//------------------------------//
// Chapter One: Threshold 
// Story: CRISIS: Equestria - Divergence, Book 2 
// by GanonFLCL 
//------------------------------//

Golden Dawn examined her reflection in the tinted window in the late morning of a late spring day. First impressions were everything, so everything had to be in its proper place and she had to look her absolute best. Her rich, golden brown coat and her cream-colored mane had been treated and cleaned such that they shined with a healthy glow; the latter had been styled in her usual way, long and curled such that it framed her face. She'd put on her best dress suit, a deep purple affair with a matching tie.

Yes, she looked every bit the perfectly professional mare that she projected herself as, modeled after other professional mares that had reputations she strived to surpass, no, would surpass because that's just who she was. There wouldn't be even the slightest glimmer of doubt in anypony's mind that she was here and that she meant business.

She turned and sat in a large ergonomic chair at the office's only desk. Both were just a little too big for her, but then they weren't ever really hers in the first place. Her father's office had been left unchanged for three months now, and as far as she was concerned it wasn't going to change anytime soon, if ever. Though his physical presence was gone from this world, a piece of him still lingered in this room and filled her with a sense of ease. He'd undertaken hundreds of years worth of critical tasks in this very room; she would do the same.

She'd hesitated to even use his office in the first place, but she'd relented when her sister, Curaçao, told her it was only proper. It had taken even more convincing to move her belongings to this floor of Pandora Tower and take over his former bedchambers as well. She knew in her heart that this was her purpose, her destiny, but there was always a lingering feeling somewhere in her head that made her question if she'd earned it, if she deserved it.

But now was not the time for doubts.

She took a breath, then set her hoof on the intercom button next to the desktop computer. "Shroud," she said firmly. "Have you received notification from the Committee that they are prepared for this morning's conference?"

Her secretary—formerly her father's secretary, passed down to her like everything did—answered quickly, as was her style. "Yes, Miss Dawn. They are awaiting your call now."

"Excellent. Thank you, Shroud, that will be all."

"Of course, Miss Dawn. If I may, Curie— er, Curaçao asked me to wish you luck with your meeting today, and I wanted to do the same. So, good luck."

Dawn huffed. "I do not require 'luck'. I have been preparing for this occasion for months, and I have no lack of conviction towards a favorable outcome in this endeavor."

"Oh. Okay then." There was a brief pause on the other end of the call. "Well, if there's nothing else then, Miss Dawn, I'll return to my work. Let me know if you need anything."

"Much appreciated, Shroud."

The intercom shut off, and Dawn leaned back in her seat. She tapped her hoof briefly on the end of the desk, then took another breath and pressed a few keys on the keyboard in front of her. The screen's display changed to show a series of windows: a large one taking up the upper center of the screen, with two smaller ones on either side and three smaller ones below it. 

The large window displayed her own face. Or rather, it would, if not for the anonymity software that protected her identity, as it had done for her father for however long he had been using this technology. Instead it displayed a sort of gray, featureless face against an equally gray, featureless backdrop. The face would move as she did to give the illusion of realism, and seeing that with her own eyes left an unpleasant sensation in her gut at the disconcerting, uncanny image.

The other seven windows winked briefly, then displayed the faces of the seven other ponies invited into this conference call, each of whom was a member of New Pandemonium City's ruling government body: the Committee. These were the ponies that voted on every single bill and proposal that would be used to create, revise, or repeal the laws that governed the lives that every citizen and business were required to follow, as well as the city department budgets, bureaucratic processes, law enforcement and military guidelines, and… well, everything, really.

"Welcome, members of the New Pandemonium City Committee," Dawn said. 

Though her voice in her own ears sounded perfectly normal, she knew that the software that hid her face also adjusted her voice so that it sounded monotone and genderless regardless of what inflections she put into things. Like the filter on her face, the modulator on her voice was a little disconcerting to her ears, like that of a computer programmed for text-to-speech.

She continued: "This conference has been convened to undertake the process of transitioning power between the former Shadow Associate and myself, their designated replacement. You all have received notification of this transition and responded with acknowledgement as such, and so we may process immediately with the confirmation process as per Committee guidelines. If there are no objections at this juncture?"

There were no objections.

"Then we may proceed." She cleared her throat. "Community Administration Secretary Quill Feather, do you confirm this transition?"

One of the ponies, a bespeckled beige-coated pegasus stallion with a brown mane, an enormous pair of glasses, and a noticeable overbite, adjusted said glasses and nodded. "By the power vested in me by the Committee as Community Administration Secretary, I do confirm this transition."

This proceeded through the entirety of the six other members of the Committee, some of whom were ponies whom Dawn knew personally already and others whom she did not, though she did know everything about them that was relevant as a member of the Committee, from how they tended to vote to tidbits about their personalities. All had been provided to her by Curaçao, who'd put together their dossiers with all due diligence to help Dawn prepare for today and days to come.

Dawn did not know Secretary Quill Feather beyond his dossier, so this was the first time she'd heard him speak. He had a nasally voice and dressed in a way that reminded her of Archimedes, the Chief Librarian from the city's central library. Quill didn't quite have the sort of imposing presence that Archimedes did, though, and actually seemed a little on the weasley side.

She did not know Infrastructure Taskmaster Concrete Girder, either. He was an imposing sort in his own way, an overweight blue-coated earth pony with a cropped black mane, but despite his apparent gut he had a broadness to him that hinted at the muscle beneath all the fat. He seemed the sort of pony that had no business being as strong as he was with how he looked, and with the slight upturn in his nose he reminded Dawn of a pig.

She did not know Treasurer Vendetta personally, though Curaçao had provided her with not only a dossier but a personal anecdote. He was a pegasus with a light blue coat and a two-tone gray mane, and the way he slouched in his seat gave Dawn the feeling he considered this meeting a waste of his time. He clearly did not realize the importance of such a critical juncture in the future of the city's governing.

Director Underhoof was the last she did not know personally, and the infamous CIA director seemed to carry herself in the exact opposite way to Vendetta: she looked like she wanted to be here and knew exactly how important it was. The unicorn mare had an orange coat and a light gold mane that was cut short but with long bangs. Despite her professional businessmare appearance, Dawn knew this mare had been a CIA agent for two decades before taking this post a few years back, and thus was trained in a variety of clandestine skills.

The remaining three ponies Dawn knew personally, because unbeknownst to the other four on the Committee, these three had worked for her father and thus now worked for her. Her father had ensured that every iteration of the Committee had three seats that he could count on to vote in favor of whatever direction he wanted the city to take. She'd never asked him why only three rather than four to guarantee a majority vote, but Curaçao seemed to have the answer: any more and he may as well not even have the Committee, and that just left more work for him to do. 

Dawn wasn't sure if that was exactly correct, but it was satisfactory enough.

The first of these three was Chief of Medicine Doctor Blutsauger, an off-white unicorn stallion with a shocking green mane who was almost never without his signature pair of goggles, though they weren't always over his eyes. Beyond just being in charge of the city's medical branch, he had also played a role in Dawn's… unique manner of creation. The architect of the process that had been used to take the genetic material of Twilight Sparkle and her friends to create Dawn and her sisters. A brilliant pony in every sense of the word.

The second was Admiral Hotstreak, the Commander in Chief of the city's military, the NPAF. He was a dull-pink pegasus with a short, graying mane and matching bushy mustache, and from their brief interactions Dawn knew that he was a professional to the letter. She was exceedingly glad that her father—and thus, her—had him on their side, because it would make the next stages of progress that much easier. The military would play a key role in everything that would come to pass.

Last was Champagne Diamond, the Chairpony of the Resource Department and thus the mare in charge of ensuring the city had everything it needed to function, from food and water to raw materials used in manufacturing and construction. She had a pale yellow coat and two-tone red mane, and looked and carried herself every bit as exquisitely as her name suggested; it was this mare's appearance that Dawn had emulated, at least insofar as dress and upkeep were concerned.

Once the confirmations had been completed, Dawn let out a breath. "I acknowledge the confirmations and do hereby accept the title of Shadow Associate of this Committee until such time as I choose my own successor or until my death. I will perform my duties to the best of my abilities without fail." 

It was not a complicated oath, but then hers was not a truly complicated position, considering her official responsibilities. No, the actual complicated matter was the politics, and that's where Curaçao would be lending a much-needed hoof. Their father hated politics, and thus Dawn did too, but Curaçao did not, and in fact relished the opportunity.

"As my first order of business as your new Shadow Associate, I have decided to conduct an adjustment to these proceedings to better facilitate my tastes," she continued. "For as long as this position has existed, the Shadow Associate has always remained anonymous, be it via technological means such as those we are presently utilizing, or through more magical or mundane means when such technology did not exist.

"However, the anonymity of the Shadow Associate is not a requirement of the position. It is merely an allowance to the position that whosoever holds it may choose to remain anonymous. There is evidence that some Shadow Associates in the past have chosen to reveal their identities to the Committee as a whole—few though they may be—and as such I have decided to do the same."

She pressed a button on her keyboard, and in an instant the identity-concealing software shut down. Dawn's face was now fully visible to the others in the conference call, as were her surroundings. Her voice, too, would now sound as it should. Unfiltered, unedited, and raw; Dawn would take responsibility for everything that came after this. No hiding behind a sheet.

Taskmaster Concrete grunted briefly. "Well now, you're a little younger than I was expecting for somepony in your position. Real talk, are we even sure you're qualified for this?"

Dawn glared briefly, and made to speak.

Somepony else beat her to it. "There are no requirements for the position beyond being chosen by her predecessor, Concrete, you know that," said Admiral Hotstreak, bristling his mustache ever so slightly. "If the former SA believed she was qualified, then she's qualified, and that's good enough for me."

Concrete held up his hooves and grinned. "Hey now, don't get your tail in a knot, Hotstreak, I was just joking. Hell, for all I know the last SA was younger than she is, heh heh. Trouble with anonymity, yeah?"

"Well, I for one see no problem with having the opportunity to see the faces of all of the ponies that are part of this little Committee of ours," said Chairpony Champagne as she briefly patted her mane with her hoof. "I always got a little creeped out by the computer voice, to tell the truth. Horribly disconcerting."

"Tell me about it," agreed Director Underhoof.

"So what's your name then, signorina? Seeing as you're so interested in sharing," asked Vendetta, who Dawn had noticed adjusting his slouching the instant her face had appeared.

Good, she thought, at least now he's taking this seriously.

"My name is Golden Dawn," Dawn said with a light smile and nod. "And it is a pleasure to have the opportunity to work alongside you all." 

"Oh no, il piacere è mio, Miss Dawn," Vendetta said with a grin. "I look forward to working with you as well. Closely, I hope."

Dawn noticed Champagne rolling her eyes, but didn't understand why. She'd ask another time, in private.

She cleared her throat. "Now, as I explained in the notifications you all received, this convening of the Committee was for the express purpose of approving the Shadow Associate transition. Beyond that, I merely wished to introduce myself and rid myself of the anonymity you are likely accustomed to. 

"However, I have no further business that I wish to address at this current juncture. Thus, as per Committee guidelines, the floor is yours to address any business that troubles any of you." She gestured out towards them with her hoof to emphasize her point.

Secretary Quill cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses, and brought a datapad up to his face. "Thank you, Miss Dawn. Now, if it pleases the Committee, I have some items to address regarding some of the bylaws involved in the ownership of business licenses, specifically under Article Eighteen, Paragraph Twelve, as we've discussed before. If you'd all open the files I sent, we can begin our review anew."

There were a few disgruntled grumbles among the others, but Dawn honestly couldn't be happier with the results. This had gone just as smoothly as she'd predicted it would. As if there was ever any doubt.


*****


Red Velvet had two major reasons to be at Central Database Holdings today, and so she had done everything she could to prepare herself for the visit. Establishing a fake library card had been the easiest part by far; asking Shroud for a favor was simple enough, especially if it was work-related. She didn't like being in "the system" even with falsified records, but it was for a good cause.

Dressing for the occasion was less easy, but more fun, and she'd chosen the perfect outfit to fit the situation: a cute gray blouse with a matching skirt that was purposefully much too short, as well as a set of glasses despite her not needing them. The colors would draw attention to the rest of her coloration, which was pink in both coat and mane. She'd even done her mane up in a little bun rather than her usual straight and simple style. 

It was the ideal "sexy librarian" look, at least as far as the, ahem, magazines and videos she'd used for reference were concerned.

Now, her first purpose here this afternoon—and the less important of the two, she'd admit—was scoping out the place for a potential partner for some evening enjoyment. Picking up hunks at the library seemed as far-fetched as could possibly be, but stranger things had happened and so she didn't dismiss the possibility of a score.

Velvet was disappointed to see how poorly her mission was going, however. Oh, there were plenty of stallions here, that much was a given. She'd then narrowed that down to just the good-looking ones and further to those that looked single, which thinned the herd substantially and gave her the pick of only about a half-dozen eligible bachelors. 

Unfortunately, few of them really ticked enough boxes for her to go further than a cursory look; they lacked the kind of build she liked—brimming with muscle, ideally—or, lacking that, the sort of presence of self that made up for it. A bulging confidence was typically just as crucial if not more so than bulging muscles.

The exception was the Chief Librarian, ironically. Archimedes was certainly a handsome unicorn, olive green with a lime green mane, wearing a form-fitting, plaid tweed jacket. And though he wasn't exactly hunky he was still rather tall, and he carried himself in a way that suggested he was absolutely alpha male material. 

As luck would have it, she'd need his help anyway with the other purpose she had here, so making her way to his station at the front of the library was practically a requirement. She loved it when she could mix business and pleasure.

"Hi there, are you in charge around here?" she asked, batting her eyelashes.

"I am the Chief Librarian, yes," he replied, adjusting his glasses as she approached. "What can I help with today, Miss?"

She casually leaned against his desk so that he'd have a good view of her flank. "Oh, you know, I just need some good research material for a little project I'm working on," she said, playing with a loose strand of hair from her mane. "Instructional books about taking proper care of young ponies."

He hummed and nodded. "I see. How young do you mean? Our database has assorted reading materials for taking care of newborn foals, development in the early foalhood stages as well as the remainder of foalhood, or the difficulties of adjusting to adolescence and the progression into adulthood."

She blinked, taken aback by how perfectly professional he was. He sounded like Dawn did, only a little less pompous about it, more like he was trying to help. She shook it off, though; he'd given her good information, so he was smart, and she wasn't the sort to dislike a brain in a partner. She generally took them dumb, but not always.

"I think for now the, uh, 'early' foalhood stuff will do," she said. "They're only about three years old, give or take."

He tapped a few keys on his keyboard. "Alright, and for what purpose do you need this material? Is this for your own foals, preparing for a foster program, school-teaching advice, preparing for adoption—"

Velvet held up her hoof to pause him. "Whoa, that's… you're getting really detailed here with all the questions."

He set his hooves together on the desk, and turned his full attention to her as he spoke. "Naturally, Miss. Here at Central Database Holdings, we strive to ensure our visitors are given all of the assistance they require in finding the research materials they're seeking. Normally I would have assigned you a personal assistant, but, well, I'm currently understaffed, so that responsibility sometimes falls to me."

She could hear the slight melancholy in his tone and even see it in his face, and felt kind of sorry for him, actually. Dawn was never particularly forthcoming about her work with Twilight Sparkle here at the library, but from what she'd picked up, Twilight had been the best assistant librarian Archimedes had ever had. Her departure back to her own world would certainly have left a void here.

Well, Red Velvet knew that she was no Twilight Sparkle, and she also doubted sincerely that Archimedes' longing for her was of a romantic or sexual nature, but damn it all if Velvet wasn't going to try and fill this poor stallion's void. Or rather, the other way around. Unless he was into that sort of thing.

"I'm so sorry to hear that," she said, placing her hoof over her heart and setting her other hoof on his. "Well, to answer your question, I need this material for a sort of unorthodox foster program, yes, but some school-teaching material might be useful as well. Our, uh, 'program' took in a few dozen youngsters recently, y'see."

"Wonderful. Let me just get a packet together for you." He tapped some more keys on his keyboard over the next few moments, then took something out from under his desk and passed it to her, a small key drive that she could insert into a computer. "I've loaded your materials for you onto this drive for you to peruse here or at home."

She reached for it; he drew it back.

"First, though, I'll need to see your identification card. I understand the odds of a non-citizen being here asking for this particular material is astronomically slim, but rules are rules."

Velvet reached into the pocket of her blouse for the card Shroud had given her. "Right, sure, let me just— oops!" She "accidentally" dropped the card onto the floor a few feet away. "Clumsy me. Let me just get that."

She positioned herself as she picked up the card so that Archimedes would get a clear view of the goods, fumbled around for a believable amount of time, then lifted herself back up only to see he hadn't tried to catch a peak or even noticed, for that matter. She grumbled to herself as she set her fake identification card down, then watched as he took it and scanned it without so much as glancing her way before passing it back.

"Everything checks out," he said. "I hope this material serves you well. Thank you for your visit, and have a pleasant afternoon."

"Oh? That's it? I don't need to, uh, pay or anything?" she asked, biting her lip gently. "I didn't bring any bits with me, so I guess I could find some… other way to pay."

"No payment required, Miss. All CDH services are free to the public. Your taxes pay for the service. And even if that weren't the case, I'm afraid I wouldn't accept alternative forms of payment as that would be unprofitable."

"Oh. Right." She paused, then cleared her throat, not ready to give up just yet. "So, uh… do you have a lunch break or something coming up? A chance to get out from behind this desk for a lil' bit?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid that I've already taken my lunch break for the day. Why do you ask?"

She fluttered her eyelashes as best she could and set her hooves on his. "Well, I was hoping maybe we could, y'know, enjoy a cup of coffee. A nice… hot… cup of coffee?"

"To be honest I'm more fond of tea than coffee, but as I said, I've already taken my break for the day. Even if I hadn't, though, I'm afraid it would be unprofessional for me to join a customer for lunch. My apologies." He adjusted his glasses and turned his attention back to his computer. "I must return to my duties. If you require any further assistance though, feel free to ask."

Velvet just stared at the stallion, only slightly stunned at his casual dismissal. She'd been rejected by stallions before, that was undeniable, but at least they'd acknowledged her in some fashion first. 

She'd braced herself for the typical responses she'd gotten before, maybe that he was married, or gay, or married and gay. She'd even prepared for the dreaded "not interested" response, rare as that was. She'd not prepared to be completely ignored. The concept was… alien.

With a sigh, she took the drive she'd been given and put it in her pocket with her ID card. "Well, thanks. I appreciate the help."

And with that, she just left, thoroughly disheartened. She was able to shake the feeling a little, knowing that at least she got the information she was after, but it wasn't much of a reassurance. This week-long dry spell was killing her.

Making her way back to Pandora Tower was both a simple and yet complicated affair. Getting into the vicinity of the tower was easy enough: she simply headed for the nearest chariot taxi garage and hired a pegasus-driven chariot to take her into the Inner Districts, and to her disappointment her drivers weren't very good-looking or bulky. The universe was mocking her, it had to be.

From there, she made her way by hoof to the innermost sector of the city, into a dark, nondescript alleyway on a nameless road off of a dead-end street without any homes or businesses, just purposefully empty buildings. At the end of the alley, a secret entrance led into a tunnel that led underneath Pandora Tower, requiring a special keycard issued to her to even get in.

Once she was in the tower, before she headed up the elevator to the upper floors, she pressed an intercom button. She still had no idea how they worked, because all she had to do was say the name of the pony she was looking to contact and they'd be notified and could respond almost immediately. Her father had used it primarily to communicate with his secretary, as Dawn now did; she used it for other purposes.

"Overseer Pedigree, this is Red," she spoke into the intercom. "Can you meet me in the Tower Lounge in five minutes?"

A brief pause, and then the Overseer's voice crackled over the intercom. "Can we make it ten, Miss Velvet? I wasn't expecting you so soon, and I'm finishing up a few tasks at the moment."

"Ten's fine. See you then." She then took the elevator up into the tower proper, twenty-eight floors up to the tower's dedicated lounge area. 

The lounge took up the entire floor except for the central pillar, offering a robust selection of things so that the tower's various employees had anything they needed: a large seating area with chairs, sofas, recliners, and small tables so that ponies could sit and relax while enjoying a meal, a book, or a program on the obnoxiously huge television set against the wall; a small entertainment room offering arcade machines for ponies to unwind with, free of charge of course; and a smaller seating area isolated from the others by soundproof glass that was dedicated to quiet study.

The room was currently occupied only by a few ponies, some of whom she knew were crew working on the reconstruction project after the tower had been damaged, others were cleaning crew or other assorted staff members, and others were guards currently off duty. She'd been tempted once to proposition one of the guards since they were all of the sort that she enjoyed, but thought better of it; sleeping with an "employee" might prove awkward.

Velvet headed for the quiet area, grabbing an unused datapad off the nearby wall for her to use and plugging the key drive into it as she went. She didn't open any files just yet; they could wait until Pedigree arrived. And so, Velvet just kicked back on the outrageously comfortable couch in the quiet room and waited.

Pedigree did not keep her waiting long, and found her with ease. The Overseer was a light gray, handsome unicorn stallion with a short, dark gray mane, dressed in a black lab coat. Velvet hadn't acknowledged it to anypony else, considering that their first meeting had had some hostile undertones, but Velvet could admit that he certainly lived up to his name; she knew good genetics when she saw them. A shame he was kind of a prick. A professional prick, but a prick nonetheless.

"Miss Velvet," he greeted as he entered the room and closed the door behind him. "I assume your little hunting trip went well?"

She gestured with her hoof. "Eh, so-so. I think I got all the research material I wanted, but I couldn't snag a stallion to spend a little time with for later. But hey, like Curie says, c'est la vie. I didn't have my hopes up anyway for finding a stud at the library."

"Uh… I'm sorry to hear that?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Eh, it's no biggie. After we're done here I'll head out to this bar I like to go to, pick somepony up there. Dawn's been riding my ass all week, so I really need somepony else to ride my ass so I can blow off some steam, y'know? Nothing relieves stress better than a good fuck, I say."

"Ah… r-right. Should we get down to business, then?" He paused, then cleared his throat. "To business business, I mean. Not… not to… that. N-not that I'm implying you were asking me, of course. For intercourse, I mean."

She smirked and fiddled with the tie on her blouse, loosening it almost completely. "Hmmm? Oh, why? Is listening to me talk about my sex life making you…" She casually adjusted her hind legs in her seat so that he'd catch an eyeful if he dared to look; he just barely averted his eyes. "Uncomfortable?"

"A little bit, yes. I wouldn't dream of taking advantage of our professional relationship like that."

Velvet blew a strand of hair out of her face, and then took an unnecessarily long moment to readjust herself into a less overtly suggestive position. She, too, wanted to keep the relationship professional, for now anyway. Teasing him was fun, though, so she'd keep at it, knowing one day he'd either admonish her for it and she'd have to stop, or he'd relent and risk ruining their professional relationship to act like a real stallion. 

She'd feel just awful for letting that happen.

"I don't think you could handle me anyway, Pedigree," she said to draw her mind back to the present. "So keep dreaming, or not dreaming, or whatever."

"Of course…"

"So! I got a few books on the proper care of young ponies moving into new environments," she said, fiddling with her fake glasses as she showed Pedigree the datapad. "I didn't read any of them yet, but I was told they'd be perfect for new foster parents taking in youngsters like ours. I figure that's as close to the situation as we can get, right? Foster parents?"

Pedigree skimmed through the material, using his hoof to turn digital pages and nodding along. "Seems appropriate to me. The subjects have been instructed of the upcoming changes in their living conditions and will be—"

"Ahem?" Velvet said, getting his attention. "'Subjects'?"

"Oh! Right, right. Sorry. Still adjusting. The youths have been informed of the upcoming changes in their living conditions and instructed on how to go about it. We will be ready to move as soon as the preparations are completed."

"And how's that going?"

"The repairs on the tower as a whole are complete and the reconstructions of the floors Miss Dawn designated for our use will be finished by the end of the week, so it's only a matter of refurbishing the subjects'— sorry, the youths' new bedchambers. They'll start off relatively minimal and uniform, seeing as we have so many colts and fillies to transition. I don't think it prudent to individualize them just yet."

Velvet grunted. "They are individuals, Pedigree. We gave each and every one of them a name, remember? No more numbers."

"That's… that's not what I meant," he said, tugging his collar. "I meant that as of yet I can't tell what sort of individual personalities the youths possess. I understand that my instructions have been adjusted to allow them some freedom to develop, but I think their living conditions over the past few years have made them hesitant to do so. Typical symptoms of broad social anxiety disorder in the lot, but they'll grow out of it in time."

"They'd better," Velvet said, poking him in the chest. "If these ponies end up traumatized because of how you've treated them for their whole lives until now, I'm holding you responsible for it. Because, I mean, you are, which is why I just said it's your fault. Because it is. Shame on you."

She knew deep down that her father and Doctor Blutsauger also had a hoof in the way the young ponies had been created and raised until this point, but Overseer Pedigree had been forthcoming in his responsibilities in maintaining the project day-to-day, hence his title. Thus, Velvet felt no guilt at all in guilt-tripping him about his role.

He gulped. "Right, of course. I do apologize if my treatment of the sub— of the youths up to this point hasn't met with your standards. You have to understand that your father had different instructions and—"

"No excuses. Daddy entrusted you with their care and development, so it's up to you to do your best. Those kids are lucky we caught on to this before you started getting too rough with them, and you're lucky you're willing to adjust." She paused, then gave him a big smile. "So! Let's get to reading, shall we?"

"Uh… right now? I was going to send a copy to my personal—"

"Oh sure sure, you can do that, but I figured since I've got you here for a little while, we can read the material together. Dawn put me in charge of this little rehabilitation project with you, so the way I see it, we're like their… parents, yeah?"

"If that's how you want to go about this, that's your prerogative," he said, blinking. "I'd rather not form an emotional attachment—"

"Maybe you should!" she huffed. "You've cared for these ponies all their lives until now, and you'll continue to do so for years, so maybe you should think about some sort of personal attachment, bucko. Trust me when I say that it'll help. If you don't want to see yourself as a parent, fine, then consider yourself… I dunno, a teacher, or something!"

He tilted his head. "I… suppose that might be an appropriate level of attachment, yes. A mentor-student relationship is more professional."

She rolled her eyes. "Ugh, you've got a stick up your ass just like Dawn does. Listen, if you and I are gonna do this, we're gonna do it properly. I want these kids to grow up as close to normal as possible. That means having adults to look to for guidance and compassion, and that means us. So, are you with me on this, or not? Because I can ask Dawn to reassign you."

He stared at her for a long moment, then sighed and nodded. "I'll certainly give it my all."

"Good." She wrapped her hoof around his shoulder. "Y'know, Pedigree, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship."


*****


"Yes, yes! Beautiful, darling, beautiful! That's it, work the camera. You're gorgeous, darling. Spectacular!"

Insipid wasn't sure why the photographer—a brown-coated pegasus with a red mane—felt the need to keep shouting about how good she looked, to be honest. She already knew she looked good; she owned a mirror, after all. Hearing him say it was nice, though, and it made her smile warm and wide as she shifted poses in front of the reflective backdrop. 

Her tastefully seductive purple dress hugged the curves of her flank, drawing just the right amount of attention. She was still learning how things worked in fashion, and was told that the purple complimented her black coat and platinum blonde mane to give her a sort of regal appearance. "Regal" meant "royal" apparently, like a princess.

As for how the dress could talk to her coat and mane, she didn't know, and she knew even less about what it could say to compliment them. Maybe it told them how silky smooth they looked and felt? That made sense for a dress, right? Whatever, she wasn't the expert. She was just the model, and that was something she knew how to do, and do well.

There had been a bit of a delay in shooting schedules, but she'd finally been asked to come in for a photoshoot for the highest of high-class fashion magazines in the city, Jument à la mode. She'd heard that the mares and stallions—mostly mares—that modeled in the magazine were destined for greatness, and if anypony deserved that it was her.

The various poses she'd been asked to perform did two things: first, they showed off the dress, which had been one of Rarity's designs. Sadly, Rarity herself hadn't made it, and Insipid could tell just based on how it felt against her body; Rarity's dresses always seemed to have a… something to them that made them feel right. Mares would buy copies of the dress to feel magical and beautiful, and Insipid wondered if any of them would feel that something too.

Second, they showed off Insipid's lovely figure in order to draw attention and acclaim. Ponies with lots of bits to spend would supposedly see her in the magazine and want to hire her for ad promos. She'd seen examples of such things before, of good-looking mares in skimpy clothes holding a brand of beer or perfume or even soup. She didn't understand how she was supposed to help sell anything by just being pretty, but again, she wasn't the expert.

"Ooh, yes, that's wonderful," the photographer said with a chuckle. "Make love to the camera, sweetheart."

Insipid blinked and tilted her head. "Oh, uh… sorry, but I don't, like, feel that way about the camera. Maybe we could just be friends and junk?"

"Ha! What a sense of humor. Lovely joke, just lovely!" called the photographer.

She wondered why he thought it was a joke. She was serious.

He took a few more photos, then turned to his assistants that were manning the lights. "Okay, everypony, that's all for today! Wrap it up!" 

The crew quietly started taking down all of the equipment around the area.

He then turned to Insipid and approached her, giving her a big smile. "You were perfect, my dear, just wonderful. I don't know where you learned it, but you really know how to work a camera."

"Thanks!" Insipid chirped, returning the smile. "My friend Rarity was, like, the best teacher a mare could ask for, yknow?"

From off to the side, two other ponies approached. One, a unicorn mare with a pink coat and long purple mane, wearing a fashionable polka dot blouse; the other, an older unicorn stallion with short orange mane flecked with gold and hints of gray. Chantilly Lace and Peaked Lapel, Insipid's employers and, with Rarity gone back to her world, the only real friends she had.

Chantilly beamed and beckoned Insipid in for a hug. "Insipid, my dear, what a fabulous shoot. I've said it before and I'll say it again, we're lucky to have found a talented mare like you."

"Pshaw! I'm the lucky one, silly." Insipid gave her a warm hug, and then two kissed cheeks as was proper etiquette. 

She'd already learned so much from Rarity on how to be a model and a proper lady, but Lace and Lapel had since taken her under their wings—and they didn't even have wings!—and began teaching her a thing or two about "high society". Even Rarity, smart as she was with that kind of stuff, had barely scratched the surface in their few weeks together, apparently.

"Ah, Missus Lace, Mister Lapel, I'm so glad you could make it," the photographer said, turning his beaming smile in their direction. "Might I say that it's been a real treat to work with Miss Insipid here? It's rare that I get to photograph a mare with such… personality. I think the last model I've had the pleasure of working with that possessed her appeal was Ivory Charm."

"We feel the same way," Lapel said with a grin, winking at Insipid. "She's a treasure, and we're happy to have her on our team."

"Well, I'll leave you to your work, then. I've got to get these photos developed for the magazine, and pronto." The photographer turned to Insipid and took her hoof in his. "And you, my dear, farewell. I hope we have the opportunity to work together again in the future."

"Me too! You're fun to work with, Mister Grain!" Insipid replied.

As the photographer—Film Grain—grabbed his gear and headed out so that the crew could finish cleaning, Lace and Lapel turned to Insipid, who had started stripping out of her photoshoot dress and into her more comfortable casualwear, which was still quite fashionable but wasn't quite high high fashion, as Rarity had explained it. Basically, it looked good and felt good but she'd never wear it down the runway.

"So, dear, now that your shoot is all finished, would you care to join us for lunch?" Lace asked. "Our treat."

Insipid nodded rapidly. "I'd love to! I had an early breakfast and junk, so, like, I'm so hungry right now. Where to? Ooh ooh, I heard about this little hay fries joint in Mid-South—"

"Oh no no, the days of slumming it in diners and dives are long gone for you, my dear. You're part of a different class of ponies, now."

"We heard you got yourself a flat in one of the Romantique District towers. Le Nuage Blanc?" Lapel noted. "Not a bad start, not at all. Right next to the shopping district, too, you clever minx. And you can certainly afford it all with what we're paying you, and that means you belong with us in the upper echelons of society."

Insipid nodded in understanding—minus one word, because she had no idea what an "etch-along" was. The flat they were speaking of did indeed belong to her and she did indeed live there, because she wasn't living with her sisters anymore at Pandora Tower. She was a little sad about not being able to see them every day at almost any time she wanted, especially Gray and Velvet, but it needed to happen sooner rather than later.

When Insipid had complained, Curaçao had explained that Insipid's situation was different from the others'. She had a "real" career and interacted with "normal" ponies day-to-day. So, she needed a "real" place to live so that she wouldn't seem suspicious, whatever that meant. 

Curie said a lot of things that didn't make sense to Insipid, not because she wasn't smart enough to understand or because of her sister's sexy accent, but because Curie was just… mysterious. Even Dawn didn't always understand what Curie was up to.

"Okay, like, I think I get what you're saying," Insipid said, tapping her chin. "So, like, I graduated to a different class or something? Like school? And now I can't go play in the playground because I'm too old and junk for the swings, or whatever?"

Lace blinked. "That's… an apt metaphor."

"What's a metaphor?"

She and Lapel shared a brief look, smiled, and rolled their eyes. They did that a lot when talking with her, and she didn't know why. "Never mind, dear. Yes, that's a good way of looking at it. That 'fry joint' is like elementary school, but now you're in high school. A senior, even! So, you have to do things appropriate to your new class. Which in this analogy means nice restaurants."

"Ooh, so like, fancy fry joints? 'Cause like, I'm dying for a good basket of hay fries for some reason. Cha."

"I believe that the restaurant we had in mind serves sides of hay fries with several of their meals," Lapel said with a grin. "You can look at the menu when we get there, but might I recommend the seared cabbage? It's simply divine."

"Sure, that sounds great! So, are we leaving now?"

Lace nodded. "Of course, dear. We'll take the service elevator down to the side exit. We have our private chariot waiting for us."

"Why are we going out that way?" Insipid asked as she followed them out of the room.

"Because somepony tipped off the paparazzi that the city's next top model was sighted entering the building this morning, and they're hoping to get some photographs when she leaves," Lapel explained. He pressed the button for the elevator as they reached it. "Most of them are going to be at the front entrance and won't get anything out of it, but a few that just happen to work for us or our friends are positioned at the side entrance."

"And the tabloids will pay good money for candid photos of our new star," Lace said with a grin as she wiped her own lipstick residue off of Insipid's cheek, as well as the rest of Insipid's makeup.

"So… they're taking photos of candy?" Insipid asked, closing her eyes to make it easier for Lace to work.

"No, dear, 'candid'. In this context, it means unfiltered. Our dear Mister Grain's photographs are going to be touched up to bring out your very best, not that that'll be difficult at all since you always look amazing. But if ponies can see you without all the makeup and the flank-hugging dresses, well—"

"They'll know there's more to you than just a nice ass and a bunch of photo filters," Lapel completed. Lace gave him a look. "What? Oh come off it, honey, you know that's what they're all thinking."

Insipid blinked. "Ponies like my butt?"

Lace rolled her eyes. "There are times I think Rarity did her job of training you too well, let's just say. You work the assets you've been given just like any other model does, but certain assets are drawing a lot more attention than others. It's actually the angle we're working with for selling your image, to be honest."

"Remember, we're trying to put your image out there as different from the other models. You have a real figure, with real curves," Lapel said, his eyes tracing along Insipid's backside briefly. "Suffice to say, word gets around, and you're a big hit so far and we've already gotten a few offers."

"But making sure that ponies don't think we hired you just because you've got a splendid rear is a must," Lace continued, eyes also drifting along said splendid rear. "You and Rarity mean more to us than that, and while it pains us that Rarity left back south for whatever family emergency she had, we want to ensure that everypony knows how important you are. Not just to the industry, but to us."

Insipid smiled. "Well, you guys know a lot more about, like, fashion and junk than I do. I just know what looks good and how to make it look totally fresh on me, or whatever. So like, if you think this is a good idea, then yeah, let's go for it."

Lace and Lapel pulled her in for a brief little group hug, and Insipid felt all warm and fuzzy inside when they did. The two of them were such good friends to her, and she couldn't imagine how things would be if she didn't have them in her life now that Rarity had left. She probably wouldn't have anything to do except mope around Pandora Tower, probably stuffing herself with ice cream and watching TV.

"Ooh, but hey, can we stop by, like, a sweet shop or something while we're out?" she asked, rubbing her stomach. "All this talk about candy photos is giving me a major craving for some gummy bears."


*****


The Mid-South District of New Pandemonium City was about as close as one could hope to get to the quality of the Inner Districts. It was just a little cleaner, and the offerings for food, shopping, and entertainment were just a little more robust, but this went along with everything being a lot more expensive. Even though it was still quite a ways off from the significantly healthier state of living of the Inner Districts, it was close enough that it tried to emulate it as best as possible and ponies knew it was as close as some would ever get.

Take shopping centers, for example. The Inner Districts had several real indoor malls that smelled fresh, were frequently cleaned, possessed excellent security, and were decorated in such a way that they made the patrons feel comfortable and welcome. Mid-South, however, had an outdoor shopping center that was the next best thing—a distant second, really—and it was the only one in all the Mid Districts. It was stocked with stores, eateries, and activities just like any Inner District mall was, but it was all of a distinctly lower class. 

But it was good enough for most.

Gray Skies sat at a table in the center's food court area, chowing down on a slice of Dolor-made pizza. "Dolor-made" meant that there wasn't real cheese on this pizza, or real bread, or real tomato sauce, or real toppings. It was all Dolor Brand synthetic stuff that was cheaper and easier to provide than the genuine ingredients, and tasted just close enough to the real thing to fool you even when you knew it was fake; the uncanny valley of foodstuffs. 

She didn't really expect much from food court pizza, but her disappointment was still immeasurable, and her day quite nearly ruined. That tended to happen when you were used to eating real food at home made by a world-class chef.

The only thing that kept her from leaving and eating elsewhere was the pony across from her, eating his own slice of not-pizza: Flathoof, the red-coated, blond-maned earth pony police captain. He'd agreed to join her during his lunch break for a date, and she'd agreed to meet here even though it wasn't very good or particularly healthy. It was better than letting him eat junk out of a vending machine at the station, she figured.

She knew how odd they looked, seated across from each other here in the food court. They were both larger than average ponies, for one thing, built with muscle that most others lacked, but that wasn't what she meant. He was a colorful stallion, and since he was on break he was still in his uniform, which seemed to hug his muscles tighter every other week she saw him. She, on the other hoof, was gray in coat, gray in mane other than the fuschia stripe down the middle, and dressed herself in a drab hooded sweater—also gray—that made her look like some street punk.

Maybe they'd assume she was some charity case that the helpful police officer was trying to get off the street and into rehab.

"How's the pizza?" he asked, drawing her attention from her inner thoughts.

"Terrible," she said without a hint of hesitation. After a brief pause, she added, "Okay, not terrible, but—"

"Not what you're used to. I get it, and I apologize. There's nothing worse than bad pizza."

"I can think of a few things."

"Heh. I'm sure you could. I'd have invited you somewhere nicer, but funds are pretty tight right now so this was all I could handle. None of us expected Shorthoof to have a growth spurt like that, and new clothes aren't cheap. Can't rightly send him to school naked."

Gray grunted. "I told you, you could always let me—"

"No. We've had this talk before and I'm not letting you pay, not for his clothes, and not for my lunch," Flathoof said before taking a bite of fake pizza. "And remember, you're always invited over for dinner with the family. For somepony who can't stand this Dolor crap you sure love what my mom does with it."

"That's because she puts heart into it." She shook her head. "I still don't get why you don't take a few bits here and there. What's the big deal?"

"I doubt you'd understand. Listen, it's bad enough we take so much charity from Lockwood as it is, but he's family and we knew him for years before he started whipping out the bureaucracy loopholes. My family would never forgive ourselves if we started taking actual bits from you, even if you've got plenty to spare."

"C'mon, Flathoof, don't be like that. I just want to help."

He set his hooves on the table. "And I appreciate that, we all do, but if we started accepting 'help' from you and your sisters like that, what's the limit? Do we just let you guys pay for everything, move to some ritzy suite in the Inner Districts, start living the high life? You know we'd hate that. Even if we suddenly came into a lot of money, I know my parents and I would still want to work for a living. It's just how we are."

"I get it. Fine, don't take my help, whatever." Gray dropped her pizza down on her plate defiantly. "You've got nobody but yourself to blame if you're having money troubles anyway."

Flathoof blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You didn't take the promotion. Chief Smokestack offered you the Commander position like you thought he would, and you turned him down. You know damn well there was a big pay raise coming with that. Your family would be able to afford real food ingredients instead of Dolor crap, and you'd have the money to get some nice clothes for Shorthoof instead of shopping at secondhoof thrift shops."

"You know why I didn't take that position," he muttered.

"Yeah yeah, you think you're doing better work as a Captain, having direct control over cases and officers instead of just being a glorified desk jockey. Big deal. So you didn't take it, and now you're having money troubles, and you're complaining about how much you hate the new Commander."

"I'm not complaining. Just making observations."

"Bullshit."

Flathoof took a deep breath. "Fine, you're right. I should've taken it. But besides thinking I'd be better suited where I am, I'm also able to better deal with how much a corrupt scumbag he is. Like I said, I have direct control over how to handle cases and which officers I assign to them. Blue Bottle just tells me which cases to take, so at least I can make sure they're handled right.

"You don't think I'm beating myself up already for not taking the promotion? 'Cause I am. I thought it would be fine, that things could keep moving along like they have been, but sometimes shit happens, and I wasn't prepared for it. Now, I'd like it if we could just drop it, okay? I've already gotten enough of an earful about it…"

She stayed silent for a long moment, then sighed. "I'm sorry. Look, I know it was your decision, and… it's not my place to judge you for it. I mean, if anypony shouldn't be judging somepony for their life choices, it's me."

"Hmm?"

She leaned back in her seat. "Moving back into Pandora Tower was… a bit rougher than I thought it would be. I dunno, I just feel that when I did, I was giving up the last thing that made me feel like I had any sort of, I dunno… purpose?"

Flathoof paused, then nodded. "You mean Fluttershy."

"Yeah… Fluttershy. Knowing that my entire life revolved around her was kind of a blow, y'know? I was literally born to become attached to her, but I don't feel like that cheapens what we had, our friendship. But now that she's gone home, I… I dunno, I miss her, I guess. Without her, I just don't feel like my life has any real meaning anymore…"

"You feel… lost?" he asked.

"I dunno, kinda? I just… I don't know what I'm supposed to do with my life now."

"The living conditions can't be that bad, can they?"

She laughed. "Ha ha, hell no, the conditions are great. But I don't want to talk about 'em too much, considering what's going on with you and all. Might sound like I'm bragging, and I'm not about that." She shook her head. "No, that's not the problem. I've got nopony to talk to, y'know? At least back at Southeast Point I could chat up Lockwood anytime I wanted, but I can't really do that now, can I?"

"I'm absolutely certain he'd make time for you if you asked," he responded.

"Yeah, sure, but I don't want to put him out like that. It's not the same as having him just a few floors away. So I basically just sit around all day, nothing to do, nopony to talk to—"

"Considering how much your muscle tone's been growing these past few weeks, I highly doubt you're doing 'nothing'," he pointed out, gesturing at her thick leg muscles. "At least you're keeping yourself occupied."

"But that's all I do! I just eat, watch TV, and work out. Eat, TV, work out, day in, day out, all day, every day. Dawn doesn't bother keeping me in the loop anymore on whatever the hell she's getting up to, and Curaçao tries her best to inform me, but it's pointless now, I'm already too far out to do anything even if I wanted to."

"Are your other sisters doing alright?"

She snorted. "Like I said, Dawn just keeps her distance and is always too busy, Curaçao's always busy even though she tries to be sociable, Velvet's either trying to get dicked or again, too busy, Insipid's got her own life and doesn't live with us anymore, and Havoc's doing her best with me but she's out of the tower more often than in it so, again, too busy.

"So, obviously, I can't talk to my sisters about what's bugging me either. They've all got something to fall back on, some job to do or goal in mind. Me, I just… I don't know what to do other than go with the flow day by day and hope something keeps me occupied." She sighed and hung her head. "Dumb as it sounds, the only pony I feel I can even talk to about anything is you."

Flathoof smiled and put his hoof on the table next to hers. "Listen, Gray… I want you to know that if you ever need anything, you can ask me, okay? I'm here for you."

She stared at his hoof a moment, then pressed hers against his and smiled slightly. "Thanks." 

He glanced at his watch for a moment. "Shit," he swore as he wiped his mouth with a napkin and got out of his seat as he started collecting his things. "Listen, I hate to leave you like this, but I've gotta get back to the station. I'm running late."

"Oh. Yeah, yeah, I understand. Sorry I kept you—" 

"Don't apologize for that. I said what I said, and I meant it, and that applies to now just as it will to any other time."

She stared right at him, then took a deep breath. "Actually… wait a second. Before you go, can I ask you something?"

He paused, then settled back in his seat. "Sure, what's up?"

"So, uh… we've been doing this thing for like a month now, y'know. The dates and stuff. And I've been having a great time with you and everything, but I kind of wanted to know… what are we, exactly?"

That seemed to catch him by surprise. "I… wh-what do you mean?"

She scratched her chin. "I mean, we're obviously friends, but like… are we more than that? I don't really know how these things work, so I figured now would be a good time to ask."

"More than—" He paused, then tilted his head, a slight grin coming to his face. "Why, do you want us to be?"

She blushed. "Maybe I do, but I asked you first. Do you?"

He sighed, but he was still smiling. "Y'know… funny thing actually, my mom just asked me the exact same thing last night."

"Your mom asked you if you and her are more than friends?" she quipped with a little grin.

"You know what I mean."

"And? What did you tell her?"

"I told her that I honestly didn't know, but that if you wanted that, so do I."

"So… you do?"

"If that's what you want."

She smiled. "I kinda do, yeah." She then cleared her throat. "So, uh… you can get back to work now. Sorry to hold you up."

He smiled back, and as he got out of his seat he came over to her side of the table and put his hoof on her shoulder. "I'll call you later tonight when I get off work. Until then."

"Yeah, that sounds—"

To her surprise, he then leaned down and kissed her on the lips. She had no idea how to describe the feeling of warmth that buzzed through her heart, but it was really, really nice and she liked it. A lot. 

He still tasted like shitty pizza, though.


*****


Curaçao thanked the waiter as he set down the cup of tea she'd ordered, then stirred one of the provided sugarcubes into it very delicately before bringing the cup to her lips and taking a sip. 

She let out a satisfied breath once she'd finished. "Mmm, oh la la…"

This little restaurant in Whiteworth had some of the best tea in the city, grown from tea plants that were meticulously cared for over generations in greenhouse conditions. Such a facility was exceedingly rare, expensive, and required dozens of permits and licenses to operate, but it was worth it to claim the tea was their own rather than imported from the southern continent.

"It's pretty good, isn't it?" asked Lockwood, seated across from her at the table. 

"Oui, c'est magnifique," she replied as she set her cup back down. 

The gray-coated, brown-maned pegasus across from her was dressed as he always was, in a drab raincoat and matching fedora, just enough to satisfy the restaurant's dress code. 

To be fair, she wasn't dressed too differently—quality notwithstanding—in her red trench coat and long orange scarf that complimented her blue coat and red mane, but she wore hers because it was fashionable while he wore his because that's what he owned. Insipid wasn't the only mare in the family with a keen sense for her personal appearance, after all.

"A little variety goes a long way to expand one's palate, non?" she continued. "Normally I would order a glass of wine with my meal, but this tea is a more-than-acceptable substitute."

"Well don't let me stop you from ordering the wine if that's what you'd normally prefer," he said, offering her the table's wine list.

She chuckled and shook her head, pushing the list away. "Ah, non, that is quite alright. I am, let us say, 'unimpressed' with the quality of wines here in Whiteworth. It does nothing for me, hmm?"

That was the most polite way she could say that the quality here was little different than drinking the blandest sort of grape juice possible which had then had some alcohol accidentally added to it. It didn't pair well with anything and it wasn't particularly pleasant on its own, so essentially it was only good for getting drunk, and that just wasn't something Curaçao did, especially not at lunch. 

Now, were this a Romantique restaurant, she'd have ordered a bottle for the table, no question, because those ponies knew that a good wine paired with the right meal was like making love: a healthy part of each and every day.

"Fair enough," he said with a nod and a grin. 

"Besides, if alcohol was on my mind I believe it would be more proper to order a beer or lager with the affair that this restaurant offers, non?" she said, glancing about at the brick-and-wood décor. The establishment was closer to a pub than a proper restaurant, but pub culture was Whiteworth culture.

"So, now that our orders are in, to what do I owe the pleasure of this little rendezvous?" he asked, leaning back in his seat. "It's been a few weeks since our last meeting over coffee, and I know you said to always be expecting a call from you, but truth be told it still came as kind of a surprise. Is this a personal meeting or a professional one?"

"The latter, as far as intentions go, but once our business is concluded I have every intention of speaking on personal matters. Si cela vous convient, bien sûr?"

He smiled and took a sip of the coffee he'd ordered. "Oui, that's fine by me. Business first, then."

"I see you're improving on your understanding of Romantique, mon ami. Bien joué."

"I figured if I'm going to be involved in your business propositions, I may as well be able to carry on a conversation without having to stop for you to translate. You're probably more comfortable if you can slip into your native tongue freely."

"Ah, merci, j'apprécie cela." Curaçao took another sip of her tea. "So, to business. You recall me mentioning your rather robust list of professional contacts, oui?"

"I do. I've been waiting to see who's caught your eye, to be honest. Knowing about you now what I didn't when we first met, I'm struggling to think of who'd be of any use to you. You've been clear that you and your sisters have all the resources you could ever need to do anything you wanted, really."

"Almost anything." Curaçao set down her tea and steepled her hooves in front of her. "The one thing that Dawn and I cannot do easily, that even our father could not do easily, is sway public opinion in our favor. Depending on the context, of course."

He raised an eyebrow at this. "Meaning?"

"In the decades since the founding of Hope's Point, a story has been spun that their city is populated by the worst sorts of scum, oui? Each and every 'citizen' who lives there is at best a traitorous hedonist, and at worst a barbaric pirate or terrorist. My sources say that Hope's Point has certainly lived up to that reputation, especially in recent years once Queen Blackburn took over.

"Blatantly mocking the NPAF; exiling undercover NPAF agents within the city under threat of execution; increasing smuggling runs; openly robbing commercial transports carrying southern goods back home. Suffice to say, she is not the laissez-faire ruler her father was or the overly-cautious ruler her grandfather was. She is… vindictive. Aggressive."

Lockwood paused, sighed, then gave a short nod. "Well, can you blame her? The NPAF is responsible for the deaths of thousands of her citizens over the years, including her mother, father, and stepmother. I think if anypony in the world would have a reason to hate the NPAF and the rest of this city with a passion, it's her."

"Oui, c'est compréhensible, and she will be a hard one to convince that we want to make peace between our two nation-cities. However, even if we do convince her, I fear that our own citizens will not be accepting of such peace." She shook her head. "They have lived for decades thinking that the ponies of Hope's Point are vile sorts. We must convince them, too."

"Ah, and that's where I come in?"

"Oui, that is where you come in. You are close friends with Mint and Matcha Tea, non? The owners and editors of the New Pandemonium Times?"

He smiled. "I'm pretty sure you already know I am and are just asking to be polite. Cut to the chase. What's your gameplan here?"

"I have it under good authority that within the next few months, the Committee will be beginning the long, arduous process of organizing some manner of peace treaty with Hope's Point," she said, taking another sip of tea. "There will be some amongst them that will be resistant to that and will cite public opinion for their reasons. 'Riots in the streets', they will say, non?

"However, if the citizens of New Pandemonium were to find the idea of peace between the cities more… agreeable, then the Committee might be more agreeable in turn."

"From my experience, 'agreeable' is hardly the word I'd use to describe the Committee," he said.

She chuckled lightly. "Oh, I am sure some of them will think of other excuses why such a proposal should never be agreed upon. From my understanding, Treasurer Vendetta would never agree to it even if he stood to make a substantial profit from the endeavor. Certain hatreds from deep, non?"

If anypony knew of what she was referring to it was Lockwood: Vendetta's downright loathing of one Virtuoso Fantasia, the former head of a rival crime family, who now lived in Hope's Point and was supposedly in a position of power there.

"I suppose they do…" he sighed. "So, what do you want me to do, exactly? Convince Mint and Matcha to run stories that paint Hope's Point in a good light?"

"Peut-être. I believe spinning some stories about citizens here in the city that share our viewpoint would also be acceptable, non? I think it might be best if I speak with the Tea Sisters directly so that we can work out some details."

"I can arrange a meeting, sure. But, uh… I think you're forgetting one thing."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Let's say, for the sake of argument, that you can convince the ponies of New Pandemonium to accept a potential peace between us and Hope's Point. Great. The Committee sees this and goes along with it, and brings it to Queen Blackburn's doorstep. Great. But how are you going to convince her? I'll remind you again that she hates this city."

"You mean, of course, besides your 'in' with Mademoiselle Thunderbolt?" Curaçao asked with a coy grin.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, an oddity that suggested he knew something she didn't, but she decided not to pry; he was, as always, full of mysteries. "Yes, besides that. Assuming that I did manage to get some sort of audience with the Queen so I could talk to her to help your peace proposal along, I don't know if I could possibly convince her to drop years of loathing so easily. Like you said, hatred runs deep. I'm good, but maybe not that good."

Curaçao grinned. "While you and the Tea Sisters are helping me on this end, I am already working on a method to help nudge things along on that end. As we speak, I have an agent in the field working to present a sort of… let us call it an 'image change' to the NPAF, as far as Hope's Point is concerned."

He raised an eyebrow at that. "An 'agent in the field'? What does that mean? Who?"


*****


Gargantuans. The apex predator of the northern continent, the absolute top of the food chain out in the arid Wasteland that separated New Pandemonium City and Hope's Point. A hideous, horrifying amalgamation of several different species of insects and arachnids blended together to make a creature that could handle the threat of any other creature they encountered, to the point that over hundreds of years they'd completely eradicated every other non-pony species on the continent, and ponies were only safe because of their well-defended cities.

The young ones, fresh from their eggs, were roughly twice the size of the average pony or larger. The adult males were larger than a house. The queens were twice that size. And despite their size, they were all faster than they had any right to be. 

They possessed a spider-like body structure and eyes, the scythe-like front claws of a praying mantis, the long, barbed tail of a scorpion, the tough exoskeleton of an ironclad beetle, the crushing mandibles of an antlion, a deadly venom strong enough to kill an adult pony in less than twenty-four hours, the ability to easily burrow through solid rock, and they could sense surface vibrations from creatures for up to a mile around. All of these features were magnified to the point of sheer lethality; they were killing machines through and through.

Worst of all, they'd steadily evolved a modicum of intelligence, enough to make them both clever and yet sinister, violent for the sake of violence and lacking in any matter of empathy. They killed for sport as often as they killed for food, they could and would feign helplessness to lure potential prey, and they would willingly end their own lives—for young ones, using their stinger would swiftly kill them, much like a honeybee—if it meant the death of another.

They were no longer animals in the eyes of nature. They were simply monsters.

And so, Havoc had absolutely no qualms whatsoever with exterminating them wherever they popped up. Like now, for instance.

She let out a fierce scream as she ignited one of her hooves in flame—a magical "superpower" imbued into her during her birth, despite being a pegasus—and launched a fireball down into the face of a young Gargantuan that was scampering across the dusty badlands. The fireball impacted and seared a hole straight through the bug's exoskeleton before exploding and spraying the vicinity with charred innards.

That particular Gargantuan was one of many that was currently pursuing a trio of ponies that fled across the Wastelands for the safety of the nearby Goldridge Mountains. It, like its brethren, had a taste for pony flesh due to its relative rarity; they normally fed on the weakest in their broods, but when ponies made their presence known then they were the ideal prey. And this trio of ponies, just a stallion, mare, and young colt—all earth ponies—were no match at all for such creatures.

Havoc proved that she was more than a match. Besides her deadly flame powers, she was a pegasus and thus had a distinct advantage; thankfully, male Gargantuans had never evolved flight capabilities. They couldn't reach her as she bombarded the field below with bursts of fire hot enough to melt right through them without fail; the young ones lacked tough enough exoskeletons to protect from the barrage. More mature specimens would be able to shrug these blasts off for a little while, but it was rare to encounter an adult this time of year.

She noticed one of the bugs getting a little too close to the fleeing trio, and so she swooped down to deal with it more closely; she couldn't afford to miss. She zipped in like a missile and, with her hoof coated in intense flame, collided with the bug to keep it away from its prey, knocking it aside before letting loose a gout of fire hot enough to cook it inside its own armor.

More of the bugs approached at blinding speed, undeterred by the threat she presented; they had no sense of self-preservation, only a thirst for blood. She kept them at bay by blasting fire along the ground to create a wall, buying her enough time to gain some distance for herself and the fleeing ponies.

When the remaining bugs tried to get through, clicking and clacking their mandibles as they went, Havoc blasted them in the eyes with more fire, and more, and more, until each and every one of them was dead, a literal mound of little more than seared bug flesh thrice as tall as she was.

Only once she was sure that there were no more of the things in the vicinity did she relax, taking a brief breath and removing her goggles to gaze upon her handiwork with pride. 

"Hot damn, this never gets old," she said aloud to herself. 

She turned to see that the trio of ponies had stopped only a few dozen yards away, clearly just as sure as she was that they were safe. Their coats were all different shades of white, and their manes assorted shades of blue and purple. They wore simple traveling clothes, and the mare was carrying their supplies at the moment.

"Oh, hey. You guys alright?"

The stallion, with the colt on his back, stepped forward and nodded; he looked exhausted, and had likely been running for some time at a full gallop with the extra weight. "We… we are now, Miss… thanks to you." The poor guy could barely breathe. "I… I thought for sure those things were… gonna catch us."

"You saved our lives," said the mare, stepping alongside the stallion to help the colt to the ground, easing the strain. "How can we ever repay you?"

Havoc shrugged. "Just doing my job here, folks, that's all. Can you believe I get paid to do this?"

"You… you get paid for this? Oh! You must be from Hope's Point, then," said the stallion with a grin. He turned to the mare. "See, honey? I told you they wouldn't just let folks cross the Wasteland without help."

"What's your name, Miss?" asked the colt. Havoc noticed he was holding an old-timey sort of camera.

Havoc reached her hoof to the side of her uniform, a drab gray affair that covered her whole body and would protect from small arms fire if necessary, and pulled a cigarette out of the pack she had hidden under her sleeve. She set it in her mouth, then lit it with her hoof; to the observers, it would look like little attachments on the ends of her sleeves were lighting the fire. 

After taking a brief puff, she gave the kid a grin. "Commander Havoc, NPAF," she said. 

"Wait, did you say 'NPAF'?" asked the mare. "You mean, you don't work for Hope's Point?"

"Nah. But hey, let's not stick around and chat, huh? You never know when more of these bugs'll pop up." She gestured for them to follow her east towards the mountains, and they did so without hesitation.

As they walked, the mare pressed the question. "So, wait… if you're not with Hope's Point, then why are you out here helping us? We thought the NPAF wanted to prevent ponies from leaving the city?"

"Yeah, well, things change all the time, don't they? That's why you guys are leaving the city, right? Something changed and so now you're moving elsewhere?" She gestured towards the smoldering pile of bugs behind them. "Looks like you folks ran right over a nest of these creepy crawlies, too. Didn't somepony tell you to stick close to the mountains?"

"We have been, but there aren't exactly any markers so I guess we got a little too far away when we tried to cut corners…" said the stallion, rubbing the back of his neck. "So, uh… thanks again, Commander."

"How'd you do all that stuff with the fire?" asked the colt, staring at the lit tip of her cigarette.

Havoc showed off the little attachment on the end of one of her sleeves. "New technology. We know these bugs resist gunfire except from higher caliber bullets, and the big ones even resist that, so we're testing out methods that can get through more reliably. Works like a charm, don't it?"

All a lie, of course, since the fire was all her, but average folks couldn't know that.

"Sure does…" the colt said with a little grin. "You burned those crawlies up good! Ooh! Can I take a picture, Miss Commander?"

Havoc blinked. "Huh? Oh, uh… sure, why not? Go ahead, knock yourself out."

The colt bit his tongue as he looked into the viewfinder of his camera. "Do a cool pose!"

"Ha! You got it, kid." 

Havoc struck a cool little pose, giving the camera the best smoldering smirk she could manage, cigarette still in her mouth. She didn't think the lighting would be any good out here in the wastes, but she was no photographer. Did the red of her coat come through okay? Did her mane—black with a white stripe down the middle—look windswept enough to be cool? Well, hopefully the kid would capture her essence. Her inner fire.

"How's this?"

The camera clicked and flashed. "Perfect!" said the colt with no small amount of giddiness. "I can't wait to get these developed!"

"Heh, kid's got a thing for photography, huh?" Havoc asked, turning to the stallion.

"Sure does," he said with a smile. He offered Havoc his hoof. "Name's Lemon Twist, by the way." He gestured towards the other mare. "This is my wife, Mint Sprinkle."

Mint smiled and nodded. "A pleasure."

"And our son, Spring Cheer."

The colt gave a little wave.

"Nice family you got there, Lemon," Havoc said, taking the stallion's hoof and shaking it. "C'mon, we're not far from the Checkpoint, and then you folks can take a load off until you're ready to keep heading east."

He nodded. "Lead the way."

True enough, the Goldridge Checkpoint was only a little more than an hour away, enough time for Havoc to prod the little family with questions and answer some herself. Lemon apparently had family that lived in Hope's Point now, having made the journey years ago… assuming they did make it. The two cities didn't communicate together openly, so Lemon had no way of knowing if they had made it safely or at all. If they did, well, they'd be his family's ticket inside, something he called a "voucher".

Once they'd traveled long enough, it was rather easy to notice the large, warm-looking building nestled at the base of the mountain pass that winded up into the Goldridge Mountains up ahead. The telltale sign of safety was the brief rumbles beneath their hooves as they walked, a rhythmic pattern of pounding noises that came from seismic generators placed nearby. The Gargantuans found the sensations deeply unpleasant, so even the adults gave the actual checkpoint a wide berth.

Havoc strode right up to the door and gave it a few short knocks without hesitation, even as the trio approached cautiously, apparently unsure if they were truly safe yet or not. The door was answered quickly enough by a large earth pony stallion with an earth-colored coat and a stone-colored mane.

He smiled when he saw Havoc and the ponies behind her. "Well now, if it isn't Captain Havoc. You find these folks out in the wastes?"

"You know it. And it's Commander now, actually. Got promoted for all the good work I'm putting in," she replied with a nod. 

"Ooh, fancy-schmancy. Look at you, moving up in the world."

"How you doin', Pewter?"

"Just fine, thanks for asking." He turned to the other ponies with her, putting on his warmest smile. "Come on in, folks, and take a seat in the common room for now. I'll get a bedroom put together for you in a moment and you can settle in for as long as you need."

"Much appreciated, Mister… Pewter, was it?" said Mint as she walked past Havoc and made her way inside.

"That's right, ma'am. And you are?"

Mint introduced herself, her husband, and their son.

Pewter smiled and nodded. "Well, a pleasure to meet you all. And hey, you've got some good timing, because I was just about to get dinner for the night started up. You can meet some of the other guests I've got in, maybe talk about traveling the rest of the way together. Trust me, the more the merrier when it comes to getting the rest of the way to Hope's Point."

"Will you be coming with us, Commander Havoc?" Lemon asked.

Havoc shook her head. "Ah, love to, can't. I usually just take these trips to the Checkpoint and back and that's about it. The NPAF isn't exactly welcome in Hope's Point airspace, y'know?"

"Aww…" grumbled Spring.

"That's a shame," Mint said, frowning. "We appreciate what you've done for us though, Commander, more than you could ever know. We'll make sure ponies hear about this."

"Hey, no trouble, guys. Just doin' my job," Havoc said.

"Well, it means a lot to us. So, thank you."

"You're welcome, then." Havoc gestured for the trio to head on inside. "Go on now, get yourselves rested up for the trip ahead of you. And think about what Pewter said, about traveling with the other ponies here. Safety in numbers, y'know."

"We'll certainly consider it."

As the trio left further inside, Havoc turned to Pewter. "'Other guests'?"

Pewter smiled and shook his head. "They're planning on leaving tomorrow, actually. They wanted to wait a little longer in case anypony else showed up, so this is a pretty great coincidence." His smile became more of a smirk. "To be honest, I think it's more that they heard about you and were hoping you'd show up and take them all the way. If you want, I could—"

"You know I can't, bud," Havoc interjected. "It's just not in the cards yet."

"Mmhmm, yeah, I get it. It really is a shame, though. I bet you could do a lot more good if you could make the full trip. There are threats on the other side of the mountains too, y'know."

"Well, you just let me know if things change so that I won't get shot flying in Hope's Point airspace, and I'll figure something out."

Pewter hummed and stroked his chin. "Y'know, a supply ship came in a few days ago to stock me up on foodstuffs, and I might have casually conversed with the pilot and his crew a bit about the state of affairs here over the past month or so. Seems that a few ponies that've arrived in Hope's Point have been talking about being rescued by a mysterious 'Fire Warrior'."

"Ooh, 'Fire Warrior'. I like the sound of that. So, casual conversation, huh?" Havoc asked, raising an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"Oh, y'know, just confirming if some mysterious pony has been doing just that: helping ponies. I might have let slip that there was a mare around that had some kind of new flamethrower weaponry going around saving folks from Gargantuans. Might've even let slip that she was in the NPAF, strangely enough."

"Aha, I see." Havoc shrugged. "Well, so long as you weren't saying anything bad about me, I guess I can let it slide."

"I might've told them you were a little shorter than I expected from somepony with your reputation."

"Hey, I'm only short compared to you, mountain stallion," Havoc quipped, poking Pewter in the chest. "You're bigger than most stallions I know. And besides, I'm not that short. I know plenty of mares shorter than me."

"Yeah, that's fair, I know somepony quite a bit shorter than you, actually. Shame she doesn't help folks cross to Hope's Point either," Pewter said with a sigh. "At least you've got a good excuse. She'd be a big help to ponies out here if she wasn't always in such a hurry. For somepony so obsessed with time she sure never seems to have any."

Havoc knew exactly who Pewter was talking about, but said nothing more; that would just raise questions she didn't exactly have the time or wherewithal to explain.

"Well, anyway, I'd better get back to base," Havoc said, adjusting her goggles over her face. "Take care, Pewter."

"Not gonna stay for dinner? I might just make some of that spicy black bean soup you liked so much last time if you stick around."

Havoc's stomach growled at the mention of it; she hated to admit it, but she loved Pewter's cooking. He'd make some mare really happy someday with the kind of skills he had over a stove. A shame he wasn't her type, really. Too bulky. Velvet would love him.

"Sorry, bud, can't," she replied. "If I don't get moving soon, I won't make it back in time for my reports." 

She gave Pewter a little salute, which he returned, then she leapt off and flew into the air, propelling herself faster with her flames to serve as makeshift booster rockets fast enough to cover the two-to-three-day distance from here to the Gate in less than half that. 

She'd still need to take a break at some point for a nap, but she could easily get back into the city well ahead of schedule so that she wouldn't be late for the Mid-East Rockets' next skyball game. The playoffs were fast approaching, and they were a shoe-in for sure. She owed it to Rainbow Dash to make sure the team got as far as possible.

Her newfound speed still didn't come close to the supersonic velocity that Dash was capable of, but she figured that if she just kept practicing every day, she'd make it there eventually. Her dad and Dash both seemed to think it was possible, so why shouldn't it be?

Once she was a fair distance away from the Checkpoint, though, she reached out with her mind to contact Curaçao. The telepathic bonding spell that Dawn had placed on her and her sisters was far stronger than she thought it had any right to be; instantaneous communication at this distance was practically impossible with the current technology available to New Pandemonium and Hope's Point. Just more of Dawn's showing off, as far as Havoc was concerned.

"Yo, Curie, this is Havoc reporting in. You busy?"

Curaçao took less than an instant to respond. "Oui, Curaçao here. How was your patrol today, Havoc?"

"Pretty good. Saved a small family out here like an hour or so ago from some of those creepy crawlies, easy peasy."

"Bravo, Havoc. That's the sixth group this month. I think we're making excellent progress, non?"

"I mean, if you say we are. You're sure this is gonna work? Not that I'm complaining."

"I do. Why, are you having doubts? You can tell me, ma sœur. I won't be upset; this is my plan, not Dawn's, so do not worry about being critical."

Havoc grumbled to herself. "Well, no, not really doubts. I mean, it feels pretty good and all to be helping ponies and everything, and like, it's super awesome having a chance to unleash the beast on these bugs, don't get me wrong. But from what I've been hearing, the NPAF ain't exactly on the top of Queen Blackburn's list of ponies she'd invite to a party, y'know? Top of her shit list, more like."

"Oui, I have heard much the same. But I believe this will help us get our hoof in the door, pour ainsi dire—ah, so to say. And if you're enjoying it, then what is the harm in trying, hmm?"

"Well, for one thing, I don't want some Hope's Point kill team thinking I'm trying something fishy and showing up to put a fucking bullet in my head, y'know?"

"That doesn't seem in character for Queen Blackburn from what I've heard so far. But if you are concerned, I can always find another method, non?"

Havoc paused, then shook her head. "Nah, that's alright. You know me, I'm just talking out of my ass worrying so much. Probably some holdover from Fluttershy's DNA or something, I dunno, I'm no scientist. You're right, this'll work. It's gotta work, right?"

"That's all we can hope for, oui. Now, if there's nothing else to report, Havoc, I will leave you to your flight. I believe you have a Rockets game in two days' time, oui?"

"Yup."

"Well, Shroud and I will be watching from home. And in case I don't see you before then, I wish you the best of luck. Bonne chance!"

"Heh, thanks, sis. Tell Shroud I said 'hi'."

There was a brief pause on the other end. "She says 'hi' as well. Safe flying, ma sœur."

Havoc felt the connection close, then let out a little breath and returned her full concentration to flying north again.