison that were still conscious slowly eyed the pies. There was a long moment of silence, and then all at once they descended on the pies that they knew to be contaminated. Seconds later, every bison guard in the Perr-Synt manner was sleeping peacefully, quietly, and most importantly: deeply. 

Outside, Rogue had rejoined the group waiting around the corner from the house. As he stripped off his uniform, a black stallion looked to the roof of the building and spied a glint of light.
“There it is,” he said. “My brother says he’s started the gas.”
“Excellent,” said Caballeron, slightly pulling back his hood and looking up toward the building. He could not see the griffon that the black stallion was referencing, but that was essentially the point: an all-black griffon with even a half-competent ability to fly quietly would be almost entirely undetectable in the night’s sky. 
Zel stepped forward so that he was even with Caballeron. He had forgone his expensive suit jacket for a garment that was essentially military fatigues, although with no flag or markings to indicate what nation it had come from. His expression was harsh as he stared at the building.
“The gas will do nothing to Perr-Synt, I’m willing to bet,” he said, “as she is as close to a pureblood unicorn as you can get.” 
“I’m fully aware of the biological differences between us and unicorns,” replied Caballeron, coldly. “But I also happen to know that Ms. Perr-Synt is not home at the moment.” 
“How could you possibly know? / And where exactly would she go?”
“She’s spending the night on her flagship yacht. Her sister-in law is staying at the main house. And having met her? I cannot blame her for wanting to be as far away as possible.” Caballeron shivered. “I mean, I am evil, but Spoiled Rich…ugh.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” whispered Argiopé, sliding against Caballeron’s side from the group behind them. “Such a horrible little creature. I spit in her caviar when she wasn’t looking.” She paused. “But I bet I could totally seduce her husband. He reminds me of an older you…” She ran her hoof across Caballeron’s cheek and he swatted it away. 
“Right,” he said, reaching into one of his pockets. “Here,” he said, holding out several small devices that resembled the one that the black stallion- -and his sibling, although he could not be immediately seen- -were wearing. Caballeron picked up one and put it in his ear, as did Argiopé and several of the other henchponies. Zel, however, hesitated. 
“Surely forgoing this would not be tragic?” he sighed. “It is well known that Zebras are adverse to all forms of magic.”
“And I’m not paying you to be adverse! Put it on!”
Zel glared, but he knew the value of good customer service. He put on the earpiece, sulking while he did so. 
“Right,” sighed Caballeron. He turned to the group behind him. “You, you, and you. You’re lookouts, plus the griffon. If you see anything- -ANYTHING- -I want to know!”
The hired muscle looked at Caballeron, and then at Zel.
“Well?” cried Zel, though quietly enough to not cause a disturbance. “You had best do what he’s saying!/ After all, he’s the one who’s PAYING!” 
The henchponies nodded. One of them approached Caballeron. “And if we see anypony?”
“I already told you. TELL. ME.”
“Yeah, but…I mean, how hard do you want us to beat them?”
“I don’t care what you do. Just make sure we don’t have unexpected guests!” He snapped at the others. “You all! Vamos!” 
The group moved forward silently. There were several of them, and they moved quickly. A gathering of ponies in dark clothing and camouflage would normally have raised great suspicion, had nature not inadvertently conspired in their favor. The night itself was dark, with few stars visible in the cloudy sky; additionally, the chill air had caused fog to flow in from the bay, as was common this time of year. Caballeron had counted on both of those things in his plan, but he knew that they needed to move quickly. 
This was not a matter of invading some ancient and abandoned temple where he could take his time: this was an area where too much attention would result in guards being called, and in all likelihood many years in a Singaponian prison. Because of this, Caballeron approached the whole operation with some level of disgust. He was a dignified individual, not a common thief- -but the thought of countless heaps of golden bits, an elegant beach house that would easily rival the home of Wun Perr-Synt herself, and a horde of comely zebras kept him focused.
They entered the front gate, which was already open from Rogue having broken the lock on his way out. 
“Boss,” said Rogue, walking up to the front. “You sure about this?”
“I will be if you could kindly SHUT UP,” hissed Caballeron. He was counting the seconds. Assuming that the griffon had done his job properly, the mansion would now be flooded with sleeping gas. As Zel had surmised, it was not even close to enough to affect a semi-pureblood unicorn like Perr-Synt, nor would it even make a creature as large as a bison even slightly woozy. Fortunately, neither of those would be a problem. Instead, the it was only a matter of counting seconds until the ponies in the house- -including Spoiled Rich and tacky brother- -were deep enough under to go ahead with the operation.
“Right,” said Caballeron, deciding that the time was right. “Now we just need- -”
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught one of Zel’s mercenaries- -the female Pegasus he had seen on the first meeting- -about to step off the cobblestone path and into the gardens beyond. Argiopé was watching, heavily amused and anticipating the events that she was sure was about to happen.
Caballeron, though, had far more of a heart than his lieutenant- -at least when it came to preserving resources necessary to complete his mission. He pushed past several ponies and tacked the Pegasus mare to the ground before she could touch the grass. 
“Hey!” she cried. “What do you think- -HMMFF!” Caballeron had put his hoof over her mouth and silenced her with practiced excellence. He quickly turned toward Zel. “Tell me, zebra, when was it that you were going to tell me that you hire morons?!”
Zel shrugged. “Some of them are a little slow/ but hey, I have to keep costs low.” 
Caballeron let the mare up. She brushed herself off and glared at him. “Touch me again like that and I’ll bite you next time! I don’t get paid for that kind of business!” 
“I just saved your life!” hissed Caballeron. He gestured out at the garden and the tall cypress trees that lined the path. “Do you have any idea what those are?!”
The Pegasus looked and squinted. “Trees. They’re trees you freak.” 
“Those are Crocodilleran cypress trees!”
“Is that supposed to mean something?” The Pegsus looked to her comrades, but began to grow concerned when she saw just how pale Zel had become and how he took several large steps back from the edge of the cobblestone path. 
“It would if you had even the slightest education! Wun Perr-Synt is a collector of exquisite taste and extravagant means! Did you expect her to plant simple, ordinary trees?”
“I…yes…?”
Caballeron sighed. He drew a small piece of vegetarian jerky from his jacket and tossed it toward the trees. The others watched it go, and all heard the strange whistling as a branch suddenly slashed through the air, plucking the morsel out of the air. The tree then rustled, even though the fog around it was still and the night devoid of even the slightest wind.
The Pegasus had grown pale. Caballeron smiled, momentarily savoring the fact that he was, of course, right. “The Crocodilleran cypress is carnivorous. Extremely so. A single tree can digest up to five ponies per night. And as you can see, Perr-Synt has far more than one tree…” 
Several more trees swished gently in the lack of breeze. The rest of the group took a substantial step back. 
“Zel,” said Caballeron. “I am paying you a substantial amount. Deal with this.”
Zel laughed awkwardly. “Well, if there are pony-eating trees out there/ I think I have just the mare.” He waved to the crowd and an earth-pony stepped forward. Caballeron was almost immediately overwhelmed with the scent of incense and a rather skunky smell that he did not recognize. 
The mare laughed slowly. “Hey, man,” she said. 
“Now,” said Zel. “If you would please/ deal with these trees?”
She turned slowly, and then smiled. “Yeah, boss man. I can totally do that…”
Rogue leaned in toward Caballeron. “What the hay is a ‘man’?”
The earth-mare then promptly stepped off the path and onto the grass. Several of the ponies in the rest of the group gasped, and the trees rustled violently. The mare, however, just looked up at the trees and smiled. 
“Aw man,” she chuckled. “You guys are righteous specimens. That foliage, it’s so…green. And…leafy. Like…leaves…” 
Caballeron put his hoof to his head. The mission had already started and one of the crew was about to get eaten. This, of course, was the reason he had hired local help instead of using his own loyal forces- -but he had eaten a substantial amount of food at the party, and did not much want to witness what was about to happen. 
The trees lunged, but the earth-mare, despite her demeaner, suddenly drew something from her bag. She held it over her head and the trees immediately stopped in awe. Caballeron looked up, expecting some sort of strange charm or amulet. Instead, she was holding a stick of butter. 
“Oh, man...you like that, don’t you?” She waved the butter, causing the trees to move along with it, swaying at her motion. “I like it to. Like, sometimes, I crush up a bunch of barbecue potato chips, and then I, like, roll a stick of butter in it…oh man, now I’m hungry again.”
“Miss,” said Caballeron. “If I might ask: what in the name of CELESTIA’S EXPENSIVE RUMP ARE YOU DOING?!”
“It’s the bubber, man,” she said. She actually used the word “bubber”, much to Caballeron’s confusion. “Everypony’s got to, like, enjoy life, right? Even trees too. Trees have rights, you know. Wants, needs…they’ve got, like souls, and they love us. And bubber.” 
With one swift motion she unwrapped the stick of butter and threw it to her right. The ground shook as the near-silence of the night was rent by the sound of trees uprooting themselves. Within seconds, the forest had pulled itself from the ground and chased down the butter, pulling themselves along with their roots. 
“They really like this stuff,” said the pony, pulling out another stick and eating half of it while she was waiting. “Come on, dudes and dudettes. Like, follow me.” 
She started walking, throwing butter to either side to distract the trees- -although generally not without taking a substantial bite out of it herself. 
“We need to go around the rear of the mansion, on the western side,” said Caballeron as he followed her.
“Righteous, man. West is, like, significant to my aura right now.” 
They continued to follow the earth-mare until she suddenly held out a hoof. Caballeron inhaled sharply.
“Please tell me you didn’t run out of bubber.”
Argiopé snorted. “You said bubber!” 
“No, man, I never run out of bubber. Unless, like, I eat all of it. No. It’s that.” The mare pointed at an especially large evergreen tree that was quite clearly not a cypress. Its long branches were slowly extending, sweeping out over the ground and blocking the path.
“What is it? I’m not familiar with that sort of tree.”
“That’s a smashing yew,” said the earth-mare, almost in awe. 
“Why’s it called that?” asked Rogue.
“Because, like, it smashes you.”
“Oh.” 
“But, like, these guys are almost extinct. Like, ponies cut them all down to make bows.” A tear came to the mare’s eye. “Like, weapons of war, man. Out of beautiful trees.”
“We can discuss environmentalism later,” said Caballeron. “Give it some butter.”
“No, man. Like, are you listening? It’s a yew. Yews don’t like butter.”
“Then how can we pass it?”
The mare thought for a moment. “Like, it’s so sad. He might even be the last, and he’s angry and lonely. Like, my heart is breaking, man.” Sniffling, she stepped forward. 
“No!” cried Zel, still being relatively quiet. “Don’t go near it! OH SH- -”
The earth-mare stepped into the tree and, to everypony’s surprise, gave it a hug. The branches moved to strike her at first, but then suddenly coiled around her and returned the gesture. In the process, the mare disappeared into the foliage. 
“Is she…gone?”
“I can’t believe she just did that,” giggled Argiopé. 
“I think she’ll be fine,” sighed Zel. “But it’s better this way; she’s not good on the front line.” 
Caballeron sighed. “Right,” he said. “The path is clear. Withers?”
A white earth-stallion with a suit collar stepped out of the crowd. “What is it, boss?”
“You take the security system. Take the idiot with you for cover.”
“Hey!” grunted the female Pegasus. 
“Right,” said Withers. Even though it was the middle of the night, he slid a large pair of aviator sunglasses over his face. “Let’s do this.” 
“And don’t get near the koi pond!” called Caballeron as the pair scurried toward the nearest control box. “There’s supposedly a zugel in it!” 
The remained of the group moved very quickly away from the pond. Only Argiopé remaind behind, eying the small pond suspiciously.
“Do you mean ‘zugel’ as in my language for ‘reins’ or ‘zugel’ as in a mass of slippery, dripping, angry tentacles?” She paused. “Because either way, I can’t help but feel a little…interested.” 
“Argiopé!”
“Yes, herr doctor!” She said, turning around and bounding after Caballeron. “You’re right! We should save the reins for celebrating later!”

Despite wearing sunglasses and walking through a foggy semi-forest in the middle of a cloudy night, Withers was surprisingly quick. The Pegasus with him almost had trouble keeping up; it was obvious that he had studied the maps extensively in advance. 
In less than a minute he reached a large shed that was linked to the foundation of the house that sat at the nexus of a number of conduits and control lines. The Pegaus quickly tried the door, only to find that it was- -of course- -locked. 
“I hope you know how to pick locks,” she sighed. She tapped at the heavy door. “Because there’s no way I’m going to be able to kick this down.”
“I can pick locks,” replied Withers, “but I don’t have to. Move.”
The Pegasus was pushed back, and through the dim light of the cloud-obscured moon she was able to see him attaching what looked like thin pencils to the hinges of the door.  
She was about to ask what was going on when the silence of the night was rent by the sudden sound of small explosions. The Pegasus barely managed to prevent herself from screaming or in surprise, but Withers did not even move. The light of the blast simply reflected off his sunglasses. 
“Boom,” he said. “Sanctified.” 
He reached out and pulled the now listing door open. It twisted and nearly fell out of its frame entirely, leaving a gap more than large enough for a pony to enter.
“Darn it!” whispered the Pegasus, now acutely aware of the silence that surrounded them. “Warn me if you’re going to use explosives!”
“No.” 
The shed contained a number of utilities, but Withers moved directly to the rear where a large panel was placed. With one swift motion he pulled it off and stared into the mass of cables and wires inside. Then, without a word, he shoved himself into the hole almost up to his waist and began reconnecting various lines. 
“Um…wouldn’t that be easier if you, you know, took your sun glasses off?”
“The glasses stay on.”
“Any particular reason?”
“Because they make me look really cool.”  
“Yeah. And you’ll be able to protect your eyes when you look at Celestia’s plump rump. You know. When she’s visiting the central garrison and walks past our tiny dungeon window. After YOU get us caught!”
“Celestia is a myth. She was made up by priests to gain control of the gullible masses.” 
The Pegasus’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding, right?”
“You should probably be quiet. I’m working.” 
The Pegasus glared at him, but he did not notice. He was too busy reconnecting various lines. Several minutes seemed to pass and he emerged again, this time with a large crystal linked to several wires. Where he had gotten the crystal, the Pegasus did not ask. She did not especially care. 
Withers then sat down and tapped his earpiece. “Boss. It’s done. I’m busting it open…now.”
He tapped one of the facets of the crystal and the glow within it shifted. Something sparked inside the panel, causing the Pegasus mare to jump even as Withers did not flinch, as though high-voltage discharge were a normal and fully reasonable part of having partially rewired something. 
“Excellent,” replied Caballeron. “We’re going in. Keep an eye on where we are. If we are found- -”
“Staring at Celestia’s rump. I know. I’m already on it.” 
Withers set the crystal on the floor, linking it to a large cable that was dripping a luminescent blue fluid that would quickly evaporate as it fell. He linked it to the crystal, and the system hummed with magic. An image was displayed over it, rendered as a magical hologram that displayed code written in Singaponeian.
“Can you read this?” said Withers.
“Of course I can…wait. You can’t?”
“No.”
“But- -I have no idea what any of this means!”
Withers shrugged. “If you see something that looks bad, let me know.”
“You know,” said Caballeron,  his voice heavy and dark even through the earpieces. “You do know that your channel is still open, don’t you?”
“Yes,” replied Withers. “I do.” 

With the outer doors open, Caballeron was able to lead his group into the complex itself. The side entrance led into a system of impeccably neat but almost industrial looking hallways. At this point, the black stallion took the lead. He had been the one assigned to inspect the ground floor during the party; from what Caballeron gathered, his special talent involved stealth. Whether or not that was true was debatable, as his cutie mark- -which was entirely black- -was invisible against his flank. 
“Here,” said the black stallion, gesturing toward a door. “These are the stairs.”
“Security is down,” said Caballeron. “Excellent.” He turned to Rogue. “You. Go to the front.”
“Right, boss. Oi!” Rogue turned to the rest of the group and pointed at two of the largest, most gnarled earth-ponies present. “You and you! On me!”
The two obeyed and joined him as he kicked open the door. They then plowed forward, the whole while prepared to positively ruin somepony’s day if they found somepony inside who was still conscious. 
They proceeded down- -and down- -and down. Rogue began to become nervous.
“Boss,” he said. “How deep does this thing go?”
“Deep,” replied Caballeron. “As I’m sure you’ve realized, Wun Perr-Synt spares no expense. Especially when dealing with her precious collection. I should know. Her purchases fund your salaries.”
“Then…is it wrong that we’re trying to steal from her?” 
“I prefer to think of it as testing her security expenditures,” laughed Caballeron, even though Rogue had touched on exactly what felt as though it was eating at his gut. “Besides. If this works? We’ll never need to make a purchase from her again.” 
“You certainly let your villainy show,” chuckled Zel. “But don’t forget to pay those who you owe.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, although for the record, you don’t get a bent bit more than I listed in your contract.”
“It seems to me/we’ll just have to see.” 
Caballeron muttered under his breath, but quickly realized that he had bigger problems than dealing with the mercenary. They had reached the bottom of the stairs, which opened into an enormous square room with a floor cut from enormous granite tiles. It was dotted with large arching columns, and at the base of several were the display cases from the party earlier. The specimens were being moved back into storage.  
It also became apparent that the specimens were not alone. Several heavily armored workers immediately rushed Rogue and his pair of minions. They had been waiting. 
Rogue took a swing at a svelte mare. His left hook was quite good, but she dodged it easily, grabbing his hoof and flipping him backward into a unicorn. The unicorn’s horn ignited, producing a detonation that sent Rogue flying into one of the other members of the earth-pony vanguard.
The unicorn then turned his focus to Caballeron, quickly summoning a paralysis spell. Caballeron remained stationary as the thin tattooed unicorn beside him generated a complex but highly unstable shield spell. The impact of the magic resulted in a feedback wave that knocked down the remaining earth-pony as well as several other members of the hired muscle.  
“Herr doktor,” said Argiopé, her eyes narrowing as she interposed herself between her master and them. “Should I break them?”
Zell put his hoof on her shoulder, causing her to recoil with a hiss. 
“You’ll just get sweaty and wheeze,” he said. “Please, stand back as I do this with ease.” 
Before anypony could stop him- -not that any wanted to- -Zel leapt forward, using Rogues back as a stepping stone as he leapt into the fray. A Pegasus was the first to see him; she flew up suddenly, prepared to strike. She never go the chance; Zel executed a graceful flip and kicked her in the chin, immediately knocking her out of the air. When he landed, he grasped her unconscious body and threw it into one of her comrades,  knocking him back.
The same earth-pony that had taken down Rogue rushed him, but Zel blocked, parrying her to the side and striking her in the armpit where she had no armor. The pony cried out as one of her legs went numb, and she tilted, giving Zel the chance he needed to trip her. 
Another charged from behind, expecting to take him by surprise. He did not succeed. Zel whirled around and in doing so produced a short spear with a long blade. Upon seeing this, the attacking pony tried to dodge but was too slow. Zel slid the spear between his back and armor, severing the clasps that held it together. The chest plate of the armor dropped to the pony’s knees, tripping him and causing him to fall. He struck his head and pinned his quarter-numb comrade with his girth. 
That left only the unicorn, whose horn ignited with an angry red glow. He fired a spell that resembled something like a net; it was intended to trap and incapacitate an opponent. Zel twirled, swinging his spear and reciting a complex series of couplets in his own language. When the spell struck him, the blade of his spear ignited and slashed through the unicorn’s spell. 
With a twist and a step, the blade was against the unicorn’s face. The unicorn dropped to his knees, defeated.
“Please,” he begged. “I have children.”
“Do you think me that cruel?” cried Zel, clearly insulted. “Even I would not break that sacred rule!” 
In a flash, he twisted his spear around and struck the unicorn in the horn with the haft. The unicorn’s eyes widened and his body twitched slightly as he fell to the side. He had been rendered partially unconscious and temporarily unable to cast spells. 
Zel took a deep breath and tapped the wooden end of his spear against the floor, leaning on it as he smiled to his crew. They broke out into cheers and applause. 
Rogue, now slightly bruised, had managed to stand up and was staring wide-eyed. “Bloody heck, mate! Where did you learn to do all that?!”
Zel chuckled. “You grow up in a terrible rush/when you have to live in some dangerous bush.” 
The other ponies stepped forward, helping up their friends. The two earth-ponies who had been helping Rogue were both slightly injured, but not to an extent where they could not walk. Most of the damage was in fact to their pride. 
“Rogue,” ordered Caballeron. He pointed to the guards on the ground. “Tie them up! Thoroughly. I trust you’ve been practicing knots, as I’ve recommended?”
Rogue smiled and produced a rope. “Trust me, boss. I’ll tie ‘em with knots so tight, even Daring Do wouldn’t be able to get free!”
“You said that the last time two. And the fourteen before that. And take this.” Caballeron withdrew a small greenish-silver metal ring from his pocket. “Put this on the unicorn. It’s dimeritium.” 
“Dimeritium?” said the black stallion, who appeared to have come from nowhere and seemed oddly intrigued. “That ring costs more than the fee for our services.”
Zel glared at Caballeron. Caballeron sighed and shrugged. “It was a gift,” he said. He did not go further to state who it had come from, as even he did not actually know their identity. Which was yet another thing that seemed to be helping with his development of a peptic ulcer. 
The mercenaries seemed to accept that answer, but only begrudgingly. Which was acceptable, as they had so far largely done their part. Only a few of them would be needed beyond this point. 
Caballeron quickly ordered the toughest among them to fan out through the enormous room, and watched them depart under the glow of fluorescent tubes. It was apparent that the gas had not reached the lower levels in a high enough concentration, so their task was to find any more guards that there might be, as well as to prevent anypony who might drop by uninvited. Caballeron had been in this business too long to think that nopony would. There was always one- -and her appearances tended to be as reliable as they were infuriating. 
Only a small group remained with him. Argiopé, as always, was at his side, as well as Rogue on the other, although the latter was standing much closer to Zel, who had recently won his respect. Other members of Zel’s group included the tattooed unicorn, the black stallion, and the female minotaur, who was carrying a large metal object on her back. 
The room was tapered on one end, creating a broad funnel-like shape that led to a single large metal door. It seemed to be large enough to be almost blast proof.
“Withers,” said Caballeron. “Can you get it open?”
“No.”
“Herr doktor, look!” Argiopé pointed. There was a keypad next to it with deep-set mechanical keys. A brass plaque had been placed over it. Rogue leaned close and shakily read the embossed text. 
“To ride from the waves/at times calm, at times stormy/So fair, yet fate grim.”
Zel grimaced. “Poetry like that is like sucking a lime/ Have ponies completely lost the ability to rhyme?” 
“It’s a riddle,” said Caballeron. He muttered under his breath. “I don’t know what it means, though. I need more time…”	
Zel laughed. “I can save your mind a bit of strain/ because the solution to problems is not always with your brain.” He looked over his shoulder and nodded to the minotaur, who smiled and cracked her fingers. 
“Oh yeah!” she cried, stretching. “Brass Knuckles knows EXACTLY how to solve this poem!” 
She flexed in several poses before approaching the door. Then, without a moment’s hesitation, she pushed her fingers into the groove that ran down the center of it. 
The minotaur grunted vigorously. Every muscle on her enormous arms suddenly became visible as she pulled hard, and several large veins appeared on her neck. Something inside the walls began to crunch and strain, and a hydraulic line suddenly burst, partially showering the tattooed unicorn with oil.
“Oi! Watch it, Brass!”
Brass Knuckles did not listen. With a roar of power, she forced the door open completely. She then turned her head toward Zel, who nodded and jumped through the gap. Caballeron and Argiopé went through next, followed by the remainder of the group. Finally, Brass Knuckles stepped through the door and releasted it. The door shuddered and slammed shut before recoiling slightly, leaving a three-inch wide gap between its two halves. It had been thoroughly damaged, and now stood partly ajar as though in defeat. 
“Whoo!” breathed the minotaur, flexing again. “YEAH! That’s how we do it!”
Zel smiled. “As my mother used to say, you can hardly go wrong/ when you know someone so very strong.” 
“Let us hope you have speed to match your strength,” sighed Caballeron. He put his hoof to his earpiece. “Withers.”
“Yes. I am.” 
“Stop talking back and do your job.”
“I am. Keep walking forward. Pass three doors and take a left.” Caballeron did as he was told, moving forward at a fast-paced walk. The others followed him. “Right,” continued Withers, clearly distracted by something. Over the link, Caballeron could hear a female voice reading to him. “I’ve disabled the camera systems and passive infrared system. I’m working on the piezo tiles.”
“Withers, don’t try to sound smart. It doesn’t suit a henchpony.”
“But I am smart. I mean the tiles. The floor senses contact. I can only open the main path, and it’s designed to detect ponies by hoofsteps.” 
Zel snorted, annoyed. “So we’re pretty much done/unless we can walk exactly like Wun?”
“No. But having less of you on the floor would help.”
Caballeron looked behind him. None of the remaining group were Pegasi.
“Argiopé.”
Argiopé frowned but did as she was commanded, spreading her wings and taking flight. “None of you are permitted to stared at my flank as I pass,” she growled. Then, going over Caballeron, she ran her hoof gently over her spine. “Except you. You can look as long as you want. And as HARD as you want…”
“Oxford, I know your skills well/and I am aware of a certain spell.”
The tattooed unicorn nodded and his horn ignited with blue light. A large translucent rectangle appeared near him, hovering off the ground. He stepped onto it and it began to glide gracefully.
“The minotaur stays here,” said Caballeron. 
“What? No!” retorted Brass Knuckles. “What if there’s someone who needs to get PUNCHED?!”
“There won’t be,” snapped Caballeron. 
“Brass, don’t let your attitude become poor/ it is better if you stay to guard the door.” 
Brass Knuckles frowned, but at the order from her employer- -Zel, not Caballeron- -she nodded and hefted the metallic load on her back. “Right, sarge. But if anypony gets through, I’m gonna punch them. HARD.”
“Go ahead and hit!/I’m rather counting on it.” 
The remainder of the group went on without the minotaur.
“Right. Then two doors and left,” said Withers, followed by urgent yelling. “I mean one door and left. The other one, well…messy, boss.”
“Don’t mess this up, Withers,” growled Rogue.
“I never mess up. Go left now.” 
They did, and suddenly the earpieces began to screech with static. Caballeron winced. “Withers? Withers, what’s happening?”
“He probably got distracted by something shiny.” Argiopé landed and continued by walking, admiring how this particular path had become less industrial and more elegant. It was still not in line with what her personal preferences- -not nearly so- -but she found herself in a warmly lit architectural arcade with a set of graceful square columns on either side. “Such horrid taste…”
Suddenly, she felt a hoof pull her backward roughly. Argiopé turned sharply, opening her mouth as wide as it went to reveal her several rows of needle-like teeth. She hissed, causing the tattooed unicorn to cry out in fright and jump back. Caballeron smiled, as did Rogue and Zel, all of whom knew what to expect from Argiopé’s dentition. The black stallion just stared unblinkingly. He likely did not know, but he also seemed not to care. 
“Don’t touch me!” hissed Argiopé. “YOU are not ALLOWED to touch me! Do it again and I will bite your horn OFF!” 
Oxford’s surprise suddenly collapsed into anger. “I just saved your life!”
“You put your filthy little unicoirn hooves on my perfect body! If the doktor were not watching- -”
“Oxford is correct, I have to say,” interrupted Zel. “Because one more step and you would have had a VERY bad day! Just use your sense of smell/and you’ll surely be able to tell.”
Argiopé sniffed. Her blue-green eyes narrowed. “Ozone.”
“Magic,” sighed Caballeron. “You,” he said, addressing the unicorn. “Do you know how to deal with this?”
“Five years at university, I certainly ought to! What do I look like, some limp-horned layabout?” He turned his head toward the arcade hallway. His horn ignited, and immediately the whole room began to resonate unpleasantly. Oxford winced.
“As I thought,” he said. “This is some nasty work. You really would have regretted that step, love.”
“Don’t call me ‘love’. Or I will break you. Whips will be involved.” 
“Oh, feisty! You’d be a catch if it weren’t for those freaky teeth.”
“The doktor enjoys my teeth quite thoroughly.” 
“And I am paying neither of you to talk,” snapped Caballeron. “Or do I need to  go over there and disassemble the spell myself? Or perhaps send the zebra?” 
“I’m working on it! This was professional work. It’ll take a minute.”
“I don’t think we have a minute,” said Rogue, his voice shaking. “Boss, the door!”
Caballeron turned around to see that the door they had passed through had inexplicably vanished, replaced with a blank, empty wall. 
“What…” His innards tightened as he suddenly understood that the spell had been triggered the moment they entered. “Unicorn, hurry! There isn’t much time!”
“I can’t ‘hurry’! I’m deconstructing preset causality lines rune by rune, I can’t go any faster without setting it off!”
“And what happens if that happened?” asked the black stallion. He sounded more amused than frightened. 
“Soup.” 
Argiopé shivered slightly. She hated soup. 
Caballeron turned back toward the door, as did Rogue. Rogue immediately cried out in confusion, but Caballeron did not. He knew exactly what he would see. That the wall where the door had been was closer, and that the corridor that opened into the arcade was growing tighter. Whereas seconds earlier Argiopé could easily have flown above them, the ceiling was now barely tall enough for Oxford to stand without bending over. 
“It’s shrinking!” cried Rogue. He pushed past the black stallion and toward the opening. “We have to get out of here!”
“NO!” cried Oxford, pushing Rogue back with a flash of magic. “It’s trying to trick you! If you go forward before the proximity spell goes down, we’re all done!”
“Are you bloody kidding me?! We’re going to get MASHED!”
“Only if you keep distracting me! I’m not going back to prison. I’m not eating any more rock-soup! Trust me, I know what I’m doing!” 
Zel sighed, and he drew his spear. Rather than using it, though, he pointed it downward and sat down, closing his eyes and apparently meditating as he held the weapon. The walls had grown even closer, even though it was not apparent that they were moving. Rogue was now pushed against the black stallion, and Argiopé- -much to her pleasure- -pushed against Caballeron’s firm, well-muscled body. 
“Now, I don’t mean to rush you,” said Caballeron, calmly. “But, if it is within your ability, I WOULD PREFER NOT TO MEET MY END WAITING FOR YOUR ILL-TRAINED RUMP TO FIGURE OUT A SIMPLE SPELL!”
“It’s not counterbalanced,” gasped Oxford. “I can’t- -this will take too long! I- -I can’t get it open, not without a support parameter- -”
The walls squeezed even tighter, and the blue flickered and went out around Oxford’s horn. The instant it did, though, a yellow spark ignited in the center of the arcade corridor. The air seemed to detonate and crack with a hideous sound, and the entire group was thrown backward several meters into the large door that they had entered through. 
Caballeron moaned, as did Argiopé, who had landed in a rather compromising position on top of him. Upon seeing this Caballeron shoved her off and over to Rogue before standing up. “What in the name of Celestia’s golden flank were you trying to do?!” he screamed. 
“Please relax,” said Zel, standing up. “He did succeed, before we got the axe.” 
Oxford laughed, but then cleared his throat. “That didn’t go the way I expected.”
“Really,” growled Caballeron.
“No. The sequential process failed, but when it did it must have somehow triggered a feedback surge. It severed the unbalanced connections…the processing for that would have taken even me over a year to work out! The chances of that happening at random are- -”
“One in five hundred million six hundred thousand two hundred eighty three,” said Withers, sounding bored.
Oxford blinked. “You- -you calculated that in your head?”
“No,” sighed Rogue. “He’s making it up and hoping you don’t check his math.”
Zel laughed vigorously but nervously. “We ought to run and hide/if that’s who we have as a guide!” 
“The system’s starting to react,” said Withers. “You need to keep moving.”
Caballeron brushed himself off. “No more mistakes.”
“Agreed,” said Rogue, panting. As the largest, he had been the most severely affected by the tightening of the room. “I don’t know if my heart can take it.”