The rumble of distant thunder outside lent an ominous air to an already tense evening. Troubleshoes packed his duffel quickly and efficiently, filling it only with the essentials: Clothes, toothbrush, some granola bars, and his JFrame 340. Holding the gun in his hand opened up the first cold pit of anxiety in his stomach: The fact he truly thought he might need it was proof that this was really happening. There wasn’t much that could scare a SEAL… but it wasn’t for himself Troubleshoes was afraid.
He didn’t even look over his shoulder when he heard his daughter’s soft and uncharacteristically timid footsteps behind him. “You finished packing?” he asked.
“Yeah…” Tirespin answered, her voice filled with uncertainty. “Dad, you still haven’t said where we’re going.”
Troubleshoes started putting on his holster as he turned to face his daughter. “Don’t know. A motel, somewhere off the beaten path. You’re gonna lay low there until I deal with the situation.”
Another rumble sounded in the distance as Tirespin’s eyes flicked to the gun. “Do you think you’ll need to use that?”
“Hope not.”
Finally, Tirespin let out a frustrated sigh that was more in line with her normal self. “If we’re really in as much danger as you think, shouldn’t I know what’s going on?”
“There’s no time for me to explain it all now,” Troubleshoes lied. The drive back home had more than enough awkward silence he could have filled with an explanation. “I just… I need you to trust me, okay, Tires?”
“Trust you?!” Tirespin started to raise her voice. “What reason have you ever given me to trust you?!”
“Tires, I am not doing this right now! We’re going to hole up and you are gonna stay put until I’ve sorted this out. End of discussion!”
Her angry look turning a shade more vulnerable, Tirespin asked, “What about Cinnamon?”
Troubleshoes swore internally. In all the adrenaline, he’d forgotten all about his granddaughter, who was currently being looked after by his mother, Down Luck. He considered stopping by at his mom’s to get her, but then it occurred to him: Withers had threatened both Tirespin and Cinnamon, but hadn’t once mentioned his mother. It’s possible he didn’t even know about Downy.
“Cinnamon should be safe with Gram-Gram, for now,” Troubleshoes said. “I’ll call her and let her know what’s up.”
Pulling out his phone, Troubleshoes quickly opened up Recent Calls and looked for Down Luck, but paused when he saw another name on the list: Sable Loam. Troubleshoes was suddenly overcome with the feeling that he was forgetting something very important. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, staring at his phone screen, but the crucial detail he was missing suddenly hit him as hard as his car had hit that gangbanger.
“Shit!” Troubleshoes swore (externally, this time).
“What is it, Dad?” Tirespin asked.
“I have another call to make first,” Troubleshoes answered. “We’re not the only ones in danger.”
Sable Loam listened to the distant rumble of thunder as the windshield wipers fought their never ending battle with the downpour of rain. Sonata sat in the driver’s seat next to him, staring at the road ahead with grim determination. It was a much different look for her than the more carefree ones Sable was used to; it was the look of a professional with a job to do.
Sable had been in the middle of a workout session with the triplets when he got the call. He’d been surprised to see Hard Luck Towing show up in the caller ID but didn’t think anything was wrong until he heard Troubleshoes’s voice. The normally lackadaisical man had a certain tension in his voice that Sable hadn’t heard in him before. If Sable didn’t know better, he almost sounded afraid.
“Everything alright?” Sable had asked him.
“No, but I’ll manage,” Troubleshoes had answered. There was a pause as it seemed like he was trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to say. “Look, Sable. You seem like a good guy. I have a lot of respect for you. That’s why I felt I needed to warn you….”
“Warn me?” Sable had asked when it seemed like Troubleshoes wasn’t going to say anything else.
“Yeah. I can’t get into the details, but Tirespin and I need to lay low for a while and I suggest you do the same. Maybe even leave town for awhile if you can.”
Sable wondered for a moment whether Troubleshoes was busting his balls, but there was no mistaking the serious intensity in his voice.
“The hell’s going on, Troubleshoes?”
“I told you I can’t get into it. Just make sure you and yours are safe for the next little bit. I’ll contact you again when things are under control. Best of luck.”
Sensing the finality of Troubleshoes’s words, Sable shouted, “WAIT! DON’T HANG UP!” This drew curious looks from the triplets, and Sable shot them a look that told them to get back to their workout. “Troubleshoes? You still there?”
For a moment, Sable thought he was talking to no one, but then he heard Troubleshoes’s voice. “Yeah, still here. Can’t linger though, so whatever you gotta say, say it fast.”
Sable pinched the bridge of his nose while he tried to think of what he could possibly say to keep this man from disappearing from his life, perhaps permanently.
“Look, I can help you,” Sable finally said. “I’m good in a fight, and I’ve got friends. Influential people who could help. Whatever this is, you don’t have to do it alone.” The other end was silent for a while, and Sable added, “Us vets gotta look out for each other, right?”
After what seemed a long silence, Sable finally heard a sigh on the other end. “Okay. If we meet up, I can tell you what’s going on in person. Might not be safe to do it over the phone.”
Sable wanted to think that Troubleshoes was just being paranoid. Maybe this whole thing was all just in his head. But Sable’s instincts told him that wasn’t true. “Fair enough. Let’s meet where we had lunch the other day. I can be there in twenty minutes.”
“Works for me. See you soon.”
Hanging up, Sable sprung the triplets into action, quickly briefing them on the situation. He then told Sunset what he was doing, and managed to talk her down from getting directly involved on the grounds that this was what she had them for.
Now, Sable was riding shotgun in Sonata’s KIA Soul; something the girl had convinced Sunset to pay for on the basis that it would be used as SIREN’s primary vehicle until their organization grew enough for something heavier-duty (and less conspicuous than the BAE Valanx they had down in the secret bunker). Beneath the sound of the heavy rain, Sable could make out the sound of Adagio and Aria on their motorcycles as they rode in formation just behind them. Eventually, the small SIREN convoy arrived at the agreed-upon meeting place.
The windmill of Windmills Diner and Bakery loomed over the parking lot, looking oddly ominous in the dark stormy weather. The SIREN convoy parked, and Sable ordered them to secure the perimeter.
“Sure you don’t want any of us in there with you, sir?” Adagio asked.
Sable shook his head. “It’s better that I talk to him alone. He knows me. Based on how he sounded, an armed stranger walking in might spook him.”
Adagio seemed ready to press the issue before her soldier’s instincts kicked in, and she gave Sable a sharp nod instead. With a few quick concise hand signals, the triplets turned and disappeared into the darkness of the night as quickly and silently as ghosts—ghosts with AR 57s hidden under their rain ponchos.
Sable stepped through the front door of Windmills and spotted Troubleshoes and Tirespin quickly enough: They were the only customers in at such a late hour, and in such miserable weather. The only other soul in the establishment was a young waitress wiping down tables and placing chairs on them at the other end of the restaurant—evidently it was almost closing time.
Wasting no time, Sable approached the table Troubleshoes and Tirespin were seated at. The latter briefly locked eyes with him before looking away just as quickly. Troubleshoes just stirred the coffee in front of him as Sable sat down.
“Who were they?” Troubleshoes asked innocently enough. Sable could tell by his posture, though, that he was ready to pull himself and his daughter out of there at the first sign of trouble.
It took a second for Sable to realize Troubleshoes was talking about the triplets. He hadn’t even thought the big man had seen them. “Some of the friends I told you about,” Sable answered. “Don’t worry about them. They’re just making sure no one interrupts us.” Sable leaned forward, speaking in a softer voice. “Now, what’s this all about, Troubleshoes?”
Troubleshoes looked from Sable to Tirespin sitting quietly beside him. “Right, guess you both deserve an explanation.” With a sigh, Troubleshoes took a sip of his coffee, likely trying to think of the right words to say. “As you both know, I was in the SEALs for a very long time. The truth is a little more complicated than that.
“Fact is, after my first tour I was one of the most in-demand SEALs of SEAL Team FOUR, and they were always calling me back whenever Uncle Sam shit the bed and needed someone to clean it up. Mostly I was on ISOs.”
“What’s an ISO?” Tirespin asked.
Troubleshoes opened his mouth to answer but Sable beat him to it. “Individual support operations,” he said. “Essentially it’s like the black ops version of temporary duty.”
“That’s right. You know your stuff, Sable.” Troubleshoes glanced over at Tirespin as he continued, “Anyway, eventually I decided I had to get out and stay out, for my family’s sake. But… it wasn’t a decision that entirely made me happy.
“My work as a SEAL wasn’t always pleasant, but… I was good at it. Actually felt like I was making a difference for our country. After that, running an auto shop just… wasn’t fulfilling.”
Sable noticed the way Tirespin folded her arms and scowled distastefully at the floor, but paid it no mind as Troubleshoes went on. “One day, an old buddy from my time in the SEALs approached me: Biff. Said he had a job for someone with my skill set. We needed the money, and in the end I just couldn’t deny that part of me that will always wear the Budweiser, so I took him up on it.
“It’s a decision I’ve regretted since.” There was a lull as Troubleshoes took another sip from his mug and looked at Sable. “You ever work for a person or company that just made you feel like… like you were tainting your soul?”
Sable thought of a man in a leather jacket and big biker boots that were as ill-suited to him as his amicable smile. “Yeah.”
“That’s what it was like working for Los Perros de Guerra.”
“Los Perros de… well, that’s a mouthful…” Tirespin muttered.
Sable, on the other hand, believed he knew exactly what Troubleshoes was talking about, and if the rumors he’d heard were true, this was worse than he thought. “And they’re the ones you think are after you?”
Troubleshoes nodded, and Tirespin asked, “But who are they? Don’t think I’ve ever heard of a Sunnytown gang with that name.”
“That’s because they’re not a gang,” Sable said. “They’re worse.”
“That’s right,” Troubleshoes said. “They’re a mercenary company. Apparently got their start in Colombia as guns for hire in the 70s, and made enough money assassinating narcos they were able to go international. Now I think the only merc company in North America bigger than them is ALICORN. Though, from what I heard they were all wiped out by Canadian SpecOps of all things.”
Sable nodded, carefully keeping up his poker face while Tirespin looked at her father in disbelief.
“And you worked for these people?” she asked.
“Just one job,” Troubleshoes said. “Los Perros was hired by someone—CIA, DEA, I have no idea—to wipe out a cartel compound in New Mexico. It was my job to get some of the new blood back into a soldier’s mindset and lead them in the assault.” He glanced over at Tirespin again, seeming concerned about what she was thinking of all this. “Orders were to leave no survivors—not too different from some of my jobs as a SEAL, really—which wasn’t a problem… until I found a couple of the prostitutes they were keeping around. One of them had her kid with her.”
Sable’s heart sank a little, his own memories of encountering a child in the combat zone painfully clear in his mind.
Tirespin just looked at him with wide, horrified eyes. “Dad… you didn’t….”
“You’re damn right I didn’t! I ordered the men under my command to let them go,” Troubleshoes sighed. “Trouble was, that didn’t sit well with the Bloodhound.”
That made Sable curious. “The Bloodhound?”
“It’s what the commander of Los Perros goes by. I’ve seen and done my fair share of shit in the SEALs, but that guy… he’s not someone I would mess with lightly. I’ve met my share of psychopaths over the years, but this guy’s a different kind of crazy entirely.
“Anyway, turns out whoever hired Los Perros wanted to break an already tenuous alliance between two cartels, and was counting on us to make it look like one of them launched the assault. Any witnesses would have blown the whole thing. So, the Bloodhound lived up to his name and personally tracked down and silenced the people I let go.
“The op was a success in the end, but the Bloodhound was not happy with me. He told me that I owed Los Perros a debt for my ‘misstep’. He didn’t want to put me in the field anymore—understandable from his perspective, I suppose—so for the past few years he and his people occasionally come by with other jobs. Sometimes it’s helping work out logistical stuff, sometimes it’s whipping new blood into shape. Sometimes they even use my services at Hard Luck Towing when they need a vehicle repaired.” Troubleshoes then looked Sable dead in the eye. “Like the one you were eyeballing earlier this week.”
Sable hmmed and said, “I take it this is related to why you think I’m in danger from these people?”
With a nod, Troubleshoes said, “They saw you sniffing around their van, and they know you’re ex-military. And like an idiot I told them you’re a teacher at a high school. I know it doesn’t seem like much, but it’s enough for them to find you. Now they seem to think you’re a threat to their operation, and what’s worse they even arranged an attack against Tirespin as a way to keep me in line!”
Sable nearly jumped when he heard the sound of something breaking, but looked down and saw the coffee mug that was in Troubleshoes’s hand was now in pieces: crushed in the big man’s grip. A small streak of blood started to run down his palm, but Troubleshoes didn’t give it a second thought. For her part, Tirespin only looked at her shoes.
“If they could get to her, Sable, they could get to you. They could get to the people you care about! So do what you gotta do to keep them safe while I sort this out with the Bloodhound.”
Sable shook his head. “No. From the way you described this Bloodhound, that only ends one way: with you in a shallow grave.”
Troubleshoes looked at Tirespin, who continued to evade eye contact with both men. “If you have a better idea, I’m all ears.”
Sable took a few minutes to consider everything he’d just heard. “Are you and Tires all packed up?”
“Yeah. We were going to head straight to a motel after talking to you.”
“Well, not anymore. Right now, you might be the luckiest man alive.” Sable took out his phone and pulled up Sunset Shimmer’s contact information. “My people will handle it from here.”
Troubleshoes wasn’t sure where he’d been expecting Sable and the mysterious trio of young women to take Tirespin and himself, but the truly massive property in San Palomino was definitely a surprise. 482 Golden Oaks Drive seemed to go on for acres in all directions with a large, beautiful two-story mansion right in the center.
Tirespin let out an impressed whistle from the back seat as the girl who introduced herself as Sonata drove through the front gate. “Is this where you live, teach? Hot damn….”
Sable laughed up in the shotgun seat. “The school district doesn’t pay me this well. No, the triplets live here. As does the person who’s going to help with your problem.”
“And just who is this ‘Shimmer’ person anyway?” Troubleshoes asked. Another look at the incredibly nice house and the armed young women on motorcycles trailing behind them gave him an unsettling thought. “Sable, you’re not taking us to see some kind of mob fixer, are you?” he asked warily. This was starting to look like a situation where the remedy was worse than the disease, and Troubleshoes started thinking about an exit strategy.
But to his surprise, Sonata started laughing; a truly girlish giggle that made the young woman seem Tirespin’s age. “Oh, don’t worry, Mr. Clyde. Sunny’s not a criminal. She’s just my cousin. Though come to think of it, the term ‘fixer’ does describe her pretty well, right, Admiral?”
Admiral? Troubleshoes thought with no shortage of confusion. He didn’t have much time to dwell on it though, as their KIA pulled to a stop in front of the mansion.
Troubleshoes and the others got out of the car, and out from the mansion’s front door stepped an angel. At least, that was how the young woman appeared to Troubleshoes. Indeed, the woman’s red and yellow hair and kind cyan eyes gave her an air of almost fiery radiance. Even Tirespin seemed momentarily smitten, and as far as Troubleshoes knew his daughter was as straight as they come.
The three valkyries that Sable had designated “the triplets” all stood at attention before this angelic figure, snapping off sharp salutes that Troubleshoes could immediately tell had been drilled into them for years.
“Your Highness, we have the priority VIPs and have brought them on station,” the middle girl with bright orange hair reported. “Would you like us to lay before the mast for the eight o’ clock reports?”
At this, the angelic woman sighed. “Could you guys not do the Rambo bit for two seconds?”
“Negative.”
“Ladies,” Sable intoned. His voice was barely raised but there was power in it nonetheless. “At ease.”
“Aye, sir,” the girls answered, immediately relaxing.
The red-haired woman then turned to Troubleshoes and Tirespin. “Sorry about them. They might seem militaristic and impersonal but they’re total sweethearts when they turn off their Call of Duty mode.” She then extended her hand. “I’m Sunset Shimmer.”
Troubleshoes took her hand and introduced himself and Tirespin in turn.
“Well, come on inside, you two,” Sunset said. “I’ve set up a couple of beds in the guest room.”
“Okay…” Troubleshoes muttered as he followed Sunset and Sable into the manor, his mind a fog of confusion. “My daughter and I really appreciate your help, Miss Shimmer—”
“Please, Sunset.”
Troubleshoes cleared his throat. “Right, Sunset. Like I said, we really appreciate you letting us stay—and we promise not to abuse your hospitality—but I have, uh… more than a few questions….”
Tirespin took that as her cue. “Like, what’s the deal with those gunbunnies saluting you and stuff? One of them said you’re their cousin and you guys all live together? And did one of them call you ‘Your Highness?’ Are you royalty or something?”
Sunset smiled, evidently not put off by the barrage of questions. “Well actually yes, I am a princess. Not joking, I’m part of the Imperial Family of France. Long story there that I really don’t want to get into. Just… please don’t call me Your Highness, or bow or anything like that. Kinda freaks me out to be honest.” With a sidelong glance at the triplets, Sunset added, “It’s bad enough that my own family does it.”
Troubleshoes exchanged a look with his daughter. “Okay…. So just ‘Sunset’ then?” he asked, suddenly finding himself very self-conscious. If I knew I would be meeting royalty tonight I might have at least brushed my hair or something.
The princess in question nodded, and Tirespin muttered to herself, “Assaulted in an alleyway in Sunnytown to being on a first name basis with a princess… all in one night….” She made a face that seemed to say “not bad” and nodded.
“So, Sable told you about my situation, right?” Troubleshoes asked, trying to steer the topic somewhere at least resembling sanity.
“He gave me a summary on the phone. You can tell me the important details later when you and your daughter are settled in.”
Troubleshoes looked at her skeptically. “Sable said you’d be able to help. Do, uh... French princesses have a lot of pull in the States?” Troubleshoes asked the question with a sardonic edge, but he really was curious what the apparent young princess could actually do to help.
Sunset giggled. “Not particularly. But my brother’s FBI and his fiancée is an assistant district attorney. I’m gonna give them a call and let them know the situation. If there’s really another mercenary group causing trouble in Canterlot, the FBI and the DA’s office will make dealing with them their highest priority.” Sunset’s smile shrunk ever so slightly. “Trust me, none of us want a repeat of last summer….”
It took a few seconds for Troubleshoes to realize his mouth was hanging open in stupor. Just a few hours ago he had been ready to face Los Perros alone armed with nothing but his JFrame and his love for his daughter. Now here he was, standing in the foyer of a princess’s mansion, being told that he had the FBI and the DA’s office on his side. He had no idea what to say. He also had no idea how he hadn’t heard of a “Princess Sunset Shimmer” in Canterlot before. Clearly the young woman was someone very important and powerful....
“Sunset?” An older woman’s voice called out from somewhere else in the mansion.
“I’m in the foyer!” Sunset called back.
A woman with purple and white hair in her 50s or 60s if Troubleshoes had to guess walked into the hall, looked at Sunset and put her hands on her hips. “Mind telling me why there’s still dirty dishes in the sink? You didn’t forget tonight is your night to do them, did you?”
Sunset froze. “Oh. Uhh… sorry, Mom. I started doing them but then I got a call from Sable and had to set things up for Troubleshoes. Oh!” Sunset cleared her throat and gestured to her guests. “Mom, this is Troubleshoes and his daughter Tirespin. They’re the friends I told you needed to stay over for a bit.”
The woman nodded and extended a courteous, but wary hand to Troubleshoes, who was all the more self-conscious of his physical stature and rough attire next to this rather delicate looking white woman. “Troubleshoes, is it? Twilight Velvet. Pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise, ma’am,” Troubleshoes replied, giving her offered hand a single shake.
“Tell me, how do you know my daughter?”
Troubleshoes shuffled awkwardly. “Well, uh….”
“They’re mutual friends of mine,” Sable said from his spot in the corner.
“Oh, hi Sable! I didn’t see you there,” Twilight Velvet said, turning to the man with a smile. “How’s Celestia? Feels like it’s been ages since we’ve seen each other.”
“Well, you know how she is. Busy as a bee, but somehow managing. She regrets not having enough time to hang out.”
As Troubleshoes and Tirespin stood there feeling like a third and fifth wheel, two sets of footsteps came rushing down the hall and a young boy’s voice called out, “Mom! Mom!”
A young boy with green hair who looked about ten came running in pursued by a teenage girl with dark hair.
“Mom, Tavi took my 3DS!” the boy exclaimed.
“No I didn’t!”
“She was rooting around my room and when she left it was gone!”
The teenage girl—apparently “Tavi”—pushed the boy aside and exclaimed, “I didn’t take his dumb video game! I was looking for my iPad charger, which I lent him the other day because he lost his and I wanted to be nice!” The girl crossed her arms and glared at the boy, who comically mirrored the action.
“‘Dumb video game?’ Don’t act like you weren’t super into Animal Crossing on my old DS!”
“Spike, you left your GameBoy on the living room couch, which I told you a dozen times not to do!” Velvet’s voice cut through the argument.
“‘S not a GameBoy…” Spike muttered as Velvet continued.
“And Octavia, you should know better than to go through your cousin’s things without his permission.”
Octavia huffed and said, “If Spike would just clean his room once in awhile he wouldn’t have lost his—and now my—charger!”
“Hey, Mom?” Another new voice called out from the upper floor. Troubleshoes looked up and saw yet another teenage girl, her plum and magenta hair soaking wet. She was wearing nothing but a towel.
“Mom, our bathroom’s out of conditioner! Do you have any in your—AUGH!” The girl shrieked when she saw the strangers in the foyer and pulled her towel tighter around herself, her face turning beet red. “Why didn’t anyone tell me we were having company tonight?!”
The girl retreated back into the upstairs hallway from whence she came, and with a weary sigh Twilight Velvet sent away Spike and Octavia.
“I’m sorry, this house is pure chaos. Six teenage girls and a ten year old boy will do that,” Velvet said to Troubleshoes, sounding as exhausted as if she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. “I’m going to pour myself a big glass of wine and spend the next couple of hours off my feet. I’ll pour you one too if you’d like.”
Troubleshoes cleared his throat and said, “I’ll be fine, thank you.”
Velvet shrugged. “Well, make yourself at home. I’m sure one of the triplets can show you where you’ll be sleeping.” She then turned to Sunset. “You, on the other hand have some dishes to do. And then you’re going straight to your room. It’s a school night.”
“But Mom, I need to question Troubleshoes about the mercenaries!”
“No ‘buts!’ Don’t forget you’re still grounded, Young Lady. Your cousins can ask Mr. Troubleshoes whatever questions they need to. Now get going unless you want to be grounded for another week.”
“Yes, Mom!” Sunset turned and headed towards where Troubleshoes assumed the kitchen was before stopping and turning back to them with a compassionate look in her gorgeous eyes. “Don’t you two worry about a thing, okay? You’re in good hands!”
And somehow, Troubleshoes believed it as he watched the girl (definitely not a young woman like he thought) who had the ear of both the FBI and the DA’s office leave to do her chores before she incurred her mother’s wrath. Gotta admit, this is not how I expected tonight to go.
Troubleshoes felt a hand on his shoulder then, and turned to see Sable standing there. “Well, looks like everything’s under control here. As much as I’d like to stay and hang out with you and the family, I should probably get going. I still need to take care of that business we discussed.”
“Appreciate it, Sable. Hope I’ll see you around,” Troubleshoes said, glancing around. “The adult to teenager ratio is far too skewed in this house.”
Sable just smiled. “You get used to it.”
He turned to leave, but stopped when Tirespin spoke up. “Why?”
“Come again?”
“Why is she helping us? We’re perfect strangers to her.” Tirespin’s eyes then fell away from Sable’s, and Troubleshoes noted a hint of guilt on her face. “And why are you helping us? I’m not even really your student, and you couldn’t have known my dad for very long. So why?”
Sable was silent for a moment. “Well, it’s like Sonata said. Sunset’s a fixer. I haven’t known her very long either, but I do know that whenever she sees a good person who needs help, she helps them. No questions asked.” Then Sable gave them a smile. “I guess somewhere down the line I started picking up her habits.”
After leaving the Twilight family manor, Sable opened up the ride-sharing app on his phone and arranged for a pickup. It wasn’t for him, though—he figured he would try taking the CanterRail, just to see what it was like. But the nearest station was still a several minute walk away. Plenty of time for Sable to carry out the plan he and Troubleshoes came up with. After setting the pickup and drop off location in his phone, Sable then called Celestia.
“Hey, where are you right now?” he asked.
“Just finishing up at the office,” Celestia answered. “Is something wrong? You sound a little... intense.”
“I need you to head home right now. Call me back when you’re in the car and I’ll explain everything.”
Past experience had taught Celestia to trust Sable when he got like this, so she did so without a fuss. Four minutes later she called him back.
“Okay, I’m on the road now. What’s going on? Is it wing and horn stuff?”
“Something like that.” Sable gave her a brief overview of everything that Troubleshoes had told him. Even abridged, it took longer than Sable would have liked.
Suffice to say, Celestia was less than pleased. “Is it too much to ask for one normal month?”
“Don’t worry, this isn’t going to be anything like the other time,” said Sable, well aware of just how many meanings the phrase “other time” had in this instance. “Sunset and I are taking measures to ensure we won’t be completely blindsided like before.”
“Okay. What can I do?”
“Troubleshoes and his daughter are going to be staying with Sunset and her family until the situation is dealt with,” Sable explained, knowing that Celestia wasn’t going to like this next part. “But his mother and granddaughter need to lay low somewhere else. And we do have that spare bedroom we aren’t using….”
“I don’t know about this, Sable….”
“They’re already en route in an Uber. If I timed it right they should arrive at our place around the same time as you. I'm taking the train, so I should get home a little bit later.”
“And you didn’t consider consulting me about this first?” Celestia asked, her tone getting dangerous.
“I’m sorry, but we couldn’t risk waiting. I promise you it won’t be for long. Besides, Troubleshoes tells me that Down Luck is an excellent cook, and according to Tirespin, you’ll be hard pressed not to fall in love with Cinnamon!”
There was a pause on Celestia’s end before she replied, “Well, considering we’re yet again in a life and death situation, I suppose I could let it slide.” Then to Sable’s relief, a more playful tone entered Celestia’s voice as she said, “But whatever you were planning to do to make up for everything I’ve done for you lately had better be huge!”
“Guess I’d better start planning, then!” Sable said with a chuckle. His serious tone then resumed as he got back to business. “Once you’re home, take your piece out of its case and keep it on you at all times. You probably won’t need it, but I’d rather you be safe than sorry. I’ll do the same once I’m home.”
“I hear that. Is this… Los Perros group really as dangerous as your friend thinks?”
“Based on what I know about them already, Troubleshoes wasn’t exaggerating,” Sable said as he approached the bus stop. “Trust me Tia, these are some bad people.”
A black Mercedes SUV pulled into the dark rainy parking lot under the faux Dutch windmill’s gaze and parked a fair distance away from the restaurant’s front entrance. The vehicle sat there with its engine running for a few minutes, its sole occupant watching both the restaurant and the unattended brown Cadillac. After deciding that his quarry was already long gone, Withers stepped out of the SUV and went to the brown sedan with an umbrella in hand and a spring in his step.
A quick check inside the Cadillac with his phone light confirmed there was no one hiding inside, and a look inside the trunk (after picking it open of course) revealed a bunch of old junk, but no packed bags. There were also a couple of cell phones—Troubleshoes and his daughter’s, surely—and a quick inspection showed that the SIM cards had been removed. It seemed like the car had been abandoned here. This confirmed what Withers had suspected: Biff’s old friend was making a break for it. So much for your word, huh Big T?
Withers figured the gangbangers he’d hired to have a little fun with Troubleshoes’s daughter would spook the big man—in fact that had been the intention—but Withers thought he’d last just a little longer before heading for the hills. It didn’t really matter to him though. The chase was on now, and that was the most fun part of his “process.” Withers thought of himself as something of an artist, and whenever he met a person with a will as strong as their physique, well… Withers supposed it was how an artist felt when they saw a blank canvas. Or more accurately, sculptor’s clay ready for moulding.
Forcing himself not to get lost in his mental “portfolio”, Withers returned to the task at hand. That his latest work had abandoned his car in the parking lot of a family restaurant indicated to Withers that in all likelihood he’d figured out how Withers was tracking him. So Withers crouched by the car and felt around under the frame by the back left tire for the little bug he’d planted on it under the Bloodhound’s orders (and wasn’t it great when one’s work and one’s hobbies meshed?). Finding his tracking device still intact, Withers pocketed it. He then heard the jingle of keys from the restaurant’s entrance.
A young woman in a sweater and jeans with a waitress’s uniform peeking out of the bag under one arm was locking up the front door of the restaurant. She didn’t have an umbrella or even a raincoat and was already getting soaked. So putting on a smile the way someone might put on a set of clothes, Withers approached her and held his umbrella over her.
“Here,” he said. “No offense, but you look half drowned already!”
The woman seemed startled at first, but relaxed a little when she saw his smile. Smiling was never something that came naturally to Withers. Even as a child, he never really understood it. His mother had always told him how weird it was that he never smiled. Most people smile when they’re happy, Withers. You should try it sometime, she’d always tell him, but he found the advice monumentally useless. Truth was, he never really understood what “happy” even was. Or sad, for that matter. Emotions were just words, all equally alien to him.
So young Withers had taken to studying how other people smiled. He looked at models in magazines and actors on TV, and spent time every day after school practicing in front of the mirror in his bathroom. It took him some time to finally find a way to do it that looked natural, but when he did, it was worth it; if only because his mother would finally shut up about it.
Now, Withers had studied the art of smiling enough that he had a different one for a variety of situations: like how an artist used different brushes depending on what they were painting. The smile Withers pulled up as he held the umbrella over the young waitress was kind with a dash of roguish charm. It had the desired effect: the woman smiled back and looked up at him through lidded eyes. Withers had to admit she made a pretty canvas herself, but he was the kind of artist who couldn’t start on a new project before finishing his current one.
“Thank you,” she said, trembling a little from the cold. “Guess that’s what I get for not checking the weather before going in to work.”
“You don’t even have an umbrella?” Withers asked, and when she shook her head, he switched out to his patronly smile. “Well here, take mine.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly….”
“Please, I insist,” Withers held the umbrella a little closer to her. “You are not dressed for this weather like I am.”
Finally, the woman relented. “Well, if you insist….”
She took the handle of the umbrella and tried to take it, but Withers held on, pulling the two of them just a tiny bit closer. “Say, you don’t work here, do ya?”
Withers noted the way she shifted uncomfortably as he kept a firm grip on the umbrella. “Well, yes. But we just closed.”
Next, Withers pulled out a disappointed frown from his proverbial bag of tools. “Oh, dangit! Aw heck, I was supposed to meet my friend here, but I was busy with work and lost track of time….”
“I’m sorry, our last customers left a little less than an hour ago.”
“Was one of them a big tall black guy?”
The woman smiled in a way that made Withers wonder whether the two of them were daydreaming about similar things. “Yeah. Is he like, a basketball player or something? He’s real tall!”
“Mechanic, actually,” Withers said, pausing to think. “So, you’d say he left here around 9:10? 9:15?”
“Something like that, yeah.”
Withers glanced around and spotted a security camera with a good view of the entrance.
“Great! Thank you so much for your help,” Withers said, finally letting go of the umbrella and giving the girl some room to breathe.
“No, thank you for the umbrella!” the woman said as she turned and started heading for the bus stop at the corner.
“Hey, one more thing!”
The woman stopped and looked back at him, clearly just wanting to go home but at the same time not wanting to be rude to the generous stranger.
“How did my friend leave?” Withers asked.
“How did he leave?” the woman repeated, tilting her head.
“It’s a simple question.” Withers gestured to the brown Cadillac sitting abandoned in front of the restaurant. “That’s my friend’s car. So how did he leave?”
“Oh, he left with the guy he was sitting with.” The woman then frowned. “You’d better tell him to come get his car as soon as possible. It’s probably going to get towed tomorrow morning.”
Withers raised an eyebrow, only interested in one thing that the woman said. “He was sitting with another guy?”
“Yep. Big guy, but not as big as him. I think he had dark green hair….”
Withers slowly ground his teeth. That description sounded pretty close to the guy he saw poking around the other SUV down at Hard Luck Towing.
Not a threat my ass… Withers thought. The woman he’d been talking to suddenly recoiled, as if she just saw a snake slither out of his jacket.
“Well, have a good night!” she said quickly, turning back around and walking briskly towards the bus stop.
Curious about her strange sudden reaction, Withers turned to look at his reflection in the dark window of the restaurant. Sure enough, his carefully constructed smile had partially collapsed, and a hateful grimace was now looking back at him. Withers fixed his smile and then stood and waited there in the parking lot, not caring that he was getting soaked. He waited until the woman got on her bus and drove away, then he got to work.
He went around behind the restaurant until he found the back door between the loading bay and a dumpster. After taking a moment to disable the alarm with a tool he'd acquired for that purpose, he then took out his lockpicks and got to work. The security footage from the night would be on the harddrive of the computer in the manager’s office, probably. From there he’d figure out what his next move was. Either way, the chase was on.
With the relative monotony of picking a lock, Withers allowed himself a moment to reflect on his mental portfolio. He didn’t need any keepsakes or mementos from his past works; his memory of how the canvas looked before he started, and how it looked after he was finished was enough.
So many wonderful works. His favorites had been the retired navy captain—he had been married, but Withers had taught him a thing or two about himself before he was finished—and the young, pretty Canadian soldier. Now that proverbial clay had been especially tough, but after months of diligent work Withers had molded that amazonian warrior into something much more suited to him. She had been good fun before he had disposed of her too.
In no time at all, Withers was inside the diner and had gotten onto the computer in the manager’s office. As he suspected, the footage from the security cameras was on the harddrive in an easy to find folder. Skipping ahead to the 00:21:10:00 timecode, Withers saw his canvas leave in the company of the same man he’d seen snooping around their vehicle at the mechanic shop. One of his associates in Los Perros was conducting his own investigation into this guy, but Withers wasn’t interested in him.
Withers then dragged the footage back until the moment Troubleshoes and his daughter had arrived at the establishment. The two of them ordered drinks and waited there for about six minutes before Troubleshoes’s snooping friend had arrived. From there they immediately got to business. The security footage had audio, but the quality was pretty poor and the three of them kept their voices down, likely not wanting the nearby waitress to overhear their conversation.
With more time and equipment, Withers could probably have gotten the entire conversation, but it ultimately wasn’t necessary. He’d managed to catch enough words and phrases sprinkled throughout that he could confidently guess what they were discussing. Looks like Mr. Snooper just can’t keep his nose out of other people’s business. He might need to be corrected too.
After their conversation wound down, the Snooper called somebody on his phone and then told Troubleshoes to call someone on his. By that point they were at the place in the footage Withers had initially tuned in, and he watched them leave out the front door again. As luck would have it, the Snooper had parked close enough to the entrance that Withers was able to see the car’s make and license plate. Perfect.
His work here done, Withers made a note of the car’s information and then set about scrubbing the harddrive of that day’s footage. This was both to cover up his own presence here and to make sure nobody else who was looking for Troubleshoes Clyde would find him before he did.
Of the many “art projects” Withers had undertaken over the years, none of them excited him quite as much as this one. There was just something about Troubleshoes that intrigued him. The man was built like a workhorse, and Withers wanted to know whether he was hung like one too. Regardless, this was one horse he couldn’t wait to break in.
The guest bedroom in the princess’s home was a little cramped with two beds occupying the space, but only just. Still, Troubleshoes would take it over a cheap motel any day.
After he and Tirespin had dropped off their things, Troubleshoes had briefed one of the triplets (Adagio, who seemed to be the leader) on the situation with Los Perros. After that he’d spent the remainder of the evening with Twilight Velvet and her husband, Night Light, who was apparently a physicist of significant renown. Troubleshoes had figured this out when the man introduced himself to Tirespin, and the girl had immediately broken her standoffish demeanor with wide-eyed excitement.
“You mean you’re the Night Light!?” she’d exclaimed. “I loved your show as a kid!”
Troubleshoes had been confused about her reaction, but didn’t mind. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Tirespin this happy about anything. For that brief moment, Troubleshoes felt like he knew his daughter again.
Seeing his amused look, Tirespin asked, “Don’t you remember him, Dad? From Just Visiting This Universe? We used to watch it all the time!” Tirespin’s enthusiasm suddenly drained, and the bitter look that she mostly wore these days came back. “At least, Mom and I used to watch it while you were off doing… whatever it is you used to do….”
And just like that, the walls went back up, and Troubleshoes’s daughter was a stranger to him again. Tirespin had spent the rest of the night doing her homework. Sable had told them he’d talk to her teachers at the Blanks about her absence (calling it a “family emergency”), but that was no excuse for her to fall behind on her assignments, Troubleshoes supposed. Still, he didn’t think that was the reason for her absence for the rest of the night.
Troubleshoes, on the other hand, had spent the evening sitting with Twilight Velvet and Night Light in their living room. The two overworked parents were both drinking glasses of wine, while Troubleshoes had settled on a Coke. The three adults had spent some time getting to know each other, with Troubleshoes sharing some of his history as a SEAL (he refrained from telling the Saga of the Turkish Restaurant, however). The other two parents told him about how their little family grew larger and larger with each relative they took in (or in Sunset Shimmer’s case, total stranger).
“Seems like you two have a penchant for picking up strays,” Troubleshoes said with an amused grin.
“Yup! I hope you won’t be offended if we don’t end up adopting you and Tirespin next, Mr. Clyde,” Night Light joked, and the three of them had a good laugh about that.
After that they turned on Jeopardy, and spent some time trying to guess the answers before the contestants did. Eventually, Troubleshoes announced that he was getting tired and got up to turn in, but not before thanking the two of them again.
“You guys are good people,” he said. “Not a lot of rich folks would be this kind to someone who looks like me.”
“Sable vouches for you,” Velvet said. “And Sunset vouches for Sable.”
“And we learned a long time ago to trust our girl’s instincts,” Night added.
“Well, I’ll do everything I can to keep her streak going,” Troubleshoes said with a smile before departing to the room he and Tirespin were sharing.
The girl in question was in bed in the dark, lying on her side as she looked at the burner phone one of the triplets had provided, headphones on. The light from the screen illuminated her despondent face.
“Hey Tires,” Troubleshoes said as he closed the door behind him. She didn’t so much as nod his way, so Troubleshoes knelt beside her and turned on the bedside lamp. “Hey,” he said again, motioning for her to take out her headphones.
Tirespin did, pausing whatever she was listening to. “Yeah?”
Troubleshoes noticed what looked like dry tears on her cheeks, and his heart broke a little when he thought about everything she’d been through in the past few hours. “How you holding up?”
With her best attempt at a careless shrug, Tirespin answered, “Okay, I guess….”
“You know… it’s okay not to be. This was a pretty crazy evening we’ve both had. I know I certainly wasn’t expecting this when I woke up this morning.” He then put a large hand over her shoulder and gave it an affectionate, paternal rub. “You know you can talk to me, right? I’m here for you.”
For the first time that evening—first time in Troubleshoes didn’t know how long—Tirespin looked him in the eye, and Troubleshoes didn’t see the cold disdain that was usually there. He just saw his baby girl, scared, hurt and wanting desperately to give in to the unconditional love being offered to her. Instead, she shrugged off his hand and whatever feelings that came with it.
“Whatever,” she said, letting the bitter edge return to her tone as she turned over and pulled her blanket over her. “Night.”
It pained Troubleshoes to see her so clearly hurting and unable to take whatever comfort he could offer, whether because of her pride, anger, or both. Troubleshoes considered pushing harder on the issue, but realized he’d only be pushing her farther away.
I’m going to lose her completely, Troubleshoes realized with growing despair.
On some level, he’d always known just how badly he’d messed things up with her, but now the thought was more sobering than ever. Because she needed him now more than she ever did, and she was still keeping him at arm’s length.
So Troubleshoes simply got into the other bed, turned off the lamp and tried to go to sleep. It was incredibly hard to do while listening to the sniffles and occasional soft whimper from the other bed. All Troubleshoes wanted to do was hold his precious baby girl in his arms and reassure her that everything would be okay. But all he could do was lie in his own bed, feeling utterly useless.