It was a rainy night in Manehattan. A week long storm had taken the city in its strangehold and regular floods seemed to threaten the livelihood of the populace. There was some debate over the cause of the storms; whether it was caused by disgruntled weather teams or misdirected magistrates was anypony's guess. No matter, it gave a good atmosphere for the events to come.
A rundown bar's neon lights flickered on and off in the damp underbelly that was downtown Manehattan. The nightlife went on as usual, seemingly unaffected by the weather. Escorts and their 'johns' carried out their business, albeit a bit hurriedly, and dealers didn't stop dealing whatever they could get their hands on.
Four, non-descriptive ponies walked into the bar. Trilbies and trenchcoats were the only interesting aspect about them. Entering, they realized the bar was empty, save for a tired bartender and a drunken donkey who never seemed to find the bottle of his shot glass. Good.
"Make sure nopony pays attention to us. It'll be to your favor," one of the ponies said to the bartender, flicking a large golden coin towards the bartender. A gruff and hoarse voice, no doubt the voice of a heavy smoker. The bartender's eyes lit up like the sign of his establishment. He nodded fiercely, assuring them that they'd have no trouble from anypony.
The pony smirked.
"Alright, find a table, gentleponies. I'll be right with you." The pony moved quickly away from his companions. He was in no rush, but in his line of work, time was always of the essence.
The remaining three sat down in a secluded corner, far from the entrance or the counter. One of the three removed his trilby, showing off a bright red complexion and a wild, golden mane. A long, jutting scar ran along the side of his cheek. He had wrinkles at the edge of his mouth and a certain twinkle in his dull orange eyes; the signs of a true jokester.
A broad smile flashed upon his face.
"Fellas, fellas, fellas! It's been waay too long. I was getting so bored doing nothing but drinking and eating for the last six months and now we decide to meet up? It's too convenient to be a coincidence!" He exaggerated his movements, moving his hooves as he spoke.
"Save it, Ribald. We got some new blood on our hooves." A trilby was put to rest on the table. A bald, beige pony sat with a glare on his face, not amused by his compatriot's antics. He was a very muscular pony, with sharp grey eyes and a defined jaw and chin. "Red got put into the slammer a week ago. Last I remember, you two were on the same page on how to spend your free time," his glare darkened, "He's not going to get out until Celestia croaks over."
Ribald seemed unfazed. "What a tragedy, but such is the life of high-stakes robbery. I suppose this meeting is about him?"
The beige stallion shook his head. "No, it's about our newest addition to the team."
"Oooh, a new guy? Wait, don't tell me. He's a hardened criminal with years of experience and trained in all the arts of violence and thievery. It's about time we get a vanilla character in our group. No offense Joe, but you just never filled your potential as an all-around tough guy." Ribald stood up in his seat to remove his trenchcoat. He was a pegasus by nature, but there were only two scorch marks on his torso on the places where his wings should have been. His cutie-mark was a set of drama masks, not unlike the ones you'd see hanging above a theatre stage.
Mocha Joe didn't respond to that. Instead, he threw a hoof at the offending stallion. Ribald ducked under the incoming punch, and backed away with a quick two-step. "Tsk tsk tsk, slow as ever. You can at least try, you know."
"Shut the hell up and sit the hell back down, Ribald. I'm back," the hoarse voice returned, trilby and trenchcoat levitating before him. He was a light-brown unicorn with no other remarkable features but a cutie-mark of two blueprints; one being the original and the other a nearly identical copy. Nopony ever figured that out, though; they always assumed it was two of the same.
The red stallion bowed down. "Of course, I'd never trample upon a host's hospitality. Especially yours, Smoothie."
Smooth Operator snorted. Smoothie had became a pet-name in his early years, and Ribald would never live it down. The group sat down as one, except for the newest addition, who still wore the clothes he came in.
He didn't bother looking up at the ponies in front of him.
"Roll out the carpets, gents. We have a new member in the family." Smooth beckoned the pony with a flick of his hoof. Joe and Ribald watched with inquisitive stares.
Sky Scraper nodded and removed his garb. He had a coat of flawless white, and a mane of cobalt blue cropped up into a simple buzzcut. His face was remarkably chiseled into fine angles, leaving nothing but skin and bone. His body was a similar story; it was supremely fit and had almost no trace of body fat. A faded tattoo of a pair of wings with a sword between them was etched in behind his left ear.
Ribald whistled. "That's a first. What's a beaten up soldier boy doing messing around with a bunch of thugs like us?"
Smooth shrugged. "Sky Scraper used to be in Her Majesty's Royal Service, if you were to believe him. He's going to be an incredible asset to us, regardless of his past affiliations. I've seen him do what he does, and I have half a mind to say that he's well-suited to this job." The unicorn leaned back into his seat, levitating a lit cigarette into his mouth. "A real killer, isn't that right, Sky?"
The former guardspony didn't respond.
A faint smile tugged at the edge of the unicorn's lips. "I suppose introductions are in order," he leaned forward to tap his cigarette on the ashtray, "My name is Smooth Operator. I run intelligence and communication, and I'm the alpha wolf in this pack. Know your place, and you won't have any troubles." His eyes focused on the new recruit before him, scrutinizing every aspect of him.
Sky nodded.
Smooth relaxed his posture, taking another deep breath of the smoke from his cigarette. "Good. The pony on your right," Mocha Joe bowed his head, "is Mocha Joe. His expertise is weaponry and demolition. Even with your military training, I think you have a thing or two to learn from him. Our practices are not exactly common knowledge, and I doubt that princess-fucking commander of yours would advise even half of what we do out in the field."
Sky could feel his eyes almost twitch at the last sentence, but he mellowed out before anyone realized.
Mocha Joe saw it, though. He frowned.
"I heard what the Royal Guard does to initiates. They break them down, wear down every nerve until they're the rawest killing machines in existence, and then they do the loyalty training," Joe rattled out in a harsh tone, "I especially know how die-hard fanatical they are when it's done right. Know where your loyalties lie, soldier-boy, because I won't hesitate to cut you down." The beige earth pony glared into the former guardpony's eyes, hoping to bring out a reaction from him.
Sky returned a stone cold stare, unfazed.
Joe relaxed at the sight, but his face was still in a scowl.
The grin on Ribald's visage threatened to tear the muscles in his face. "I must say well done, Sky. You've managed to galvanize the most boring pony on our team into squeezing out more emotions than his usual gormless self," the red pony feigned a gasp before he continued, "Ah, but where are my manners. Ribald Riddle, at your service." Ribald bowed like a showman before his audience. "If you need an actor or negotiator, there is no living pony better than I."
Smooth released a final puff of smoke before squashing the cigarette into the ashtray before him. "Ribald runs our operations when we require more than stealth and brute force. He also handles police negotiations, but that is almost never the case. He is also an excellent reader of character, so watch yourself, Sky."
Ribald shrugged. "He's not hiding anything from me. Not yet, anyways."
Sky nodded.
"Now that introductions are out of the way, let's get ready for the next job." With a bright flash of light, a black suitcase appeared on the table before them. Sky questioned its appearance with a stare, but Ribald nudged into his ribs with a free hoof. "He does that from time to time. Fancy magic trick, don't you think?"
Smooth's horn glowed once more, and the briefcase slowly opened. Within, there were numerous drawings and outlines of what appeared to be a large schematic of a mansion, complete with walls, gates, and a spacious backyard complete with a pool area. A caption underneath read "Fancy Pants".
"We've had more than enough time to cool down after the last heist, so let's go with something simple this time. Fancy Pants, Equestria's second richest stallion, is going to host a pool party in his villa outside of Canterlo-," Smooth stopped abruptly, coughing with a particularly unpleasant growling sound. "Ugh, damn cigarettes are going to kill me. Still not going to stop me, though."
Sky's face blanked when Smooth nonchalantly lit another cigarette and levitated it to his mouth. Ribald shook his head in disapproval. "I still don't know how you got addicted to smoking, Smoothie. You hate almost every other vice except for greed.."
The unicorn blew air out of his nostrils. "Mosquitoes."
"What, mosquitoes kidnapped your family and did the horizontal bop with your sister?"
"No. It's because they're mosquitoes."
"Just mosquitoes?"
"Just mosquitoes."
"That's deep, you know. You should write a book on your hatred for mosquitoes instead of this heisting nonsense."
Mocha Joe groaned. "Get on with it. Fancy Pants is hosting a pool party at his villa and we're going to steal his family jewels?"
"Not exactly. We're looking for information, not jewels," Smooth inhaled another cloud of smoke, releasing it instantaneously, "Our insider says that one of the esteemed guests was an architect for nearly every royal bank in the past twenty years."
Ribald raised an eyebrow. "What are we going to do with a washed up old graphic designer? We didn't have trouble robbing any of them before, and Her Majesty is as inept as ever."
Sky's ears twitched. "The reason Princess Celestia hasn't pursued criminal groups is because she is concerned with the livelihood of Equestria, not greedy bureaucrats with lined pockets."
Mocha Joe and Ribald turned immediately to Sky, with stares almost saying "Did he just talk?".
Smooth just nodded in approval. "It seems our 'soldier-boy' is well informed, gentleponies. Her Majesty would never pursue an active interest in our line of work, but I can't say the same for the authorities in Canterlot. They've been on edge ever since the changeling incident a few months back, and I dare say that they are taking the initiative," he shook his head, "Red was arrested by a squad of Royal Service agents six days ago. They had apparently been on surveillance for close to two months after he tried to set up a bank account with his real name."
Ribald's snout scrunched up in disgust. "Irony had always been Red's weakness. He never believed me when I told him that his parents were the worst name-givers," he sighed, "He was the bluest pony I had ever seen, for fuck's sake!"
Smooth continued, "They're getting close. Too close," he bit on his cigarette, "That's why I'm bringing you guys together for one last heist.This is make or break; we could be living on our newly earned pensions, or rotting in a jail in twenty-four hours. The architect's blueprints are going to be our key, and we're going to have to work for it."
Mocha Joe leaned forward, putting his legs on the table in front of him. "What is this 'key' for, exactly?"
"The Royal Reserve."
Joe and Ribald nearly guffawed at once. Sky remained silent, keeping his stare on the unicorn.
"You do realize that the Royal Reserve has never been broken into, let alone heisted?"
"Ohoho, that's a good one, Smoothie. Next you'll be telling me that we'll be stealing Celestia's tiara. Fuuck me, what a laugh."
Smooth remained silent as well.
"You're serious, aren't you?" Ribald calmed down considerably.
He nodded.
"The Royal Reserve? The single largest financial entity in Equestria, and you are saying that we should rob it?"
He nodded again.
"And how are you so sure that this architect knows the blueprints to the place? That place is older than any bank in the last millennium!" Joe pointed his hoof at Smooth, questioning and accusing him at the same time.
"I know for a fact that it's a family secret, and the fact that he's the twelfth generation of that family. That's enough for me." Smooth looked as smooth as his name.
"He is serious," Ribald breathed deeply. "If you wanted to bring down the wrath of two goddess princesses, you could do it an easier way. No way Celestia or Luna is going to let this slide!"
Sky's ears twitched again. Smooth noticed, and gave him a motion as to say "Continue".
"The Royal Reserve is a corporate invention as a fail-safe to protect the banking industries of Equestria and even beyond our borders. Her Majesty Celestia and Her Grace Luna would not agree to such transactions, but they would not act upon it more than they would for any other petty crime." Sky recited his knowledge like an oath or creed.
The table went silent.
Ribald was the first to break the silence. "That military training never leaves the system, huh?"
Mocha Joe shook his head. "This is a huge mistake. What are going to do with all that money when every place in Equestria knows that a group of four ponies broke into the biggest vault in the world? This is pointless!" Joe started to get up from his seat before a hoof grabbed his leg.
It was Sky's.
"Listen to your commanding officer. That's all I'm going to advise you." His glare was as sharp as a dagger ready to strike.
"Do sit down, Mocha Joe. This conversation is too interesting to pass up." Ribald nodded in agreement.
Begrudgingly, Mocha Joe sat down. At this stage, he was too involved to leave anyway.
Satisfied, Smooth leaned back into his chair with a smug grin on his face. The grin of a winner.
"This isn't going to be about money, gentleponies. Between the four banks and *that* apple pie recipe, we have always been set for a good retirement," Smooth inhaled another cloud of smoke, "This is about honor among thieves. This is about respect. I'm not going to settle with hushed stories to my children; I want to be a legend. We could become the greatest robbers in history, gentleponies. This is history in the making."
Ribald nodded deeply in agreement before making a time-out sign with his hooves. "I'm on the same page here, but why bring along Sky? He's no Red, and he's definitely not a robber, I can tell that."
Sky turned to face to Ribald, stone faced. "Red is my brother. His last request was for me to assist you guys for whatever you asked of me."
"And you just agreed to that? What if we murder, rob, or conspire against Celestia herself?" Ribald's hoof made a circling motion, as if to say "Theoretically."
"I hold a code of honor and uphold the laws of the land, but my family comes first. Do not expect me to do any bidding at a whim."
"That serious, huh?"
The table turned silent again.
Even Ribald didn't bother to make a witty response.
Smooth finished his second cigarette of the night. "I didn't bring along Sky. He came to me. He's a great detective and he says that he did all the work himself in finding me. I'm sure his brother had a helping hoof from behind bars but I never did tell anypony where I was going or what I was going to do. That was enough for me."
Mocha Joe looked down, trying to find purpose in his hooves.
Ribald still kept his mouth shut.
It was time for Sky to ask his own question. "My brother never told you guys that he had a Palace Guard for a sibling, did he?"
They all shook their heads.
"That's my brother, then." Sky finished with an affirmative nod.
The silence continued for a good five minutes before Smooth decided to resume the planning.
"The architect, Arched Buttress -"
"HA, buttress!"
Smooth gave Ribald a dirty look.
"Anyways, as I was saying, the architect will be attending the party at approximately 7:30 in the evening. He is a very cordial pony by nature, so we can say that he'll arrive on time. Nearly half of Canterlot's aristocracy is going to be here tonight, so it's absolutely vital that we get in and get out without leaving a trace. Any valuables you find are free game, but don't attract suspicion."
"Any clue on guards?"
"No, our insider didn't give an idea of security. Fancy Pants is a name that carries weight and respect, so I doubt that anypony would be willing to rob him in the midst of a mob of bourgeoisie, but private security is a given at this meeting."
"Why can't we nab the architect at any other point? Like when he's at his home, or something. We can learn that, right? Where he lives?"
"That's a negative. He's avoided both public and private eye in almost every situation, but his reputation and family name precedes him. He's an honored guest, but close to nopony knows anything about him."
"Close to nopony? There is somepony who knows about him, right? A family friend, maybe?"
"He's old and sequestered. It might be interesting to some people if he was young and handsome, perhaps, but he's absolutely the opposite of what the media wants. Most likely, he's the opposite of what anypony wants in a personal companion."
"Any idea what he looks like?"
"Yes. Tan pony with a big, bushy grey beard and a cathedral for a cutie-mark."
"Wait, is Buttress his family name? You're telling me that there is a family of Buttresses, and nopony bothered to tell me?"
"I presume so, Ribald. The first Buttress was just named Archie, though. Strange times. What's stranger, is that they've been official architects of Princess Celestia for a millennium, with no break in the bloodline. It was never hereditary, but every Buttress that became a architect became so of their own merit. Speaks volumes about our target, gentleponies."
"Okay, we're looking for an old geezer with a church on his ass. How are we going to get into the mansion party?" Mocha Joe raised his voice for the first time since he sat back down. Smooth looked back at him.
"Catering services."
Joe's pupils shrunk to the size of peas, a cold chill running up his spine. There was an audible gulp emanating from his throat.
Ribald burst into laughter. "Once a barista, always a barista!"
Even Sky couldn't help but put on a smug grin. There was no point in explaining, but Mocha Joe's expression told the truth better than anypony could.
"T-t-that's not necessary, is it? Why not m-maintenance? Or-r musicians? Why...catering?" The beige pony grimaced like he looked into the eyes of Death itself.
Smooth kept a composed face throughout the exchange. "I considered us posing as repairponies or cooks, but background checks are a requirement and we're too short on time to work up identities. Our best chance is to go in, serve a few drinks, get the architect, and get out."
Sky looked at the unicorn. "This isn't going to be that simple. We need a 'plan B' if our efforts prove fruitless."
Smooth nodded. "It's never simple. That's why we have these." A bright flash enveloped the group, and a bundle of four masks appeared on the table in front of them.
The faces of Starswirl the Bearded, Discord, a timberwolf, and the likeness of a changeling came to life on the table. Every single imperfection and blemish were presented uncannily; enough to fool anypony into thinking that the pony behind it was indeed whomever(or whatever) the mask represented.
"Thick as thieves." Smooth exclaimed with an air of finality.
"Thick as thieves." Ribald resounded affirmatively.
Mocha Joe sighed, and repeated the mantra in tandem with his comrades.
"..Thick as thieves?" Sky asked.
Smooth didn't answer. Instead, he took the mask of Starswirl into his hooves, facing up towards him. He stared into the wizened old eyes of the former sage.
Sighing, he put it back on the table. "We'll take a train to Canterlot first thing in the morning. Have a good night, gentleponies, and don't get into too much trouble."
The four stood up at once, took their respective masks, and departed the bar.