A few days after Survival's flight, Caboose was waking up to another Canterlot morning. He wasn't exactly well-rested, as for the last few nights, he'd had to contend with Michael's nightmares. The previous night had been particularly unsettling, as Michael had woken up crying and screaming multiple times.
Caboose and Daring had tried everything they could think of to try and help their boy; warm milk, bedtime stories, and even Caboose's suggestion to put a spoonful of sugar on Michael's tongue before putting him down for bed so he would have "sweet dreams" didn't work.
"You weren't kidding." The weary Caboose told Daring after breakfast. Hurricane had left for her Junior Guard training, while Michael had been dropped off at kindergarten, in hopes that playing with his friends might help ease his mind. “I mean, three weeks? That’s an academy record! If I weren’t so tired and this wasn’t a bad thing, I'd be proud!”
“Well, I’m more concerned about the effects this is going to have on him long-term.” Daring grimaced, letting out a small yawn, just as tired as Caboose, “Little foals need their sleep, and the way things are going, Michael is never going to want to sleep again.”
“Well, we just gotta keep at it.” Caboose declared, “Surely, Mikey can’t keep having nightmares forever, right?”
“I hope so.” Daring agreed, “Because if it doesn't, we may need to consider getting a child therapist.”
“Or invest in a dreamcatcher.” Caboose suggested, “Don’t know how some hoop with web catches dreams, but Big Guns insists up and down that it works.”
"At this point, I'd be willing to try anything." Daring shook her head.
"Me too." Caboose sighed. "Anything to help our precious little guy..."
Just then, there was a knock at the front door.
"I swear, if this is another encyclopedia salespony..." Daring growled, “They've been bugging me too.”
"I think I'll get this one." Caboose said awkwardly, fearing that his wife's already-exhausted state could lead to a dangerous loss of temper.
"Thanks, hon." Daring smiled. "If it is one of those salesponies, hit 'im once for me."
"Will do." Caboose nodded.
Caboose made his way to the the front door, opening it to find Fletcher.
"Good morning, Caboose." Fletcher smiled.
"Oh, hey, Fletch." Caboose smiled, "What's with the early visit?"
"I'm afraid this isn't a social visit." Fletcher admitted.
“Oh, is something up?" Caboose frowned.
"In a manner of speaking." Fletcher answered. The Royal Guard just received a communication from the local police. They're requesting that you and I go down there to talk with a pony in need."
"Guess we'd better get down there, then." Caboose sighed. "Honey, I gotta go to work!" He told Daring.
"Okay." Daring called back. "Be safe!"
"I'll try!" Caboose smiled. He turned back to Fletcher. "Okay, let's go."
Meanwhile, at the Taskforce headquarters, Fury was in the gym, practicing his spear techniques (and tearing up several training dummies into the bargain). As he finished his routine, Black entered the room.
"Up and around already, I see." Black noted. "Are you a fast healer, or just impatient?"
"Little of both." Fury smirked, his bandaged talon gripping the spear more tightly. "You wanna join in? I could use a sparring partner."
"Thanks, but I'm good." Black declined. "Already got in my workout earlier."
"Suit yourself." Fury shrugged, as he resumed his workout regime.
"You pretty much spend all your time here, don't you?" Black mused.
"So?" Fury retorted, swinging the spear.
"You don't have anywhere else to go? I mean, there’s nothing stopping you from going somewhere." Black asked.
“Nah. Barbossa’s busy in the Crystal Empire helping Professor Alchemy with Project: Synchro.” Fury declared, “Besides, this is the only place that supplies enough training dummies.”
“Really? I figured with all this free time, you'd be off seeing that nephew of yours over in Dodge Junction.” Black mused.
Fury paused, glancing at Black wearily.
“And what makes you think I’m been doing that?” Fury glared.
“Come on, Fury.” Black deadpanned, “I know the scent of Big Red’s homemade cherry wine anywhere. Been smelling it on your breath for the past few weeks. Either you’ve been happening by Red’s homestead often, or you’ve taken up drinking in general. Which is it?”
“Okay, you got me.” Fury grunted, jabbing his spear in the ground, “I’ve been seeing Eclipse. Not like I’m not allowed, am I?”
“‘Course not.” Black shook his head, “Figured that’s what you’ve been doing since we got off that island… don’t know why you’ve been keeping it a secret from everyone.”
“I wasn’t. I’ve been running it by Elite after the first time.” Fury said stubbornly, “As for you guys, you simply didn’t ask.”
“Fair enough.” Black admitted, “We’re not judging you or anything.”
"You'd better not." Fury scowled. "What I do outside these walls is my business."
"Of course it is." Black agreed.
"Glad we're on the same page here." Fury scowled.
There was a moment of awkward silence.
“...So, how is Eclipse?” Black asked, breaking the silence.
“...Well, he’s fine, I guess.” Fury shrugged, “The kid's been nice enough to give me a shot, especially after how I left things with him after that mess with Crystal and Lunard…”
"That's a good sign, right?" Black offered.
"Technically, yes." Fury nodded. "But things are still a little shaky between us. And his brothers aren't exactly my biggest fans. I think they're a little afraid of me."
"Yeah, well, Globe and Huckleberry have had bad experiences with violent Griffons, if you'll recall..." Black noted.
"Yeah, I do." Fury mused. "Big Red has been welcoming enough, but Cherry has been more than a little cold around me."
"She's just protective of her family." Black shrugged.
"Yeah, sure..." Fury hung his head.
“Well, just give it time, Fury.” Black advised, “At the very least, you and Eclipse are able to speak with one another…” His face slightly fell, “I would give anything to have something like that…”
“...Right, Shade…” Fury murmured, glancing at Black sympathetically, “Have you heard anything about him? Last I check, he started his job as an RDL general.”
“Elite tells me he’s been doing very well.” Black admitted, “He’s heading up a squad in Tehrein. He’s still trying to get the hang of things, but Elite has faith in him.”
“Heh, like father, like son, huh?” Fury mused.
“Guess so.” Black nodded softly, “But I can’t help but worry about him. He got my fighting skills, but there’s no telling what could happen out there.”
"I'm sure the kid can handle himself." Fury assured him. "He took on that Solomon fella, didn't he?"
"Yeah, he sure did." Black said proudly. "I just hope he'll keep up the good work."
"Of course he will." Fury smiled. "The kid's from good stock. He'll do great."
"Thanks, Fury." Black smiled.
"From one family guy to another, you're welcome." Fury nodded.
At the same time, Sterling and Ballista were outside, sparring with swords (Sterling using his personal ‘DAMP’ sword, a gift given to him by Loveless prior to joining the RDL). Sterling put up a good assault, but Ballista's greater experience allowed him to give as good as he got.
"Nice technique." Ballista noted, as he parried one of Sterling's strikes. "You've been practicing."
"Always." Sterling smirked.
"But I'm not so bad myself." Ballista grinned.
Ballista swung his blade in a wide, sweeping motion. As Sterling moved to avoid the swing, Ballista suddenly changed its direction, knocking his sword out of his hoof.
"See?" Ballista bragged.
"Okay, ya got me." Sterling capitulated. "Nice move, B. But you won't be so lucky in round two."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Ballista frowned. "No offense, but I've noticed that your technique is a little off today..."
"Yeah, that's the reason why you won." Sterling scoffed, as he walked over to his fallen sword and picked it up. "No need to try and rub it in."
"I'm serious." Ballista insisted. "I can tell something's up with you. What's wrong?"
"Nothing much." Sterling insisted.
“Really? Because I heard from Black and the others that you’ve having some bad dreams lately…” Ballista revealed.
“Ugh, of course they did." Sterling scowled.
“Look, I know you don’t want to make a big deal of it.” Ballista noted, “They’re just concerned about you. It’s what teammates do.”
“...Yeah, I guess.” Sterling’s scowl weakened, seeing his point, “But it’s really nothing.”
“That’s what they all say.” Ballista declared, “Trust me, I know a bit about bad dreams myself. Back in Her Majesty’s Service, I’ve gotten myself into some bloody awful battles. Many of which I barely got out with my life. But the things I’ve seen, the friends and comrades I’ve lost...” He shuddered, “Well, let’s say the nightmares I had were pretty bad.”
"Well, how did you handle them?" Sterling asked.
“Easy. I don’t pay them any mind.” Ballista explained, “I was a soldier. I had no time to worry about my dreams when there was ponies to save and bad creatures to bring down.”
“And how does that help you with the guilt over the ponies you lost?” Sterling asked, “Didn’t you mourn them?”
“Of course I did… but there’s a time to mourn, and a time for action.” Ballista said sagely, “I haven't forgotten any of the soldiers that died under my command. But dwelling on how they died doesn't help anypony or anything. Keeping up the fight is how I honor their memories, keep them alive."
"I'm not sure I want to keep Crystal's memory alive." Sterling said sourly.
"But you still feel responsible for his death, don't you?" Ballista noted.
"Of course I do." Sterling sighed. "It's because of me that that oversized Griffon killed him. He was there to deal with me, and ended up caught in something he didn't understand. Something that killed him... He may have been the worst brother ever, but he didn't deserve to go out like that. And thanks to me, he didn't have a choice."
"...Look, I don't have any easy answers for you, Sterling." Ballista admitted. "The only thing you can do is try to let all this guilt go. What's done is done. No amount of regret is going to bring Crystal back, even if you wanted him back."
"I'd like to, but it isn't that easy." Sterling shook his head.
"Give it time." Ballista assured him. "All nightmares fade eventually. You just have to focused on what you have, as opposed to what you've lost."
"I'll try." Sterling sighed. "But I wouldn't cross my hooves if I were you..."
"That's all I ask." Ballista smiled. "Now, how about round two?" He raised his sword.
"You're on." Sterling nodded, raising his own weapon.
Elsewhere, Caboose and Fletcher were making their way to the station, having donned their Royal Guard Armor.
"No offense, Caboose, but you look a little tired." Fletcher noted.
"Yeah? Well, you look... Uh..." He rubbed his eyes. "Eh, I'm too tired to think of a comeback..."
“Dove told me that Michael has been keeping you and Daring up.” Fletcher frowned, “It’s that bad, huh?”
“No kiddin’.” Caboose grimaced, but he gave a small smirk, “But I’m not worried. Because I have a plan.”
“Really? I hope it’s nothing like that one time when the Royal Guard had to deal with a Diamond Dog intrusion.” Fletcher murmured.
“...It’s not.” Caboose deadpanned, “The only problem is, I’m going to need a night-shirt that is foal-sized.”
“...A night-shirt?” Fletcher began, confused, “What does a night-shirt-”
“It’s a long story. Besides, the next scene is coming up.” Caboose pointed.
As Caboose accurately predicted, the two had arrived at the police station. Putting his questions regarding Caboose’s plan aside, Fletcher marched up to the front desk, Caboose behind him.
"Fletcher Ulysses and Caboose Napoleon." Fletcher told the officer behind the desk. "We were summoned here for an urgent matter."
The officer checked his papers.
"That's right." He nodded. "Chief Colt is waiting for you in interrogation room #2. Go right ahead."
"Thank you, nameless yet helpful supporting character." Caboose smiled.
The officer only had a moment to look confused before the visitors moved on.
Entering the interrogation room, Fletcher and Caboose were greeted by Chief Colt, a burly orange Earth Pony stallion with a yellow buzz cut, dull gray eyes and a Cutie Mark of a police cap.
"Ah, you're here." Colt acknowledged. "Very prompt. I expected no less from the Royal Guard."
"What's the situation here?" Fletcher asked.
"The situation is right over there." Chief Colt pointed to the table, where a frazzled Survival Horror was sitting.
The young stallion had seen better days, his mane messier than usual, his shirt filthy and a few scratches on his legs. He had a cup of tea in his hooves, shaking.
“This here is Doctor Survival Horror.” Chief Colt introduced, “Dr. Horror, this is Captain Fletcher Ulysses and his lieutenant, Caboose Napoleon.”
“H-hello.” Survival said curtly, attempting to maintain composure.
"Hi." Caboose smiled.
“So, what’s the story here, Chief?” Fletcher asked.
“Well, he came into the station last night, on the brink of collapsing." Chief Colt recapped. "Looked like he'd been on the run for a couple of days, at least. Once we had got him warmed up and fed, he claims that he has ran afoul of some dangerous characters, and begged for us to call in the Royal Guard."
"I see." Fletcher mused. "So, Mr Horror, what exactly do you require the Royal Guards' services for?"
"Well, that's quite a tale…" Survival declared, nervously running his hoof through his messy mane.
"Ooh, story time!" Caboose grinned. "Too bad we don't have any popcorn..."
“It all happened so fast…” Survival murmured, “You see, I work as an attending physician at a local mental hospital, not far from Canterlot, and I was accompanying a transport to another hospital when our medical carriage was beset by these cloaked individuals."
Survival let out a sniff.
“...It was just me and a friend of mine, a security guard.” Survival continued, his voice quivering, “He went out to assess the damages… only to get gunned down. The pullers as well. They all were killed.”
“...Ooh. I guess the popcorn line was in bad taste…” Caboose cringed.
“Killed?” Fletcher’s eyes widened, “Why?”
“I’m still trying to understand that myself…” Survival continued, sipping his tea, “But either way, they were going to kill me as well, so I had to get out of there. They must have chased me a few good miles before they lost me in the rain. I kept running non-stop till I got to this station, scared for my life. In fact, I’m still scared.”
“Well, you’re safe now, Dr. Horror.” Fletcher assured, as he glanced at Caboose, “Caboose, a quick word?”
"Sure, pal." Caboose nodded.
The two walked over to the corner of the room.
"Cloaked individuals..." Fletcher frowned, speaking in hushed tones. "You know what that sounds like?"
"Yep." Caboose nodded. "They were either Forefather agents, or a bunch of mutants from a dystopian near future."
"I think we can eliminate the second option." Fletcher deadpanned. "But why would the Forefathers attack a medical carriage? Let alone killing all the passengers?”
"Maybe they needed bandages?" Caboose suggested, “Hospitals are crazy expensive these days… well, unless you’re in Canada.”
“We’ll put that in the 'maybe' column." Fletcher replied, “But I have a feeling that there’s something worse at play here.”
“Oh, we’re gonna have to tell the others about this, aren’t we?” Caboose asked, a resigned look on his face.
"That's right." Fletcher nodded, “I’m sorry, but this is something we can’t overlook.”
“I know…” Caboose sighed, “But I was all set for a nice long break… stupid sudden plot twists..."
"Chief Colt, we would like to take Dr. Horror into our custody." Fletcher announced, as he and Caboose returned. "From what we've heard, this may be a matter of national security."
“National security?” Survival repeated.
“Really?” Chief Colt asked, a bit surprised, “Well, if it’s that serious, I’ll just get the paperwork ready..."
"And I'd better call Elite." Fletcher extracted his mirror. "Let him know of the situation."
"Ooh, tell 'im something funny!" Caboose urged. "Always good to start with a joke..."
Fletcher activated the mirror.
Back at RDL HQ, in Elite’s office, the office’s owner was sitting at his desk, looking through papers when his orb communicator started to buzz. Immediately, he slip a hoof in his cloak and pulled out, tapping it.
“Hello, Director Everest speaking.” Elite declared.
“Fletcher here, sir.” Fletcher declared, the image of Elite’s cutie mark (a hawk clutching a snake) appearing on the mirror, “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”
“Of course not, Fletcher.” Elite smiled, “You and Caboose enjoying your time off?”
“We were… but I’m afraid it’s about to be cut short.” Fletcher grimaced.
"How do you mean?" Elite frowned.
“Caboose and I are at the police station right now.” Fletcher announced, “Last night, a doctor by the name of Survival Horror had come in, having escaped an troubling encounter with cloaked ponies. They attacked the medical carriage he was accompanying, and killed three of his fellow employees. We’ve reasons to believe that those cloaked ponies could be Forefather agents.”
“A medical carriage?” Elite repeated, understandably perturbed, “Any ideas as to motives?”
“Not as of yet. But I have no doubt it’s something nefarious.” Fletcher grimaced, “We’ve taken the doctor into our custody for protection. Our plan is to investigate the crime scene and then we’ll inform you of our findings.”
“Very good.” Elite nodded, “Should I send one of the others to assist you?”
“Not yet.” Fletcher shook his head, “But we’ll keep you up to date on the investigation, and once we ascertain the severity of the situation, we’ll call you.”
“Very well.” Elite nodded once more, “Be careful, both of you.”
“Affirmative. Until then, Fletcher, out.” Fletcher declared.
As Fletcher put away the mirror, Chief Colt returned, carrying the paperwork.
"Sign here, please." He urged, placing the parchment on the table.
"Of course." Fletcher nodded grabbing a nearby quill.
"You're in for a treat, pal." Caboose smirked at Survival. "Fletcher writes real fancy."
Fletcher signed the paperwork in short order. As he handed it back to Chief Colt, there was a commotion outside.
"Sir, you cannot go in there!" A voice said firmly.
"Let me through!" A second voice demanded.
The door to the interrogation room flew open, and a pale tan stallion with a balding grey mane and beard, tweed jacket and black poloneck sweater entered the room.
"What is this?" Chief Colt frowned. "Who do you think you are, barging in here?"
"We tried to stop him, Chief." A dishevelled officer panted. "But he just wouldn't be stopped."
“I apologize for forcing my way in like this.” The stallion apologized tersely, straightening his jacket, “But I’m looking for somepony, somepony I believe is-” He saw Survival seated at the table, and smiled. "Survival, thank Faust, I found you!”
“Nabudis!” Survival declared happily, a relieved look on his face, “You’re here!”
"And who might you be?" Fletcher asked.
“Oh, this is Doctor Somnus Nabudis.” Survival glanced at Fletcher, “He’s the medical director at our hospital, and I’m one of the attending physicians. You could say I’m one of his personal assistants.”
“Somnus Nabudis? Sounds like you borrowed two names from two fantasy games in the same series.” Caboose sniggered.
“I’m so glad I’ve found you, Survival.” Nabudis smiled, ignoring Caboose, “I was afraid something bad has happened to you.”
“I was worried I was never going to see you again.” Survival sniffed, “Oh, Faust, it’s awful, Somnus...”
“Look, I know you’re shaken, Survival, but I need you to focus.” Nabudis ordered, “What happened to the carriage? Where is the p-
“Excuse me, ‘Doctor Nabudis’...” Fletcher stepped in, “But how did you know Dr. Horror was here? He only just got here last night.”
“If you must know, Survival was supposed to check in with me every hour while he was accompanying the transport carriage.” Nabudis glared at him, annoyed, “When I didn’t get the call, I got worried. I got word earlier this morning about one of my doctors coming in to this police station…” His glare hardened, “Now, could you care to explain who you two are?”
“They’re the Royal Guards.” Chief Colt grunted, “Mr. Horror here requested their presence and assistance regarding the attack on the carriage-”
“Attack?!” Nabudis cut him off, eyes alight in horror, as he turned to Survival, “Survival, you were attacked?! What happened, where’s the patient?!”
“I don’t know, sir.” Survival cringed, not liking the panicked look in his eyes, “When those cloaked ponies crashed into us, they busted open the back and she-”
“You mean she’s out there alone?!” Nabudis snarled, “Why didn’t you look for her?!”
“I didn’t really have time to!” Survival shot back, “I was busy running for my life from the guys who attacked us! It took me days to get here!”
“So while you were running away, our patient is out there somewhere, with these ponies!” Nabudis gestured outside, very angry, “Dr. Horror, the patient was your number one priority!”
“I’m sorry!” Survival growled, “But they had crossbows! That’s why I called in the Royal Guards-”
“And why did you do that?!” Nabudis yelled, “Discretion was key here! You should have waited for me before you-”
“They killed Hamm!” Survival roared, standing up.
Nabudis stopped mid-sentence, his anger fading away. The others were stunned by the outburst.
“Hamm is dead?” Nabudis murmured.
“Y-yeah.” Survival nodded weakly, as he sat back down, sniffing a bit, “Him, and the pullers. Those ponies who crashed into us killed them all in cold blood.”
“Fievel…” Nabudis began, “I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t-”
“Okay, let’s all just calm down here.” Fletcher declared, as he glanced at Nabudis, “What is this about a patient?”
“Yeah. I thought you guys were transporting bandages.” Cabooses frowned.
"Well, it's... rather complicated..." Nabudis said hesitantly.
“Come on, doc, just tell them.” Survival pleaded, “We’re going to need all the help we can get.”
“...Very well.” Nabudis sighed, “You see, gentlecolts, Horror and I are doctors at the Brightdale Mental Hospital, just outside of Canterlot.”
“Mental hospital? You mean, a looney bin?” Caboose gaped.
“I'll thank you to not refer to it like that.” Nabudis glared at him, “But yes. On the night in question, I instructed Dr. Horror and Hamm, one of our security on staff, to accompany a patient transfer over to a hospital at the Isle of Wheat. The transfer was to be done overnight, and was to travel through back roads, no stops period.”
“That’s… very specific.” Fletcher mused, “Why all the secrecy? Who is this patient, exactly?”
“I’m afraid I cannot disclose that information.” Nabudis said tersely, “No pony is to know of them, not even Dr. Horror or Hamm. The fact that you all know that them is actually a ‘she’ is already pushing it.”
“Hey, don’t look at me. Those guys said it was a ‘her’.” Survival crossed his hooves.
“So, what you’re saying is that she is a VIP: very important patient." Caboose joked.
“...Yes, way to sum it all up.” Nabudis huffed.
“But that doesn’t quite answer why this patient is so special.” Fletcher frowned, “Care to elaborate?”
“Well, I rather not, but given the circumstances…” Nabudis sighed, “The patient in which Survival and Hamm were escorting happens to possess a particular set of powers…”
“Powers? Like a Nightcrawler?” Fletcher raised a brow.
“No, not like that.” Nabudis shook his head.
"Ohh, what kind?" Caboose grinned. "Can she see through walls? Shrink? Talk to fish? Actually, I hope it's not the last one, that's lame..."
“Again, I am not at liberty to divulge such information." Nabudis declared. "Only that those powers are dangerous, and she has little control over them. She was being moved to the Isle of Wheat’s hospital for her own safety. We set up those protocols so that we could get her there safely and without anyone knowing. But I fear that even that wasn’t enough. Whoever attacked the carriage was out to get her. And because of their interference, the patient is now out there on the loose...”
“...And Hamm and the others are dead.” Survival grunted, frustration in his voice, “In case you’ve forgotten…”
"Perish the thought." Nabudis retorted, his face stoic. "Hamm was a good stallion. As were the others. But there’s no point in mourning. Not when there’s more pressing matters to concern ourselves with.”
“Wow, you must be a wiz at prostate exams.” Caboose frowned, “Because you’re coming off as kind of an ass.”
“Caboose.” Fletcher chided.
“You don’t understand what’s at stake here.” Nabudis glared at Caboose, “This patient is not properly adjusted. If she were to find herself in a stressful situation, her powers could activate, and rage beyond her already limited control. And if that were to happen in a populated area, well, what happened to Hamm and others will ill in comparison..."
“...If what you say is true, then we must locate this patient of yours at once." Fletcher frowned. "We know some ponies who will able to provide excellent assistance on that matter."
“What ponies?” Nabudis asked in suspicion.
“Yeah, I’m curious myself.” Survival spoke up, “You mentioned that this attack could be a matter of national security.”
“National security? What are you on about?” Nabudis demanded.
“Well, Mr. Grumpy-pants, Fletch and I aren’t just Royal Guards. We’re also RDL con-sultans!” Caboose bragged.
“Consultants, Caboose. Consultants.” Fletcher corrected.
“RDL? As in the Royal Defense Legion?” Nabudis asked.
“That is correct.” Fletcher nodded.
“Well, I’ll save you the effort and tell you now that it’s not necessary.” Nabudis grunted, “It’s bad enough that the Royal Guards have gotten involved in this, but there’s no need to involve the RDL. The last thing I need is more ponies to know about the patient!”
“Well, I’m sorry, doctor, but it’s no longer your call.” Fletcher frowned, “Three ponies are already dead, and if the patient’s ‘powers’ are as bad as you say they are, that number could increase exponentially. Not to mention that those ponies who attacked Dr. Horror are still out there.”
“I realize that but-” Nabudis protested.
“I promise you, no more ponies will know of this patient. I’m sure Chief Colt here will keep silent on the matter?” Fletcher turned to the chief.
“Of course, Captain.” Chief Colt nodded, as he eyed Nabudis warily, “As long as the good doctor here doesn’t try to barge in again.”
“Thank you.” Fletcher smiled, before turning to Nabudis, “We will find your patient and make sure she’s safe and sound, but in order for us to do our job, we’re going to need both Horror and your cooperation. Can you give us that?”
“Nabudis, please.” Survival urged, “For Hamm and the others.”
“Ugh, alright. Alright.” Nabudis groaned, “By all means, call your RDL friends. And be snappy about it. Every moment she’s out there is a moment closer to disaster.”
"Way to lighten the mood, doctor grumpy." Caboose rolled his eyes.
“Caboose, please.” Fletcher admonished, as he pulled out his mirror, tapping it, as he held it up, “Hey, Elite. Fletcher again. Turns out that we are going to need you to send the others after all…”
"Really?" Elite answered. "I'm going to need some more information here..."
"And you shall have it." Fletcher nodded.
Somewhere, in Canterlot, on the outskirts of a park, there walked a young black filly. At first glance, she looked like a normal young Unicorn filly, no older than twelve, sporting a short-length purple mane and a small horn… but that was where the normalcy ended.
Her hospital gown was torn and dirty (and it seemed something was fidgeting under it), and her purple mane was messy, having been drenched from walking in the rain that has passed over Canterlot for the past few days.
But what was most off-putting was the light blue eyes she had, accompanied with a turquoise sclera, as they surveyed the area around her.
The filly wandered around aimlessly, her hooves sore, clueless as to where she was going or what to do. As she glanced around, she saw some other foals playing nearby, spinning on the roundabout, going down the slide, playing on the swings, and more.
The wayward filly looked on, marveling at how carefree and happy they seem… she was tempted to join them and take part in whatever activity they had in mind… but the temptation faded, knowing full well the risk of doing so…
As she continued observing, the cloaked filly was approached by a lanky crimson Pegasus stallion, one with a black, slicked mane, pale green eyes, a wispy moustache, and a Cutie Mark of a rat.
The filly could immediately tell he did not mean well.
"Hey there, little lady." He leered, showing off a mouth full of crooked teeth (with one gold tooth in the bunch). "What's a sweet little filly like you doing out here, all on your own?"
“...Because I… I want to be on my own.” The filly muttered.
“Oh, but why?” The stallion cooed, reaching out to her, “A pretty little girl as yourself shouldn’t be out alone…”
“I-It’s fine.” The filly shrunk back, “I...I prefer being alone. Away from them...”
“Them, is somepony’s lookin’ for ya?” The stallion smirked, getting a wicked idea.
“Y-yes. And I-I don’t want them to find me.” The filly whimpered.
“Well then, you could use some good company…” The sketchy stallion sidled up to her.
"Th-that's okay." The filly trembled. "I r-really should be going anyway..."
"What's your hurry?" The stallion stood in her way. "You don't wanna stick around and play?"
"I-I don't feel like playing." The filly shivered, not liking the look in his eyes.
"You'll change your mind, I promise." The stallion insisted. "I'm a great playmate."
"N-no thank you." The filly shook her head. "I should be going now..."
Suddenly, the stallion grabbed one of her hooves.
“Ah!” The filly nearly yelped.
“Look, you little brat.” The stallion snarled, his sickly sweet demeanor now gone, “I’ve been down on my luck ever since those damn ponies at the school fired me. So I got a little close to the students, invited them to join me after school in my private workshop. Didn’t mean they had to put me on a damn list! I thought this was Equestria!”
“B-but that has nothing to do with me! Let go!” The filly protested.
“Oh, but why? If somepony’s looking for you, that must mean they’ll do anything to get you back.” The stallion chuckled darkly, “Including paying through the muzzle! You’re gonna net me a nice, big payday, kid!”
"No! Let me go!" The filly struggled against her captor's grip as he started to drag her away.
"Easy, kid." The stallion tightened his grip. "I'm doing a good deed here. Besides, I'll probably get paid less for damaged goods, so do us both a favour and play along..." However, as he glanced the filly up and down a bit, donning a rather lecherous grin, “Although… I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you came back a little… shall I say, dirty?”
"No, please!" The filly started to panic. "I don't know what you're talking about, but I don't like it!"
"Quiet, kid." The stallion hissed. "You want the whole neighborhood to hear?"
"Let me go!" The filly struggled.
"Oh, I will." The stallion smirked. "Just as soon as I put you somewhere you can't get away from."
"No!" The filly yelled.
"This is happening whether you like it or not, little missy." The stallion started dragging her away. "So just stop struggling, and it'll be easier on both of us."
"I. Said. No!!" The filly roared. Her pupils suddenly turned into slits, as they began to glow.
"Hey, what's with the light show?" The stallion frowned.
As he looked into the glow, the stallion found himself unable to look away. The light seemed to fill his entire field of vision.
"Gahh!" He cringed, rubbing his eyes.
When his vision was clear, he saw that his former surroundings had vanished, replaced by a dark mist.
"What the buck?" The stallion gaped. "Where am I? Where'd the kid go? What's going-"
The mist soon gave way, as the stallion found himself in what appeared to be a workshop…
“Hey… this looks like the workshop I used to work at…” The stallion glanced around, “But why am I-”
Before he could finish that question, he noticed something outside a nearby window.
“Huh? Wait…” The very sketchy stallion narrowed his eyes, “Those look a lot like those damn parents that got me fired… they look rather angry… and what’s that in that one pony’s-”
Suddenly, a molotov cocktail came crashing through another window, setting the whole place ablaze.
"Ahh!" The stallion screamed.
Panicking, the stallion tried to get out, but the door was locked.
"No... No!" He screeched.
The flames enveloped him, crawling up his body in agonizing waves.
"YARRRGH!!" He howled. He dropped to the floor, writhing in pain, the flames engulfing him. "NOOOOOO!!"
The last thing he saw was the light of the flames, then smoke, and finally darkness...
Back in the real world, the stallion had dropped to the ground, convulsing, his eyes wide open in terror… before he suddenly stopped. He was no more.
The filly watched the disturbing scene, still as stone, ignorant to everything around her. Then her eyes soon reverted back to normal. She swayed a bit, as if coming out a trance.
“Oh…” The filly shook her head, “What hap-”
She soon stopped, as she saw the sketchy stallion dead before her.
She looked around, noticing that the park was now devoid of foals (they had departed during her initial discussion with the stallion). With nopony around to observe her, the filly ran from the scene, leaving her would-be captor's body behind. His eyes, still frozen in a look of fear, stared up at the sky.
"Why is this happening to me?" She asked, as she continued her flight into some nearby alleyways...