//------------------------------//
// 6 - Operation: Watership Down 
// Story: The Fixer 
// by Flynt Coal 
//------------------------------//

Heart pounding in her chest, Adagio stepped into the seedy basement bar that was the Crevice (or “the Crevi”, if the broken neon sign outside was any indication). Sonata was with her while Aria, their sharpshooter, was posted on the roof of a building across the street, covering the Crevi’s main entrance through the scope of her sniper rifle. Although it had been a few months—and technically, another lifetime—since Adagio and her sisters had been on a proper mission, their instincts remained as sharp as ever. Adagio felt the familiar adrenaline-fueled hyperawareness take over as she surveyed the rather dingy establishment.

A sunken-faced old man stood behind the bar at one o’clock at about three meters. The only supposed patrons were two men standing around the pool table at eleven and a half at fifteen meters. Adagio recognized them from the personnel files in the FBI documentation Sunset had shown them. The green felt of the pool table had a long-faded brown stain, and Adagio could smell cigarette smoke. There were two other doors aside from the one she and Sonata entered from: One at seventeen meters just behind the pool table marked as a bathroom, and another behind the far side of the bar at about five meters. Adagio mentally marked them both off as possible entry points for additional tangos. There were no windows.

It took barely a second for Adagio to catalogue all this information, at which point the two men around the pool table immediately took notice of Sonata and herself with wide eyes. Clearly caught by surprise, the two men immediately dropped their pool cues as they fumbled for their sidearms. Were she of the mind, Adagio could have drawn her own and put a bullet into each of them before they could draw a bead on her and Sonata. But they were here to avoid a war, not start one.

“Whoa whoa whoa, take it easy!” Adagio exclaimed, raising both her hands in a placating gesture. “We’re just here to talk, okay?”

The man on the left with a fedora and red scarf hesitated while the more beefy man with orange hair and sideburns raised his sidearm and growled with an Irish accent, “I don’ wanna hear what you ‘ave to say unless yer beggin’ fer yer life, ye SIREN cunts!”

As the big Irishman scowled down the sights of his weapon, Adagio readied herself to react. Sonata mirrored the Irishman’s stance, staring calmly down the sights of her own sidearm, while Adagio took a step closer to one of the tables in the center of the room, ready to kick it over to create cover if their mission went tits up (which it seemed about to). Sunset was going to be disappointed in this outcome, and admittedly, so was Adagio, but there was certainly truth to the expression about the survival rate of a good plan’s first contact with the enemy.

Fortunately, the shootout that Adagio had been expecting was stopped by the elderly barkeeper, who stared down the Irishman with a hard glare. Irish relaxed his grip on his weapon, and the bartender then turned his gaze to Adagio and Sonata. One of his hands rested out of sight just beneath the bar counter, where he almost certainly had his own weapon ready. The intended message was clear: This is my establishment. No messes, or none of you leave alive.

With Sonata and Irish having both lowered their weapons, the man in the fedora said calmly, but firmly, “Say your piece and then get out.”

Adagio lowered her hands. “We have urgent business to discuss with your boss, Biff,” she said, using his name to take control of the conversation. “Is the Bloodhound here?”

“The Bloodhound is at our main headquarters out of state,” Biff answered. Adagio had to give it to him, he had one hell of a poker face. He barely seemed concerned that she knew who he was. “Anything you have to say to him, you can say to me.”

Beside her, Sonata glanced around. “Where’s your creepy friend with the shades?” she asked innocently, but Adagio knew her well enough to hear the concern in her voice. Truth be told, Adagio didn’t like not knowing where the creepy bastard was herself.

Biff and Rogue exchanged a glance. It was brief, but Adagio could tell that something far more was exchanged.

“We’ve sent Withers out on an errand,” Biff stated. “I wouldn’t worry about him.”

Unfortunately, that only made Adagio worry more.

 





 

Withers grinned as he surveyed the back of the massive estate at 482 Golden Oaks Drive. Here he was, finally poised to take what he had been craving for so long. Sure, none of the guys who had been surveying the property over the past week had spotted Troubleshoes, but Withers knew that he was here. Operation: Watership Down had officially begun!

After going over maps of the surrounding area, Withers had deduced that the best avenue of attack was at the back of the property. So, he and his strike team had parked their vans in the parking lot of a nearby baseball field that just happened to be connected to the same forest that was connected to the rear of the property. Under the cover of night and of the trees, Withers and his men approached the rear of the wealthy estate dressed in all black fatigues and tactical gear, with balaclavas covering their faces and DMRs in their hands.

Currently, Withers had eyes on four SIRENs: two of them were posted on the rear patio, while the other two patrolled the grounds. His scouts had studied their patrol pattern carefully over the past week, and although it was pretty tight, there was one moment they had found where the SIRENs would be vulnerable. Withers attached a silencer to his rifle while beside him, his second for this operation did the same.

A skilled operator in her own right, Rosy Thorn wasn’t contracted with Los Perros de Guerra full time. She was a true freelancer, having done jobs for a myriad of other mercenary companies. She was good enough that Los Perros had employed her services on a number of difficult jobs, and she had yet to disappoint, having even survived the operation against SIREN in Colombia. Withers had briefly considered using her as his next canvas when they’d first met, but she had performed well enough that he ultimately decided she was more useful on the battlefield with him.

Passing no more than a look and a nod between them, Withers and Thorn assumed firing positions, each of them resting their DMR on a low tree branch and putting one of the two on the porch in the center of their sights. Withers realized then that his target was not a SIREN, but Sable the Snooper. Withers grinned as he and Thorn held fire until the patrol on the grounds was out of sight, then put down the SIRENs on the porch with one silent burst each. Good night, Snooper. At least, that was what was supposed to happen.

Instead, the figure in the center of Withers’s scope jumped in place, startled, and dropped prone under the next burst from Withers’s weapon, shouting something to his compatriots.

“Fuck!” Withers cursed, pressing up against the tree for cover as the enemy returned fire. He had an easy shot on the Snooper, so how the hell had he missed?! Glancing over at Thorn, Withers saw that she was doing the same, desperately fiddling with her weapon as she cursed under her breath.

“The fucking sights on this thing, I swear to Christ…” she muttered angrily, audible to Withers even over the loud reports of the enemy fire.

With stealth out the window, Withers ordered the rest of his men to go loud. Already more SIRENs were arriving on scene, taking up positions of cover behind the house, the fence, and what appeared to be a tool shed. Los Perros used the trees and the darkness as cover effectively. Before anyone knew it, a pitched firefight was well underway, with neither side having the clear advantage.

“Well, this went to hell fast!” Thorn shouted to Withers between shots from her DMR. “Guess even your plans can’t always survive contact with the enemy, huh?”

Withers barely heard her, too focused on what he was going to do now. He briefly entertained the idea of ordering a retreat, knowing it would only be a matter of time before someone heard the shooting and called the authorities. He then realized that such a thing may not be as urgent a problem as he thought: this property was not only massive, but also isolated. People in a neighborhood this nice probably had no idea what gunfire sounded like anyway: any neighbors in range to hear it would probably just think it was kids setting off fireworks in the middle of the night. No, it wasn’t time to retreat yet.

“Thorn, keep putting pressure on ‘em from here!” Withers ordered, poking his head out to survey the battlefield. 

The right side of the house looked relatively unguarded. He could use the forest to get around this firefight and then use the fence to keep out of sight until he was close enough to make a break for the side door. He quickly motioned for two of the mercenaries whose names he honestly didn’t care to remember to follow him.

Yes, it was true that no plan survives contact with the enemy. That was why Withers always had a backup plan.

 





 

It was a pure stroke of luck that Sunset had been awake when the shooting started outside. Just several minutes prior, Sunset had been awakened by a nightmare the nature of which she could no longer remember. She knew it wasn’t anything like the one that had affected her along with her friends and family at the beginning of the month, so it was likely just a mundane nightmare. Still, something about it unsettled her even as it faded in the fog of her unconscious memory (had there been a man without eyes?)

All thoughts of the nightmare vanished though as soon as the shooting outside started. It sounded like it was coming from the backyard, so Sunset wasted no time summoning her phone to her hand and checking the back-porch camera on her Nest app. Sure enough, the illusory versions of Sable and Intermezzo were shooting incorporeal bullets into the trees at the edge of the property, and what was more, the trees were shooting back. The destruction of the potted plants on the porch around her faux protectors indicated that the gunfire coming from the trees was decidedly more real, and more dangerous.

Sunset wondered whether it was Los Perros that was attacking, before reprimanding herself. Who else could it possibly be? Wasting no more time, Sunset quickly sent a mental command to her illusions to converge on the attackers and then bolted out of her room. Troubleshoes was already standing outside of the guest bedroom he was sharing with Tirespin down the hall, dressed in nothing but an undershirt and boxers. He looked awake and alert, scanning the hallway with his Jframe in hand. Figures the former Navy SEAL would be the first to react.

“The hell’s going on?” Troubleshoes asked when he saw her.

Sunset answered by showing him the camera feed on her phone. Troubleshoes studied it with a frown.

“Can’t believe those bastards are actually crazy enough to launch an attack despite your security presence,” Troubleshoes said. “Just my fuckin’ luck!”

“Luck’s got nothing to do with it,” said Sunset, the pieces starting to fall into place. She had been so certain that nothing could link the triplets to SIREN in this timeline, but she had completely forgotten about her illusionary SIRENs. “I miscalculated, and now we’re paying the price.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can explain later. Right now, we have to move!” Sunset exclaimed, and it was the truth. But she also couldn’t afford to tell Troubleshoes the details of what was really happening. Not yet. “Start waking everyone up. We can all take shelter in the secret bunker while my security force holds them off.”

It looked like the first half of that plan would largely be unnecessary. Tirespin was peeking out from the guest bedroom, and more doors along the hallway were opening. Spike and Twilight were looking, bleary-eyed, through the cracks in their respective doors, while Night Light and Twilight Velvet had joined them in the hallway.

A firm parental look from Velvet mixed with genuine worry prompted Sunset to repeat herself, and Velvet wasted no time ushering Spike and Twilight downstairs while Night went into Octavia’s room.

“Y’all can hold up in the bunker if you like, but I’m going to help out your security team,” Troubleshoes stated.

“Absolutely not,” Sunset immediately retorted. “I promised you would be safe here, I’m not about to let you put yourself in danger!”

“I can handle danger. I made a career out of it, after all!” Troubleshoes commented. “Trust me, I eat tangos for breakfast!”

“My security force can handle this. Please, just leave it to them.” It wasn’t only Troubleshoes’s safety that Sunset was concerned about. If Troubleshoes joined the fight, he might notice that the people fighting beside him were mere shadows. Even worse, the enemy might notice. Then he would be all alone out there against Los Perros.

“I appreciate the concern, Sunset, but I can’t just sit on the sidelines while others fight my battles for me,” Troubleshoes said, and from the way he looked in her eyes, Sunset could tell he was serious. “That’s just the kind of person I am, and nothing in this world can change that!”

Sunset glanced at the figure standing just behind him, creating a path with her eyes for Troubleshoes to follow. He did, and the path ended at Tirespin, who stood in the guest bedroom doorway in sweatpants and a t-shirt. She regarded her father with one of her trademark frowns, but there was something different about the one on her face this time. The usual toxic vitriol was replaced with a sort of sad resignation, and her eyes seemed full of understanding.

“Do whatever you want, Dad. It’s okay,” she said, but it didn’t sound okay to her. She then went to follow Night and Octavia without another word.

“I guess I can’t stop you from doing what you have to do,” Sunset said. “Just make sure you really know what that is, okay?”

Sunset left him with that thought as she went to join the rest of her family. As she arrived at the second floor of the main foyer, her mother called her name as she emerged from the opposite wing of the house. Sunset then realized exactly how much trouble she was in when she realized exactly who’s bedrooms Velvet had just come from.

“Where the hell are the triplets?!”






 

In the center of the dark, murky Crevi, a makeshift negotiating table was set up (ironically, the same table that Adagio had considered using as cover minutes ago). Adagio and Biff were seated across from each other, with Sonata and Rogue (the Irishman) standing just off to the side, ready to act in case the ensuing peace talks broke down. The bartender and apparent owner of the establishment, the elderly Mr. Crevi, lurked from his place behind the bar counter, quietly ensuring that everything remained civil in his establishment. The tension in the room was razor thin as the two primary negotiators sized each other up

“So, let me get this straight,” said Biff, scratching the scar on his cheek. “You want us to leave Canterlot and stop all monitoring activity at your compound?”

“House. At our house,” Adagio emphasized, keeping her voice calm despite the undercurrent of emotion in it. “Where our family sleeps. Where my sixteen-year-old cousins do their homework and practice their music. Where my eight-year-old cousin plays his video games.”

Mentioning Spike gave Biff pause, and Adagio wondered whether the man was a father himself. She immediately then wished that the thought had never occurred to her. She might still have to kill him if this didn’t work out.

“And ye really expect us to just believe that ye were never a part o’ SIREN?” Rogue asked. Biff had all but demanded to handle the negotiations himself, lest Rogue’s temper get the better of him. It seemed that Rogue would still have his say regardless, though.

“Yes,” Adagio said plainly. “I expect you to believe it because it’s the truth.” Or so it was on this timeline anyway. “I’m sure you’ve run full background checks on us by now. You know it’s impossible for us to have ever been Canadian black ops mercenaries,” Adagio scoffed as if the mere idea was ridiculous to her.

“And what about that security force patrollin’ yer property? Our research confirmed at least three of ‘em were SIREN.”

And there it was: Sunset’s blind spot. Really, it was something they all had missed, but how were they to know that Los Perros and SIREN had history when Sunset had first created her illusions?

Fortunately, Sunset had already prepared an answer for Adagio to give them, “We were genuinely unaware of any past affiliations the employees of Zero Risk Security had. Suffice to say, next time we’ll conduct more thorough background checks.”

It was good that Sonata had went and created a full fake security company online the day after Sunset had showed them her illusions. As Sunset had suggested, she had even gotten one of Derpy’s friends to help set up fake contact information and a job history for Zero Risk Security.

Biff sighed and rubbed his temples, “Okay, I don’t know how much I’m willing to believe, but everything you’ve said checks out with our own research, so I suppose I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Still, Los Perros has committed a lot of resources already to this project. It would be good if we had something to take away from it.”

“Like those three bitches on your security team,” Rogue added bluntly, earning a warning look from Biff.

“Whether you get your SIRENs or not, you’re still coming away from this out the same amount of resources,” Adagio said, this time not following Sunset’s prior coaching, but her own instincts. “Revenge isn’t exactly a good business model. It’s time to let go and move on.”

“And what about Troubleshoes Clyde?” Biff asked. “He still has his debt to pay with the Bloodhound.”

“Right, because his conscience inconvenienced your boss, right?” Adagio asked. “Yet the way I hear it, the job was still successful in the end. Am I wrong?” Neither Biff nor Rogue answered her, indicating that she wasn’t. “It sounds to me like this Bloodhound guy is just trying to squeeze as much free labor out of Troubleshoes as he can. Personally, I don’t see why. Los Perros can’t be that hard up for cash if what you just said is true about how much you’re spending on this blood feud with the remnants of SIREN.”

“It’s not just about profits. The Bloodhound understands that sometimes measures need to be taken so we don’t appear weak.”

Adagio cocked an eyebrow. “And is squeezing a poor vet who’s only trying to look out for his family the best way to go about doing that?”

Behind Adagio, Sonata couldn’t help but grin at her sister’s simple rebuttal. The two mercenaries, though, seemed to find it much less amusing.

“On that, I actually agree with you. Never sat right with me the way our boss was exploiting Troubleshoes,” Biff said. “I suppose I could bring the matter up with the Bloodhound the next time he calls.”

“Why not tell him in person?” Adagio asked. “Seeing as you’ll be headed back to your main headquarters soon enough anyway.”

That, the mercenaries did find amusing.

“Don’t push your luck, girl,” Biff said with the hint of a smile. “We’re only considering backing off Troubleshoes and your SIREN buddies. So far, I don’t see any compelling reason for us to leave town on top of that.”

Adagio smiled. She could think of no better opportunity than that to play her trump card. Slowly, wordlessly, Adagio pulled out a certain USB portable hard drive and placed it on the table between them.

Biff looked from her to it to her again. “What’s that?”

Still smiling, Adagio answered, “A compelling reason.”

Sighing, Biff said, “Wanna just spare me the theatrics and tell me what I’m gonna find on this thing?”

“A comprehensive collection of files from the FBI’s intelligence and counter-terrorism division regarding your current operations here in Canterlot.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Biff blinked once. Twice. Three times.

“I’m… not sure I understand your intentions here,” Biff said at last. “Is this supposed to be a threat?”

“Think of it more as a show of good will,” Adagio answered, tapping the hard drive. “Keep it. Take a look at the documentation yourself. There, you’ll see that the FBI has been gathering intel and gearing up to raid this place. After what happened in the summer, they’re not fucking around. One of the reports even says that they’ve got one of their TS-SWT teams in place down in San Francisco, ready to move at a moment’s notice.”

Technically Adagio didn’t know for certain that’s what the Feds were planning, but there was certainly enough evidence in the documentation that it was a very real possibility. What was more important was that Los Perros believed it, and looking at them now, it definitely seemed like they did. Biff and Rogue seemed a shade paler, and even Mr. Crevi behind the bar was giving them all a wild-eyed glare. That was good: If Los Perros were no longer welcome at the Crevi because of this development, it was all the more reason for them to pull out of Canterlot entirely.

“It would be easy enough for us to simply wait you out until the Feds begin their mass arrests, but we wanted to give you a chance to get out of Dodge before that happens.” Adagio leaned back in her seat. “We have practical reasons for doing this too. Once you’re in Federal custody, they’ll start asking you questions. Questions that could lead back to us, and we really don’t need that kind of headache.” Adagio glanced back at Sonata. “Right?” she asked, and Sonata nodded.

Biff tentatively took the hard drive like it might be poisoned, gave it a cursory inspection, then passed it to Rogue.

“You two have a lot of nerve coming in here and telling us this,” he said, clearing his throat. “But you’ve given us a lot to think about, Ms. Dazzle,”

Just then, Adagio heard the crackle of static in her ear and Aria’s voice came in. “Alpha Six, Alpha Five.”

Adagio held down the transmitter on her headset. “Go ahead.”

“We need to pull out immediately. A situation just emerged.”

“Copy that.” Adagio returned her attention to Biff, who was studying her curiously. “We’ve said our piece. If there’s nothing else, we’ll take our leave.”

The mercenaries hesitated to answer, and for a moment Adagio wondered whether they were going to need to fight their way out after all.

“Yeah yeah, get out of here,” Biff said, waving a dismissive hand.

Adagio stood, and after a moment, Biff followed suit.

“Fer the record,” Rogue growled. “I still think yeh cunts are SIRENs.”

“You’re wrong,” Adagio said, answering his open hostility with a predatory smile. “We’re much more dangerous.”

“I’m curious then,” Biff said more neutrally. “If you’re not SIRENs, what exactly are you?”

Sonata was the one who answered, “All you need to know is there are forces in this world far bigger than any of us.”

Adagio and Sonata made their way to the door, all too eager to escape the stuffy, oppressive atmosphere of the Crevi.

“What is he to you, anyway?” Biff asked before they could.

Adagio turned back towards him. “I’m sorry?”

“Troubleshoes.” The carefully guarded expression Biff had worn throughout their little meeting had given away to something almost… softer. “What is he to you, if you’re willing to go so far to protect him?”

“He’s our friend,” Adagio said with a speed surprising even her.

Biff’s expression gave way to a sad smile. “Until recently, I thought the same thing.”

Adagio didn’t know what to say to that, so she elected not to say anything. She merely turned and followed Sonata out of the Crevi.

“See, Dagi? Not everything needs to be resolved with bullets,” Sonata chirped when they were down the street. “Hafta say, you’re a pretty good negotiator when you want to be.”

 

The two of them made their way back to the 24-hour parking lot where they’d left Sonata’s KIA a few blocks away. Aria joined them shortly after, her usual stoic demeanor betraying a hint of worry.

“What’s the new situation, Ari?” Adagio asked.

“I got a call from Sunset while you guys were in there,” Aria said. Adagio and Sonata had turned their phones off to focus on the mission, as an untimely call could have spooked Los Perros into drawing their weapons.

Aria then proceeded to tell them Sunset’s account of what was going on back home.

“Those sons of bitches knew this was happening the whole time we were talking!” Sonata exclaimed as she and her sisters immediately got into the car.

Adagio nodded. “I think the only reason they agreed to talk to us in the first place was to stall for time. We had the drop on them, they knew they were dead to rights.”

“And I’m sure they also knew that every moment they could keep us occupied here was a moment we wouldn’t be defending the house from their attack,” Aria said as Sonata started the engine.

“Can we please go back there and put some bullets in those assholes?” Sonata asked. Adagio knew she was just joking. Probably. So much for not everything needs to be resolved with bullets.

“Maybe if they don’t leave Canterlot like we asked,” Adagio stated as Sonata pulled the car up to the parking lot gate and inserted her ticket into the machine. “But I think Biff at least was seriously considering our proposal at the end there, and as their second-in-command he’s the main one we needed to convince. He may have gone into our negotiation expecting only to buy himself more time, but I think we managed to surprise him with how convincing our angle was. They did let us go, after all.”

Sonata turned onto the street and started gunning it, praying to God that there weren’t any speed traps. “Yeah, I guess knowing that you’re in the FBI’s crosshairs is a pretty good motivator.”

“Only time will tell,” Aria said, gripping her weapon tightly. “But right now, we have more immediate concerns.”

 





 

It was rare for both Sable and Celestia to have nowhere to be at the crack of dawn the next morning. As such, they decided to make the night theirs. With Troubleshoes having taken over most of the triplets’ training sessions, Sable was free to take Celestia out for dinner at the nice Italian restaurant they both liked. After that they decided to check out the new bar that opened in their neighborhood. They stayed there a few hours, drinking and talking to other patrons. Sable limited himself to two beers, as someone needed to drive them home and he wanted Celestia to enjoy all the pinot noir she wanted.

When they finally got home, they made their way to the bedroom to do what couples typically did together (quietly, lest they wake their guests in the other room). Their soft sighs and grunts of exertion were joined by the electronic ring of Sable’s cell phone from its place on the nightstand.

“Just leave it…” Celestia said, breathless as she continued to move under him.

Sable was in complete agreement on that; however, he couldn’t help but glance over at the intrusive device, just to see who could be calling at such an hour. The name he saw made him freeze in place.

“Sable? What’s wrong?”

Reluctantly, Sable disengaged and reached for his phone. “It’s Sunset.”

Celestia, who looked about to protest, stopped herself when Sable said who was calling. Both of them knew that Sunset wouldn’t call at this time unless it was urgent.

Sable pressed answer. “Sunset? What’s going on?”

“Sable! Thank God you’re still up!” Sunset exclaimed, frantic. “We’re under attack! I think it’s Los Perros.”

“Son of a bitch…” Sable said, immediately getting out of bed and scrambling for his clothes (but still quietly, for Cinnamon and Down Luck’s sake).

“The family and I are taking shelter in the underground bunker while my illusions keep Los Perros distracted, but I don’t know how long we have before they figure out they’re not real!”

“Alright, stay put and tell the triplets to ready up if they haven’t already,” Sable said, struggling to pull his pants on despite the blood still flowing down below. “When I arrive, send them up and we’ll push them back.”

“Well, that’s the thing… I’ve sent the triplets out on a mission.”

Sable paused halfway through doing up his belt. “You what?”

“It was just a quick assignment that I figured would end this situation with Los Perros. I didn’t know they would actually attack us, let alone on the same fucking night!” Sunset exclaimed before reigning herself in. “I already called Aria and had them pull out. They’re heading back now.”

“Fine, I’m on my way but when this is over the five of us are going to have a serious discussion about chain of command!” Sable said as he grabbed a shirt.

“Trust me, Mom already chewed me out pretty hard. I think it’s safe to say my grounding just got extended.”

Sable hung up without another word and threw on his shirt. “Sorry Tia, I have to go. It’s an emergency.”

The muffled cries of Cinnamon started sounding from the room she and Down Luck were using. Evidently, Sable hadn’t been quiet enough.

“I gathered that, yes,” Celestia said, unable to hide the disappointment in her voice. “How bad is it?”

Her question was answered when Sable opened the closet and started putting in the code to the gun safe.

“Ah, that bad then.”

After holstering his sidearm, Sable went to Celestia and kissed her cheek. “I’ll be back, hon,” he said. Then with a humorous, vaguely promiscuous grin whispered, “Feel free to finish what we started without me!”

In spite of the situation, Celestia snorted. “I’ll… be thinking of you?”

With one more loving smile, Sable turned to the door.

“Just… be careful, okay?” Celestia said, her voice more serious and subdued.

“For you? Always.”

 





 

Down in the secret bunker, the mood was tense and the silence oppressive. Once the shouting match between Sunset and Velvet had subsided, that is. Now, Sunset stood alone before the monitors of the makeshift command center, watching the battle unfold outside via the security cameras. Troubleshoes noticed that she was occasionally doing unusual movements with her hand as she focused on the screens. Must be a nervous tic, Troubleshoes thought.

Giving it no further thought, Troubleshoes returned his attention to his own preparations. Upon their arrival in the bunker, Troubleshoes had wasted no time in finding where the triplets kept their tactical gear while Sunset and Velvet had their spat. He was surprised when he found just how much of it they had: an entire walk-in closet was filled to the brim with camouflage for a huge variety of environments, and what was more, it came in different sizes; even his own. Either these were for the security force outside, or the triplets were planning on expanding their ranks. Either way it didn’t matter. Troubleshoes had outfitted himself with urban night camo, a bulletproof vest, and extra pouches for ammo.

Now, Troubleshoes was in front of the equipment racks, feeling inexplicably that there was something he was missing. He had grabbed a tactical knife and had replaced his Jframe with one of the SIGs in their arsenal. He had chosen an M4A1 as his primary weapon, as it appeared to be a slightly newer version of the carbines he had used when he was in the SEALs. With extra ammo filling his pouches, and the equipment seemingly in good condition, Troubleshoes was fully kitted out. Yet still he had this nagging feeling that something was missing.

He turned away from the equipment racks, at first trying to ignore the strange feeling. Then he realized that what he was missing had nothing to do with his equipment loadout. He realized this when he saw Twilight Velvet holding young Spike in her arms just behind Sunset. And Night Light with one arm around Twilight Sparkle and the other around Octavia. And finally, Tirespin all alone in the far corner, with her knees pulled up to her chest. Troubleshoes realized then that the thing he had missed was the choice he was making.

Troubleshoes was a SEAL; special operations—protecting the people he loved—was his passion, and no amount of time away from that world would ever change that. But now he was faced with the choice between what he loved… and who. In her corner, Tirespin didn’t so much as glance at him. She just stared at her knees despondently, because it was clear to her that—dressed for war as he was—Troubleshoes had made his choice.

Thus, it was with a start that Tirespin looked up at him as Troubleshoes set aside his carbine and sat down next to her. A moment passed, then another, and when she realized that Troubleshoes wasn’t leaving, Tirespin tilted her head and asked, “Weren’t you gonna go out there and do your thing?”

“I was,” Troubleshoes answered, putting an arm around his daughter. “But I decided that I was more needed right here.”

A shadow of a smile flashed across Tirespin’s face, and Troubleshoes felt her ever so slightly lean into him. They sat in silence for a minute or two before Tirespin asked, “But… aren’t you worried that the bad guys are gonna get in if you’re not out there fighting them?”

“I trust Sunset Shimmer’s people can handle the situation on their own,” Troubleshoes said, giving Tirespin’s shoulder a gentle rub. “Besides, if any of Los Perros do manage to get inside, I wanna be close to keep you safe.”

Tirespin finally looked at him directly, and Troubleshoes gave her a warm smile. “Even if you hate me for the rest of your life, I’ll always be here for you. No matter what.”

For a moment, Troubleshoes thought he saw tears begin to well up in Tirespin’s eyes, but she quickly turned away before he could tell for sure. Troubleshoes didn’t mind though. Tirespin made no move to shrug off his arm or push him away, so Troubleshoes simply allowed the two of them to sit together in silence. It was so nice to be holding his daughter again that for that brief moment, Troubleshoes forgot all about the danger seeking him out.

 





 

The main foyer of the mysterious mansion was large and affluent, well decorated with bookshelves, art and other antiquities. Withers could definitely see himself living in a place like this. Who knows? Maybe he’d check to see if it went on the market after tonight, just for fun. But for now, Withers was focused on the moment.

To his surprise, there hadn’t been any guards left at the front entrance when he and his fireteam had snuck around. That certainly made things simple. Now for the somewhat harder part: finding and subduing his target wherever he was in this place. Silently, Withers motioned for the two men with him (Rifled Barrel and Siege Dancer, he’d found out) to follow him as he made his way up the stairs. Despite how big the manor was, it wouldn’t do to split up, or their quarry could pick them off one at a time.

They started making their way down the second-floor hallway of the west wing, checking their corners and covering each other’s blind spots as they swept each room. The first few rooms yielded nothing: no one was sleeping in any of the beds, and a cursory search showed that they weren’t hiding. But the sheets and duvets were tousled and thrown aside. Either this family wasn't in the habit of making their beds in the morning, or these beds had until very recently been occupied.

It was the fourth room down the hall where Withers realized he might have been onto something. The rooms before had been filled with decorations and paraphernalia that gave clear insight into the room’s occupant. For instance, the room with shelves full of comics and video games clearly belonged to the young boy, while the room full of musical instruments and a decent vinyl collection likely belonged to one of the girls; probably the one whose family in Europe were musicians. But this room was damn near immaculate, sparsely decorated with only a few token odds and ends. Most telling of all was the ill-fitting second bed, seemingly added haphazardly at the last minute. Withers had a feeling he was looking at the guest bedroom, and sure enough, the bedsheets were strewn about just as they were in the other rooms.

Withers stepped inside and took a closer look around. An empty suitcase and a duffel bag further supported the notion that someone was staying here. He checked inside the drawers of the dresser next. Warmer… he thought as he looked upon several neatly folded boxer shorts that appeared way too big to fit anyone they’d regularly seen on the premises. Then, Withers spotted a brown leather wallet sitting abandoned on top of the dresser. He tore into it like a kid on Christmas, pushing aside the cash and credit cards until he found what he was looking for: a California driver’s license belonging to one Troubleshoes Clyde.

Smirking, Withers held it up to his men. “Got him. He’s here somewhere!” Of course, Withers had known that from the beginning, but it was nice to finally have some solid evidence. “Keep checking the other rooms up here. I’ll be with ya in a sec!”

Rifled Barrel (who was covering the room from the doorway) nodded and motioned for Siege Dancer (covering the hallway) to follow him. As soon as they were gone, Withers lowered himself into the larger of the two beds and took in the scent of it, the feel of it, allowing himself to just enjoy the moment for a bit. The thought of having his canvas so soon filled his stomach with butterflies. Perhaps this was what being in love was like?

If that was the case, Withers supposed he’d been falling in love with his own special works of art all his life. Wasn’t that what all true artists did, after all? Every time he had gotten his hands on one of his past canvases, it had been a labor of love to transform them—physically, mentally, spiritually—into the works of art for him and him alone to enjoy.

Pulling out one of his hidden knives, Withers idly ran his thumb along the flat of the blade. It would be the same with Troubleshoes, once he found him. Troubleshoes would know that he loved him before the end. And yes, like all good things, their time together would eventually come to an end. It was the sad necessity of his chosen artistic medium: he couldn’t keep his works of art forever.

Withers got up from the bed and went to rejoin his comrades as he reflected on this simple truth. If you love something, learn to let it go.

 





 

Stringing together a series of curses with the elegance of a great composer, Rosy Thorn once again retreated behind the cover of her tree to (once again) adjust the sights on her weapon. She wasn’t sure how long this firefight had been going on, but it must have been ten times that she thought her sights had been perfectly aligned only to miss what should have been an easy shot. It was enough to make her question if she was losing her skills. No, fuck that. I’m still in my prime!

“Holy shit!” Beside her, one of the men under her command—a black mercenary with frameless glasses named Scope Lens—threw himself back into cover against the tree beside her.

“You good?” she asked without looking up from where she was carefully fiddling with her rifle.

Scope quickly patted himself up and down his chest and breathed a sigh of relief when it was apparent he wasn’t hit. “Yeah. Just thought for sure they had me that time,” he said, shooting her a grin. “Hey, maybe they’re having problems with their weapons too!”

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” Thorn deadpanned, deciding to give up on adjusting her sights. They were already aligned perfectly, there was nothing more to be done.

And yet, when she picked a target, lined up her shot and opened up with nearly half a magazine, her shots were utterly ineffective. She was starting to run low on ammo.

“Ugh, this is like playing against hackers in Call of Duty!” someone else further down the treeline shouted, unintentionally echoing Thorn’s own thoughts. What the fuck is going on?

Thorn reached for her headset and started contacting the other fireteams. “Bravo, report! What’s your status?”

“Pinned down. Enemy’s bunkered down tight, we can’t land a hit on ‘em!”

Glancing briefly at Scope, Thorn asked, “What about casualties?”

“No casualties. Not even any wounded. But we’re getting nowhere here!”

Thorn quickly checked in with the rest of the fireteam leaders, and all of them reported the same thing. In all her years she had never seen or heard anything like it: two sides locked in a perfect stalemate. Neither one taking any casualties or gaining any ground. It was like they were so evenly matched that neither one could take the advantage. Except that isn’t how combat works. Something always gives eventually. So why hasn’t it?

Maybe they’re shooting blanks, and that’s why they can’t hit us, Thorn reasoned. Yes, if they don’t have any real bullets, they could be shooting off blanks in the hopes of chasing us off. The theory made sense; after all, despite all the ammo being expended, she hadn’t seen spent casings on their side nor any collateral damage on her end. By now, most of the bark on the tree she hid behind should’ve been stripped away. But that wouldn’t be possible with blanks.

But that still doesn’t explain why we can’t seem to hit them.

A crazy thought suddenly occurred to Rosy Thorn just then. It was so crazy that she honestly had no idea how it was even possible; or if it was even possible. But there was simply no other explanation for this truly strange battle. And, unfortunately, no safe way to test her crazy idea. But Rosy Thorn didn’t get to where she was in life by playing it safe.

“Hey Scope! I’m gonna try something.”

Scope nodded. “Need me to cover you?”

“No,” Thorn said, slinging her rifle over her shoulder. “Just watch.”

Taking a deep breath, Thorn stepped out from behind the tree and started walking into the wide-open space between the treeline and the property. Her heart pounded as it seemed at first that none of the enemy combatants had noticed her, merely continuing to fire into the trees. After a few more steps though, one of them pointed her out, and her beating heart nearly stopped when she saw two of them level their weapons at her.

For a brief moment, Rosy Thorn experienced what might be called a ‘moment of clarity,’ and she realized that she was quite literally walking straight into enemy fire based on nothing but an insane hunch. Is this really how I’m going to die? After everything else I’ve been through? The enemy soldiers opened fire, and Thorn flinched, experiencing a hot surge of pain. After a moment, she realized that what she’d felt was more of a memory of pain from the time she’d been shot in the line of duty. But that was all it was: a memory. Something conjured by her mind because that was what it had expected. But a look down at herself confirmed that she wasn’t hit. Even as the enemy soldiers continued to light her up, she remained unscathed.

Thorn didn’t know how or why; she just knew that her crazy theory was right. So, with a grin, she turned back to the treeline and waved over the rest of her comrades.

“It’s okay!” she shouted, her voice carrying over the din of faux gunfire. “We can move in! They’re not real!”

 





 

Adagio could hear the distant reports of gunfire as she and Aria were driven by Sonata up the path to the front entrance of their family’s estate. Adagio had managed to keep the hot rage inside her tempered as they sped back home, but the sounds of battle around the place her family lived threatened to bring it back to the surface tenfold. She thought of her cousins, all huddled together in their underground bunker, and her aunt and uncle, trying their best to comfort them. Even Sunset, arguably the most capable of them all, was all alone against an army.

So as Sonata sped all the way up the main path to the driveway, Adagio was practically gyrating in the passenger seat, her mind racing with the thought, Let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out…. As soon as Sonata slowed the car down enough, Adagio bolted out of the passenger side door like a dog that just spotted a cat.

She ran straight around the side of the house towards the back yard, where she saw Sunset’s fake army shooting imaginary bullets into the treeline at the far end of the property, while muzzle flashes periodically revealed the very real enemies within it. Adagio ran about halfway down the backyard and dove for cover behind the small gazebo in the garden. Prone, Adagio surveyed the battlefield. Most of the enemy were taking cover in the treeline. However, Adagio spotted one figure right out in the open.

It appeared to be a woman dressed in black fatigues and tactical gear. Her rifle hung at her side, and she was faced towards the treeline, yelling something to the mercenaries gathered there. Adagio only caught the words “not real,” but it was enough for her to realize that Sunset’s façade was about to be destroyed. So, Adagio aimed down the sights of her sidearm and pulled the trigger.

Her SIG wasn’t ideal for this range, but Adagio was a SIREN: she would make it work. Even so, her first couple of shots went wide, but eventually she hit her mark and the other woman went down with a scream. Adagio started searching for another target, realizing that she’d have to move up if her weapon was going to be effective at all, when she heard the whiz of a bullet past her ear. Adagio immediately retreated further back behind the gazebo, and a couple of more bullets impacted the ground where she had been a mere second ago.

She saw a black man with glasses run out of the treeline accompanied by two more, each of them laying down suppressive fire while Four Eyes began dragging the woman Adagio had shot back towards the treeline. By that point, Sonata and Aria had already joined the fight, the two of them breaking off to different groups of Sunset’s illusions, using them as camouflage.

One of the men covering Four Eyes went down with a shot to the leg from Sonata, while Aria started firing at the men within the treeline with her sniper rifle. Adagio briefly wondered if she had equipped her thermal scope like she said she would for their original operation, and then no longer had to wonder when she heard the pained screams and panicked shouts within the trees.

Adagio smiled as she moved up. Time to push them back!

 





 

Sunset allowed a cautious smile to grow on her face as she observed the newly arrived triplets begin pushing back Los Perros. Just in time, too: they seemed about to figure out the trick behind her other “soldiers.” Now that the triplets were here doing what they do best, Los Perros was on the defensive. Soon Sable would arrive, tipping the scales further in their favor. And even if that wasn’t enough, Sunset had other options to work with….

Glancing briefly up at where Troubleshoes and Tirespin were sitting together, Sunset decided to stick to her earlier insistence that he sit this one out. Perhaps Sunset was being overly optimistic, but it looked as though the wide chasm between the two of them was finally being bridged. Sunset decided to allow them their moment as she returned her attention to her work with her illusions.

Although the faux soldiers had been designed to react to threats fairly realistically, there was a limit to how convincingly they were able to perform in a live combat scenario. So, Sunset needed to control them herself, disguising her spellcasting behind more illusory magic to fool Troubleshoes and his daughter while using the security cameras to puppeteer her illusions. The whole process reminded Sunset of the brief time she’d spent playing a real-time strategy game on her computer, only instead of using the soldiers under her command to eliminate all enemies, the goal was to bluff them into thinking they were outgunned.

With the triplets now back and kicking very real ass, Sunset was able to sell her bluff even more effectively. The triplets had the good instinct to spread out among her illusory defense force, which served to not only camouflage themselves among the fake soldiers, but also make them appear more real.

Thinking the situation outside was handled for the time being, Sunset did a quick check of the internal camera feeds to try and find the group who had managed to sneak inside. Sunset’s smile drifted away, and she blanched at the thought of one of those creeps going through her stuff. Still, she’d rather have them above ground searching their rooms than down in the bunker where her family was currently holed up. Truth be told, Sunset wasn’t sure what she would do if the mercenaries made it down to the bunker.

Naturally, she would defend her family to the full extent of her capabilities, but she was afraid of going too far. She hadn’t used the ocean of newfound power from her ascension in a combat situation before. What if she killed these mercenaries even if she was holding her power back? 

So what if I do kill them? Sunset banished that thought immediately. That was Sunset the Tyrant speaking, and nothing—absolutely nothing—would make her go back to being that person. There was no sense in using overwhelming force to save her family if she alienated them in the process. No, as upsetting as this whole situation was, she would not give in to her lesser impulses. That was the whole reason she was trying to use her illusions to make Los Perros retreat of their own volition. Well, that and unleashing her full power as an alicorn would raise a few questions with Troubleshoes and Tirespin.

“How’s it going?” Velvet asked. Sunset didn’t hear her approach, so wrapped up she was in the world of the Nest.

“I think the tide’s turned in our favor,” Sunset said calmly. It was the first words she and her mother had spoken to each other since their fight earlier. “The triplets made it back and are really laying into them. It’s only a matter of time until the attack force outside has to retreat, and when they go the ones inside the house will follow.”

Velvet just nodded and put a hand on her shoulder, giving Sunset a caring maternal look. It spoke volumes: Velvet was scared, as anyone would be, and her fear became anger which she had turned onto Sunset, well-deserved or not. It was clear that she was sorry things had escalated so far. Even if Sunset’s grounding was totally going to be extended for her little stunt.

“Oh shit….” Velvet swore, taking Sunset right out of that nice moment.

Sunset followed her gaze to the screen where the three interlopers within their home were milling about. They were standing in the main foyer, and to Sunset’s immediate alarm, one of them was pointing towards the bookcase behind which the elevator to the secret bunker lay hidden. Another one—the same sunglasses wearing creep who had stopped by the other week, Sunset realized—followed his companion’s pointing finger to the bookshelf. After giving it a closer inspection, he then looked up directly at the camera, seeming to grin right at them.

“Get everyone in the vault,” Sunset said, her mind racing with a hundred different plans, and none of them ideal.

 





 

It was remarkable just how drastically Withers’s mood had changed from roughly ten minutes ago. He and his men had checked the entire manor top to bottom and hadn’t found shit. By all appearances, the place was a ghost town.

“Maybe they skipped town?” Rifled Barrel suggested as they reconvened in the main foyer.

“No, they’re here!” Withers hissed, rounding on the man, who took a step back from him. “We’re searching the place again! There has to be something we missed. Maybe they have a safe room or something!”

It wasn’t just that he couldn’t find his ever-elusive canvas that was bothering him. The latest report from the strike team outside was that they were rapidly taking casualties. Withers didn’t know how much time he had left to search this place.

“A safe room, huh?” Siege Dancer asked. “The kind that might be hidden behind a bookshelf on gimbals?”

Withers whirled around and looked at the man, who merely pointed to a bookshelf innocently tucked away beneath the upper landing. Withers stepped closer and crouched to get a better look. Sure enough, a set of gimbals had been installed.

“Of course!” Withers exclaimed, his eye being drawn back to one of the security cameras he had noticed throughout the property. He had assumed no one had been watching before. Now, he knew better and grinned. Be with you soon, Big T!

Withers went to the bookshelf and motioned for the other two to help him move it. There was probably a mechanism somewhere that opened it, but he didn’t have time to try and find it. Luckily, he didn’t have to. One good push from the three of them and the bookshelf started to move. It wouldn’t be long now….

“Withers, come in. This is Biff.”

His fists clenching, Withers stepped away from the bookshelf and put a hand up to his headset. “I’m kinda in the middle of something right now, Biff!”

“I know. I’m pulling you out.”

Withers froze. “You’re what?”

“The situation’s changed. We’re aborting Watership Down. The main attack force is already withdrawing.”

“No! I just need a little more time!”

There was a slight pause on Biff’s end before he said, “You’re not refusing a direct order, are you Withers?”

Withers wanted nothing more than to tell him yes, and that if he had a problem with it, he could take it up with the edge of his knife. “No, sir.”

“Good. See you back here.”

Withers stood eerily still for some time until one of his subordinates took a cautious step towards him.

“Sir? What’s the plan?”

Grinding his teeth, Withers said, “We’re falling back.”

With that, Withers stormed out of the foyer through the front door. As he ran down the path, he spotted something: a car coming to a stop in the driveway a few feet away, and who should get out but Sable the Snooper. The ex-Ranger drew on Withers and his team with remarkable speed, and Withers realized he wasn’t going to get his own weapon up before he was a cold corpse on the ground. So instead, Withers reached out, grabbed Rifled Barrel and put him between himself and Snooper.

Withers’s human shield shouted in confusion before his body suddenly jolted in time with the gunshots from Snooper’s sidearm. Still holding Barrel in place, Withers leveled his weapon, and using his wounded subordinate’s shoulder to steady his aim, opened fire with his own sidearm. His first shot went wide, and he overcompensated on his second shot and hit the windshield of Snooper’s car. But his third shot elicited a cry of pain from his adversary as he tried to take cover behind his vehicle. A solid hit, albeit not a lethal one.

Withers quickly passed his human shield off to Siege Dancer (himself only just catching up with them) and started running towards the side of the house, keeping the Snooper pinned with more gunfire until he was out of his immediate range, then sprinted full stop towards the low fence at the edge of the property. His first instinct upon reaching the fence was to simply scramble over and disappear into the night. Instead, he looked over his shoulder and spotted his subordinates limping after him, Barrel’s arm over Dancer.

Snooper wasn’t firing back at them, and Withers wondered if maybe his shot had been more lethal than he’d at first assumed. That left him with his subordinates, one of which was dead weight and the other who may have seen him throw him into the line of fire. Withers could probably get away with it when Biff and the others asked if he spun it the right way—they’d understand the quick and unpleasant decisions one needed to make on the battlefield. But after Biff had so effectively cock-blocked him, Withers was too pissed off to have to explain himself to that asshole on top of everything else.

So, when his subordinates approached, Withers raised his sidearm and put a bullet between the eyes of Siege Dancer, sending both of them toppling to the ground. With one stone dead and the other bleeding out, Withers was satisfied that everything was under control. Shame about those two, but in combat, shit happens. His associates back at the Crevi would understand that, and Withers would express his regret at the SIREN ambush that took their lives catching him completely off guard.

As Withers hopped the fence and started making his way back towards where they’d parked the vans, it suddenly occurred to him: Sable the Snooper had been one of the guards at the rear entrance. So why the hell did it look like he’d only just now arrived?

 





 

“So that was it, then? Just a bunch of kids setting off fireworks?” asked the ECSD deputy at the door.

Sable just stood silently in the grass near where the officer had parked his cruiser several minutes after Los Perros made their retreat. Apparently someone had heard the battle and called in a noise complaint (thankfully not knowing what it was they were hearing), and Night and Velvet were now dealing with that.

“Yeah, they were just in the woods behind our house,” Velvet said, doing her best to sound groggy (Sable didn’t think she needed to act all that hard). “I don’t think they even knew they were on someone’s property.”

Night chuckled and said, “Yeah, they scattered like roaches in the light as soon as we went down to see what was going on.”

The deputy, who was looking pretty groggy himself, sighed and said, “Alright, well if everything’s in order here, I’ll be on my way. But if you hear them again, feel free to call us.”

Night and Velvet thanked him and wished him a good night, and the officer climbed into his cruiser and drove back down the path and off of the property. When he was out of sight, Sunset dispelled the illusion hiding herself, Sable, and the two bodies in the grass.



Sable Loam had been surprised to discover that the battle was for the most part already over by the time he had arrived. In truth, it was lucky: he’d taken a bad hit to his shooting arm right off the bat, and if the group of mercenaries had stayed to finish him rather than retreat, he might not be standing here with Sunset now. Seeing that guy use his own comrade as a human shield had apparently been enough of a surprise for Sable to let his guard down for a brief but crucial moment. Guess the triplets aren’t the only ones whose combat skills have been slipping since the timeline change.

It was fortunate, then, that Sunset had some healing spells ready to go as soon as the fighting was over. Sable had been ready to have his right arm in a sling for the foreseeable future. Currently, Sunset was knelt beside the mercenary that Sable had shot, applying some of that same healing magic to the poor bastard. There was a hell of a lot of blood coming out of the man, but he was still in much better shape than his buddy, who was suffering from a particularly bad case of “bullet in brain.” Had one of the triplets done that?

After a couple of minutes, Troubleshoes stepped out of the mansion and started making his way toward them, and Sable noticed the way Sunset angled her back to him to better hide her spellcasting. When Troubleshoes got close, Sunset dissipated the spell and started to work with the physical first aid implements she’d brought up from the bunker. Sable and Troubleshoes exchanged a nod, and Sunset looked up at them both.

“I did what I could. At the very least, he looks relatively stable now,” Sunset said.

Sable wasn’t sure whether he should be relieved or not, considering the man was technically an enemy combatant. It was good not to have yet another body on his conscience, he supposed, and settled for giving a neutral grunt.

“So, you’re a princess and a paramedic now?” Troubleshoes asked with a mildly amused hmmf. “There anything you can’t do?”

“I took some basic first aid lessons. Hardly enough to qualify as a paramedic,” Sunset said. “Looks like his Kevlar did most of the work anyway.”

Sable wondered how much of that was the truth. The amount of blood on the grass indicated that Sunset was underselling her work just a tad, but Sable wasn’t going to point that out to Troubleshoes. The mercenary coughed and stirred, but still seemed pretty out of it.

“So, what are we gonna do with this guy?” Sable asked. 

“I’d recommend a hospital.”

Sable nodded. As he did, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and saw the triplets approaching from around the other side of the house. As they got closer, they spotted the wounded man in question as well as his buddy with bullet-in-brainitis. They did their level best to ignore the sight as they stood at attention and saluted him.

“We’ve finished our sweep of the area, sir,” Adagio reported. “Looks like the enemy has fully withdrawn.”

“At ease,” Sable said tersely. With the three of them and Sunset now present, it was time to have a very serious talk and Sable was not looking forward to it.

Sonata glanced again at the pair of wounded and dead soldiers and grimaced. “Eesh. This your handiwork, sir?”

Sable nodded and was ready to tear into them when he realized she was referring to both of the downed enemies. “Not this one,” he said, gesturing to the man whose brains were leaking out. “I thought one of you got him.”

Aria shook her head. “We were wrapped up dealing with the force around back.”

“Interesting…” Sable mused. He’d have to ask their wounded friend about what exactly happened. But time enough for that later. “Regardless, now that you’re all here, it’s time we had a serious talk.”

A guilty look crossed Sunset’s face as she stood. “Right. Chain of command.”

“What the fuck were you all thinking?!” Sable barked, getting right into it.

“I thought I had a way to end this feud with Los Perros, and wanted it done as soon as possible,” Sunset explained.

“And in so doing left yourself vulnerable!” Sable exclaimed before rounding on the triplets. “I am especially disappointed in you three. Sunset at least has the excuse of never having served, but the three of you should have known better!”

“Sorry, sir,” Sonata said, the guilt evident on all of their faces.

“You are supposed to be Sunset’s protectors, are you not? Yet you weren’t here when she and the family needed you!”

“I know…” Aria said, her voice barely a whisper. The look on the faces of her and her sisters changed from guilt to downright self-loathing, and Sable decided to ease off a little as he looked at Sunset.

“What kind of mission did you send them on, anyway?”

Sunset caught Sable up on everything she had been up to: commissioning Derpy to obtain the FBI’s documents on Los Perros and then sending the triplets to negotiate with them, using those very documents to convince Los Perros it was in their best interest to skip town. Troubleshoes listened quietly just off to the side.

“If I may, sir… I think Sunset’s plan worked,” Adagio said, her proverbial tail still between her legs as she spoke. “Even though we were gaining the upper hand, the enemy’s retreat was sudden and unexpected. Based on our meeting with their lieutenants, I think it’s likely one of them verified the files we gave them and ordered the withdrawal.”

“Be that as it may, the operation was needlessly risky. Quite frankly, I am astounded that things turned out as well as they did. This could have swung any number of ways, with one or all of you getting way worse than this!” Sable said, pointing to his bandaged arm.

Seeing their crestfallen expressions, Sable decided to swap out the stick for the carrot, and his voice softened. “For the record, Sunset, if you had come to me with this plan first like you were supposed to, I would have not only authorized it: I’d have made sure it got done right. It was a solid plan, it just needed work in some areas. For instance, you should have arranged the meeting with Los Perros on neutral ground rather than on their own turf.”

Sunset rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. “Right. Guess that was kind of stupid.”

Pointing at the triplets, Sable continued, “Furthermore, none of you are qualified to handle negotiations of that nature. You should have left them to me.”

Awkwardly clearing her throat, Sonata spoke up. “I thought Dagi actually did a great job at the negotiating table,” she said, giving her big sister a smile. “I was proud of her.”

Adagio gave a heartwarming smile back, but Sable wasn’t about to let them think they were getting off scot-free just because things turned out okay. “Stow it. The three of you are going to be facing serious disciplinary action for this.” Now, Sable just needed to figure out exactly what that was going to be and clear it with Night and Velvet.

“Ugh… the fuck…” the mercenary at their feet groaned as he slowly returned to a state of consciousness. Looks like Sable would have to table that thought for now.

“Load him into the car,” Sable said, not looking forward to explaining the inevitable bloodstains on Celestia’s leather seats (to say nothing of the bullet hole in the windshield). “After that, you’re dismissed.”

“You don’t want to question him?” Sunset asked.

“Time enough for that on our way to the hospital,” Sable said. “But I don’t expect to learn anything of value from him anyway.”

“Y’know, I was half-joking when I suggested that,” Sunset said. “I’m gonna have to put in a lot of work covering this up if you go through with this.”

“You have any better ideas?” Sable asked. The look on her face indicated that she did, but didn’t like it one bit. “I don’t think you’ll need to do as much as you think. There’s a non-profit medical clinic in Sunnytown I know about. The South County Free Clinic, I think it’s called. A couple of my less scrupulous students ended up there over the years. Apparently they get enough gang-related shooting victims there that they’ve long since stopped asking too many questions.”

Sunset nodded, then glanced at the less fortunate mercenary with a grimace. “What about him?”

“Work your magic. Maybe find a way to send him back to his comrades.”

“Am I doing this as a courtesy, or a warning?”

Sable’s response was a dry look. “Yes.”

Meanwhile, the triplets had immediately set about their task, Adagio grabbing the mercenary around the legs and Aria under the arms. Whatever profanity he was about to fire their way was cut off by a scream as they lifted him, not exactly taking the time to be gentle as they walked him to where Sable had parked. Sonata ran ahead and opened the back door to the car, where Adagio and Aria unceremoniously shoved him in. Sable got into the driver’s seat, not looking forward to the drive with the moron in the back seat.

“Aaaaugh… wherever you assholes’re takin’ me… I ain’t telling you shit!”

“Relax,” Sable intoned as he started the car. “I’m only taking you to the hospital. You’re in pretty bad shape, so if you get any cute ideas, it’s quite literally your funeral.”

At that, the merc actually did relax. A little. “What kinda guy takes the man he shot to the hospital?”

The kind who doesn’t need more death on his conscience, Sable thought, but didn’t say. He opted for deflection instead. “To be fair, I wasn’t exactly aiming for you.”

The other man coughed and groaned, “Withers, that fucking asshole…. He fucking killed Dancer!”

Sable hoped that this guy was able to recover and make it back to his comrades. What he knew would certainly shake things up within Los Perros. 

As Sable was about to back out, he saw Troubleshoes approach. Sable rolled down the window.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Just thinking, Sable,” Troubleshoes said. “I feel like I should take some of the blame for the way tonight went.”

“Don’t,” Sable said. “We knew the risks when we decided to help you.”

Troubleshoes shook his head. “It’s not that. Sunset told me about her plan a while back. I guess I assumed she’d already cleared it with you so I didn’t say anything about it.”

“That’s fine, you couldn’t have known what she was going to do,” Sable said, frowning as a thought occurred to him. “Sunset’s clever enough that she probably counted on that.”

A curious look crossed Troubleshoes’s face then. “What are your plans for the triplets’s punishment?”

“Haven’t thought of anything, yet. Latrine duty, maybe,” Sable said. “I’d have to talk it over with their aunt and uncle. Why?”

A mischievous smile formed across the big man’s face. “Well, I was just thinking about what you told me about wanting to get them more military fit than they are. I think we can kill two birds with one stone.”

Sable met Troubleshoes’s mischievous smile with one of his own. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking it’s time for me to bring the Old Goat out of retirement.”

 





 

In no time at all, the weekend rolled around, and after the tense negotiations with Los Perros and the harrowing attack on their home, Adagio and her sisters were looking forward to getting to sleep in on Saturday morning. So it was with bleary-eyed disorientation that she, Aria and Sonata were all awakened (they’d all decided to sleep together in Adagio’s room since that night) by the sharp sound of a whistle.

“UP AND AT ‘EM, MAGGOTS! THIS AIN’T THE TIME FOR BEAUTY REST!”

Adagio barely recognized the usually lackadaisical voice of the man who had been living with them for the past two weeks. But sure enough, there he was, standing over the three of them in the darkness. The digital clock on her bedside table read 5:01 AM, but it was only on the peripheral of her vision and thoughts.

“Troubleshoes?” Adagio said groggily. “What…?”

“DON’T YOU GIVE ME SASS, MISS DAZZLE! FOR STARTERS, YOU THREE ARE GIVING ME TEN LAPS AROUND THE PROPERTY! DOUBLE TIME IT! NOW!”

The triplets’ sleep-deprived brains took a few seconds to process this.

“W-wha…?”

“WHAT PART OF ‘NOW’ DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND, YOU SORRY EXCUSE FOR SOLDIERS?!”

Troubleshoes blew on his whistle again, and some instinct (perhaps left over from the other timeline) forced the three sisters to their feet, going along with Troubleshoes as he shuffled them out of the room in naught but their pajamas. Before she knew it, Adagio and her siblings were outside in the freezing autumn pre-dawn air, jogging along the path around the perimeter of the property. The harsh wake-up that provided gave her the clarity of mind to consider their current situation.

This was definitely the alluded-to punishment that Sable had promised, there was no doubt of that. Adagio had caught Sable and Troubleshoes sharing hushed words just the other day, and she had a bad feeling about it even then. More than likely the two of them had already cleared this with Night and Velvet, so going to them about this would be an exercise in futility. Lord, what have we wrought?

“I’m sorry, did you say ten laps, Mr. Clyde?” Sonata asked between gasps for breath.

“No, I believe I said TWELVE LAPS, MISS DUSK!” shouted Troubleshoes, jogging right alongside them.

Adagio was reasonably sure that he hadn’t, in fact, said twelve laps, but knew better than to point that out.

After the first two laps, Aria let out a huge groan. “Ugh, I wish I was dead!”

“YOU THREE ARE MORE THAN WELCOME TO DIE AFTER YOU GIVE ME MY THIRTEEN LAPS, MISS BLAZE!”

This elicited a groan from all three girls, but none of them raised another complaint for the rest of the early morning run. Adagio had made sure to give Aria her best death glare before she stumbled over a small rock. She settled for simply completing her laps after that.

Months later, the triplets would look back on this morning and laugh. Now though? Adagio and her sisters were exactly as miserable as Sable likely had hoped.