//------------------------------// // Chapter 2: Beneath The Law // Story: Chaos Theory: Broken Phoenix // by Littlepony115 //------------------------------// Chapter Two “Can I help you?” Syndicate reiterated, his eyes surreptitiously gliding to check over Nova’s shoulder as he did so. The day was not going well for him. Solar had left the night before having just explained to him exactly how badly he’d messed up with his accounts, and now a mercenary was standing on his doorstep. All things considered; it couldn’t be a coincidence. I knew Fancy wouldn’t keep his word. Caught a little off-guard, Nova resorted to a simple smile, hoping that he may actually answer some questions. There’s no honour among thieves. It was something she’d found to be true around the world in plenty of situations. They may brag about their ideals, but in the end, they always sold one another out for their own safety. Simply selfish. “Yes, I believe you can. As to whether or not you will, that remains to be seen,” She began, leaning diagonally in the doorway – blocking the gaps to either side of her, “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you I am under orders. Don’t try anything stupid.” Surprised at his luck, Syndicate nodded slowly. “If you aren’t here for me, who are you here for? I have plenty of clients who would rather go unnamed.” Maybe it’s a rival; I would be all too glad to talk about them… “I don’t suppose you would happen to know of a ‘Solar Eclipse’?” She asked, noting the flinch in his face at the name. “There’s a possibility you may know her as ‘Moonlight Sabre’, though I can’t help but feel like that’s simply an alias – wouldn’t you agree?” “I’ve never heard of either of them, sorry,” He acquiesced, apologetically, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a business to clear up.” Pushing forwards, he ducked under her arm and tried to walk away, briskly. Spinning, Nova clamped a hand on his shoulder and dragged him back into the hall; kicking the door shut behind her as she did so. “Oh, I don’t think so, amie.” Planting a bracer on either side of him, she glared into his eyes – an expression of impatience plastered across her face. “You’ve made transactions with her. You paid her for the jewel, did you not? I’m not here to drag you off to jail, but I sure as l’enfer have the authority too. Now, just tell me where she’s gone, and you can go.” It wasn’t exactly that demanding. To be frank, she was impressed he hadn’t turned the mare in immediately. Especially with how up-front he’d been about his… activities. “I see,” He began, closing his eyes – a soft smile playing on his lips. Any minute now. “Well, if that’s the case, I suppose I have no other choice, eh?” “I’m glad you’re willing to cooper-” She began, before a slam sounded before her and a gruff hand grabbed a hold of her arm. Snapping her head to her right, her eyes met those of a tall, bulky, burgundy-red stallion as his impressive frame stood in the now-open doorway. “Merde.” In one elegant yank, he ripped her away from Syndicate and flung her down the path – knocking the wind out of her as she smashed into the cobbles. Coughing, she pushed herself off of her feet, stumbling back a tad and looking down at a torn piece of Syndicate’s coat, still clasped in her hand. Through blurred vision, she saw his bodyguard’s vague shape begin to stride towards her and she raised a hand to her head; rubbing her eyelids in an attempt to clear her sight. “Come now, we don’t have to do this,” She offered, blinking away the final loss of focus and assessing the situation. “Ah, but we do. Sorry, lass,” The giant replied, a strong Scottish accent playing on his speech as he drew an all-too undersized sword from his side. It was like watching a foal wielding a pencil – so convinced it was a dangerous weapon, when in reality it was far too small. Not that it was the fault of the sword. With a roll, Nova easily dodged his heavily-handed swing as it carved through the air between them. Landing back to her feet, she darted forward into his unprotected side and latched onto his arm, pulling herself onto his back. Okay, maybe a little too quick. With one hand grasping his thick clothing, she reached the other back to draw her sword – only to feel a sudden, familiar feeling. The feeling of falling. Her eyes widened and she leapt off of him as he crashed into the floor – completely unharmed. Chuckling, he clumsily rolled over and stood back up, eying her with a grin. “That were a nice idea, but I couldn’t let it ‘appen.” She frowned, whipping her smaller blade off her back and to her side with a flourish – spinning the sword around her hand. Truth be told, she’d been taught that drawing method as a way of showing off, but it had just evolved to muscle memory over time. It did help with intimidating targets, though. Such a shame this brute has crossed the line between bravery and stupidity, She thought, scanning his clothes for a weak spot. They weren’t exactly the most armoured fabrics, so her sword would chew through any spot fairly well. Still, that didn’t mean she had to run him through the heart right away. Such loss of life would be unnecessary. No, I simply have to disarm him. Getting closer, he swung again – pulling off a similar move to his last. Just as she began to roll, pleasantly surprised that he would make that mistake, he angled the blade down. Planting one foot on the floor mid-roll, she launched herself over the low swipe; coming to a neat landing behind him as his momentum carried him away from her. With one deft swing, she brought her sword down onto his clenched fingers – the fine titanium cleaving through into his weapon’s handle. He cried out, dropping the sword immediately and clutching his mutilated hand to his chest. Casting a glare of fury at her, he spat a few words from his gritted teeth. “You cut off my… fuckin’… You bitch!” “Oh, mon poulaine, language!” Came the scolding reply, as she kicked away his sword and smiling up at him, mockingly. “Now, can’t we just put this behind us while I have a civilised chat with your emp-” She began, stopping mid-sentence as she gestured to the empty space between them and the house. “Oh, putain de merde.” She cursed, under her breath. They never stay put, do they? Taking a few steps to the door, she looked around – hoping to see the stallion bolting away somewhere nearby. No, he’s gone. With a groan, she paused, suddenly remembering one of her greatest assets. Puckering her lips, she whistled, following it up with a call. “Spruce! Get over here!” The sound of wooden claws on cobble clacked towards her as her faithful hound came to a stop. Seeing the giant she’d been fighting, his hackles raised and an impossibly deep growl vibrated from his throat. “Not him, boy, I think he’s done his job. Infuriatingly. No, see if you can track anything from…” Her eyes gleamed as she spotted the tattered piece of jacket from earlier. “This.” Spruce ran his muzzle along the piece of cloth – his eyes fading between various shades of green as he mulled the scent over. Flicking his head to the side, he loped towards a nearby alleyway; looking back at her, impatiently. A smirk ran across her face and she gave the preoccupied bodyguard some side-eye before muttering under her breath. “Sorry, I have an interview.” --------------------------------------------------❆-------------------------------------------------- In all honesty, this was less about finding information on Solar. At this point, she not only wanted to take the opportunity to drag Syndicate in for resisting her questions, but she also had to stop him from warning anyone in any way. It wouldn’t exactly help for her target to be expecting her arrival, nor for a group to be protecting her. She’d dealt with plenty of expectant candidates in the past and they were never as easily dealt with. Especially when they decided that spending the remainders of their lives in heavily armoured forts, or random cupboards, were good options. I’ve had both, after all. With that being said, it was as if Syndicate hadn’t stopped running since he’d left; she and Spruce had been at full pelt through between buildings for a solid twenty minutes by now. Clearly, he still had the scent, as he switched paths at odd intervals and paused to gain his bearing at fewer ones still. At last, he began to slow down, prowling across the ground with his nose held to the floor. Raising his head, he looked back to her and jerked it towards the tall, abandoned clocktower before them. “You’re kidding? This is where he went?” She snapped – running an eye over the structure. “’King of thieves’ and this is where he ends up?” Shaking her head, she circled the tower, looking for an entrance with Spruce by her heel. On her second journey, she stopped and gave him a deadpan look. “Can we get a little more specific? There’s no obvious way in.” He padded closer to the tower and circled around it a little further, reaching the same side they’d started at. Truthfully, he’d thought he’d made it quite obvious. Coming up to the wall, he stood with his paws against it – looking back at her beseechingly. She took a step closer, running a finger across the wood and stone with interest. “Marks. From climbing. I see,” She muttered, stepping back to look up the thing. “This is going to suck so much.” Gathering a run up, she leapt to the wall, grabbing onto the various uneven stones and pieces of wood trimming that would serve as handholds. It was difficult, that much was certain. Her horn glowed as she let the raw magic heat the air around her. At the end of the day, it didn’t exactly make her fly – but the rising flow did offer some support as it pushed against each limb. She’d used the tactic as an emergency parachute in the past, but it wasn’t too effective when she was in full gear. Still, she was making steady progress now, pulling herself up the questionably sound architecture with a fair bit of speed. Nearing the top, she reached the only visible window on this side and pulled herself over the threshold, throwing a precautionary glance around. The space inside was small, vaguely six by eight metres, but it did hold an empty chest and an old, run-down bed. I guess he has a backup hide-out. Throwing another searching look, she stepped across the floorboards with uncertainty – hoping they wouldn’t crumble under her armour’s weight. They held fairly firm, though they creaked in defiance, urging her to go somewhere – anywhere – else. A small set of stairs branched off of the room behind an obviously dragged bookcase, winding down the tower’s height and into the inky blackness of the interior. No time to pull it back, huh? She pondered, stepping down onto the first step and leaning over the edge. She couldn’t see the bottom. Reaching an arm around to the shelf, she drew an old, ruined book off it and ignited her hand – engulfing the pages in a bright, orange inferno. She dropped the book and it plummeted down the centre of the stairwell; soon landing at the bottom with a crunch. A surprised yelp came from the depths and she shook her head in disbelief. He really is just sitting down there, isn’t he? Drawing her sword, she ran a hand down its blade; each rune glowing softly and a stream of fire following her touch as it swamped the blade. Taking a step off, she followed the same path as the book – casting a similar spell to her climb for her slow descent. As expected, it wasn’t perfect, but it did push back enough to stop her landing from hurting. That didn’t stop the sound from echoing around the towers inside like a clap of thunder, though. Raising her sword, the fire lit up a surprisingly calm Syndicate as he sat, huddled in the corner. “Hello, again,” He said, numbly flipping a bag closed and letting it hang limply beside him. “I’ve nothing to say to you.” “That’s fine,” She replied, “I’m fairly certain I know all I need to, anyway.” Raising his head, he gave her a confused look. “Then why are you here?” With a chuckle, she leant closer to him – the flames of her sword reflected in his eyes. “You don’t seriously think I’d let you go, do you? After all the trouble you caused me? After refusing to speak? After being a criminal, anyway?” Anger splayed over his face and his mouth opened like a fish gasping for air as he tried to think of something to say. “I have Fancy’s word that I’m not t-” He began, only for her to push a finger against his lips with a playful smirk. “Fancy’s not here, and I’ve been given authority. To my knowledge, you’re just another criminal who didn’t cooperate.” “Wait, what happened to Burg?” He suddenly asked, his eyes widening. “What did you do to him, you… You…” Pulling back, the expression fell from her face. “Bitch?” She asked, disapprovingly, “Funnily enough, he said the same. You lot are very unimaginative.” Syndicate fell silent, his eyes darting from point to point on the floor. “He was one of my best stallions.” “Oh, relax,” She said, rolling her eyes, “He’s alive. Just missing a few fingers.” Turning away, she paused, lowering her voice too low for him to hear. “Or all of them.” Sighing in relief, Syndicate stood up and stretched. “Well, if he’s alive – I guess that’s all that matters.” “Oh, are you showing compassion? I didn’t know you could,” She mocked, taking a step up the spiral staircase. “Regardless, he’s worse for wear, but fine. Now, would you kindly accompany me to the Castle? I’m sure Shining Armour would love to have a word with you. Or Fancy, if what you say is true. Oh, and could you slip these on, too?” She asked, dangling a pair of magic-supressing handcuffs out between them. “Fine, but I can’t wear those,” He said, giving them a disgusted look. “I’ll need to climb down, won’t I?” “Yes, I suppose you will. Alright, fine, just… Get up there.” Breathing a defeated groan, he nodded, following her back up the spiral stairs and into the small top room. With a step to stand beside the window, she jerked her head for him to climb out and he paused, looking out at the long drop. “This, well, this is humbling, but…” He began, trailing off as a wave of vertigo flushed over him. “I really don’t like heights.” Nova chuckled, shaking her head at the sheer absurdity of his claim. “You managed to climb up this tower, all while being afraid of heights?” He shot her an angry look – like a child, aware of their parent’s patronizing comments. “No. I have a spell to let me into the base.” He grumbled, leaning out of the window again, only to draw back with a queasy expression. She shot him a deadpan look. “Well, then we’ll go down and use it to get out.” Shaking her head, she strolled back to the stairs and shot him another glare. “I just wish yo-” The open window was more than enough to light up the now-empty room. A gust of wind blew through, whisking several papers around, each one dancing melodically through the air to rest on the dusted floor. “Unbelievable,” She groaned, darting back to look out over the paved roads beneath. Nothing. “What a slippery… Bon Sang!” She slammed a fist into the wooden window frame, splintering it as she did so. This was proving to be more troublesome than she’d hoped. --------------------------------------------------❆-------------------------------------------------- Nova was fairly annoyed. Syndicate’s trick hadn’t even been all that clever – he’d just managed to get her to look away for a few seconds. Whether his appalling hiding spot was part of some plan, she had no idea, but she now had a liability running loose around the city. Worse still, Spruce hadn’t managed to pick up a scent, and with the stallion being a unicorn… Well, it’s best not to think about that just yet. He definitely wouldn’t go back to that house. Truth be told, it was incredibly lucky that he was there to begin with. He would have relocated by now, if he had any sense. The question was, where would he go? It had to be somewhere in Canterlot, he wouldn’t want to abandon his contacts – nor would he want to lose hold in the capital. No, he must still be here. She’d found no pointers in the clocktower, beyond a newspaper in the lower room. It was one dating back to the robbery, showing the Princesses, Shining Armour and Prince Blueblood standing before a crowd of disgruntled spectators, each one wearing a solemn, regretful expression. According to the article, Solar must have been good at what she did. Enough to break through a ‘Heavily secured zone’, apparently. In all honesty, Nova knew the papers would be over-egging the situation, milking it for all the controversy it was worth. Still, she should keep herself on-guard when she finally met her target. Especially if she was anything like her employer. Dropping the paper into a nearby bin, she whistled her wooden companion to her side and made her way through the streets with a purposeful gait. There were ways to get information in this city, that much she knew. And surely, surely one of her contacts knew what was happening with Syndicate’s operation. So long as he could take jobs, she could find him. Taking a turning, she stepped onto a familiar road and pushed open the door to the ‘Ironsights’ Smithery’ with urgency in her step. The familiar form of Ironsights himself was stood behind the counter, running a cloth along a shining, polished blade. His eyes were glued to the metal and his pace was steady, each stroke bringing it one step closer to his signature level of quality. Nova noticed that his display rack was missing a bow, taking in the clear shape made in the absence of dust. Thinking back, she tried to remember what it looked like, remembering that she had thought about buying it herself. Black… With grey carvings along its length? In most situations she’d be telling herself off for getting side-tracked, but right now? She knew not to interrupt the smithy. Soon, he raised the sword up to the light and held it aloft, his dark brown fur rippling as his muscled tensed. Soft green eyes took in every slight and detail in the metal from beneath a rugged, ash mane and he carefully lowered the blade. Keeping it level, he slid it onto a shelf beneath the counter and sighed. “Every time you enter my shop, lass, it’s ta’ ask me about someone or something. Never do you make a purchase and never do I have the option ta’ refuse you.” His accent was thick, clouding his voice in a slightly Scottish tone. “So how about we just cut ta’ the chase, and you tell me what you’re ‘ere for, eh?” She tried to smile, instead feeling a pang of almost irrational sadness run through her. There was something depressing about his tone. “Yes. Well, I’m not quite on a job. Or, at least, this isn’t my primary target. It’s more a case of… Damage control right now.” “Just ask your damned question, lass, I don’t care.” The half-hearted smile dropped entirely and Nova sighed. “I’m looking for one ‘Syndicate’. Do you know him? Oh, qui suis-je plaisantais? Of course, you do. He’s switched up his location and I really need to ask him about someone, or at least ask him not to do something that he absolutely will otherwise.” Ironsights mulled the question over, thinking carefully. She walked up to the counter, leaning against it and meeting his eye. Despite her height, he still had enough over her that she really didn’t feel like she was making much of a difference. “Need I remind you that I have a royal warrant?” He shook his head, running a finger down the flat on one of the many knives before him. “You say he’s not your target, yeah? So, you won’t hurt ‘im?” She nodded. “I don’t like unwarranted bloodshed.” He barked a laugh, turning away in disbelief. “Oh, sure. No ‘unwarranted bloodshed’, yet you take job after job ta’ kill ponies for those with the cash ta’ convince you? Don’t play the hero here, lass. You’ve got avarice in your blood, just like your ‘targets’.” Swallowing, she made sure to not retaliate. To not grab him by the collar, to not pull him over the counter. To not yell that she’d given those uncertain jobs up, and that she knew how her various employers had lied to her, time and time again. “I’m not hearing anything about Syndicate here.” “Fine. Yeah, he’s gone underground. Proper underground, this time. And, by that, I do mean he’s literally taken to the sewers. Sounds bad, I know, but they’ve set up a bunch of wooden bridges and spells down there – not gonna lie, it’s kind of pleasant. Better than his last gaff, in my opinion. Not that he owns the place, o’ course. Partial owner, or so I’ve heard.” She was surprised at that. To her knowledge, Canterlot didn’t even have sewers. “Why does this place have sewers? I thought waste was converted into magical energy now?” He nodded. “It is now, yeah, but back when this place was made, they didn’t have that kinda knowledge. So, instead, they used to gather it all up and send it off as fertiliser. It’s part of why the tunnels are so decent now, they aren’t even in use.” That makes sense. Somewhere with access to a lot of the city, out of sight… Out of mind. “You’ve been a great help, Ironsights. How could I ever repay you?” “Money.” Rolling her eyes, she flipped open one of her belt’s pouches and dropped a fairly generous number of bits onto his counter-top. “You’ll get the rest once I know you weren’t lying. Buy yourself something nice in the meantime, bien?” As she closed the door behind herself, she paused in thought. Now was as good a time as any to power up that rune she’d left for Fleet. Closing her eyes, she felt around for the familiar presence of one of her runes until she found the one she wanted. In her mind’s eye, the rune glowed bright, a stark contrast against her imagination’s dark surroundings. That’s the one. Her horn lit up for a few seconds and she felt the magic course through the rune for just a moment. Just long enough to complete its task. --------------------------------------------------❆-------------------------------------------------- Clicking her watch open, she watched as the second hand ticked past its older brothers. Oh my, 3pm. Such delays. Clamping the cover closed, she tucked the time-teller back into her pocket and knelt down. In theory, any one of these roadside sewer grates would lead into the tunnels. At the end of the day, she supposed, these do still stop flooding. The problem remained, though, of taking the grate itself off. It was pressed into the seam between the pavement and road of Canterlot’s avenues, meaning it was at a fairly awkward angle. Not to mention, she didn’t exactly have the tools for the job. Still, there were only two bolts holding the hatch in place. She would simply have to remove them and lift it. Grabbing a hold of one nut, she held its bolt in place with her other hand and closed her eyes; dedicating her concentration to the task. Slowly, she levered the rusted metal around. It was undoing, bit by bit, but the rough material was doing a number on her fingers, even through her gloves. With a sudden lurch, she felt the thing give way and the nut snapped clean off of the bolt – smacking her shoulder into the kerb. “Merde! Well, one of two. I guess,” She muttered, rubbing her shoulder in discomfort. She began to repeat the pattern on the second bolt before pausing. If the first was busted anyway, there really wasn’t a need for subtlety anymore. Curling her palm around the nut, she closed her eyes and ignited her horn, pumping its magic down her arm and into her hand. As expected, the raw, unchanneled power turned to an incredible heat that engulfed the inside of her clenched hand – restraining the nut in a baking oven. As the temperature grew, Nova’s shattered horn began to falter, struggling to maintain the surge. Mother of Faust, this is starting to hurt… Still, she soon felt the molten iron hit her cupped hand and she breathed a sigh of relief, pulling up the trapdoor. Flicking her wrist, she dropped the remains of the nut into the trickling stream that now sat beneath her, sending a plume of steam curling to the roof in an elegant curl. It is incredibly useful being resistant to heat. True to her informant, there were bridges running along the tunnel, covering the trickling rainwater that scurried between the stone and sending the odd splash to the boards’ undersides. The sound it made was peaceful, echoing around and down the tunnel’s length. Lowering herself down from the road’s edge, Nova beckoned Spruce to follow her. With a significantly louder crash, he leapt down, sending up a few splinters from the impact of wood on wood. Holding still, the pair waited, hoping that the sound wouldn’t cause any undue trouble for them. Well, if anypony did hear, they’re staying awfully quiet about it. With a deft yank, Nova pulled the grate down to its closed position and dropped to the floor, casting a glance up and down the tunnel. “Well, now I suppose we try to find our way to Syndicate, eh boy?” The casual running of water was soon broken at odd intervals by a slight noise that echoed around the pair as they walked. It took several seconds of listening before Nova realised what it was. The clanging of a hammer. And that means there’s somepony here. She sped up her stride and continued through the twisting stone, pausing at each intersection to choose a path; taking a bend revealed a warm, orange light spilling onto the shining stonework. At the end of this stretch stood a tall grate, barring entry to whatever was in the glowing room. Slowing her pace and trying to keep quiet, Nova crept up to the bars and looked between them. There was a massive, domed room below, clearly serving as some kind of meeting point for most of the tunnels in the city. Each passageway was attached around the perimeter, spilling water down into running rivers of clear water below where it spiralled around to meet in the centre. The hole in the middle must be near the Canterlot waterfall… This is where they used to drain waste. It was a sight to behold, all things considered, as the pure water sprayed with a mist at each impact, sending glimmers of rainbows through the little sunlight blessed on the room by a single grate in the roof. A single pillar stood out in the middle of the room, craning off into arches that landed beside each grated shaft, presumably to have once acted as some kind of walkway. Several tunnels did hav their grates removed, however, with the pieces piled away to let ponies walk into the room and on to one of the many rustic, wooden walkways that crossed around. Those were a new addition, that much was clear. Ponies traversed along the platforms, moving from tunnel to tunnel and congregating in the centre as a group, giving off a hubbub of indecipherable conversation. It was as if someone had made some kind of improvised town centre, with stalls and even small, shed-like buildings being erected on the wood. The platforms weren’t actually finished in some places, with extra supports being pulled up by workers to support extensions and runways leading up to what was apparently going to be a second level. It made sense to add one, considering that the second level itself wouldn’t even reach halfway up the room. A spiral ramp lead around the centre pillar, supported with thick beams that cut into the stone work with an intentional and professional accuracy. An impressive structure to be sure… Nova had to admit; she hadn’t been expecting such a massive operation from who she’d thought to be a relatively low-level criminal. Although, Ironsights mentioned he isn’t the only owner… Is this some kind of collaboration? Seeing the streams of tough visitors testing blades and trading goods, she knew that this was no small hideaway. And, there is no chance this place has been built in the past week – it has to have been under construction for a good while. Pulling away, she considered her options. On the one hand, Syndicate should be somewhere here, and she could ask around for a way to contact him. Maybe even pose as a client, if he’s still in business… On the other hand, she wasn’t exactly unknown. Especially amongst the… Less lawful citizens here. She could very quickly have a firefight on her hands. Biting her lip, she decided to follow the tunnels back, picturing the nearest unblocked entrance in her head as a guide. These are all connected; therefore, I can reach it from here. Right? --------------------------------------------------❆-------------------------------------------------- Slowing her run, she pricked her ears as she felt something other than her footfalls vibrating through the planks. It was too irregular to be Spruce, who was standing beside her, anyway. No, that would b- Voices could now be heard, in a casual but hushed tone, their words too soft to form intelligible meaning at this distance, but enough to discernibly echo around. Nova thought quickly, trying to decide if she should confront them or not. All goes well, they lead me straight there. Otherwise, shit hits the fan for no real reason. Well, it was worth a shot. Strolling closer, she followed the tunnels to the voices, stopping at odd intervals to decide whether they were walking to or from her. From, that’s good. With a dart, she pressed herself to the curved wall, frowning at the angle of her body. The wooden bridges didn’t reach the edges of the tunnel, so she really had to lean back. She wasn’t too keen on dropping beneath them, either, since there was only about half a metre of space beneath. Although… Shaking her head, she decided to get closer before she tried that – being only a fifth of a metre off of two, she would have a very hard time staying quiet down there, especially amongst the trickling water. I really shouldn’t’ve worn my armour down here. To be fair to the protective gear, it was relatively taught and quiet. Granted, it still shifted and made the usual noise of metal and material, but it did do extraordinarily well for what it was. Shifting slightly, she craned her neck to look down the tunnel beside her, hoping to catch a glance of the voices’ owners. Sure enough, there stood three stallions, each engrossed in their conversation. “Bist du sicher, dass du weißt, wohin du gehst?” The tallest of the trio asked, flicking his head down the tunnel with a glare to his friend. Nova cursed under her breath, ruing the day she’d given up learning Germane. Trust them to be speaking the one maudit language I don’t know. Still, his gruff and gravelly voice had a tone of irritation to it. Maybe they’re lost? The second replied with a defensive comment that, once again, flew completely under her radar. Before he could finish his sentence, however, the first growled out a counter of annoyance – giving him pause. Dressed in significantly finer clothing than his friends, the third sighed, raising a hand between the two as they flung grievances to one another like bullies with a bag. “Genug! Wir wissen, dass sich der Hafen im Zentrum des Systems befindet, nicht wahr?” His voice commanded attention, his question clearly rhetorical. His friends shut up immediately, choosing, instead, to nod meekly. “Aber wie fin-” “Folgen Sie dem Fluss, idioten.” Both gave an exhale of understanding, turning to lean over the wood and track the stream with narrowed eyes. “Diesen Weg,” One muttered, beginning to pace away from the group and further down into the winding tunnels. Okay, ‘weg’ is way, so some kind of understanding? Pulling herself from the wall, Nova crept along the creaking bridges, trailing behind the group at what she was hoping was a safe enough distance. At odd intervals, one would split off from the trio to look into the water again, before jogging back to confirm something with the others. Oh, I see. They’re following the flow. That’s… Genius. Well, now that she had that idea under her belt, she definitely didn’t need to follow them. Not to mention the fools had missed an entire section of tunnel that clearly flowed with a greater urgency. I’ll follow this, instead. --------------------------------------------------❆-------------------------------------------------- With light spilling around the corner, Nova smirked, knowing that she must’ve found the main chamber again. As she rounded the bend, she was met with a similar grate to the first she’d found, only this one had its bars removed and tossed aside. Through the gap, she could see the marketplace working as before, with all sorts of unpleasant-looking ponies bartering at each stall. The tavern in the centre erupted into a cacophony of yells as some kind of scuffle began. The sound of smashing glass echoed around like a gunshot, turning heads from all platforms. An argument could be heard and suddenly a cry of pain shot out before being cut mid-cry. Nova bit her lip, knowing exactly what would’ve stopped the cry’s owner. It would be suicide to enter the crowds with the Mercenaries’ insignia on her armour. The number of ponies here who must be under a bounty… Well, it didn’t bear thinking about. Still, she did have a plan for this kind of thing. The insignia itself was placed neatly in the centre of a cloth section of her suit, one which hung freely from her waist both in front and behind her in a fashion not too dissimilar to a surcoat. All she had to do was take that section off. Stepping away from the window, she unbuckled her belt and slid it out from around her chainmail, pulling the fabric loops from it and sliding it back into place. Clicking it together, she rolled up the detached cloth and wrapped it around her waist as a makeshift belt. Granted, she was still clearly on a mission; not someone to be trifled with. But, unless they knew her already, she wouldn’t be targeted by any scoundrels now. Reaching a hand behind to her nape, she felt between the chain and plate of her armour, clasping a hood that was neatly tucked between the two. Dragging it out, she pulled it over her mane, letting the cloth hang limply over her features. Satisfied it was all smooth, she dug into the same layer by her chest, her muscles tensing as the pulled against the elasticated fabric. With a tug, she dragged the cloth over her face, letting it snap back over her nose. With a hood and mask, the only bit of her fur visible was around her eyes, and the only parts of her mane visible were on either side of her face. It would do well to blend in, though there was still the little issue of the golden sheen in her armour. The armour itself wasn’t actually gold, that would be incredibly impractical, no, it was simply coloured. But that was, unfortunately, enough to make her stand out like a sore thumb in most circumstances. It was unusual for her to undertake these sorts of… Infiltration missions. There was also the case of the lightly buzzing bundle of timber who paced around idly beside her. Spruce was good at staying quiet. He was also good at staying out of sight. Unfortunately, this? Well, it was simply asking too much. Sighing, she knelt down beside him, beckoning him to show her his neck. Somewhere here… She’d run into this problem before, and had taken the time to learn a more complex illusion rune that would cover him with a pretty realistic disguise. It, admittedly, wasn’t much use in a lot of situations, as it simply made him appear as a dark dire wolf, which was usually just a terrifying. It did mean, though, that she had even less chance of being recognised. You’ve become a bit of a mascot for me, haven’t you? A soft hum resonated through him, almost as if he’d heard her. With a smile, she closed her eyes and fed a small amount of magic into the rune, waiting until she felt the click of activation to open them again. The distorted cover flickered, a red glow shimmering across it as she adjusted the level of power. One massive problem with casting this kind of spell on an animate creature was that it wasn’t a simple on and off situation, since it had to stretch and move realistically. No, that would be too easy. Rather, she had to continually feed magic into the rune. And that meant she had to concentrate on keeping it up at all times. And that means keeping the cost to a minimum. “Alright, you good, boy?” She asked, straightening up. He nodded his head, a few idle bits of greenery falling through his incorporeal furred form. “Faust’s sake, you’re shedding. Would you shake, or something?” With a grumble of annoyance, he shook himself down, sending twigs and leaves scattering around the tunnel. “Thank you.” She sighed, turning her attention to the final part of her plan. The main problem with her armour. One rune on the back of her bicep soon glowed bright, shimmering as her armour lost its colour. Luckily, that one was a toggleable affair, being that it only affected the inanimate pieces of plate. Perfect. Taking a step through the grate, she was hit with the true sound of the chamber’s interior. Water echoed around, fighting against the babble of conversation in a free-for-all for loudest din. The odd shout or whoop cut through, too, determined to outdo the ambience with their shock factor. Against all the odds, however, it was the clinking of glasses and clashing of metals that rode to the top of the cacophony. With their piercing and sudden occurrences, they were not to be outdone. Nova grimaced, turning to follow the stonework around the room until she met one of the bridges that crossed to the centre. Despite the population here, the centre itself was almost abandoned this far up. Presumably, it was because there was simply nothing of use here, with it being, as of yet, largely unconstructed. Still, there were a few stragglers, chatting idly in small pairs or groups; some lighting up cigarettes and blowing off strange smelling smoke that made her choke through her mask. Damn druggies. It was expected, of course, that such a large gathering would have some. You couldn’t have such an underground operation without inviting one of the biggest industries beneath the law. Though she couldn’t help but feel concerned that so much second hand smoke might slow her down. It’s not like I’ve built up an immunity… While she hadn’t in years, she did remember that the first time she’d ever tried wine, she’d gotten drunk incredibly quickly. That certainly got harder over time. Picking her way past a few poorly-dressed beggars, she paused, hesitantly. Searching for Syndicate without any leads beyond ‘underground’ was going to be impossible here. No, she’d have to ask around. This is as good a place to start as any, I suppose…