//------------------------------// // 'If it Bleeds, it Leads' // Story: Stare Master - Extended Cut // by AdmiralSakai //------------------------------// (♫) The next morning, Fluttershy had already woken up and made her first rounds of the day when there was another knock on her front door. She put down the book she was reading and trotted over, to find Subtle Spark once again standing at her front step. “Oh my, I hope there isn’t any more trouble up at the Station,” she muttered, more to herself than to the Guardspony. “Umm, not exactly…” Spark whickered nervously, “but there is a… a sort of a… situation Rainbow Dash thought we could use your help with, out near Froggy Bottom Bog.” For the second time that week, Fluttershy found herself pressed into the role of Ponyville’s unofficial coroner. The body she was supposed to be examining lay at the bottom of a shallow, dry gully that ran through the band of tall grass and low bushes dividing Froggy Bottom Bog from the Everfree Forest proper. In between the overhanging brush and the early-morning shadows, she wasn’t actually able to see it until Private Spark pointed it out to her- who or whatever it was, it was wearing some sort of voluminous cloak that was almost exactly the same color as the grass around it. In fact, as she drew closer Fluttershy saw the color and patterning of the cloak shift ever-so-slightly, revealing it to be enchanted camouflage. That material was expensive, to the point where not even the Equestrian military made regular use of it, although Fluttershy corresponded with enough hunters and trackers to know that it wasn’t restricted from civilian markets. She looked up to the edge of the gully, where Rainbow Dash hovered in place next to Private Aqua Regia. Fluttershy waved a hoof in the general direction of the dead pony, and Rainbow nodded slightly. Carefully and cautiously, Fluttershy pulled the cloak away to reveal a somewhat lanky, tan pegasus mare with a short yellow mane and a telescope cutie mark. Her left wing was swollen and bent, crudely splinted in place with a tree branch and what appeared to be gauze bandages. Another branch protruded from a bloody gash in her barrel just behind her left foreleg; judging by the angle and apparent depth it probably passed clean through both of the mare’s lungs. She was covered in other scrapes and bruises that Fluttershy could hardly even begin to count, but none of those looked nearly as serious as the first two injuries. In addition to the cloak, she had been wearing a pair of some sort of flight goggles, and an expensive-looking camera on a leather harness around her neck. The telephoto lens on the front was crushed, but the camera’s thick black-metal case appeared to have done its job- the film capsule in a slot on one side looked perfectly intact. Up above, Rainbow Dash was nodding along as Aqua Regia explained herself. “I showed up at oh-eight-hundred to relieve Vortex, per schedule, but he wasn’t here to meet me. I called out for him… probably two or three times, and then started looking around. One of the trees -you can see the top of it from here, it’s that big yellowish-green one- looked like, well, like something big’d run into it midway up. I circled out around from there, and that’s how I found, well, this. I reported back to Marigold, and Marigold told me to come and get you.” That explained the branch and the other injuries, Fluttershy supposed. She ducked down and took a closer look at the mystery mare’s flight goggles. The lenses were well and truly shattered, but the few slivers of glass that remained glistened the signature green of a night-vision enchantment. For a moment Fluttershy wondered if the broken glass had blinded the pegasus and sent her onto her collision course. However, her half-open eyes were untouched, while her eyelids sported more than a few thin red lacerations. Her eyes had already been closed when the goggles were destroyed. More curiously, the small wounds on her chest, neck, and shoulders were much more pronounced than the ones toward the ends of her forelegs. If Fluttershy had to guess, she’d probably say the mare had closed her eyes first, and only then swerved blindly into the nearest obstacle, failing to draw her hooves up to protect herself. She took another look at the cloak, and discovered it contained quite a few pockets along its interior surface. The first contained a compass, a short survival knife, and a folded-up map; the next a basic first-aid kit and two empty potion phials, one with a label identifying it as a potent analgesic and the other an equally-powerful stimulant. The last pocket contained several hundred bits in various denominations, and a collection of business cards and identification badges. One claimed the pony was named Shutterfly- ironically enough- and worked as a freelance reporter. Another identified her as Sarsaparilla, drover and security mare for something called Gilded Wings VIP Transport Services. She was also a private investigator from Cloudsdale named Chip Minty; Bottlecap, a purchasing agent for the well-known Abyssinian import-export firm Siam International; a handymare named Serenity; Desert Dust, a surveyor for the Interior Ministry; and Agent Bluebird of Trotland Yard’s narcotics division. Irrespective of name, each badge included the same photograph of the dead mare’s face. At the rustling of the foliage above her, Fluttershy looked up to see Rainbow Dash glide down into the gully. Aqua Regia followed on hoof, cursing quietly to herself about the overgrown slope. “So, uhh… you picking up anything that’d tell you where Vortex might’ve went?” The weathermare asked. Fluttershy shook her head. “I don’t think so. It looks like this poor thing hit a tree and then made it as far as here before pulmonary edema got to her. There aren’t really a lot of tracks when the grass is this dry…” Rainbow’s eyes narrowed, and her ears tilted down and back. “That’s what I was afraid of…” “It is kinda weird, though,” Aqua Regia mused, “If she made it this far with those injuries, why didn’t she call for help? Any of us on patrol woulda’ been able to give her better treatment than that crappy little first-aid kit she’s got there.” Fluttershy took another look at the map. From her presumable collision site, the mystery mare had ended up along a line pointing almost directly away from Ponyville. “Maybe she was… hiding?” the pegasus suggested. “From Vortex?” Rainbow Dash shook her head. “I don’t get how she even hit that tree, anyways. ‘Don’t fly through a dense forest at night with your eyes closed’ is basically flight instruction one-oh-one.” “Maybe she was hiding from whoever -or whatever- had already gotten Vortex?” Aqua continued. “Pfft. Something here took out a Shadowbolt? Not likely.” Rainbow shot the Guardsmare a venomous look, but if anything her ears had tucked even lower and were twitching slightly in apprehension. Fluttershy just kept her eye on the map, mentally retracing the terrain between the tree and the mystery mare’s location from the perspective of a flightless pegasus with a tree branch stuck through her barrel. “Why would she go directly away from town, then? There’s something we’re missing here…” “Our most esteemed friend and confidant Spike Spell-Born”, Spike read. “It is with a heavy heart that We must inform thee of the absence of the learned Doctor Sparkle anywhere within the Realm of Dreams. We cannot hope to speculate as to the meaning of this, for as We have so recently learned there is much in the world in which We now find Ourselves that may be able to cloud Our vision. Thou mayst rest assured, We shall continue the search for as long as thou deemest necessary, and inform thee shouldst We come upon any change. May the subtle light of the All-Knowing Moon forever guide thine path. Princess Luna, Daughter of None, Ward of Starswirl the Bearded” (♫) Applejack had been reluctant to make use of Sergeant Leafspring’s assistance when the Navy mare had been offering it. She was used to having only her family to rely on- proud of it, even. The idea that Leafspring might one day become a part of her family had changed that outlook quickly enough, and she’d set out running the mechanic through her paces to make sure she was worthy of the honor. Big Mac was hardly slow, but he had an accommodating streak that other ponies sometimes thought they could take advantage of. Now her brother had finally found a mare he actually seemed to like and who wasn’t a grinning snake with hooves, and she was just… gone. Again. And Applejack was stuck holding onto a four-yard stretch of wooden gutter while trying to nail it to the side of the barn entirely by herself. She had just about finished when she saw Applebloom bolt around the corner of the farmhouse at a full gallop, looking just about on the verge of tears. She slid down the ladder faster than was entirely safe, and ran forward to meet her. “Sis! What’s goin’ on?” Applebloom skidded to a halt, panting heavily. She pulled in a big gasping breath and began: “So Ah was goin’ over ta’ feed the chick’ns, ‘cause it was… ‘cause it was mah day to do that, even though Ah think you forgot ‘n Ah coulda’ just gone off an’ met up with Sweetie ‘n Scootaloo like Ah wanted, but Ah didn’t, and… and… when Ah got there the whole thing was wrecked and Ah think some a’ the chick’ns’re dead and Ah didn’t do anythin’, Ah promise! Please don't be mad, I didn't do anythin' wrong this time! Ah'm tryin' mah best to be a good farmhoof, but Big Mac's stopped talkin' and you're all mad all the time, and I don't wanna get kicked outta th' far-h-h-hrm…”She trailed off into panicked sobs. “It’s okay, sugarcube, Ah’m not mad, Mac ‘n Granny ‘n Ah still love you, and nopony’s ever gonna kick you offa’ the farm,” Applejack wrapped a foreleg around her sister’s quivering shoulders and gently guided her into the barn, trying not to show how fast her heart was beating or the icy cold of the blood in her veins. “Applebloom, stay in the barn. Mac, close the doors, ‘n don’t open ‘em for anypony you don’t know, you got that?” The big red stallion looked up from the plowblade he was sharpening and nodded. “Eeyup.” Applejack grabbed a sturdy sledgehammer in her jaws from the tool rack, and whistled for Winona. With her dog beside her she left the barn, passed the farmhouse -Granny Smith was somewhere in town, out of any immediate danger- and rounded the corner to the livestock pens. At first glance the chicken coop seemed in perfectly good condition, but looking closer she saw that the front hatch was open and a few white feathers were scattered nearby. That door was usually held closed with a proper deadbolt latch left over from when they’d built the farmhouse- there was no way something like a fox or a weasel could’ve gotten through it. Winona whined and sniffed at the ground, then looked up at her. “Stay. Good girl,” Applejack muttered. Using the hammer, she gently nudged the coop door the rest of the way open. Inside was a mess of bloody straw and feathers that might, once, have been three hens and a rooster. She’d thought Fluttershy had been exaggerating when she’d described birds being torn apart, but if anything the little pegasus had understated the amount of raw carnage. She backed out and circled the plot, hammer still clenched tight in her jaws and Winona following along at a hesitant distance. She counted a single surviving rooster and eight surviving hens, and found not a single suggestion of tracks. Applejack whistled for Winona. The dog zigzagged and sniffed, then barked once and set off towards the property line. Then after about a dozen yards she pulled up short, cocked her head, and whined in confusion- apparently, whatever trail she was following simply stopped. Applejack wondered if there was any way to pick up the traces of a scent-blocking spell of the type hunters used. She went back to the barn, passed the hammer off to Big Mac, told him to take Applebloom into town to call the Watch, and then set off on the east road to Fluttershy’s cottage. When she arrived, the building was dark and the door was shut. Hearing conversation from the back yard, Applejack slunk around to find Fluttershy once again standing in front of the ruins of her chicken coop, across from Amethyst Star in her full and proper Constable’s patrol vest. She only wore that during her yearly civics lesson with Cheerilee’s fourth grade class, and on the very rare occasions when papers needed to be served or an honest-to-Gaia arrest carried out. “I’m really sorry for your loss,” the Watchmare explained, “but we’re stretched thin as is. We just can’t afford to post a round-the-clock guard on a chicken coop right now, I’m afraid.” “Oh. That’s a shame.” Fluttershy muttered nearly inaudibly. Amethyst cantered off without another word, ears down, looking tired and defeated. She acknowledged Applejack with a brief tilt of her head as they passed each other, and that was all. “You too, huh?” the farmer asked Fluttershy, “What’s this, the second time?” Fluttershy just nodded, head down and wings clamped close to her sides. As carefully as she could, Applejack walked around the pegasus and towards the coop itself. The door was open, a shiny new iron padlock hanging from the latch- Fluttershy’s doing, presumably. The interior was again covered in blood and miscellaneous detritus. This time, their mysterious prowler had eviscerated three other hens and the rooster Applejack had sent over late yesterday. Two of the plywood panels making up the floor were raised up and pushed aside- and looking closer, the farmer realized they hadn’t just been raised, but split with substantial force and ripped up from the beams underneath. Peering at the space below, she noticed for the first time just how much clearance there was underneath the coop, and how easily even a fairly large pony could worm her way underneath, brace herself with her back against the ground, and kick upward, all unseen from Fluttershy’s cottage. She stepped outside and shot a wary glance at the Everfree Forest looming just past the property line. By unspoken agreement she and Fluttershy walked away from the chicken coop and into the storage shed some ways away from it. Overall it was in the good order that Applejack was used to expecting from Ponyville’s sole ranger, but a few canvas sacks had tipped -or been tipped- off of a higher shelf, and split up the sides to cover the floor in millet. Fluttershy’s eyes went even wider and she stopped short. “Whoa up there sugarcube, when’d this happen?” The farmer asked. She leaned in closer to one of the bags, examining the straightness of the cuts- the sacks hadn’t burst, they’d been ripped open by something reasonably sharp with a good bit of force behind it. “I. Don’t. Know,” Fluttershy suddenly hissed, “I would’ve noticed if it was like this first thing in the morning, so it had to be while I was away at Froggy Bottom Bog…” Applejack nodded again. “Same thing happened over at mah place- with the chicken coop, Ah mean, Ah didn’t even think to check the feed…” she scuffed a hoof against the grain-speckled wooden floor. “Ah’m gonna help you clean up best Ah can, a’course, and then Ah’m gonna head down ta’ the Town Hall ‘n have a nice long talk with Amethyst ‘n Marigold ‘bout this ‘sit-chew-ation’.” The pegasus fumed silently for a moment, them visibly deflated, shifting awkwardly from hoof to hoof. “Oh, I don’t know, Applejack. The grain in here isn’t really that valuable, and neither are chickens. If these ponies wanted to really cost you, they could… I don’t know, set a fire in one of the orchards, or let out the hogs, cows, or the sheep. They could even lead them into the Everfree. And if they wanted to scare us, why don’t they ever…” she shuddered, ever so slightly, “do anything to us, or our houses? Or our families?” Applejack just shook her head. “Ah dunno, sugarcube, but Ah’m keepin’ a lantern burnin’ late tonight.” (♫) Captain Marigold was called from her little desk in the officers’ barracks out to the edge of town at around thirteen-thirty. It then took her an additional fifteen minutes simply to get to the site of the disturbance. It was, after all, considered indecorous for a Guard officer to sprint outside of a combat situation or exercise, and doubly so to just shoulder aside the civilians in her way- as she often secretly fantasized about. The disturbance in question proved to be a big panel wagon stopped at one of the roads leading out of town. The apparent drover had unhitched herself and sat on a park bench a few yards away with a can of Clydesdale Lite. Nearby, a dark brown earth stallion in an expensively ugly blue suit screamed at Private Parhelion: “… outrageous, simply outrageous, I tell you. I’m a Ponyville citizen, and a member of the Central Dominion Chamber of Commerce in good standing, I know my rights. I’ll take this all the way up to the Governor’s Office if I have to, and… and where in Tartarus is your supervisor?” Marigold plastered on her best medal-ceremony smile. “That… uhh, that would be me, Mister… umm… Mister…” there was something vaguely familiar about the stallion, but she wasn’t entirely sure what. She knew she’d seen him somewhere waving a sign before, but in her line of work that didn’t exactly leave a narrow field of possibilities. “Mister Filthy Rich,” the stallion answered her, “As in, the Barnyard Bargains chain? I’m sure you’ve heard of us?” Marigold had seen exactly one shop with that name, in Ponyville just off the town square. She’d stopped inside, once, since she’d never seen one before anywhere else she’d been assigned. They sold cheap wagon equipment, cheaper junk food, and execrable coffee. They’d also given her a small golden helmet pin as part of their “military appreciation commitment,” and tried to get her to sign up for a ‘loyalty program’ called BarnBitz. The pin and the form had both subsequently been interred in the bottommost drawer of her desk, and would likely remain there long after the desk itself became the property of some other young officer. Outwardly, though, she just nodded. “Well, then I’m sure you understand that we can’t afford these sorts of delays. Your goon here is going to have to let us into town without any of this… third-degree scrutiny.” Marigold’s smile dropped a few more degrees below its freezing point. “Sir, all we’re asking is that we be allowed to check these wagons for dangerous Lunar artifacts smugglers may have planted. You saw what happened at the Summer Sun Celebration,” briefly, the Guardsmare experienced a surge of satisfaction as Rich went slightly paler under his fur, “it’s really in the interests of your own safety to let the Private here do her thing. Especially since there’s a mare lying in the hospital morgue right now who died of injuries she sustained snooping around Froggy Bottom Bog late at night. It’s only a small delay, we’ve certainly already wasted more time arguing about it than a search could possibly have taken.” The stallion didn’t seem convinced, which was a problem because convincing him was just about the only option Marigold had at the moment. Without a Watch officer around to supervise and enforce a lawful search, the Guard had no actual power to investigate Equestrian citizens. “Yes, well, delays equal time, and time equals money,” he snapped, “money my shareholders- many of whom live right here in this community- are not making. That’s a problem, and I demand we see our share of restitution.” He jabbed an immaculately-trimmed hoof at the ground to punctuate his point. “Really. If that’s all your after…” Marigold let the silence hang for a good second and a half. “… why is your family circulating literature from the Society for Lunar-Equestrian Studies?” Marigold had been expecting some kind of defensive reaction from the businesstallion- surprise, anger, or guilt- but instead he just blinked, seeming completely and genuinely confused. “My wife enjoys a line of their cosmetics. I’m not sure what that has to do with… with anything at all, really. I’ve certainly never noticed anything out of the ordinary around here recently,” his thick black eyebrows drew downward, “aside from your steel-shod thugs crawling all over town, of course.” “Grand.” Marigold snapped, “Because if Diamond Tiara went missing, then the whole town might start to care, and we can’t have that, now can we?” That got his attention. “How do you know that name?” “I work for the government, remember? I need good intel to do my job.” In fact, Marigold had learned that name along with a dozen others when Councilpony Cheerilee had insisted she visit the sixth grade class. She only remembered that one in particular because the filly it belonged to wore an honest-to-the-Sun jeweled tiara in the middle of class, and had thrown a paper airplane at Marigold’s head ‘to see if she’d freak out like Sly Stallion in that one movie’. But then, Rich didn’t exactly need to know that. He backed up a few steps, and snapped back “Yeah, well, we’ll see what Canterlot thinks of this!” Marigold smiled again, genuinely for the first time since this morning. “Good. I’ll see you there.” That shut him up right quick. She rode up to Canterlot on the two-fifteen public train, second class. Her golden armor and sheathed sword attracted quite a few stares, and she made a point of ignoring all of them. The train made three stops around the city’s outer rings before reaching the one Marigold wanted- the smaller cluster of municipal offices perhaps twenty blocks from Canterlot Castle, which served the city’s secondary function as capitol of the Central Mountain Dominion. Half an hour after her scheduled appointment, Marigold thus found herself meeting with the local Associate Vice-Minister for Justice. “I’m afraid you’ve not presented us with a great deal of evidence for… well, any actual foul play or criminal behavior here,” said the heavyset, dark blue unicorn mare. The placard on her big, paper-choked oak desk identified her as ‘ASC. VM. FINETOOTH’, and shared space with a frankly rather impressive assortment of various hoofball memorabilia. Marigold wasn’t able to recognize the team. “I’m sure Ponyville’s constabulary has a much better knowledge of their immediate environs than anypony we could bring in from outside. Keep up the searches, and I’m sure these friends of yours will show up sooner or later. We can post additional photographs here and in the neighboring Dominions, but that’s about the extent of it.” She leaned back in her chair and scratched underneath her muzzle, “Although, you said one of these missing ponies is a mage, yes? We could escalate her to what’s known as a Silver Alert, which is an elevated visibility system for cases where the missing pony is elderly and/or possess some form of mental disability…” she trailed off, grinning like a schoolfilly. Refusing to acknowledge the joke, Marigold asked, "But what about the corpse we found? She had half a dozen forged IDs- some of them from your agencies! Isn’t that at least a little concerning?" Finetooth stared down at her paperwork for a second, then replied, "Ah, yes. We appreciate you bringing her to our attention, but I believe she's in a place not even the… uhh, long foreleg of the law can reach now, isn't that right?" "Is there really nothing else you can do?" Marigold shot back. “Well, we could ask Vice Minister Bell to declare a state of emergency in Ponyville; that would let us send in the Army…” she leaned back in her chair and pressed a hoof against her chest in mock horror, “or, maybe, we could even send in the Royal Guard!” She grinned, and chuckled slightly. Marigold did not follow suit. “The point’s a serious one, though. There’s already a platoon of dedicated combat troops involved in the situation down there. I suppose, if you thought it would help, we could request that your unit be subordinated as assistance to the Ponyville Watch. Then you’d be able to make arrests under a Constable’s direction, but you’d also no longer be able to continue carrying out your original orders.” Marigold braced both of her forehooves against the desk. “Vice-Minister, my unit is severely shorthoofed right now and the Watch isn’t much better off, we really aren’t capable of maintaining any kind of effective search operation.” Finetooth leaned back in her chair again, and closed her eyes. “Not much we can do about military personnel assignments, I’m afraid. Have you tried contacting anypony at the Ministry of Defense?” Marigold did, indeed, subsequently try to contact the Ministry of Defense. Specifically, she wrote a letter explaining the situation and urgently requesting a face-to-face meeting addressed to Commander Shining Armor. However, when she attempted to deliver it, the stallion at the government courier’s office informed her that ‘Due to recent concerns regarding diseases and curses transmitted by post, all in-going mail must be subjected to a Class I scan and undergo a mandatory 24-hour resting period, before it may be delivered to its recipient’. As such, instead of Shining Armor, she ended up meeting with somepony named Colonel Golden Glory from the Third Battle Group, whom she had never remotely heard of before. The Colonel proved to be a very tall, somewhat older eggshell-white unicorn mare with a close-cropped magenta mane and a nasty-looking scar tracking down her muzzle dead-center. Her office was extremely bare- deliberately so, Marigold thought, in the style of those silly “tide balance” decluttering exercises that had caught on decades ago from Mount Aris. There were very few books on the solitary bookcase, set out like display pieces instead of shelved efficiently for reference, and more than a few of them appeared to have been authored by Shining’s immediate predecessor, Commander Mad Dog. That was a bad sign- Mad Dog had been compelled to resign for good reason, after all, at least as far as the opinion of most of the rest of the military was concerned. The “Old Guard” he’d fostered were supposed to all have followed him into disgrace, but more than a few had stuck around to make trouble. That, combined with the rather condemnatory titles of several books covering the resolution of the Saddle Arabian Campaign- Abyssinia on Trial and Harmony Forsaken: Celestia and the Abandonment of Pan-Equinism stood out in particular-painted a rather dim picture of Marigold’s current chances. “So I’m to understand your company is suffering from… disciplinary issues?” Glory rasped, in a voice that made it sound like she gargled with nails each morning. “Not exactly,” Marigold explained, “My troops aren’t just going AWOL, they’re outright going missing.” “Outright desertion is still a disciplinary issue, Captain.” The Colonel leaned across her desk to set herself more squarely at Marigold’s eye level. “In fact, I shouldn’t have to remind you it’s substantially more serious. This, quite frankly, strikes me as a matter best left to your base’s MPs.” “Respectfully, sir, we don’t have any MPs because we don’t operate out of any official base. We’re a specialized, independent company consisting of one combat platoon, one support platoon, and an attached light airship- and right now, due to the issues I’ve just outlined, we’re critically understaffed.” Golden Glory leaned back again and blinked for a few seconds, looking genuinely perplexed. Then she shook her head. “Have you brought any of this to your commanding officer?” “She was the second to go missing.” “Did you inform her commanding officer of this?” Golden asked, an awful, patronizing quality creeping into her voice. “My commanding officer is a civilian. She has a supervisor who I’ve not been able to reach, but no official C.O.” “I…see.” The patronizing levelness was gone now, replaced once again by simple perplexity. “Have you tried to contact anypony at the Governorate division of the Ministry of Justice? (♫) Town Hall quieted substantially after five o’clock. That suited Fluttershy just fine. She slunk her way through the lobby and into the conference room on the ground floor without incident. Pinkie Pie, Applejack, and a somewhat frazzled-looking Captain Marigold were already seated at the big table inside. She located an open chair as far away from everypony else as possible, and quietly slipped into it. Corporal Spark had claimed Spike was the one who wanted to speak to them all, but the dragon himself appeared to be completely absent. The meeting was supposed to have started fifteen minutes ago. Fluttershy had spent the majority of that time either making sure her cottage and its grounds were thoroughly locked up, or negotiating the long road to Ponyville, but it was very much unlike Spike to be anything but on time. For a minute, maybe two, silence reigned. Pinkie Pie coughed once, then again. Then Applejack asked, “So, er… how long we gonna wait ‘fore we call it quits ‘n send everypony home?” “You all can leave if you want, but I’m not going to walk out on anything important,” Marigold replied, more than a little abruptly. “Ah just don’ wanna be away from the farm any longer than Ah gotta be,” the farmer explained. “Hey, where’s Rarity? She’s normally here too,” Pinkie Pie cut in. “Aw shit.” Applejack shifted her hat further backward, “D’y’all think she’s-” “Oh. She’s fine,” Fluttershy answered, “Just busy, still. I was over at the boutique last night, she needed a hoof with some stitching.” “It is weird, though,” Pinkie continued, “she got waaaaay more publicity than you or Applejack did during the whole Seer-tastrophe thing… and, well, so did I, actually. Twilight even sincerely thanked me, and she’s never actually serious and means it and isn’t just being sarcastic when she does that! So… why is this conspiracy going after the two of you and not me and Rarity? Is their influence limited to chickens and chicken-containing structures, so Rarity and I are immune? Well, other than the gloom slowly taking over town having sharply limited everypony’s desires for pastries and so on… I’d run some experiments, but then the Equestrian Poultry Board might find out about it and change their strategy just to mess with me and I’d just end up traumatizing Princess Luna without accomplishing anything again.” Marigold looked at Applejack. Applejack looked at Marigold. “Ah didn’t get none a’ that.” Fluttershy didn’t either, but she had to admit that the atmosphere in the conference room was now a bit less resigned and dreadful than it had been previously. “You know,” the Captain mused, “I wonder if that… that store pony, what’s his name, Filthy Bits? … might actually be behind this. I’d like to take another pass at convincing Constable Star to open a proper investigation.” “Ah doubt it,” Applejack shook her head, “Filthy might be slimier than an earthworm under a Manehattan pig farm, but he ain’t no criminal.” “Clearly you’ve never tasted the coffee he serves,” Pinkie replied, and then fell silent as the door to the conference room opened once again. Spike stepped inside and shut it behind him. He held a thick manila folder under one arm, and looked more disheveled than Fluttershy had seen him in a long time. The spines on the back of his skull had been knocked askew, the fins on either side of his jaw were limp and discolored, his scales lacked their usual bright polish, and his tail practically dragged against the carpet. “Nice that you could finally join us… sir.” Marigold muttered. If Spike heard her at all, he gave no sign of it. He loped over to another unoccupied chair, hauled himself up into it, and placed the folder in front of him. “Yes. Right. So. I think I’ve been able to figure out some additional leads on our mysterious dead mare. Rainbow Dash came up with the idea of sending all her IDs off to the records office in Canterlot at once. They’re all real ponies, but only one doesn’t already have an attached death certificate- it’s actually the ‘Shutterfly’ identity, so I’m feeling pretty confident in concluding that’s who she really was.” He flipped open the folder and extracted a page of typewritten documents. “Born in Trotston in the year 1057, high school diploma and one year of a two-year journalism degree at Eastern Neighzarene College. She then enlisted in the Royal Guard in 1077 and attained the rank of Specialist First Class, as well as… something called a Reconnaissance and Covert Operations Badge. Then she was dishonorably discharged in 1081, for charges of accepting bribes and the unauthorized dispensation of confidential materials…” “Crap, I think I remember hearing about this,” Marigold cut in. “In ‘81 the Saddle Arabian published details on a big operation against some earth-pony-supremacist groups, two days before it was supposed to start. They turned what should’ve been a bunch of routine breach-and-clear raids into a week-long marehunt through the middle of the Arimaspi Desert. Two Army grunts and a Guard ended up dead. If this mare was the one who leaked the plan, she’s lucky she’s not still rotting in a cell somewhere.” “Umm… right.” Spike shuffled through a few more papers. “There’s a few other government records after her discharge, but I’ll get to that in a minute. After the official stuff dried up, I decided to look through some of the bigger news archives. A mare named Shutterfly was listed as the byline on fifty different Trotston Plane articles from 1083 up through 1086, all of them accusing celebrities or politicians of things like corruption, pedophilia, ties to extremist groups, and so on. Then in Blue Skies of ‘86 the Plane prints a full-page editorial retracting all of them and explaining their ‘star reporter’ had fabricated her evidence.” “Sounds like a real fun pony,” Pinkie Pie muttered, “I bet she’d be a good fit with those ‘Lunatic Equestrian Studies Society’ types.” “You know, I actually considered that, but it’s hard to say one way or the other,” continued Spike, “There’s not a lot of recognizable employment history for her after she got fired from the Plane, just some pretty sparse official records: she has citations for misdemeanor trespassing in 1089, 1092, 1094, and 1097, and she’s mentioned in three libel suits: City of Manehattan v. Gawker in 1088, Blueblood v. Equestria Daily, Inc., in 1092, and Shores v. Blitzfeed Media Group, in 1096. All of them got settled out of court, though, so there’s no full transcript.” “So, I guess she learned the hard way that trees aren’t as amenable to settling out of court,” Pinkie added. Spike set the thickest portion of the folder’s contents aside and pulled out a few sheets of bright yellow copy paper. “Yeah, about that. I picked these up from the hospital on my way here. The autopsy report pretty much confirms Shutterfly died of acute respiratory distress syndrome, which followed a… ‘noncardiogenic pulmonary edema arising from severe lung trauma’. They found traces of alchemical stimulants and analgesics in her stomach, which probably kept her walking but also exacerbated the bleeding. The time between her injuries and eventual death was estimated at between thirty and forty-five minutes.” Marigold gave a low whistle. “For the Stone’s sake! I know she… wasn’t exactly a good mare, but nopony deserves to die alone and afraid out in the dark like that.” Fluttershy thought she saw Spike pull away slightly, but couldn’t be entirely sure. “Well, if’n it makes you feel any better,” said Applejack, “she coulda’ made it mosta’ the way ta’ town in thirty-ta’-forty-five minutes, or just hollered for help from Vortex or somepony any time. But Ah guess she thought hidin’ ‘n gettin’ away with whatever snoopin’ she was up to was more important.” “That's contingent on Vortex still being around and in a position to help when she was injured,” Marigold amended, “But I get your point.” After that stretched a long, awkward silence. Even Pinkie Pie looked subdued. Then Spike cleared his throat. “Speaking of snooping, I also had the film she was carrying developed- it’s a pretty high-quality formulation, actually, mixed for high detail in very low light, and we were able to get some very good prints out of it.” He began passing a sheaf of page-sized photographs around the table. As each page in turn made its way to Fluttershy, she recognized the detailed carvings on one of the Lunar guide-pillars in Froggy Bottom Bog, followed by images taken outside -and then inside- one of the empty Cairns on the very border of the Everfree. The very last photograph was blurry and taken at a strange angle, low to the grassy ground and pitched sideways. It seemed to contain nothing but ordinary foliage and a strange, white, cylindrical object that extended upwards from the brush for maybe three inches, gradually tapering from an inch and a half at the base up to a domed top, with something reddish and vaguely organic-looking above. Fluttershy had to squint at it for a good few seconds before realizing it looked very much like the head of an ordinary white rooster, viewed from directly behind. She looked up from the photograph to meet Applejack’s gaze across the table. “Land’s sakes,” the farmer muttered, “You think this Shutterfly pony was the one goin’ after us all this time?” Marigold fiddled with the gauntlets on her forehooves. “I don’t know. There wasn’t anything in that packet about her being a registered druid, but then again I don’t remember seeing anything that ever said Fluttershy was a registered druid either. A lot of recon types in the Guard pick up at least a little bit of the craft ‘off-the-books’.” “She was… Shutterfly, I mean, she’s tan, though,” Fluttershy replied. “The ‘chicken’ that attacked my coop was supposed to be green.” “And I’m not going to say we’re done here until all my troops are back in one piece,” Marigold added. “And Twilight…” interjected Spike. “Yes. Right.” “So, we’ve got a missing Night Guard I need to think of some way of telling Princess Luna about,” the dragon continued, “And a mare who died running and hiding from something. Given her skillset and equipment, I don’t think she’d be able to take on Vortex directly, unless she had backup that then wasn’t likely to just leave her. I think there’s another player in all this. How soon can we get troops in to really, properly stake out that area?” Marigold shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t think it’s safe, especially not at night. One pony’s already died out there, and another’s MIA, and neither of ‘em were exactly defenseless. We need to get a better idea of what we’re even dealing with before we send ponies out against it again.” “That’s all well and good,” Spike replied, “but there’s really quite a bit of urgency. Twilight Sparkle, the pony most qualified to figure out what we’re dealing with, could be in serious danger right now! We can’t afford to keep sitting around doing nothing!” “I know.” The Captain’s ears took on a stiff, downward, aggressive position, “It’s not just Twilight Sparkle, there’s a lot of good Guardsponies gone now. But we can’t afford to lose any more.” “Isn’t it part of the Guard’s duty to protect and support your superiors?” Spike snapped, pivoting his chair to face Marigold directly, “Well, that’s Twilight, and she needs your help.” “What, you think we’re expendable? I’ll-” “I don’t think anything of the kind,” the dragon practically hissed, “But Twilight Sparkle isn’t expendable either. It’s the Royal Guard’s highest obligation to protect her and… and… and ponies like her, because without ponies like her there’s no Equestria to serve anymore! Are you really so scared of a couple of washouts in minnow cloaks that you’ll-” “We’re not scared, we’re just not stupid,” Marigold interrupted, her voice surprisingly level despite the edges of her mouth slowly curling into a grimace that almost resembled physical pain. “Those messages you’ve been sending to Princess Luna? You’re wasting her time and yours chasing Twilight Sparkle’s dreams when she’s got the best authorities on necromancy on the continent sitting around doing nothing instead of trying to pry any information that’s left out of that washed-up reporter’s head. You’ve got a direct line to both Commander Shining Armor and Exarch Mother-Rutting Celestia that could bring half the Home Corps out here and end this crisis right now, but you’re too scared of facing up to anypony to use it. Until you do, I’m not throwing any more lives after Twilight’s. I’m not putting any more of my mares in jeopardy.” “Without… Twilight… this whole project is in jeopardy.” Spike probably thought he looked intimidating: this spindly little dragonling standing on an office chair with smoke curling from his nostrils, literally fuming, trying to loom over a veteran Guardsmare easily twice his age and size. Fluttershy thought he looked exhausted and angry and scared, and then realized that would’ve been a pretty good description of herself a few days before. “And when it’s shut down, everything we’ve fought for will be for nothing.” He tried to jab a claw into the table emphatically, and only managed to scratch it. “including the Guards you’ve already lost!” He slumped back into a seated position, breathing so heavily that Fluttershy was tempted to say he was on the verge of sobbing. Marigold just kept watching him with that same wary, threatening expression. “Spike?” Pinkie Pie asked after a few more seconds. “Spike? Are… are you… okay?” Fluttershy added. “What do you think,” he hissed, then slipped off his chair and stalked out without another word. Applejack looked at Pinkie Pie. Pinkie Pie looked at Marigold. “What got into him?” The Guardsmare asked. “What do you think?” Applejack parroted back at her, more than a little sarcastically. Fluttershy forced herself to speak up, fighting the urge to hide under the table and not come out again until somepony else had taken care of everything. “I… think we should… all take a moment to get some air. Actually, I… don’t even really think there’s anything left for anypony to say?” Applejack and Marigold both nodded, and quietly shuffled out into the lobby. Fluttershy looked back at the strange, chickenlike photograph Spike had left sitting on the table, and quietly slipped it into her saddlebag before she too trotted out. Only Pinkie Pie was left, looking from one empty chair to the next in sequence. “Wait… we never answered our question!”