[Beginning of Arc III]
---[][][]---
The first light of morning was starting to glimmer above the Guard Compound's gate. Prey's eyes felt like they were full of sand and he could scarcely stand he was so tired. Gloom and Crimson were no better.
Somehow, somehow, they were finally back at the Palace. Prey would never have believed he would be glad to see the seat of Celestia's power.
Haggard, the three of them stared longingly towards the Palace where their bunk room lay. They were not the only ones.
"Get some sleep everypony." Nighthawk ordered hoarsely, addressing not just them but the rest of the Night Guard standing, or rather drooping, in formation around the compound, like wilted pot plants in smoke blackened armour.
'Don't worry. I intend to.' Prey thought thickly.
Even now, having left the Oak Quarter Lumber Yard far behind, all Prey could smell was smoke.
"Dismissed. Fall out." Nighthawk rasped.
"Com'n guys. Bunk room. Sleep. My bed needs me." Gloom mumbled, taking the first, shambling step forwards. He looked half-dead. Prey and Crimson's gait mirrored his exactly as they staggered after the thestral.
---The Lumber Yard---
Prey had been dreading what Gloom would do to him for running away once he got down the fire escape stairs. However the Sargent had been so caught up in trying to help organise the fire fighter ponies and answering Nighthawk's questions, that all he'd shown was relief at seeing Prey alive. He'd completely glossed over the fact Prey had left him and Crimson to die. In Gloom's head, Prey had tried to help, but just hadn't been able to unlock the door in time. Therefore, it wasn't Prey's fault, but his own for getting them all into that situation.
Following that, Prey and Crimson had more or less been shoved to the side and forgotten as everybody from everywhere kept arriving.
Trying to contain the inferno before it could spread to the rest of the Lumber Yard was everyones top priority. Prey numbly sat on the gravel, over two hundred yards from the fire but still able to feel its heat, and watched it all.
Scores of weather pegasi had flown above the blaze, dumping rain cloud after rain cloud onto the fire, working in tandem with about three dozen fire fighter unicorns. Some used their magic to conjure or transport water, while others seemed to be somehow siphoning off the fire and/or containing it with shields.
Regardless, the water vaporised before it even got to the flames, and the most the unicorns seemed able to do was keep the fire confined to the one factory building. Even unicorns have a safe limit when dealing with something putting off as much heat and energy as a blaze of this size.
While those ponies had all been hard at work, the Night Guard had gotten on with scouring the Lumber Yard and apprehending as many of the salt workers as they could find.
The Royal Guard were in attendance too, but they didn't have such an active role to play. Actually, the Royal Guard Lieutenant had ended up having a shouting match with Lieutenant Screech, when the thestral had told the pegasus to; "Stop interfering with our work and stay out of our way."
Understandably, in times of crisis, tempers were frayed.
In the end Nighthawk had stepped in and broken it up. The Royal Guards were stationed outside the Lumber Yard to stop any of the thronging mass of curious ponies gathering from getting in, or alternatively, just stop them from panicking. A large number of the spectators did anyway. It still being nighttime hadn't done anything to deter the crowd.
That went on for some hours, the fire still having plenty of fuel left to work its way through the night. But eventually, Nighthawk had gotten around to calling over the ISND and getting their full report.
Gloom had done almost all the talking. He'd told Nighthawk how their sweep had lead to Oyster Pinion's flat, and subsequent deterioration of everything from there.
He explained how he'd taken command after Corporal Humming's wing injury. Then how they'd worked out it was one of the two lumber yards the griffin had fled to, and split up their forces up to cover both. Next, Gloom recounted what they'd found when they began searching, and how they'd been split up even further.
Haltingly, Gloom then asked what had happened to the other three thestral's who'd distracted the salt dealers. Apparently, that was how him and Crimson had escaped the locked room. They'd re-barred the door just in the nick of time, and the salt dealers had apparently lost the courage to try and force an entry.
They'd balked at the last step. Why?
Prey hadn't understood that part. The salt dealers had unicorns. Why would they have been scared? Never mind, he was probably just too tired to properly consider the reasoning.
Anyway, the three thestrals had somehow heard Gloom and Crimson's struggles from all the way outside, and launched a daring attack on the roof to distract the salt dealers.
Gloom and Crimson had taken the opportunity to break down the door with an improvised battering ram and escape as their captors backs were turned.
The three thestrals who's distraction had allowed Gloom and Crimson to escape where the same ones ambushed by Garrow and his crossbow wielding followers, or depending on your terminology, terrified victims. It was hard to know which was which. All the salt workers they'd arrested so far had surrendered without a fight, almost desperately relieved to be captured.
Amazingly, impossibly, and against all odds, the three Night Guards had somehow all survived Garrow's ambush.
All three of them.
"Princess Luna was watching over them tonight." Nighthawk had said.
The three Night Guards had already being rushed to hospital. Whether they would all survive was still unknown, but, Nighthawk confidently stated; "They're Night Guards. If they're not dead yet, they'll pull through."
Then had come the time for Prey and Crimson to give their accounts.
---
Crimson went first. He recounted how Gloom and he had split up in an attempt to find and rescue Prey, and how he'd actually managed to do just that, which had earned him nods of approval all around.
Crimson further explained that he'd managed to non-lethally defeat all three of the attackers Garrow had thrown at him, something that made Prey gape with disbelief. 'Three on one? How did he manage to pull that off?'
"They lacked training or conviction. And I do not think they really wished to kill me." Crimson said by way of explanation, and left it at that. To him, his presence still standing there said all there was to say on the matter.
After disabling his attackers, via debilitating blows and dislocating limbs, Crimson had tried to locate Prey. The fire had drawn him outside, where upon the body of Garrow had tumbled from the sky and splattered not ten paces from where he stood by complete chance. He then recounted the tale that Prey had concocted about braining Garrow on the back of the head with a hammer, and the griffin falling out the window before the storeroom exploded.
Everyone present had turned heavy looks on Prey as Crimson recounted Garrow's end, their thoughts both resigned and sympathetic for the lamb's situation. Prey made a show of keeping his eyes on the ground.
"You did what you had to. That griffin was a murderer." Nighthawk finally said to Prey by way of comfort.
The rest of the officers present just nodded uncomfotably, not knowing what else they should could say. '-young innocence lost-', They thought.
None envied Gloom his position as Prey's Sargent, meaning it fell to him to see the lamb through his coming difficulties.
'-later-', Gloom decided, too weary for anything else right now, '-I'll talk to him about it later. Much later-'
'Pathetic. You're all pathetic.' Prey thought as he listened to them quietly mourn for his "loss of innocence". 'It's a bit too late for that.'
However much like Gloom, Prey was too tired to deal with them right now. So he didn't try and hide it, and they decided not to press it while the ISND were obviously all so exhausted. Prey probably would've been far more angry about their looks of pity if he wasn't so drained.
Only Crimson didn't now look at him as if he were somehow... He wasn't sure of what. Perhaps fragile or broken? It was almost enough to make him laugh.
And last but not least, Prey'd had to find the energy and civility to retell his side of events.
Prey was very aware of Gloom with his odd perchent for sometimes spotting lies with his special talent. With that in mind, Prey cleared his paper dry throat and began to speak.
---
Prey gave them the absolute minimum he felt he could get away with, yet even so, he'd had no choice but to recount his cowardice in running away.
He heard in their thoughts how none of the listeners approved of that, but none of them judged him for it either.
'-still just a lamb-', '-very brave to do as much as he has done already-', '-no trained warrior-', '-so it's not really his fault-', '-and he doesn't need any more guilt right now-'.
Prey had let out a silent breath of relief, hardly able to believe his good fortune. However he held no misconceptions. It would've been very a different verdict if the improbable hadn't occurred, and Gloom and Crimson hadn't survived. Prey wasn't sure where all this good luck was coming from, but it was bound to run out eventually.
Prey made no mention of having anything to do with the still raging fire, only repeating his vague speculations from earlier that it might've been a knocked over burner. It was mostly true. He really really didn't know how the fire had gotten to this size.
Later, they would find out from the arrested salt workers that when the fire was first discovered, someone had panicked and tried to smother it with a tarpaulin. However all that'd done was set the tarp on fire too, and things had quickly gotten out of hoof from there.
Then had come the point in Prey's retelling where he'd had to give an account of what happened in the store room where he'd (briefly), captured Sea Shores, and what had followed.
Most of the listeners were surprised at Prey's successful capture of one of the salt workers and following attempts to interrogate her. Gloom, Screech, and Nighthawk were not among the surprised number. Maybe Crimson too. Prey couldn't tell.
But then he'd told them of Sea Shores escape when another salt worker turned up to rescue her. He'd had no choice but to further relate what had happened next, how he'd pulled the lever and the unintended consequences of collapsing the room.
Nighthawk had immediately broken off Prey's explanation to send Night Guards to go dig through the rubble of the collapsed storeroom to rescue the two trapped salt workers.
They all assumed that Prey had simply forgotten about the accident in shock of what'd happened next with Garrow, and didn't hold it against him. It would've been better if he'd told them about the two trapped workers immediately, but it was understandable. That didn't make it right, but anypony, especially a traumatised foal, would've been distracted in Prey's situation.
---
Sea Shores was nearly dead, crushed under weight of all those shelves and tools and in critical condition. Apparently it hadn't been pretty. She was not concious, looked like she had brain damage from air deprivation, and was likely to still die. Her unicorn companion had survived, but had broken ribs, two broken legs, and had almost suffocated.
However, he was still directly responsible for Sea Shores likely fatal condition, even if it had been a complete accident caused by faulty lumber yard equipment, as well as in self defence.
And now everyone was silently looking at him again with those pained expressions and sorrowful yet judging eyes.
'-that griffin got what was coming to him-', '-but while this mare was an accident-', '-her blood will still be on a foal's hooves when she dies-', '-why? Why is this fair? All the misery Garrow caused and he's still hurting ponies even now-'.
That last, particularly weary and upset sentiment had come from Gloom, his canines grinding audibly as he thought about all the terrible deaths which had occurred. '-rats eating corpses in a cellar-'
Crimson had gone with the Night Guards who'd searched the collapsed storeroom, saying; "I am still fit to help." Now he was back, and he kept casting unreadable looks over at Prey to match with all the other uncomfortable looks being directed at him. Prey was getting to the point where he felt like screaming until they all shut up their noisy thoughts and left him alone. He was hurting, drained, and exhausted. Just leave him alone!
Mercifully, Nighthawk quickly moved them on, with a lingering look to Gloom that he thought Prey missed. It said; "We will need to talk later."
More hours had passed, and finally the blaze had started to die down as the moon began to sink and morning approached.
The distraught Oak Quarter Lumber Yard owners who'd turned up, still in their night cloths, had been dissuaded from entering and comforted, and also discreetly detained. It was not yet known if they'd been working with Garrow, after all.
There were newspaper reporters shouting questions outside, having somehow recieved the tip off in the middle of the night and gotten their flanks down to the burning lumber yard to try and catch the story while it was still 'hot'. Actually, it wasn't that surprising. The whole of Canterlot could see the fire's glow in the night.
Nighthawk selected a scant hooffull of the least worn down Night Guards he could find, and left them behind as a skeleton squad to work with the Royal Guards in keeping everything under control. Or in all likelihood, just the Royal Guards. The gold plated ponies were more numerous, and definitely better liked than their thestral counterparts.
In exhaustion, the rest of the Night Guard had marched, flown, limped, or shuffled back to Canterlot Palace.
---
Gloom shoved the bathroom door open and staggered to the nearest sink. Throwing the cold tap on full blast, he stuck his head under it and began gulping down water. Prey and Crimson were not any slower in copying him.
Prey dangled from the sinks rim, the thought of water granting him strength from somewhere to pull himself up, pain be damned. Cold water rushed down his parched throat, and he drank and drank until he had to stop and gasp for air. Then he went right back to drinking.
Prey desperately wished for a shower too. They all stank of smoke, dried sweat, and spent fear. A hot shower might also do something about all the injuries and pains he'd accumulated. However, the siren call for rest came first. It he wasn't careful, he would fall asleep right here and now and drown in the sink. Prey certainly felt like it might be possible.
Gloom staggered out of the bathroom and into the bunk room. Their bunk room. At some point, it had began to feel like theirs.
Exhausted, and far too tired to care about anything, Gloom discarded as much of his armour as he could and collapsed into a bed, not necessarily his. In his muddled state, Gloom likely wouldn't have cared if it was Captain Shining Armour's.
He was burnt out. They all where. They'd barely slept in three days and almost died numerous times. They'd witnessed murders, searched high and low, and it had all culminated in the Oak Quarter Lumber Yard tonight. Or rather, last night.
But it was finally over. Garrow had been stopped. The murderer was no more.
Despite everything, Gloom gave a grim sort of smile into his pillow as he slipped into blissful unconsciousness, '-it's over...The murderer was brought to justice. Just as I promised... I can now rest easy-'
A brief pang of worry for Prey and Crimson passed across Gloom's mind. Shouldn't he see them to bed first, no matter how childish that sounded?
'-....it'll be fine. Aren't going to get lost getting to the bunk room...so tired...tomorrow...deal tomorrow...-'
Prey stood in the bunk room doorway, and watched Gloom drifted off.
His own bunk was calling him, smell and dirt notwithstanding. It physically pained him to do so, but Prey turned himself away from its siren call. Not yet. His night, day, morning, whatever, wasn't done yet.
Prey limped back towards the bathroom. Every single one of his legs hurt in new and interesting ways, but he was most heavily favouring his right foreleg, the one which Garrow had stuck two talons in.
Someone had provided the ISND with a first aid kit back at the lumberyard, so Prey'd been able to bandage the wound up. He'd refused any attempts and offers of help from the concerned medics. No way anyone was touching him. He could do it himself.
So now he had a multitude of small bandages and plasters across his body. Just because you won didn't mean you got away unscathed. Victory was rarely clean, and it always came at a cost. Sufficed to say, Prey was still in lots of pain, but nothing serious which he hadn't already survived before.
That didn't make it hurt any less.
Prey had taken inventory of his injuries and assembled a list. It was more extensive than Prey could've wished.
Two talon stabs from Garrow in his right fore legs. Bruised left shoulder, left side, and jaw from various falls. There were also deep purple imprints on his shins, perfectly shaped from the bolas weight impacts. His ears might've stopped ringing, but his face was still raw and singed from the explosion. It was lucky he'd been blasted out the window before the flames had reached him. Even luckier Crimson had caught him.
He also had some fairly raw and wide, if shallow, scrapes across his back from squirming through the wall, which overlayed the whip scars. Prey really hoped those didn't cramp. His cheek, head, and even ears were equally bruised, crushed, and scrapped from the same narrow escape, and Prey hadn't even bothered to count the number of splinters he'd removed.
And none of that was counting how every muscle was aching from overexertion.
And his mind hurt. Both from the after effects of absorbing Garrow and from the unanswered questions which he couldn't understand.
All in all, not copying Gloom and collapsing into bed felt like one of the hardest things he'd done in the last forty eight hours, which was saying a lot.
'Soon,' Prey promised himself, 'Not yet, but soon.'
As he'd said, he still had something left to do.
---
Crimson was still in the bathroom, slumped over the porcelain sink. Prey hadn't been the only one who'd bandaged himself up in various places. The cuts on Crimson's wings Prey had noticed earlier had also been stemmed.
The pegasus's shoulders and wings were slumped, and he looked completely despondent, legs braced just to keep him upright at the sink. He wasn't looking in the mirror, but blindly watching the tap run, the endless stream of water gurgling down the drain.
It looked like some misery was weighing the young warrior down, however when his name sounded behind him, Crimson jolted out of thought and raised his head.
Crimson twisted around, and slowly blinked smoke reddened eyes at Prey in tired surprise.
"Prey. Why are you here? I mean, I thought you had already fallen asleep. I am about to go do just that."
The lamb was observing Crimson with an unreadable expression on his bruised face, sooty wool and fur a mess.
"Prey. Is there something wrong?" Crimson prompted tiredly after a long minute of silence.
Prey didn't respond straight away. Instead, he first lowered himself into a sitting position with a stifled groan, his big blue eyes never leaving Crimson's face.
Those sky blue eyes that could look so innocent, but also so masked. And now looking straight at him, never wavering to the mirror behind him or the surrounding room.
"I have decided," The lamb began in an odd voice, "That there is something I need to do."
---
Prey'd had a long time to think about things while he sat on the gravel back in the lumber yard, watching the fire blaze.
Crimson, for unknown reasons, had saved his life. Twice. Something no one had even tried to do before. In the Resistance, it had been every griffin, donkey, cow, deer and sheep for himself. They only worked together because it was mutually beneficial to do so, since they knew they couldn't beat the Border Guard alone. But they were still only looking out for themselves when it came down to it.
Bandaging up a wounded comrade was only done so that they might heal and keep on fighting your shared enemy. But going back to rescue a comrade who'd gotten cornered? Never. Only the strong survived. And if someone ever betrayed you? Stick a knife in their back as soon as it was turned.
Trying to help someone else would only get you killed. It was common sense. Simple math.
Your life was always worth more than anyone else's.
But Crimson had saved him. That didn't make sense, no matter how hard Prey thought about it. Ponies preached peace and harmony all the time, but Prey had fought the Border Guard. You only got the offer of peace as long as you didn't provide them any excuse to do otherwise. But Prey had betrayed Crimson first this time, not the other way around, so why...?
Crimson's actions had made Prey suddenly unsure about things, and he didn't know why.
Prey wasn't stupid. He didn't think this feeling was anything as sappy as comradeship, gratitude, sympathy, or long buried morals resurfacing. No, it was something further that he didn't have a name for.
So he'd taken a good long hard look at the ISND and his place within it.
And Prey had realised that no one liked him. This was hardly a surprise. Prey wasn't trying to be liked, and nor did he like Gloom or Crimson. Why should that be a problem?
Suddenly though, it seemed like it might be. Because Crimson had saved his life.
Crimson said saving someone's life was the right thing to do, and there was no deeper motive involved. But Prey now felt he was indebted to Crimson.
Crimson had saved his life when no one else would have.
Whatever feeling this was, it was alien to Prey, because normally the concept of someone thinking he owed them would've made Prey furious. Or made him burst out laughing.
'Owe someone? Balance? Fairness? The world doesn't work like that.'
There were only two people in the whole world Prey had ever owed. Or rather, that Gossamer had owed, and owed was far too insignificant of a word for his debt to them. But they were both dead and he could never repay it.
Yet now... Yet now he owed Crimson. He'd left Crimson to die, and Crimson had saved his life, and even told Prey that he would always save Prey's life if it happened again.
'He's insane.' Prey thought, 'Crimson knows better than most how unfair this world is. He's not some naive child, nor some good samaritan. He's a warrior, war is his trade, but still he said that.'
Even if someone else were to come along and save Prey's life again right this moment, Prey wouldn't feel indebted to them. That was their choice to save him, and he wouldn't owe them. But Crimson was somehow different.
The red pegasus exile had depths that Prey hadn't considered before. It was like looking down a rabbit hole and finding a sink hole the size of a house.
Prey realised in retrospect he actually know very little about Crimson.
So that's why Prey had come into the bathroom to speak with Crimson.
---
"Is this about the griffin? Or that, I mean the mare Sea Shores?" Crimson asked him.
Prey blinked and shook his head, recalling his wandering mind to the present.
"No, it has nothing to do with that," Prey cleared his throat and sat up straighter, "You saved my life. Twice. Even after I ran away. Twice."
Prey quickly held up his bandaged foreleg to forestall Crimson 's protests, "Even if I don't understand why you did it, you still did. And I owe you."
Crimson grimaced, "You've got it wrong Prey. Life isn't something to be weighed on a scale, or bought and exchanged."
"I'm not talking about that Crimson. You were right. There is no debt or something that I need to repay. It's not about that at all. But I still owe you."
"I do not want-"
"It doesn't matter what you want. I owe you. Please just, just, listen." Prey swallowed, and then spoke in a high, clear voice to make sure he was properly understood. What he had to say was simple and short.
"From now on, there are only two things that I, Prey, will not do for you Crimson Trace."
Crimson seemed at a loss for what to say. At least he wasn't dismissing Prey outright as if he were a child making promises. Then again, after all they'd seen and done in this last week, Crimson would've been a fool to think of Prey as only a child.
However despite that, Crimson still shook his head, "Now it's me who doesn't understand. We are both squad mates in the service of Princess Luna. None of this is needed, so why are you doing it, Prey?"
"I don't rightly know," Prey admitted, "But I meant every word. There are only two things I will not do for you if you ask them of me."
Crimson pondered for a minute, "I don't want this to...No, what I mean is, we are both in the same squad. We both follow Sargent Gloom's orders. This won't change anything within our squad, will it? Because I don't want it to."
"Okay." Prey agreed.
Crimson seemed relieved. Then he frowned, "Are you only agreeing because you just said you would?"
Prey blinked, "Mostly definitely yes. Not entirely though, because I didn't want things to change anyhow. About an eighty to twenty split. However I would do it anyways because you asked."
Crimson had obviously not been expecting a breakdown for an answer. It made his wings shuffle uncomfortably, "Does this mean, any question I ask you, you will answer honestly no matter what?"
"As long as it is not one of those two things I mentioned, then yes." Prey said, looking Crimson dead in the eye and not breaking the eye contact off like he'd always done before.
Crimson looked back, perhaps searching for someone thing. An explanation maybe. "If I asked what those two things are, will you tell me?"
"Yes."
Gloom waited. Prey waited. They looked at each other. "What are they?" Crimson finally realised he had to ask.
Ashamed, Prey grimaced, making his bruised jaw hurt, "I wouldn't put my life in danger for yours."
That visibly surprised Crimson. "Not even after I saved yours?" He asked, seeming curious instead of offended.
Prey looked away, "No. Not even then. I'm sorry." He added.
"Oh, right. That is... Good? I wouldn't want anyone to sacrifice their life for mine. I shouldn't have asked that actually. Can we forget I asked that?" Crimson asked, wings shuffling about again.
"Okay, sure." Prey said. Crimson didn't seem to mind his agreement this time. His wings had yet to stop fidgeting however.
"And...what is the second item you will not do for me?" Crimson eventually asked, morbidly curious.
"Sorry, but... just don't touch me, okay?" Prey said, mouth twisting wryly.
Crimson blinked slowly, and then of all things, barked a laugh, "Ha! You really are still Prey. Fear not, I won't."
Prey shrugged, still wearing the wry smile, "That would make both of our lives much safer." He agreed, but he meant every word in dead seriousness. But he couldn't help but feel that Crimson wasn't taking his promise as seriously though.
'It doesn't matter. I meant what I said, and I don't forget. Even if Crimson does, I won't.'
Unfortunately, Crimson just had to go and immediately prove Prey wrong in his assumption of taking his promise seriously.
Well, not wrong per say, because the question Crimson asked wasn't asked with the intention of forcing Prey to answer just because he'd promised, but regardless, he asked and Prey had to answer.
Crimson hesitated, but his wing shuffling finally came to an end and he looked squarely at Prey.
"Prey, did you...? The griffin Garrow... Sargent Gloom, he wants to speak with you about, about what...I mean, how do you feel about his death, Prey?"
"Ahhh...That." Prey let out his breath.
How did he answer this? He didn't want this to turn it into the scene from the cellar all over again. Gloom and Crimson hadn't understood. They'd gotten so worked up, and he hadn't understood. It was only thanks due to whatever misunderstanding had happened later that night which'd caused Gloom's anger to dissipate.
Prey knew that while no longer angry at him, Gloom was still chewing on that. Which meant Crimson likely was too, but Prey didn't have the luxury of confirming that, since Crimson's mental walls still held strong. So how to avoid a repeat performance of that mistake?
"You already know I've seen death before..." Prey began slowly, "And now Garrow is dead too. There is nothing I can do about that."
"But you weren't responsible for those deaths before. It is a... terrible, terrible thing to take a life. And you are, I mean, you were not ready. So are you...okay?" Crimson tried asking, uncertain.
Prey was also uncertain. "Yessss...?" He drew his answer out, buying time to try and think. It was a lot harder than it should have been.
What should he say? Crimson shouldn't be worried on his behalf. He owed Crimson, so he didn't want him to be worried. Prey'd killed many people before, so what was two more? But that's not what Crimson wanted to hear, plus telling Crimson that would go against Prey's first condition.
He wouldn't risk his life for Crimson. And anyone knowing about the Resistance would definitely endanger Prey's life.
"But are you really okay?" Crimson pressed, peering closely to try and see something in Prey's eyes, "Do you actually understand what you've done?"
"I killed Garrow in self defence, and I haven't killed Sea Shores yet-"
"No, stop that Prey. You can't deny it or try to make excuses. Accept it. You killed the griffin. You have almost certainly killed her too. Accept it, and don't hide from it. If you can't accept it, it will destroy you Prey. Their blood is on your hooves. Accept it. You have to learn to live with that." Crimson's voice was empty, flat. He went on;
"I know it's not fair. Nothing's fair. You shouldn't have had to do that. You're just a, a, a...A little lamb." Crimson struggled for words.
'You're a bit late with this advice. Sixty two years too late.' Prey thought bitterly. He shrugged.
"Well, as you say, I'm just going to have to accept it, won't I? I'll live. After all, what's the alternative? Die?" The memory of the very first time he killed, the runic traps with Snake on the jungle trail came to him.
"I'll survive. I always have." Prey rubbed at his ear, then quickly put his hoof back down when he realised what he was doing.
"Of course you say it like that. I should've thought of it already. The bodies in the cellar didn't make you break, so why should this have?" Crimson muttered to himself, then sharply shook his head, "No!"
He breathed deeply, "I'm not, I mean, I am probably not the best pony to try and explain this lesson to you, Prey. But that doesn't mean... Listen, Prey, can you promise me this at least?"
"There are only two things I will not do for you." Prey reminded him reproachfully.
"Not out of any sort of debt! I don't want that." Crimson snapped, "Sorry, I didn't mean to shout. But please promise me you'll let Sargent Gloom help you learn to cope. When you need the help. You will be fine, in time. Even if you don't feel any different now, in the future...."
"You almost make it sound as if you didn't want that griffin dead. Didn't you swear on your fathers blades you would see him dead before the night was out?" Prey asked.
"I did swear," Crimson nodded gravely, "But between having him dead and on your conscience, or alive and imprisoned, I would choose the second."
"Why? To spare my innocence? I'm not naive or sheltered. I know what death is." Prey responded.
"I didn't say that." Crimson said, making that curt flick with his wing that signalled either strong dismissal or objection.
"You saw your father die. Like me I mean. So that's not what I'm saying. But, argh, I do not have the words." Crimson rubbed his deeply bagged eyes in frustration.
Prey waited to see if Crimson had anything more to say. When it became obvious the pegasus had ground to a frustrated halt, Prey simply nodded and said, "Sure, I can promise you that."
Crimson let out a sigh of relief, "Good. Thank you."
Prey merely nodded again. It was an easily promise to make, because he didn't need any help. It cost him nothing to promise, and it kept Crimson happy, which was Prey's goal.
'How strange, to have such a selfless goal in a world where you can only look out for yourself. Who would've thought?'
"Good, I suppose. I mean yes, definitely good. Thank you Prey. I, errr..."
Crimson was abruptly returned to his usual of lack of social grace. He reshuffled his wings into a more conformable position and glanced around.
"I need to sleep now, Prey. I'm very tired. I will get out of your way and let you use the bathroom now," Crimson paused, "...Will you be alright? I mean, do you want me to stay? In here, I mean-"
"Thank you, but I'll be fine." Prey cut him off. It was an effort to hide his irritation at the demeaning attitude, but he did it because he owed Crimson, "Don't worry, I'm not going to break or collapse in the next few seconds. I'll be along to the bunk room in a minute. I just need the toilet."
That probably wasn't the right answer, but hell if Prey knew what was.
"Alright. I will not wait up for you then if you require a few minutes alone to-" Crimson cleared his throat, "Never mind. Luna watch over you this night."
The pegasus trotted to the door, soot still staining his mane and tail. Prey stood aside to let him past with plenty of room, "It's morning. But same to you."
He almost added a smile, but caught himself. Crimson would not take him smiling about anything well right now.
'It would probably just bruise my face even more if I did anyway.' Prey thought, watching Crimson leave through bleary eyes. He was alone in the pristine bathroom, and he felt ready to fall asleep on the hard tiles without complaint. 'Can't. Not done yet.'
Crimson had left the tap on Prey realised, the gurgle of water had faded into the background while they talked.
'Better turn that off.'
Very, very reluctantly, Prey trudged over. He looked up at the sink, or as far up as he was willing to risk without either hurting his neck or catching sight of the mirror. He would need to hop to reach the tap. Prey felt all his pains pressing down afresh. His legs did not feel like they could make even that tiny little jump.
"Can you come in here and turn off this tap?" Prey called out quietly, not turning.
A moment later, a silvery aura surrounded the running tap handle in front of him and shut it off.
Prey minutely turned so he could see Lemon Pink in his periphery. She'd arrived half way though his conversation with Crimson. He'd heard her thoughts through the wall outside the bathroom, hiding behind a veil.
Lemon Pink's long willowy mane was unkempt, "Master, I am sorry." She said without prelude.
Prey frowned, "I told you at our first meeting, you are to call me Prey, not master. Why have you forgotten?"
Lemon blinked, "A slip. Regardless, I need to apologise."
"Why?"
"I was of no use to you last night. I did not learn of the circumstances involving the Night Guard until an hour after the fire had already started. And I was not able to discover what happened to you until only just now listening in. That is my failure." Lemon said.
"There is no need to apologise for that. There was no way to initiate prior contact, and there was nothing that you could've done in time. Everything which happened tonight couldn't have been predicted. None of the fault lies with you." Prey snapped.
It was true, but more concerning to Prey was how this hadn't already occurred to Lemon Pink. She was Prey's creation, and operated off logic and reasoning, same as him. So why hadn't she already realised all this?
Lemon blinked again, "Ah. Another slip on my part. This is concerning." She said, agreeing with Prey's unspoken assessment.
Prey took a closer look at Lemon Pink. He wasn't worried about her betraying him, but was there something the matter? 'Ah. Now I see the problem.'
"You're exhausted, aren't you?" Prey asked bluntly. He'd been so tired himself he almost hadn't noticed, but it was true. The blood shot lilac eyes and un-groomed pink fur spoke of multiple nights with little to no sleep. The last few days had provided Prey with many prime examples to draw the comparison against. All he had to do was look Gloom in the face to see the same thing.
"There has been little time to sleep. There's been too much work to do on The List. Nor was I able to take my allotted rest period tonight because of the emergency with you being missing either." Lemon Pink admitted.
"That would explain it." Prey agreed simply. Natural or not, Lemon needed to drink, eat, and sleep, same as everyone. It didn't matter how formidable her mental self-discipline was. She was still less than Prey, and just like him, she too had her limits.
Prey didn't need to order Lemon to take time to properly rest. Now that the problem had been brought to her attention, she would address it herself.
Prey forced his drooping eyelids more fully open and stuck out a hoof. His hurts were paining him and he wanted to wrap this up. Lemon Pink reached out her own hoof without needing to be prompted. With only a minor shudder of suppressed revulsion at the contact, Prey connected the gap and brought them into their mindscapes.
The bubble of grey, burnt out forest bordered against Lemon Pink's ashen courtyard. Prey didn't waste time.
'Here.' Prey said, and sent across a copy of his memories of the night.
The memory packet reached across to Lemon Pink and established the link.
And then it slipped.
~
The rusted iron bars shook and eyeless darkness gaped wide to swallow Prey.
~
It was over and the link properly reconnected before Prey could react, but that didn't stop the raw terror which washed through him. Prey was completely wide awake now. He mentally trembled.
'That... that...'
That had almost gone horribly wrong. Prey had almost dumped all of his memories through a link too small for them. The resulting back lash might've mind killed them both. Forming a connection for a mindlink was akin to tying both your heartbeats together with a string. If one pulled away before the string was untied, both hearts were yanked out.
Prey had been too blase. He'd gotten careless in his tiredness.
'Brash, foolhardy! I shouldn't have done this in my current state. Lazy, suicidal! I could've just showed Lemon the memories, I didn't have to give her a whole copy instead. Stupid idiot! I could've waited.' Prey mercilessly berated himself.
Transferring memories like this needed a focused connection. While either mind could be the one maintaining the focus, it was far safer if both minds were doing so. That way if one mind slipped, like Prey had just done, the other would still be holding the connection strong.
What if Lemon Pink hadn't been focusing at that moment when he wasn't either? What if she'd been distracted by her own tiredness, what then?
He was very lucky Lemon Pink had been completely focused, or else they might both be limp vegetables on the bathroom tiles right now.
While there was always a risk when transferring memories across, because minds aren't formed from building blocks you can just pull out and replace on a whim, but it was especially risky when transferring memories containing strong emotion. The more negative the emotion, the worse the risk. And Prey had been despairing, hurt, and terrified for his life at many points during the night. Negative emotion wise, it didn't get much worse than that.
Prey felt Lemon Pink observing what'd just happened. Being Prey's creation, she didn't complain about how Prey might've killed them both. She just patiently waited for Prey to resume the transfer when he was ready.
'Lemon's not the only one who can make mistakes.' Prey reminded himself. If he'd had a body in his mindscape, he would been shaking right about now.
Now much more awake, Prey forcibly calmed himself and carefully created another packet of memories. But this time, he split it into smaller, safer chunks and sent them across one at a time, all the while fully focusing his mind.
'Here. Put them back together. They're taken from Garrow. Review the locations and information it shows and go check them out.' Prey ordered.
Lemon gave the packets a quick once over, getting the general feel of what they contained. Prey had kept more than the code to the padlock when he'd absorbed Garrow's mind. And much use that did him when the room blew up.
'Yes, Prey. I will see to it first thing.' Lemon Pink mentally said.
Prey thought on that for a second. What he'd given Lemon was time sensitive, yes, and was an opportunity that might fade if they didn't seize it, yes. However tiredness had already almost caused one potentially fatal slip up tonight.
'Pressing or not, it can wait. You will go and get some proper rest first.' Prey decided.
'Yes, Prey.' Lemon Pink acknowledged.
'Good. Now I am going to go collapse into bed.'
Prey broke the mental connection and returned them to the bathroom. The bathroom lights felt painfully bright on Prey's eyes. Prey took a step towards the door but his legs did not respond.
"Huh?"
Prey looked up blearily from the tiles. To his surprise, he'd fallen over. It felt like everything was swimming.
His body had finally decided that it'd had enough. It wanted to rest, and it wanted to rest now. Prey's protests about there being a soft bed just down the hall were not enough to persuade it to move. However, these cold, hard tiles were proving to be awfully comfortable all of a sudden.
"I require assistance. Help me to the bunk room." Prey slurred.
"Yes, Prey." Lemon Pink replied, leaning down and pulling him up and putting a leg around him. She did not use her magic, because Prey would have found it even more distasteful to be carried by magic than to be touched. Even if he knew beyond a doubt that Lemon would not do anything to him, he still did not like unicorns.
Prey was light enough that even the slender Lemon Pink had no trouble more or less carrying him to the bunk room. He almost fell asleep twice on the way. Lemon paused outside the door and her horn lit up silver. The air around them shimmered, then returned to normal, but Prey knew they were now under a veil.
She needn't have bothered. Gloom and Crimson had already crashed. Lemon helped Prey across the floor and over to his bunk, going so far as to lift him up into it. He didn't thank her, why thank someone for what they were created to do?
Not like Crimson, who'd saved his life for no reason.
There were many things still left to sort out, but that could wait until morning. Or night. Or possibly the next morning after that, whenever Prey regained consciousness. For now, all he wanted was sleep.
Prey didn't remember if his head even touched the pillow.
---
There is always a price to pay. Right now, and for everything evermore.
Prey relived their screams, the terrible happiness he'd felt as he clawed the unicorn's eyes out. 'Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful.' His feathers shivered with glee as Prey ripped into the screaming pony.
Then there was no glee, only a terrible crushing sorrow. It was all his fault. It was no longer the de-horned unicorn, it was his sick father he was torturing. His father, the only griffin he'd ever cared about. It wasn't fair, the Blood Feather Plague, the village, none of it.
'No, I won't allow it. I am a Stormcrow! I refuse to allow this.' He would heal his father and make him breathe again.
The sorrow changed again into terrible, unfeeling cold. Prey flipped the scalpel around on his hoof, and make a straight incision along his father's chest. He'd already had his assistant pluck out the feathers to leave the area exposed.
'A heart. Relatively intact. Male. Twenty five to thirty years of age. Untouched by the plague.' Snake thought, reaching in one stripped foreleg to widen the cut.
'Fresh ingredients.'
Everything became tinny. A ringing resounded everywhere. It was cold, and hot, and nothing at the same time. Pieces of him were missing. 'You did this me.' Both Garrow's and Snake's echoes turned on Prey.
'You did this to me.' They repeated it over and over, empty and dead, robbed of bodies but their echoes still alive. Mockeries of real life.
Prey had done this to them. Prey had done it to himself, because Snake and Garrow were part of him. The lone Border Guard did not stir. He'd been fully eradicated over time.
The personalities, or rather memory echoes of Garrow and Snake were too strong for that. Sixty-one years, and Snake still remained. Why? Because he'd become a part of Prey, too tightly woven to be eradicated. Prey had used Snake's knowledge of plants, medicines, poisons for himself. Snake had been useful.
There was no getting rid of Snake now. Would Garrow end up being the same?
Maybe. Maybe not. Prey couldn't think right now. He was deep in the depths of his ocean, drifting in the twilight zone. He was held hostage to his own mind, too tired to wake or even acknowledge that he was asleep.
'Leave me alone.' Prey thought in the haze. Eventually the remnants did, fading back into the corners of his mind they occupied.
And then came the nightmares. Not the false ones of pain and blood. Not the ones with Border Guards burning them out, not the endless rotting in Dreverton, not the misery of kill or be killed.
No, then came the real nightmares, and he was too tired to stop them.
------
Prey's eyes jerked open. His heart hammered erratically in his chest, feeling like it was going to burst with bitter misery. Why were his eyes swimming with tears?
"Arckk-!"
'Oh, that's why,' Prey thought with surprised detachment as his spine arched and his back went into spasms, 'Whip scar cramp.'
It hurt. All his attention fixed on that pain, and he was at once both furious and horribly grateful that the pain stole all his attention away from the nightmare.
Prey's abused body decided this was the perfect moment to join in on reminding him in a polite, knife-to-the-throat sort of way, that it too was still upset about everything Prey had put it through yesterday.
The cramps promptly chose that exact moment to get worse in a selfish bid to reclaim all of his attention. Prey squeezed his watering eyes shut and drove his hooves as hard as he could into the quivering muscles along his spine. His back had probably been cramping for the last ten minutes at least, but he just hadn't awoken until now. He could literally feel the muscles jumping about beneath the ridged whip scars.
'Zoma'Grika, Golomb'die and zetka'fu!' Prey cursed foully in zebrican, biting his tongue.
'Oh yes, lovely day, thank you for asking. What's that Prey? Just survived a murderous griffin, a mind drain, and getting blown up? So tired that you fell unconscious? Well here's a reminder why that's a bad idea. Enjoy.'
Prey was trying to make light of it, even if only to himself, but it still hurt so bad he'd woken up crying. Or that's what Prey told himself. It hadn't been because of the nightmares. The excuse was even true. Mostly.
It was such a stupid, pointless, frustrating pain, and what made it so infuriating was that it was Ruin's legacy still tormenting him from beyond the grave. That sadistic donkey was still getting the last laugh.
Finally, what was probably less than a minute later but which felt like at least thirty, the cramp worked itself out of his system and Prey slumped back onto the mattress with a groan.
'I have my runes again. I could deaden the muscles and never have to wake to cramps again.' Prey thought, but it was just wistful thinking.
Placing runes on ones self was not something to be undertaken lightly. Ever. Runes on living flesh could go horribly wrong. Also, while he could deaden his own nerves, that would have the consequence of removing his ability to feel any pain across his whole back, not just the scars.
Sounded wonderful, but pain was the bodies way of telling you when something was wrong. It was an important function, and there is always a price and unforeseen side effects for meddling. Prey could just as easily end up doing himself more harm than good, and besides which, there was a limit to the number and what runes he could place on himself anyway. Working with living flesh was never simple, and the body could only support so much. Prey had already made the decision he would just have to put up with the occasional cramp attack long ago.
Even if every time it happened made him consider changing his mind.
'Perhaps one day. But not without extensive testing and research.' Prey thought, as he lay there face down, feeling the rest of his body still complaining.
Once he felt a little less miserable, and with some effort, Prey rolled himself over and observed the bunk room.
It was day time, although what hour exactly he didn't know. There was light coming in beneath the blinds of the lone window, but Prey wasn't in a position to see the position of the sun. Nor did he feel particularly inclined to get up and check. He didn't feel like moving at all, actually.
Crimson and Gloom were still peacefully asleep, unmoving beneath their covers.
Prey took mental evaluation of all his hurts, seeing how they were doing. He quickly reached his conclusion.
'I feel like a chewed dog bone.' Which was an active improvement from when he left the lumber yard.
His worst hurt were the two claw holes from Garrow in his foreleg, but he'd had a look at the wound himself and deemed it not likely to become serious. As long as it did not fester. The wound was not swollen or expelling excess heat, nor was he feverish, so it all looked good so far.
Still felt like he'd had two holes drilled in his fore leg. Actually, that was an apt description.
Prey would take it over the cramps any day though.
Prey sniffed, and wrinkled his nose. He stunk. The whole room stunk actually. His wool and fur was still filthy with ash. The bed sheets were now properly grimed too. Gloom and Crimson's were likely the same.
Prey realised he was famished, and very thirsty too, but he didn't feel like that was sufficient motivation to wake Gloom and try and get the Sargent to take them to dinner.
Actually, now that Prey observed his internal body clock and measured how refreshed he felt, he realised it was morning. The following morning. The ISND had been asleep for an entire day.
'Huh.'
Well, it wasn't really unexpected. They'd been going for the whole week with less than five hours a night, spending the rest of it hard at work, and what with the finale at the Lumber Yard, who could blame them?
'And if anyone does, it's not my problem either. Gloom's the one in charge, so by default it's his.'
Nighthawk must've decided the ISND deserved the rest, since he'd left them alone. He must have supplied the report to Princess Luna himself and not required their input.
Prey jerked upright, 'Luna! I had a nightmare, did she invade my dreams?'
No, thinking back, he realised the dark alicorn hadn't turned up. Either she was busy elsewhere last night, or his nightmares hadn't occurred until this morning when she herself was asleep. Probably. If alicorns slept. Or perhaps she hadn't realised he was having a nightmare? Or she'd been busy elsewhere?
The reasoning wasn't important, just the fact that she hadn't noticed. Letting out a sigh of relief, Prey slumped back onto his warm pillow.
'Lucky. So lucky.' He chided himself.
Prey pushed his ear out of the way and half rolled over on his pillow. He realised he still had the ribbon tired behind his ear. He'd been too tired to take it off before Lemon Pink had dropped him in here. He didn't feel like getting up. The cramp attack had left him drained and ready for rest again despite just waking up.
The thought of going back to sleep was tempting. Even now, his soot stained bed was enticing him. Buuuuut....
'This is an opportunity for time to myself that I may not get again, and who knows when Gloom and Crimson will wake. I can't afford to waste precious time. I have things to do.'
Namely, further studying the gold tracers on his legs. He glared down at the bands which kept him trapped here. Despite all his study so far, he was no closer to figuring out a way to disable or trick the spellwork than the first time he'd tried.
So, with another long, reluctant sigh, Prey sat himself up and straightened out his blanket. Focusing, he began creating another runic array to help him try a different approach to study the gold bands. He was not out of ideas just yet, nor would he ever give up searching for a way to reclaim his freedom.
---
It was almost an hour and a half before Gloom and Crimson finally began showing signs of life.
Gloom mumbled and twitched in his sleep, making small flaps with his wings. Arguably one of the few downsides of wings, Prey noted, was that you had to sleep on your front or side lest you crush them. Wing cramp didn't sound like fun. Prey would've taken the trade in a heart beat however if it meant being able to fly.
Gloom's noisy dream struggles slowly roused Crimson from his own slumber, and it wasn't too much longer before the red pegasus sat himself up, blinking blearily around the bunk room. He at least had managed to divest himself of all of his armour, unlike Gloom who still had his leg guards and back plate on.
Oh wait no, Crimson still had those steel rings he'd tied his mane back with in. Slowly, and very gingerly, Crimson raised a hoof to the back of his neck.
"Owww." He grunted. He tried twisting his head to the side, "Oh ow, ow. Ow. Ouch."
"A pleasant night's sleep?" Prey asked with fake cheerfulness.
"Oh. You're also awake." Crimson noted.
"Unfortunately that does appear to be the case, yes."
Crimson wrinkled his nose, much like Prey had done when first awaking as he took in his own state and smell. Then Crimson checked the state of his wings which he was normally so careful with, and had to close his eyes for a moment.
"Wait, pardon? What do you mean, night's sleep? It is still yet evening." Crimson said, looking to the window.
"No, it's been a full day and night. It's morning again." Prey corrected him.
Crimson's wings puffed, showing his surprised, "A full day? Why did nopony wake us?"
"Probably because Nighthawk-"
"Captain Nighthawk."
"-Captain Nighthawk thought we could use the rest. After all that the ISND has done recently-"
"Wha'? Captain Nighthawk yes sir?" Gloom called, fighting out from underneath his covers as he tried to come awake. He blinked around the room, "Where's the Captain?"
"Not here, you're hearing things. By the way, it's been a full day and a night. I would say good morning but I highly doubt it will be." Prey said brightly.
Gloom just kept blinking, his mind slowly catching up.
'-a full day? Well that's why I'm so hungry. Hang on, we slept a full day? Wait, the lumber yard, the griffin, the fire-'
A shadow seemed to settle over Gloom, and he groaned. "Moon blight. The Lumber Yard."
"Yes, as I said. Morning."
------
A dour mood prevailed over the ISND as they waited outside Nighthawk's office to be admitted. This was actually the second time they'd come to see the Night Guard Captain this morning.
The first time, Nighthawk hadn't been here, and Lieutenant Screech had answered the rather lost Sargent Gloom's query on what they were supposed to be doing, and why no one had woken them?
Screech had told the ISND plainly they stank, and ordered them in no uncertain terms to go take a shower and eat breakfast before returning. Nighthawk would be back later to speak with them before he retired for the day.
---
Following Screech's orders, they'd limped to the showers, and enjoyed finally ridding themselves of the ingrained stench of smoke. It had been wonderfully painful to stand under the hot water and let it soak into their bruises. Crimson had spent almost the entire time cleaning his wings and getting every single feather back into alignment.
However, the relief from the shower was not to last. Because Gloom had, with heavy thoughts, sat Prey down right there in the showers while they were all soaking wet and confronted Prey about Garrow.
Why did they always have these conversations in the shower? This was the third one. What was it that encouraged Gloom to raise such topics here? Was it because he was out of armour and so disassociated with his Sargent role?
He probably did it to ensure Prey couldn't run off or something before he was finished talking.
Really though, where was Prey going to run? But apparently Gloom thought the severity of Prey's reaction might warrant it. Whatever Gloom'd expected, it was not what he got. Prey didn't understand what Gloom wanted from him. Did he want Prey to be paralysed with guilt? Stricken and scarcely able to function? Or was it worrying Gloom more that he wasn't having a visible reaction? Actually, Prey knew for a fact that was one of the very things causing the thestral to worry.
Prey ground his teeth. Gloom's expectations of how he should be reacting got on his nerves, 'What does he know? Nothing.'
"Prey, are you listening?" Gloom asked, knocking his hoof on the tiles to try and catch Prey's attention.
'-don't push too far. But I need to make sure he's okay-', His thoughts read.
"Yes, I am listening." Prey had answered. He was being a lot politer than he felt Gloom's enquiry warranted. Crimson had asked Prey to do this. He hadn't forgotten he owed Crimson. The red pegasus was sitting to the side, not quite included but definitely present for the conversation.
"The griffin's death....And Sea Shores... How are you coming to terms with it?" Gloom asked.
Prey shrugged, "He's dead. I am still alive. It was in self defense."
Gloom stared at him, "Just like that? Already? You've managed to reconcile and make your peace?" He asked, disbelief clear.
Prey considered how he should respond. He could fake guilt, beat his chest and weep. It was in some ways what Gloom wanted to see right now, but when considered from a later point in the future, such a reaction would not fit him.
Prey had no intention of pretending to be hung up over this every coming day for the next two months or so. Besides, he'd already, (perhaps foolishly), shown a side of him he shouldn't have down in the cellar. A detachment from death and an unnatural objectivity. It was too late to take that back.
"Yes. I have reconciled his death. I am able to function fine." He answered.
"Garrow was a murderer, and had to be stopped, yes. He was going to kill you if you hadn't fought back. But what if it had been Sea Shores? Or the other pony crushed in that collapse? Sea Shores is in critical condition and might yet die. Everypony has parents, friends, family, possibly a child for all we know. What happens if you meet one of them face to face. Can you still be alright then?" Gloom asked, peering into Prey's face.
'And Garrow didn't have any of those things?' Prey silently thought. He knew all of what Gloom was saying already.
"Those two survived. Garrow is dead. I am still alive. I have seen death before. The world is not fair, good people die, evil people live, and everything in between. I already said all this back when we found the bodies in the cellar. They're dead and nothing can bring them back." He shifted on the slick tiles, "Can I go now?"
Gloom had been unwilling to let things lie there, but at the same time he didn't know what he was supposed to say. Crimson and Gloom seemed to be more upset about the deaths than Prey was. What seemed to hurt them the most was that he was, to their understanding, still just a child.
Well, in a lot of ways he was and forever would be, but that was besides the point.
Gloom wasn't satisfied, but he let the subject drop there. But he had every intention of raising it again in the near future.
'-again and again, as many times as it takes-'
Gloom would never say it in front of Prey, but he was glad Garrow was dead. Prey heard how guilty Gloom felt for thinking like that.
'-even if he deserved death, he should've been brought before Luna to be judged-'
But, strangely, leaving the showers and heading for the mess hall, a weight seemed to have been lifted from Gloom's shoulders. Crimson's shoulders too, Prey noticed, since he was paying much closer to attention to the pegasus than he used to.
He was still no closer to understanding why Crimson had saved his life. He owed the pegasus, but more than that, he wanted to understand the pegasus. Crimson was now of a much greater importance to him, no longer just a potential obstacle.
Anyway, whatever it was, I seemed to have provided a feeling of closure to both Gloom and Crimson.
The murderer had been stopped. After three long days with thoughts constantly haunting them of the cellar, it was finally over. It did not make things alright, or even close. All those ponies were still dead, and who knows how many had suffered from the salt drug trade and would yet suffer, but it helped.
'-things aren't good. But from here they can only start to get better-'
---
That cautious sliver of optimism, like a single leaf just managing to float on the surface of the quicksand, didn't float for long. Because once they'd arrived in the mess hall, (late enough that no one else was left, just the cooks preparing for lunch), they found the left over newspapers.
---
Gloom had the newspaper spread so taut across the table with his wing claws, Prey was surprised it hadn't torn in half.
The Oak Quarter Lumber Yard fire was across every front page, but honestly, that was only to be expected. It had pushed the constant debate about Wheat Plow and the disrupted elections back to the second page.
What was less appreciated was the story attached.
The Canterlot Times had joined with The Canterlot Express in lambasting the Night Guard. In fact, it all but outright accused the Night Guard, through the use of clever wording and insinuation, of gross dereliction of duty and failing to uphold the peace.
"The fire left the innocent citizens of Canterlot shaken to the core. Yet this tragedy which has cursed the loss of so many jobs could so easily have been prevented if operational measures had been taken by Guards who were on the scene before the blaze even began." Gloom read out loud, nostrils flaring.
"A nameless Royal Guard interviewed on scene confided it had not been them who'd gotten to the devastation first, but the Night Guard. What this upstanding Royal Guard also mentioned was that the Night Guards deployed before the fire was actually sighted. Did they enact preemptive measures and fail? Or was there a different motive entirely? The Night Guard Captain, Nighthawk, who has only been in his post for little more than two months, has not come forwards to explain. Many speculate on the appropriateness of the Night Guard when compared to its far more successful rival, the Royal Guard."
"'Yellow Pages further wrote; 'I think everypony is owed a proper explanation for this mess. These latest events have been very telling about how Nighthawk runs this Night Guard. Citizens shouldn't have to worry about what their own Guard force is up to behind their backs at night. I demand on behalf of all Canterlot's concerned citizens more transparency from the Night Guard, or else they will have to face the consequences'."
"This Yellow Pages again." Gloom spat, slapping the newspaper shut without bothering to finish the article. '-why bother? It'll just be more of the same-'
"This is slander, and this stallion is just one of many. Why are they allowed to write these near lies?" Crimson asked, making a condemning wing flick that indicated his strong distaste.
"The word is actually 'libel'. And it's because the ponies in Canterlot do not like Princess Luna or thestrals. So they don't want to stop people like Yellow Pages from writing this. And because, for some reason, they have something here called 'freedom of the press', which basically equates to being allowed to write whatever they want." Prey said, answering Crimson.
'Freedom of the press? How foolish.' Prey thought, 'They're only free so long as they do not start writing anything against Celestia. If they suddenly came out denouncing Her, I bet they'd disappear overnight.'
Which would probably end up get blamed on the Night Guard, too.
"But they know nothing. They do not have any of the facts. These reporters are hiding behind their press freedom and telling lies." Crimson said.
Prey shrugged and nodded.
Gloom let out a frustrated sigh and forced himself to put the newspapers out of his mind. "Never mind. The ISND do not deal with the press. There is nothing we can do about these lies. Captain Nighthawk will be doing something about it though, I'm sure." Gloom said, purposefully tossing the newspaper away.
"Mentioning the good Captain, he'd probably be ready and waiting for us by now." Prey noted.
Gloom looked at him sharply for his seemingly joking comment. Not because it was disrespectful, but because he didn't think it appropriate for Prey to be in a joking mood. Where was the grief and guilt? That's what normally came after taking a life, especially for the first time.
'-normal, now there's a bad joke. Not even surprising he is so disconnected from reality anymore-', Gloom decided with a disgusted half shake of his head, both at himself and Prey's behaviour.
'-but perhaps this is both better and worse than grief. But if he truly doesn't feel any regret...then we have a problem-'
"You're right Prey," Gloom said, giving his wings a shake and standing up, "Thanks for the reminder. We'd best get going then."
---
And now they were back waiting outside of Nighthawk's office. Lieutenant Starry Wing stuck his head out, "Captain Nighthawk asks you to please come in." He called.
The ISND entered. The Captain's office looked like it had always done. Overcrowded with things which really should've found another home by now. Armour, boxes, and the omnipresent piles of paperwork. Starry Wing closed the door behind them, joining them as Nighthawk put aside his work.
"Sargent Gloom." Nighthawk nodded curtly. For him, that was positively friendly.
"Sir." Gloom saluted.
"Have you and your squad fully recovered?" Nighthawk asked.
"Yes sir. Sorry sir, I did not mean to leave others to cover our post. It's my-"
"Your squad was exhausted Sargent, and don't pretend that you were fit for duty. You would've done more harm than good. As a squad just coming out of action, you should've had longer to recuperate anyway." Nighthawk cut him off.
Gloom had to concede the point there, "Thank you sir. But we are ready to get back to work."
Nighthawk cast a critical eye over the ISND, "Are you?"
Gloom was very aware of the state of his and Crimson's armour. They'd tried to give it a bit of a clean in the wash room, not having time to do anything further, but it was still a mess. "Yes sir. It's just dirt. We did not have time-"
"-To do anything." Nighthawk summed up. "You haven't stopped since Wheat Plow's trial, and now what with the salt trade and that griffin, there's been even less time to go around."
The ISND were all watching Nighthawk, wondering where he was going with this. Prey could hear the Captain's thoughts, but even they were not giving a clear indication of what Nighthawk intended for them. Likely Nighthawk hadn't fully decided yet himself.
"Her Majesty Princess Luna conveys her commendations." Nighthawk abruptly said, "Your efforts have once again proved instrumental in stopping another crime organisation. She is most pleased with what the ISND has achieved."
"Thank you sir."
"Don't thank me. It is your due. Your probationary posting to First Sargent has been removed. You are now a full First Sargent. Lieutenant, if you would." Nighthawk said, jerking his head at Starry Wing.
The thestral came forwards with the little crescent moon pin, slotting it into place under the three bars already there on Gloom's shoulder plate.
"My personal congratulations to you First Sargent," Starry Wing said, with a grin, "To both you and your squad." He nodded to Prey and Crimson. As Prey had noticed earlier, the thestrals didn't try to hide their fangs when they smiled and talked with each other.
"Sign the promotion papers with Taffy later." Nighthawk added gruffly.
"I will sir." Gloom assured him, only wincing slightly of visiting the liaison's officer.
'-how much else will I have to sign while I'm there?-', He wondered, '-well, worrying about paperwork sure beats worrying about a murderer. Just about.-'
"Moving on, I'm sure you wanted to see me because you want to know what's been happening. Correct?" Nighthawk asked.
"Yes sir." Gloom nodded.
The Captain grunted and pulled out a thick wedge of papers clipped together, and flicked it across. Gloom caught it without trouble and started reading from it.
"That there's the full list of everything going on from the Lumber Yard and salt trade," Nighthawk told them, "However, Lieutenant Starry Wing, a summary if you would."
It seemed likely this was not the first time the Lieutenant had to have done this, because he launched in without having to pause to think. His first sentence confirmed Prey's observation, "The rest of our officers, along with Captain Shinning Armour and both Their Majesties, have already been appraised of all this and are being kept regularly updated."
"So," Starry Wing declared, "I'll start with what I expect you want to hear first. All three of them will live."
Starry Wing was, of course, talking about the three Night Guards who had been shot down in Garrow's little ambush.
Hearing that, Gloom let out a long sigh of relief, and because Prey was paying close attention, he saw Crimson let out a silent one too. Prey knew Crimson was the only person from his clan in Canterlot and thus didn't know any of the three thestrals personally, so why did he seem to care as much as Gloom did?
'Is this to do with the same reason why he saved my life?' Prey wondered.
Starry Wing's smile widened, showing genuine happiness to match theirs, "Yes, it'll take time, but all three are likely to make a full recovery. It's only Cloud Shade that they are slightly worried about flying again, but I'm told his chances are very good."
"What about Corporal Humming? If I may ask sir."
The smile dimmed, "Corporal Humming took a bad shot in the wing..." Starry Wing started.
'Yes yes, we already know, get on with it so I can leave.' Prey thought impatiently.
"I am assured the doctors are doing the best they can. It is still too early to tell, but, well, her chances are only fifty-fifty of ever flying again. And even then, only short flights."
There was a moment of contemplation as all four of the winged ponies in the room thought about the horror of losing one of their wings and power of flight. Well, three of them definitely did, but Prey imagined Crimson was doing the same.
"She is a good Corporal, wing or no wing." Nighthawk spoke up. Prey assumed that to mean there would be a post within the Night Guard for Humming even if she lost the use of her wing.
'Sentimental,' Prey disdained, 'I thought Nighthawk was smarter than that.'
To do as Nighthawk meant to was impractical. Why downgrade to what was essentially a weaker Earth pony? Humming's expertise hardly seemed invaluable or irreplaceable.
A harsh, unsympathetic and uncaring view yes, but a coldly practical one.
Then again, the Captain probably couldn't afford to be picky. Prey supposed there were so few bodies to go around, that the Night Guard needed every person it could get.
"Let's move on." Starry Wing said, clearing his throat. "Over the course of your investigation of the disturbance report, you found the salt den. Along with the four murder victims hidden in a secret cellar."
Now it was Nighthawk's turn to clear his throat pointedly. Starry Wing quickly cut himself off, "Alright. I don't think there's any need to rehash what we already all know. Sargent Gloom, I take it you and your squad have not spoken to anypony since waking up about what occurred at the Lumber Yard?"
"No sir."
Starry Wing nodded, "Good. We want to keep it that way if possible. I realise it's a bit late, but we're trying to keep the report of ISND's role in what happened to have been nothing more than happenstance. Bad luck if you will. If questioned by any non-Night Guard officers, please tell them exactly that."
"Of course sir." Gloom nodded.
"The 'why' is very simple." Nighthawk said. Gloom hadn't questioned why, but Nighthawk thought, '-the three of them might as well learn this now-'.
The Captain reached behind the desk and pulled out a bundle of newspapers. Prey looked closer and saw they were the same editions as the ones they'd read downstairs in the mess hall. Gloom and Crimson obviously recognised them too.
"I take it then that you've already read these." Nighthawk observed watching from Gloom's face.
"Yes. Unfortunately we have sir."
Nighthawk distastefully selected one of the papers and read the headline out loud, "'Inferno blazes through Canterlot. Night Guard helpless'. The rest of them are more of the same. We are not going to let them use you as scapegoats."
"Sir, what if we were to issue a statement? Would that not clear this all up?" Gloom asked.
"The press do not like us Sargent. Some influential ponies are backing them who want this..." Nighthawk indicated the newspaper pile, "...To keep getting printed. Ignoring them and refusing to acknowledge the absurdity of their lies is the best method. Responding will only get the Night Guard mired down with retorts and accusations. Our image reflects that of Princess Luna's, and we must maintain it to the highest degree we are able."
Prey was a bit surprised by the Captain's insight, but definitely agreed with him. Not about protecting Luna's image, that could sink as low as the sewers for all Prey cared. No, he was agreeing that responding in kind would only encourage the newspapers. You don't fight lies with the truth. That was just naive, wishful thinking.
"At least they haven't accused the Night Guard of outright starting the fire and for once are content to make an accurate report that it was the salt dealers." Starry Wing said sourly.
"The insurance companies will have to cover the fire. The crown and Night Guard had no part in this accident." Nighthawk grunted.
Prey made a special effort to keep being quiet and innocent. So acting no different from normal whatsoever.
"How much damage did the fire cause, if I may ask sir?" Gloom asked.
Nighthawk's wings rose in a shrug, "They have still not assessed all the damages caused. A conservative estimate puts it at a hundred and fifty thousand minimum." He said without much care as he stated the vast sum of bits.
'-they should be more grateful there is only likely to be two deaths, not worry about gold-', Nighthawk was thinking. His eyes were drawn to Prey, who was still doing his best to look innocent.
'-and both of them at Prey's unfortunate hoof-'
'Oh not you too,' Prey thought. 'If Nighthawk also tries to start talking to me about 'remorse' and 'guilt' I'm going to-'
"Long story short, don't tell anypony what the ISND did." Nighthawk stated, abruptly turning from the subject of Prey now being a 'child killer'. That was more along the lines of what Prey had expected from the gruff Night Guard Captain.
"There will be rumours, but there always are. If somepony asks you, direct them to us." Starry Wing joined in.
"Yes sir. So, what do we do now?" Gloom asked after a moment.
"Do?"
"Us. I mean the ISND sir. We don't have any orders at the moment, and we sort of missed yesterday. There must still be a lot of clean up, what with interrogating all the captured salt workers and investigating what they've told us. Should we make a start on that sir?" Gloom asked, standing up straighter. He was ready to get back to work after the whole day spent sleeping.
'-and it'll save me from having to think too much about what happened -'
"You will not be involved with any of that." Nighthawk informed them, "Your recent performance will not allow it."
"Sir-?"
"It would be a waste of your time and talents. All of your talents. The ISND has had three serious cases in the last three weeks, and solved them all."
Prey noted he'd neglected Rocky Bed's capture and release in his count, but Nighthawk was still speaking.
"The ISND has proved itself capable beyond what Her Majesty expected. Therefore she has decided that you shall move your focus onto new cases, and leave the clean up to other Night Guard squads while you better utilise your time elsewhere. I agree with Her Majesty."
Gloom didn't protest that what the ISND had accomplished had been mostly been luck, not skill. Even if that's how Gloom secretly felt, that wasn't how thestrals saw things. One instance might be good fortune, but after multiple successes while in the face of opposition? No, the ISND was obviously succeeding on its own merits. Actions speak louder than words, and it was Gloom's duty; '-to step up to the increased responsibility-'
Responsibility in the Night Guard, and by extension the clans, while not something to be relished, was a great honour.
Gloom nodded just once and saluted, "Yes sir." There was nothing else that needed to be said.
Prey didn't like this. It had been his plan to prove he was irreplaceable yes, but as an unintended consequence, Nighthawk now though they could handle even harder and more dangerous cases. This was the start of a long, slippery slope, Prey could feel it. But Prey was still a prisoner. He had no rights. There was nothing he could do.
His eyes flickered across to Crimson for a moment without even meaning to, 'Crimson's in the same boat as me.'
For all the Night Guard's posturing about being so upset they'd forced a lamb to become a killer, they weren't going to change anything. 'About what I expected. Ponies only care so long as it doesn't get in the way of what they want.'
'Crimson's a pony too' Prey's mind added quietly.
Prey wasn't sure if he should classify Crimson as something else. Something more important perhaps? 'Important pony? More than a pony?'
He wasn't sure.
"So, what would Her Majesty have the ISND do?" Gloom asked formally.
Starry Wing twitched slightly, but Nighthawk wasn't phased as he gave the answer, "Princess Luna has not left the ISND any instructions. She has been very busy."
Interestingly, Nighthawks thoughts showed him to be lying, but only in half. However, his thoughts didn't give Prey any clue as to why. What was Luna doing? Something alicorn based, Prey bet.
"Okay, I understand sir. In that case, what would you like us, the ISND, to do next?" Gloom asked.
"To do next?" Nighthawk rasped slowly. His yellow gaze dragged uncomfortably over each of them in turn, and Prey got the nasty impression that the Captain was taking morbid amusement in something he saw.
"Exactly the same thing you've been doing since the very start First Sargent. Working..." The tips of Nighthawk's fangs showed, "But with some amendments."
Ah, and there it was. Prey had just known there had be something else coming.
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