A few days after the ill-fated fight at the docks, Fletcher and Caboose were rapidly making their way through RDL HQ.
They had received word of Sterling and Black's condition, and were naturally worried for their comrades' wellbeing. But, in hopes of avoiding panicking the other (and out of the slim hope that their comrades weren't in as bad shape as they feared), they were currently engaged in small talk.
"So, how's Dove doing?" Caboose asked.
"Amazingly." Fletcher sighed, full of admiration for his wife. "She's taking it all in her stride, staying cool and level headed. That's why I love her." He smiled widely. "How have things been at the castle during my absence? All well, I trust?"
“Yeah, not so bad.” Caboose nodded, “Things have been nice and quiet. They finally fixed up the parts of the castle that got torn up from our last little adventure.”
“Speaking of which… what of Nyx? I pray everything has been well with her?” Fletcher asked hesitantly.
“Oh yeah. Happiest little reincarnation of Nightmare Moon I’ve ever seen.” Caboose smiled.
“And no incidents?” Fletcher questioned warily.
“Come on, Fletch, it’s been three months.” Caboose grimaced, “So what if she turned into Nightmare Moon, dragged us across Canterlot, nearly destroyed us all, and has a higher body count than any foal I know? It’s all history now.”
“I’m sorry.” Fletcher shook his head, “I know the filly means no harm, but even now, it’s unsettling to see what she is capable of. Even if the chance is miniscule, there is still a risk of her powers surging out of control again, and I think I speak for both of us that we would prefer that not to happen…”
"Yeah, I hate sequels." Caboose nodded. "Especially ones that just recycle all the stuff from the original. Talk about uninspired..."
"I suppose all we can do is just hope things will turn okay." Fletcher admitted grudgingly.
"That's the spirit." Caboose nudged him. "Always look on the bright side. The view's better there. and you don't even have to pay extra for it."
Moments later, they reached the RDL's training area.
“Well, look who it is.”
Caboose and Fletcher glanced to see Fury Xaldin, their Nightcrawler griffon comrade, lounging about on some bleachers next to an arena. Next to him were Ballista, Master Mind (the team’s tactician), Armory (the team’s inventor), and Titan (the resident Diamond Dog), members of Black’s old team, Taskforce Omega.
"Hey, guys." Caboose waved.
"Hey." Armory smiled.
"Ruff!" Titan barked happily.
"What's going on?" Fletcher asked.
“You’re actually just in time for the main event.” Fury chuckled, “Grab a seat.”
Fletcher and Caboose glanced at each other as they did as such. In the nearby arena, a sparring session between Incognito (the team’s spy and stealth expert) and Alpha Force Squad’s newest recruit, Survival Horror, a former doctor who was caught up in their previous adventure with Nyx, and having impressed Elite and the others, was now working to become the Alpha Force Squad’s medic.
“Let’s see what you’ve got, preppie!” Incognito smirked, as they circled around each other.
"Be careful what you wish for, you might just get it." Survival warned.
Survival suddenly lunged at Incognito, who sidestepped him. Survival stumbled a bit as he recovered his balance.
"Never be too eager to rush your opponent." Incognito needled him. "That can backfire on you real quick, believe me.”
Incognito swung at him, as Survival leapt back, almost stumbling again.
“Right, right…” Survival nodded, trying to keep focus.
The two circled each other intently. Survival nearly tripped over his own legs, with the stumble giving Incognito an opening.
"Hi-yahh!" He lunged again.
Survival just barely recovered in time to dodge the attack. He tried to return the favor, but misjudged his timing, instead striking thin air.
"Seriously?!" He admonished himself.
"Take your time, rookie." Incognito told him, throwing a strike that Survival only just avoided. "This isn't a race."
"Thanks for the tip." Survival nodded grudgingly.
“So, Fury…” Caboose began, turning to the griffon, “Whatcha been up to?”
“Just the usual.” Fury shrugged, “Elite has been having me take on a few missions here and there. Barbossa called me a few times to catch up on current events…” He then lit up, “Oh, and I was able to find some time to visit Eclipse last week.” A small smile grew on his beak, thinking of his nephew.
“Aww, that’s nice. I always knew under all that violent, stubborn, yakheadedness, there was a softie in there.” Caboose smiled.
“...Yeah…” Fury’s smirk remained, albeit forced.
“So, how goes the training process?” Fletcher asked Armory, “I hope Survival has been able to adjust. I can imagine it being jarring for a civilian to suddenly become a part of an military taskforce.”
“Well, I can tell you that he’s doing swell.” Armory smirked, “He learned how to fire a crossbow in one day, got the hang of sparring pretty quick, and even showed promise in basic stealth drills. I don’t know what they taught him in that doomsday bunker, but he’s been keeping up!”
At that point, Survival attempted a flying leap at Incognito, but Incognito dodged, and the bad landing nearly sprained his hoof.
"Grr!" He winced, clutching the hoof.
"Bad form, pal." Incognito moved in to capitalize on that moment of weakness.
"It won't be that easy!" From his current position, Survival curled into a ball and rolled to safety.
“Well, he still has a way to go before he’s field ready.” Ballista crossed his hooves, “The kid’s a trooper, but that’s only going to get him so far when it comes to facing the Forefathers.”
Incognito started getting aggressive in his swipes, putting more pressure on Survival.
"You gotta be able to keep moving!" He lectured his sparring partner. "You let up for even a moment, and you're done for!"
"Duly noted." Survival snarled, starting to tire of Incognito's lecturing.
“Say, what’s that in their hooves?” Caboose squinted, noticing that the two spar partners were wielding something in their hooves.
“Oh, those are markers.” Ballista explained, “We use them to simulate knife combat. It’s to help ponies practice their knife work safely.”
“Safely?” Caboose scoffed, “Oh, please. A marker is nothing like the real thing. Me and my brothers used to practice with actual knives all the time.”
“Seriously?” Master Mind grimaced, “Didn’t you and your brothers get badly hurt?”
“All the time!” Caboose said proudly, “But as you can see, I turned out fine. I only suffered massive blood loss and occasional memory loss…” He turned back to Survival and Incognito, “Say, what’s that in their hooves?”
“...I swear, you are not equine.” Master Mind declared, clearly disturbed.
“Of course I’m not. I’m Caboose!” Caboose smirked.
As the others talked, Fletcher sidled over to Ballista.
“...So… what happened earlier this week?” Fletcher frowned, “Elite mentioned that a raid on the Applewood airship docks went awry.”
“That it did.” Ballista said grimly, “I don’t know all the details, but all I know is our guys got bucked up bad.”
“And what of Black and Sterling?” Fletcher asked.
“Triage is monitoring them and the other agents that got hurt.” Ballista explained, “We hadn’t been allowed to see them yet.”
“I see…” Fletcher sighed, crestfallen.
At the same time, Survival was desperatly trying to think of a way to regain ground in the match. But no matter what, he was unable to see an opening in Incognito's defense.
'Guess it's time for an old classic maneuver...' He thought deviously.
Survival feinted a leap to the left, then moved in from the right swinging the marker across Incognito's barrel, marking it.
"Ooh!" Armory cheered. "Nice one!"
"Rruff!" Titan barked.
“Wow, that worked!” Survival smirked, lowering his marker hoof, “Looks like I win-”
Suddenly, Incognito swiped his marker across Survival’s neck, marking it.
“Wha-” Survival gasped, the marker’s pressure on his neck taking his breath for a moment, as he grasped his neck.
“Rookie mistake, Fievel.” Incognito taunted, using his nickname, “Ponies don’t usually die from a single swipe across the barrel, especially from a knife. You practically left yourself open to get your throat cut.”
“He’s right, you know.” Ballista agreed from the sidelines, “When it comes to fights like these, you don’t let your guard down till you’re a hundred percent sure your foe is incapacitated.”
“Of course.” Survival sighed, “Let me try again.”
“Sure thing.” Incognito smirked.
Survival bobbed to the left, weaved to the right, then made his mouth.
"Hah!" He tried a downward slash to the chest.
Incognito dodged the move, and retaliated by poking his opponent in the forehead with his marker.
"Boom, stabbed in the head." He smirked.
Snarling, Survival leapt forward, trying for an impalement strike. Incognito caught his foes hoof, and jabbed him jabbed him repeatedly in the stomach.
"Boom, multiple stab wounds to the guts." Incognito said calmly.
Survival just barely managed to keep his cool.
The two continued sparring, with Incognito’s experience making him nearly impossible for Survival to overcome.
"Missed me!" He dodged one swing, and countered with one that left an ink mark on Survival's cheek.
"This better not be permanent ink!" Survival swung his own weapon, just barely marking Incognito's nose.
"If it is, we're both in trouble." Incognito smirked. He swung his "weapon" in two quick "slashes", marking an X on Survival's forehead. "Mostly you."
"Oh, that's it!" Survival snarled, finally giving in to his frustration.
Survival charged at Incognito, looking to "finish" his opponent with a "strike" to the heart. But Incognito, smirking at having managed to get his foe angry, managed to catch the strike.
"Gotcha." He smirked.
The observers all gaped silently, as, with one swift movement, Incognito brought Survival into a hooflock, and started twisting it.
“AHH!” Survival yelped, as his caught hoof dropped the marker.
In a flash, Incognito used his marker hoof to ‘stab’ him in the neck.
“And dead, once again.” Incognito smirked.
"...And that, folks, is that!" Caboose mimicked a fight announcer, “What a sensational bout. Survival failed to win a single round, but he sure had a lot of hutzpah, didn't he, sports fans? And now, a word from our sponsors.”
He turned to the empty air to his left. Master Mind was about to rebut, only for Armory to stop him with a hoof and a silent shake of his head.
Incognito released Survival from his grasp, as the doctor let out a defeated sigh.
“Hey, don’t let it get you down, kid.” Incognito gives a sympathetic smile, “You’re still learning.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Survival rubbed his head, unconvinced.
The others walked over.
"Good to see you giving your new position your all, Survival." Fletcher declared.
"You'll get him next time." Caboose consoled him. "You'll give 'im the sketchpad treatment for sure."
"Thanks, guys." Survival smiled.
At that point, Triage entered the room. He looked tired, as if he hadn’t a moment to rest for quite a while.
“Ah, there you all are.” Triage declared, as he looked over at Survival, noting the marks all over him, “Ooh, Doctor Horror… you’re looking like a whiteboard right now.”
“Yeah. Had a bit of trouble with knife training.” Survival admitted.
“I do hope Incognito wasn’t too hard on you.” Triage cast a stink-eye at his comrade, “The last thing I want is for you to be unable to stand again like what happened when you were practicing ambush tactics with Titan.”
“Woof!” Titan barked, offended.
“I don’t care if you were only going to test his combat ability, if Survival’s going to be worth his salt as a medic, I need him able to perform his medic duties.” Triage grunted.
“Relax, ya old fossil, it was just a good ol’ marker fight.” Incognito rolled his eyes, “The kid’s getting better though.”
“Yeah…” Survival agreed hesitantly, “You’d ever had to do this when you joined?”
“Not necessarily.” Triage mused, “Fighting was never really my thing. A last resort really. That's why I got into medicine..."
"And what a noble calling it is." Elite joined. "Alas, sometimes fighting is unavoidable." He shook his head, as he glanced glumly at Triage, “Triage, I hope you have some good news for us?”
“Yeah, how’s Black and Sterling?” Fletcher frowned.
"Can we see them?" Caboose asked.
“Of course.” Triage nodded, “If you would all follow me…”
Triage led the others to the infirmary. The others looked on in shock and sadness, Survival especially, as they saw the agents from the raid bandaged up. One in particular, namely the one Silas had tortured, was still whimpering, all his limbs in casts.
At the far end, they found Sterling bed-ridden, his face and barrel bandaged up with his sword at his side, seemingly unconscious. At his bedside was Black, who had a few patches on his face, and bruises all over his body. Black was very bruised, but not too terribly so (his suit having taken the brunt of the attacks).
“Oh, hey, guys.” Black declared.
“Black, Sterling… are you both okay?” Elite frowned.
“Well, we’re alive, at least.” Black sighed, “But Sterling here got beaten up pretty bad.”
"Oh, Faust!" Caboose, distraught, ran over and hugged Sterling, much to everypony’s surprise, "Speak to me, old pal! Speak to me!"
Sterling let out a barely audible murmur.
"What?" Caboose frowned.
"You're... squeezing... my... broken ribs." Sterling hissed in pain.
"Oh." Caboose cringed, letting go. "Sorry."
“What in Equestria happened to you all?” Fletcher asked.
“That is what I would like to know.” Elite said firmly, “The squad head told me that you guys were attacked by somepony.”
“Ugh, it was a disaster.” Black shook his head, “Me, Sterling, and the guys were busting this illicit smuggling operation at the airship docks over in Applewood. The raid itself went over without much trouble… but we overheard two of the agents talking about calling this pony to help them out…”
“And this pony… did this to you?” Ballista asked, concerned.
“It was my fault.” Sterling spoke up, guilt-stricken, “This asshole was talking this guy up, and I really thought me and Black could take him and not leave any agent uncaptured, so I let them call him… and because of that…”
“Hey, it’s not all on you.” Black urged, “We were all caught off-guard by that slimeball's power. You had no way of knowing the kind of pony we were coming up against.”
“And who is this pony exactly?” Fury glared.
“...Silas Necross.” Sterling answered, his voice cold.
“...Okay.” Incognito grimaced, turning to Triage, “Hey, doc, I think you might have given Sterling here a little too much morphine, because he just said he got his ass kicked by a dead pony.”
“I’m not kidding!” Sterling snarled, “It was Silas Necross!”
“But that’s impossible.” Survival spoke up, visibly disturbed by Sterling’s injuries, “You and I were there when he got shot up. It was medically impossible for anypony to survive such injuries.”
“He’s right.” Master Mind frowned, “And if not his injuries, the carriage he was in blew up. There wasn’t a trace of him left.”
“...Yeah… did we ever figure out why that happened?” Incognito asked.
“Well, to be honest, no.” Ballista suggested, “I had Armory here look the wreckage over. We thought it might have been a bomb that a Forefather agent strapped on when we weren’t looking, making sure Silas was dead so he couldn’t talk…”
“But I found no components for a bomb anywhere.” Armory shook his head, “I even had Titan sniff it over. He couldn’t find anything either.”
“Ruh-huh.” Titan nodded.
“Even then… how could Black and Sterling lose to Silas?” Caboose asked, stupefied, “I mean, I’m not sure what’s the power scaling here in this series, but Silas is a chump! A low-tier villain! Like Flim and Flam level!”
"The old Silas, maybe." Black said darkly.
"What do you mean?" Armory asked.
“Something’s happened to him.” Sterling revealed, “I don’t know what, but instead of a normal unicorn, he was this tall shadowy stallion, made out of miasma.”
“Miasma? As with Nyx?” Survival gaped.
“Yeah, except it’s different somehow.” Sterling shook his head, “His whole body was covered in it.”
“And his powers were horrifying.” Black continued. “With one beam, he managed to blow up our carriages, and tear up half the docks. He could disappear and reappear at will, and no matter what we did, we could not hurt him. We might as well have been punching thin air.”
“Oh buck.” Incognito winced in shock.
“And there’s more.” Sterling grunted, “The guy, before he called Silas, was going on and on about how he’s been hard at work lately these past three months. Cleaning house.”
“Wait, so he became a cleaning lady?” Caboose asked, confused.
“No, Caboose.” Black rolled his eyes, “It means last night’s attack wasn’t his first… and I fear it won’t be his last.”
“Aww, man.” Caboose moaned, “Sounds like another knock down, dragout fight to the death is on the way..."
"Okay, that's enough for now." Triage announced. "My patients need to be able to recuperate without interruption, so please leave them to it."
"I thought you said I'd be ready to be discharged in a few hours." Black frowned.
"Not if there's any more doomsaying to stress you out." Triage said sternly. "Survival, you can stay, because I have much to teach you today. But everycreature else must go."
"You heard him, folks." Elite nodded. "Doctor's orders."
"Get well soon, Sterling." Fletcher smiled.
"That's the plan." Sterling nodded. "Not like I could do much otherwise…”
“That’s the spirit!” Caboose smirked.
Those who didn't need to be in the room departed.
"What a mess." Incognito sighed.
"That's putting it mildly." Master Mind shook his head.
"Hrr..." Titan nodded.
"The new Silas is going to be difficult to overcome." Fletcher noted.
"Like trying to eat a two Bit veggie steak." Caboose agreed.
"Just seeing what he did to Back and Sterling gives me the shivers." Armory admitted.
"It gives me the need to smash that freak's teeth in." Ballista scowled.
"I should've been there with them." Fury declared, guilt and regret in his voice. "I should have been there. I could have helped them..."
“Then you would have been in there with them.” Elite declared, “Besides, you heard Black. Even with your powers, it probably wouldn’t have made a difference.”
"Still ruffles my feathers, though." Fury scowled.
"I know we are all unnerved by this turn of events." Elite said fairly. "But we will face this threat, and overcome it, as we always have. But for now, all we can do is allow Triage and Survival to do their work."
Speaking of whom, Survival followed Triage into the adjoining office. As he did, he couldn't help but glance once more at Sterling's battered form, something Triage took notice of.
"Are you okay, Survival?" Triage asked. "You seem somewhat... Perturbed."
"Sorry." Survival said awkwardly. "...I'm just a bit shaken at what I saw in there. Everypony in there was a real mess, especially Sterling. I mean, in all my years as a physician back at Brightdale, I’ve never seen anypony hurt so bad…”
“I’ll admit, it’s a level of injury even I haven't seen much of." Triage noted. "Alas, seeing comrades in critical condition is something I quickly had to become accustomed to. And I'm afraid you will have to do so as well."
"I guess so..." Survival nodded solemnly. "I'll try to toughen up."
"Just don't toughen up too much." Triage instructed. "A good medic must retain a tender bedside manner for his patients. Balancing the two isn't easy, but it can be done."
"I'll do my best." Survival put on a smile. "So, what lessons will you be teaching me today?"
"Some very important ones." Triage declared. "Today, I'll be giving you a practical test in how to change bandages and empty bedpans."
"Oh." Survival said flatly, his good mood deflating. "Yay..."
A short while later, Elite and Ballista were in the comms room. Black, newly released from the infirmary, was in the back, listening as the two communicated with several agents via big screens on monitors. The topic of discussion was Silas, with blurry security footage of one of his attacks playing on a nearby screen.
"-It was like he showed up from out of nowhere." A female Pegasus agent declared. "He tore our battle cruiser apart with that strange black fog of his like it was paper. We barely got out of there with our lives!"
"Well, he threw us around like rag dolls." An Earth Pony stallion recalled, having been the one to show the footage, “I have three ponies dead, and ten more in traction.”
“He was unstoppable.” A Unicorn stallion said grimly, “We must have fired like a hundred bolts at the guy, and all it did was fly right through him. He took down my team and made off with the blueprints for those new combat airships."
"Very unnerving news indeed." Elite frowned, “And this has been happening to other squads out in the field?”
“Oh, yeah.” The Earth Pony grimaced, “It’s been a goat buck, sir.”
“So, hold on, all this has been happening in the past three months?” Ballista glared, “Why are we now hearing about this?!”
“We weren’t even aware of the severity of these attacks till the attack on the Applewood docks.” The Unicorn defended. “We had thought that what had happened to us was a one-off occurrence, just some random eldritch abomination. You know, the kind that terrorizes Equestria once a year.”
“But when the head agent under Paladin and Cross informed us of what had happened, we asked around and it turns out he’s been busy.” The Pegasus mare rubbed her head.
“Dammit…” Elite put a hoof to his chin in contemplation, “...What do we know about him so far?”
“Other than he’s packing major heat and is buckin’ invincible? Not much.” The Unicorn groaned.
“Hold on.” Black spoke up as he stepped forth. He limped a little, “Did any of you guys try using magic on him?” Elite turned to him in confusion, “During our fight, I grabbed one of the Forefathers’ new magic weapons and fired a couple blasts at him, and the blasts actually landed.”
“Really? Did you actually hurt him?” The Earth Pony challenged skeptically.
“Well… I don’t know.” Black admitted, “It looked like he was being overwhelmed by the attacks. Maybe I might have actually done some damage if the staff didn’t run out of juice.”
“Well, still, that isn’t much for us to go on. Even if magic does work, it sounds like even that wasn’t enough to slow him down.” Ballista frowned, “...This is bad… in all my years of service, I never seen something like this… what if there’s no way to beat him?”
"We cannot think that way." Elite declared. "There must be some way of overcoming Silas' new abilities. But for now, all we can do is continue our research, and hope that Silas' next attack won't be for a while yet."
"Somehow, I doubt it..." Ballista sighed. "Who knows what kind of twisted thing he's doing right this second."
Meanwhile, back at Infinity, a cloud of miasma descended at one of the airship ports, as Silas materialized, returning from another successful mission.
In stark contrast to his previous arrival, the other agents displayed awe and respect toward him, rather than simple fear.
"Welcome back, Mr. Necross." A female agent greeted.
"Thanks for saving our asses durin' last night's mission." Another smiled.
"You were awesome!" A male added.
"Best enforcer ever!" A younger agent declared.
“Whatever.” Silas brushed them off, their praise meaning nothing to him, ’Faust bucking sycophants.’
Leaving the nonplussed agents behind him, Silas stormed up to the upper level's briefing room, where Loveless were debriefing a group of agents.
“...And you must retrieve the scroll, and be out of the complex, within ten minutes. And before you go, I cannot stress this enough: the paralysis darts are not toys.” Loveless declared fiercely, “And they’re sure as hell not substitutes for whatever drug that is hip nowadays, so no more jabbing yourselves with them while listening to music, okay?”
“But Ricochet told us they were safe.” An agent complained.
“Oh, and if Ricochet told you to jump off a bridge-” Loveless suddenly stopped, “Wait, don’t answer that, I fear I know the answer already.”
“Ahem.” Silas cleared his throat. The other agents turned and eyes widen in horror at the visage of the shadowy stallion. Loveless, on the other hoof…
“Silas. Can I help you?” Loveless grimaced.
“I need to speak with you.” Silas declared, glaring at the other agents, “Now.”
“Very well…” Loveless sighed, returning his focus to the still wary agents, “You all are dismissed.”
Instantly, the agents ran out the room.
“Come, walk with me.” Loveless approached Silas, as the two left the room, “I have much to do today.”
“Oh, sure.” Silas rolled his eyes dismissively, “Your day must be so hectic, what with all the ordering around and tinkering with all those junks.”
“What is it that you want, Silas?” Loveless growled, “I assume you being back here means your mission at the Crystal Mountains went swimmingly?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.” Silas said indignantly, offended by the implication things could have gone any differently. "All because of me, thank you very much. Those R.D.L. assholes were chumps… as were the ones back in Trottingham, and Somnambula, and Applewood… in fact, you could say the entire legion is my whipping boy.”
“Arrogance doesn’t suit you, you know.” Loveless frowned.
“Well, neither does mediocrity, but here I am.” Silas snapped back.
“If there’s something you want to say to me, Silas, just spit it out so we can move on with our day.” Loveless glared.
“It’s been three months.” Silas hissed.
“Felt a lot longer, what’s your point?” Loveless scoffed.
“Why hasn’t Father summoned me back to the Coils yet?” Silas demanded, “I’ve been busting my ass off these past months, doing all the lousy gruntwork you and the drunk have been assigning me. And I’ve completed them all effortlessly.”
“Yes, because that is what you’re supposed to do.” Loveless grumbled, “Do you want a gold sticker or something?”
“No, I want recognition.” Silas seethed, his miasma flaring a bit. “I have clearly demonstrated that I am capable of getting things done. Ask any of those worthless peons and they would sing nothing but praise and fear of my absolute might. Yet, I cannot help but feel that I am no closer to obtaining the title of Ouroboros than I was when I came back here three months ago.”
"...Silas, Silas, Silas." Loveless shook his head. "You're embarrassing yourself with all this impatience."
"Embarrassing myself?" Silas angrily rebutted. "What the hell is that supposed to-?”
Before he could finish his sentence, Loveless shushed him. They arrived outside a small room, where a group of ponies were seated in chairs forming a circle. At the head of the circle was none other than Ricochet.
"It was awful." A Forefather agent recounted a harrowing experience. "Those lousy Royal Guards just popped up from out of nowhere. we tried to run, but Grady got hit in the side by a bolt, and he fell into the river. And he sank to the bottom." His eyes welled up with tears. "I miss him so much..."
“There, there, Pathos.” Ricochet patted him sympathetically, “Let it all out. We’re all here for you. It’s not easy, losing friends. That’s why I started this group, to help ponies heal and move on. I too have lost ponies I’ve considered to be close friends… or at the very least, could tolerate sitting in a room with them for a few hours.”
“I have to ask, sir. Who did you lose?” One agent asked.
“Oh, who didn’t I lose?” Ricochet laughed morosely, “But I guess I made this group with my fellow Ouroboros in mind, those who are no longer with us… Sacred, the nicest guy you ever know. Nalik. Gridlock and Harlhooves, never was close but I am sure if they had loosened up a bit, we might have been friends. Black Thorn… well, I never actually met the guy, but I like to think Umbrums are metal, Solomon…”
Ricochet frowned, not sure what to say.
“...Let’s just say he was a jerk... but he was our jerk.” Ricochet declared, “And finally, there’s Doc… I never saw his face, but I knew under that mask, there was a great guy in there…” Ricochet’s face soured, “A great guy I’ll never get to meet because of Secret. Because Secret trying to mess with Doc and his old stallion's project made him leave..." His breathing grew shallow, as his emotions flared. "And before that, there was Sterling. He was a decent guy, but he ended up leaving us too. Leaving me." He gritted his teeth angrily. "Why does everypony I care about end up leaving me?! Why?! Why can't they ever stay?!”
The Ouroboros panted with rage, as the other agents looked on in shock.
“Anyways…” Ricochet let out a deep breath, calming down, “That will be all for tonight. We’ll meet back here next Thursday. Help yourself to Iggy’s po boys and some booze.” He then noticed Loveless and Silas watching him, “If you will excuse me…”
Ricochet made his way outside the room.
“I must say, Ricochet… that was quite the impassioned speech.” Loveless declared awkwardly.
“Yeah, sorry. Got carried away...” Ricochet shook his head glumly, “It’s just… it still hurts...”
“Still, you are doing a good thing, helping others grieve.” Loveless complimented, “Sure beats drinking your woes away.”
“Heh, can’t say drinking is entirely off the table.” Ricochet sighed, as he opened up a can of beer that he suddenly had in his hoof, taking a sip.
“Well, I think it’s a waste of time.” Silas snorted, “Wailing about all those losers… especially Sterling of all ponies.”
“He was my friend, Silas! It might be rocket science to you, you being a jerk and all, but it bites, having someone you had drinks with turn his back on you!” Ricochet snapped, “And unlike Jetstream, I might actually have to fight him, since he shacked up with the RDL!”
“Well, you won’t have to worry about that.” Silas chuckled darkly.
“...What do you mean?” Loveless murmured, not liking the looks in his eyes.
“Well, I don’t know if you heard, but I ran into Cross and that tin pony back in Applewood… and well, let’s just say they are no longer a problem.” Silas sneered.
“You… you didn’t…” Loveless gaped, feeling his heart plummet.
“Don’t look so surprised, Loveless.” Silas snorted. “They were cake walks. Especially Sterling. I’ll tell you, it was therapeutic, beating the ever loving tar of that rat bastard. I even dropped the dock him and that tin pony were on. There’s no way they’re alive after all that.”
“No… no…” Loveless was in shock, struggling to comprehend the thought that the one he considered his son was dead.
“Yes, it’s true, ya old fossil.” Silas grinned madly, ignorant of his shock, “Surely, me downing the R.D.L.’s little toy soldier and the traitor should be more than enough for a promotion.”
Ricochet stared at Silas… and then said.
“Pics or it didn’t happen.”
“Excuse you?” Silas raised a brow. Loveless snapped out of his shock to glance at Ricochet in confusion.
“You honestly expect us to believe that you killed Sterling and that one guy?” Ricochet challenged.
“Um, yeah, that’s what happened!” Silas snarled.
“Dude, I know Sterling. The guy survived having his hoof cut off by a crazy psycho mare.” Ricochet glared, “You really think he wouldn’t have survived a falling dock?”
“He was unconscious!” Silas roared, “He had to be saved by the tin pony, and even then, I took him out as well when I dropped the thing! The idiots I had to bail out can attest to that!”
“Well, did you see their bodies at the bottom of the mountain?” Ricochet asked.
“What?! No!” Silas growled
“Then how can you be sure that they’re dead?” Ricochet frowned, “Didn’t you check?”
“I believe I shouldn’t have to, considering it was a forty-foot drop!” Silas snapped, “There’ s no way they could have survived!”
“Dude, everyone thought Black Knight was dead when he was thrown out the window at Canterlot Castle way back then.” Ricochet crossed his hooves. “Except Gridlock. He had that Pike guy look for him, and lo and behold, Black was still alive… somehow.”
“...He’s right, you know.” Loveless spoke, Ricochet’s reasoning bringing him relief, “You cannot simply say that you had killed Sterling and the tin pony if there’s no evidence to back up that claim.”
“Are you serious right now?!” Silas roared, “I did kill those assholes! I did!”
“What if you didn’t? What if you have failed?” Loveless pressed onwards, “The Forefathers does not reward failure.”
"Aw, come on!" Silas argued. "Let’s say that you two are right, which you aren’t, that Cross and the tin pony are still alive. What does it matter? They weren’t able to hurt me! I threw them around like rag dolls! I’m more a threat to them than Solomon and Gridlock ever was!”
“Father had already told you, it takes more than something like base thuggery to obtain the title of Ouroboros.” Loveless scowled, “You have been doing good work, as much as I am loathe to admit, but you also only have been doing what was asked of you, because that’s what you are: a soldier, who is expected to carry out the orders given to him.”
“But I killed-” Silas began.
“Until we can confirm this, no you hadn’t.” Loveless cut him off. “Hard to believe that even with all that power, you still can’t comprehend what it takes to become an Ouroboros!”
“And what does it take, pray tell?” Silas glared.
"Going above and beyond." Loveless told him. "Being willing to give your all for the Forefathers. Proving that your dedication to our goals is truly a cut above. You want to become one of us? Then you have to earn it. Truly earn it, like the rest of us did."
“Oh, for crying out-” Silas growled. “This is asinine! Can you fools and Father really afford to be this picky?! I mean for Faust’s sake, there’s only three of you left in the Coils! You, beer-for-brain here, and where even the Tartarus is Dysley?!”
"He’s away at one of his labs." Loveless replied testily. "Probably working on one of his other projects."
"Playing with his chemistry set, huh?" Silas scoffed. "Real productive."
"Joke all you want." Loveless shot back. "But Secretariat Dysley has done much for this organisation over the years. More than you, that's for sure."
"That's debatable." Silas sneered.
"You loathsome braggart." Loveless glared coldly at him. "Still thinking only of yourself. Of what being part of the Forefathers can do for you. That attitude is why you won't be becoming an Ouroboros any time soon."
"Oh, I will!" Silas spat. "Just you wait and see!"
With that, Silas stomped out of the room.
"I think that went pretty well." Ricochet shrugged.
“Yeah…” Loveless grimaced, as he turned to Ricochet, “Do you really think Sterling is still alive?”
“Hell if I know.” Ricochet scoffed, “But I’d be pissed if he died to Silas before I gave him a piece of my mind...”
“Ricochet…” Loveless murmured.
“Ugh, I’m sorry, Loveless.” Ricochet shook his head glumly, “I need a drink. I’ll see you around.”
Ricochet walked off, leaving Loveless alone.
"Sterling, please still be alive." He whispered. "Don't let a fool like Silas be the one to bring you down..."
Meanwhile, a bit away, Silas was storming down the corridor, fuming.
“Pics or it didn’t happen- I can’t believe this bull.” Silas seethed, “Those two are dead. They better be. Or else I’m going to buckin’ screa-UGH!”
Silas screeched, clutching the hoof that was burnt from the magic blast Black was able to fit him with earlier.
“Grr…” Silas grunted, hissing at the pain as he looked at the hoof. The miasma around his hoof parted to show the skin underneath, still burnt, “Lousy tin pony… I can’t believe he actually was able to hurt me. I’m supposed to be invincible!”
He shook his head.
“What are you saying, Silas? You are invincible! He just got lucky!” Silas assured himself, “But they won’t get lucky again.” He held up his other hoof, as miasma flowed between the hooves, “With these powers, I am a god. And I will make them all see that. Loveless, Ricochet, Father… none of them will deny me what is rightly mine… and if they do…”
Silas’s eyes glowed menacingly.
“Well, let’s say the Coils is going to be down a few more ponies.”