//------------------------------//
// Chapter Five: Rebound 
// Story: CRISIS: Equestria - Divergence, Book 3 
// by GanonFLCL 
//------------------------------//

"Oh come on, that wasn't a foul!" Rainbow called, gesticulating wildly at the skyball field below. "She had possession! Legal tackle! Open your eyes, ref!"

"Looked pretty close to me," said Havoc, sipping from a long-necked beer. "And hey, the new eye picks up stuff like that a lot better. I think. I don't actually know if it does."

"Oh come off it, don't give me that load. You'd have gone for that hit without a second thought."

"Well yeah, no shit, but that's me. I always played fast and loose with possession rules."

Rainbow gesticulated at the field again when the offending team's coach flew out onto the field to argue with the ref. "Yeah! Yeah, get out there, challenge that lousy call!" 

She watched the coach gesturing angrily, putting his hooves on his hips and getting right in the referee's face to yell at him and everything. That was the sign of a good coach, somepony that would storm out there and challenge a bad call with all the passion in the world. But then, she threw her hooves in the air when the ref made a big show of gesturing for the coach to get off the field; the call was going to stick.

"Booo! Booo!" Rainbow shouted out into the stadium. "Get your frickin' eyes checked, ref! Booo!"

Rainbow hadn't watched too many of the pro games of skyball when she was last here in New Pandemonium, but she had to admit, the teams in their league competed at a surprising level of skill, much higher than some of the pro teams back home. And, if Havoc was to be believed, the two teams she was watching were considered some of the bottom-tier teams in the league. 

One, the Veterans, had once been one of the best teams in the league but had apparently been on shaky ground after they hired a new general manager and had been cycling through new ones every other year for a decade now; the other, the Cyclones, were only considered bottom-tier because they were inconsistent, sometimes having great years while others were lousy.

Neither team were the Rockets, of course, since the Rockets wouldn't be going pro until the next professional season started. But more than that, neither team felt like they were as good as the Rockets were when Rainbow briefly played with them at their peak. She was glad she didn't have to worry about district names anymore; the Rockets were just the Rockets now, not the Mid-East Rockets. The pro league didn't bother with it since there was only one stadium anyway.

After that bad call, though, she grunted and grumbled and leaned back into her cushy, comfy seat, and gave Havoc a bright smile. "This is awesome, by the way. Thanks for having me."

Havoc snickered and clinked her beer against Rainbow's. "Hey, what kind of a friend would I be if I didn't invite you to check out a professional skyball game while you're in town? A shitty one, that's what. You'd do the same for me. I bet you get great seats at your Wonderbolts shows since you're an officer on the squad, right?"

"Well, yeah, but this? This blows away anything I'd be able to work out," Rainbow said with a shrug as she took a drink; the beer was light and airy, just how she liked it. "I could get you some bomb seats, sure, but only Captain Spitfire gets to invite ponies into the Wonderbolts' private booth."

Rainbow was amazed that she could watch the game from a private box at the city's one and only professional league stadium. The teams each had their own private courts and training facilities, but all the teams played on the same stadium for official games to maintain a level of fairness and to eliminate any accusations of home field advantage. Scheduling was rigid and non-negotiable; today's game, incidentally, was three days after she and Pinkie had ended up back in this world.

That was the biggest change from back home that Rainbow noticed; in her world, every team had its own stadium that still had to adhere to league regulations, but naturally they took liberties here and there. Marvel Stadium, home of the Cloudsdale Marvels, had an outdoor field built entirely from clouds, so weather sometimes made a big difference in the way a game was handled; the weather teams purposefully didn't tend to the weather around the field. 

She remembered watching one game a few years back that was played during a hail storm. Dodging hailstones and trying to focus on getting a goal while avoiding the other team's blockers sounded like an amazing challenge.

But anyway, this stadium—which was built with a protective dome over it that protected the field from the sandstorm outside—was large enough to house just over fifty thousand fans at maximum capacity, but was currently empty apart from the two teams that were playing and the various club owners and their guests in their private boxes strewn throughout. As the Rockets had been officially approved for professional league membership for the next season, they'd been allowed to purchase their own private box, which meant that Havoc had bought it.

It was actually a pretty luxurious box, too, with enough room and seating to easily fit twenty ponies if needed, complete with an extra set of televisions that were tuned to different sports channels to get different angles of the game than the in-person view, which was still stellar, by the way. It was even equipped with its own sports bar, a staffed one at that, with a young, jovial unicorn serving as bartender. The box even got food service from a professional cooking staff that served all of the private boxes and made some of the most amazing nachos Rainbow had ever had.

Yeah, this was better than anything Rainbow could offer back home on short notice. It would take lots of advance warning and impressive finagling to get Spitfire to agree to let in a guest whom she was unacquainted with, even if that guest was the best friend of her star Second-Lieutenant.

"You have no idea how much I'm looking forward to having our team down there next season," Havoc said, tilting her beer towards the field. "The team's excited like you wouldn't believe."

Rainbow chuckled. "Oh no, trust me, I get it. I've lived the dream, baby." 

"Ah, yeah, I guess you did, huh? What's it like flying for these 'Wonderbolts' anyway? Is it everything you ever dreamed it would be?"

"It's exactly what I dreamed it was like, actually. The flying part, at any rate." 

Rainbow shrugged and scuffed her hoof along her chest; she wasn't wearing her uniform anymore, since she knew she'd have to clean it daily if she did just to keep the stink of sweat out of it. That and she just didn't trust the washing machines at Pandora Tower to treat it right; the uniform was hoof wash only. So until she got back home or unless she desperately needed to wear it, the uniform would stay in the closet of her and Pinkie's room at the tower.

She kept her jacket, though. That could at least be washed whenever she felt like it, and it went well with any of the other clothes that she and Pinkie had been provided so that they didn't feel constrained to wearing only what they'd been wearing when they first arrived. Curaçao was thoughtful like that, it seemed.

"What does that mean?" Havoc asked, drawing Rainbow back to the conversation.

Rainbow rubbed the back of her neck. "Well… like I said, the flying aspect of being a Wonderbolt is everything I ever dreamed it would be. Flying fast, flying high, pulling off cool stunts and wowing the crowds, having legions of fans, getting my own posters and action figures and celebrity merch, the works. That part is awesome.

"The rest of being a Wonderbolt is, well, a job. Technically military, I guess, but still just like any other job, really. I've got a boss to listen to; I've got coworkers to work with, and some of them are great, but some of them are jerks; I've got a schedule to adhere to and I can't get around it by being awesome like I used to with being in weather control. The pay's not as good as I thought it would be, either, but I get lots of benefits since I'm technically a government employee."

"Hey, nice. Got yourself a dental plan and shit?"

"Yeah, a pretty good one too. I mean, I didn't care about it that much when I got it, but then Pinks and I got hitched and now I'm glad to have it." Rainbow rolled her eyes. "You wouldn't believe what her dental bills would cost us if I didn't have good dental. She's got a major sweet tooth, in case you haven't noticed."

"Heh, fuck me, you sound like an old mare all of a sudden. Concerned with dental bills and insurance and all that?"

"Havoc, we're pretty much the same age. And unlike you, I'm not loaded." Rainbow gestured to the private box around them. "I can't afford stuff like this. I'm not jealous or anything, but y'know, ya don't gotta rub my face in it."

Havoc frowned. "Shit, sorry. Did I hit a sore spot?"

"I mean, no, not really, but I guess I've started to really think about that kind of stuff over the past year. Just watch, you're gonna start caring about things like this too after you get married."

"Maybe. That'd be nice, actually… sharing that kind of experience and concern with somepony else?"

Rainbow paused, then gave a little smile. "Yeah. It's nice, even when all the mundane stuff gets annoying."

There was a brief commotion at the door, then it opened, and in walked a familiar face to Rainbow, a set of them actually. Her old team from her last visit to this world, the former Mid-East Rockets, now just the Rockets. All of them showing up at once like this was kind of overwhelming, but that was part of the charm of it all.

The team was composed of seven players: Dart Blazer, a stallion with a cobalt blue coat and a short, chocolate-covered mane; Sweet Crespelle, a young mare with a red coat and blonde mane; Salsa Fresca, a greenish-blue mare with a purple mane, and her sister Lily Typhoon, an orange mare with a pink mane; Gilded Match, a large black-coated stallion with a red mane tinged with gold.

All of them were pegasi, of course, because only pegasi could play skyball.

There was also Brisk Gallop, an old stallion whose black coat was practically gray and whose mane was white by now but had once also been gray, who used to play with the team but now served as their coach, and Rainslick, a turquoise stallion with a white mane, who served as the team's general manager. Also both pegasi.

Greetings were given all around with exuberance and joy with hoofshakes and hugs being thrown around like confetti, and generally there were just a lot of smiles everywhere.

"So how have you been?" asked Dart, ever the leader and always ready to step in first. "We haven't heard from you in years."

"Oh, you know, just doin' my own thing back home," Rainbow said carefully; Dart and the others didn't know Rainbow was from another world, instead being fed the story that she was from the southern continent of this world, which would be suitably hard both to disprove or disbelieve. "Joined up on a skyball team down there, figured I could bring back some of the skills I practiced up here."

"Well hey now, good for you!" said Rainslick with a wide smile. "I'm glad that you got a chance to put your experience with us to some good use. What's skyball like down there, anyhow? I didn't even know they had any leagues in the south."

"Oh, well, the rules are pretty much the same as they are around here," Rainbow said, which was true. "But it's not exactly a league so to speak, since we don't treat it as a competitive sport or anything like that." A half-truth; the Wonderbolts didn't compete or anything, but skyball teams certainly did. "You know what they say, 'winning isn't everything'." Well, that was an outright lie.

Gilded gave Rainbow just the most incredulous look. "But Rainbow my friend, if winning is not important, then why keep score?"

Rainbow blinked. "Uh… well. I mean… y'know, it doesn't matter to everypony. I care if we win. I just don't go around acting like it's a big deal so I don't upset anypony. Heh heh."

"Aha! Good good, I was worried that the Rainbow I had grown to admire had gone soft on us, and become of those 'participation trophy' types. Fools! There is no reward for merely participating in a competition! What a preposterous concept!"

"He's riled up about that kind of stuff now that he's playing with a real team again," Lily noted in Dash's ear. She then pulled back and gave Dash a big, white smile. "You're looking good, by the way! Playing for whatever team that is down south is really keeping you in shape. You look like you'd be able to get right back on the field with us at the drop of a hat."

"Oh wow, can you imagine if we had Dash back?" Crespelle said, eyes wide with awe. "Havoc said you're only going to be in town for a few weeks. Are you suuurrre that you can't stay until the start of next season? Please?"

"Whoa whoa whoa, kiddo, that's like six months away," said Salsa, flicking Crespelle's ear. "She's not gonna stick around forever. Dash isn't the type of mare that sticks around, y'know." With a wink, she added, "Hope you don't treat your coltfriends like that."

Rainbow chuckled. "Fillyfriend, actually. And no, I definitely don't. We're married."

"Oh wow, no shit? Well hot damn, girl, why didn't you say so? That's awesome! How long has that been going on?"

"What, the marriage, or the fact that I like mares?" Rainbow asked. She legitimately wasn't sure; Salsa was weird sometimes.

"The marriage, dummy. I don't care if you like mares. I'm actually not surprised you do, actually, since I always saw you checking out my ass in the showers back in the day." Salsa nudged Crespelle. "Crespelle's too. Not that I blame you, my ass is pretty sweet."

Rainbow smirked and shrugged, letting it go unsaid that she wasn't ashamed of it; her female team members were attractive, and there was never harm in looking at another mare every now and then. She and Pinkie were confident enough in their love for one another that they could look around if they wanted; heck, Pinkie did it more than she did and was less subtle about it.

"We got married earlier this year," Rainbow said. "I don't know if you guys would remember her, though. She was at one of our games when I was here last. Pink mare, poofy mane?"

The team members that were engaged in this part of the conversation gave it some thought, then shook their heads. "Sorry, doesn't ring a bell," Lily said.

Rainbow shrugged. "Meh, that's alright. It's not like I introduced everypony to her or anything. How about you two?" she asked, looking between Salsa and Dart. "You guys get things all settled and stuff? Or am I jumping the gun here?"

The pair shared a brief look, then Salsa grabbed Dart's hoof and smirked. "Yeah, things are pretty good. Right, Dart?"

"I'll say," Dart agreed with a grin. "We started dating again earlier this year. Figured we could finally find the time and money to be comfortable with going steady."

"Nice. Glad to see that all worked out; I was rooting for you." Rainbow turned to others. "So how about you guys? How're all of you doing, besides going pro? Ha! I'm still so pumped that you guys made it into the big leagues. That is awesome!"

"Well, now that we're all pro skyball players, we don't have to worry about day jobs, that's for sure," said Salsa with a grin. "No more delivering packages for me to make ends meet, and Dart doesn't have to do a bunch of freelance handiwork either. It's kinda nice."

"I thought you guys were getting paid when the Rockets were still just semi-pro?"

"We were," said Dart, "but even when Havoc bought the team and was paying us, the semi-pro league has a pay cap that's only just enough to keep us out of poverty. I still did a little handiwork from time to time so I had some spending cash, just not as my main gig. Y'know, except that chunk of time the Rockets were out of business."

Rainbow shook her head. "Oh yeah, Havoc told me about that. That had to be rough, getting fried and all that."

"How much did Havoc tell you?" asked Lily, looking slightly… embarrassed?

"Not much, just that the last owner sold the team 'cause he thought you guys were a bad investment even after an undefeated season." With a grin, she added, "I mean, obviously that was a dumb move in the end, right?"

Lily seemed relieved for some reason. Rainbow would ask why later.

"Long-term, yeah, but in the short term it was a perfectly sound business decision," said Rainslick. "I looked over the numbers, and even with that season our game attendance wasn't up by more than five percent, and there wasn't a guarantee that we could repeat the performance."

"And we haven't yet, if you're wondering," added Crespelle. "Without you and Havoc on the team, well, we're good, but not that good." With a look to Gilded, she added, "No offense, big guy."

"Aha! None taken, my friend! None taken!" Gilded said with a big smile, clapping the smaller mare on the back. "To compare me to Rainbow Dash is to compare a bullet to a missile. I am the missile in this analogy, of course, because I am mighty! But Dash, ah, she is a bullet: small, swift, deadly. And in this analogy, 'deadly' means she scores many points faster than I can."

"I got my degree!" Crespelle suddenly blurted.

"Oh cool you went back to school? Nice!" Rainbow tousled the younger mare's mane. "What'd you study in, anyway?"

"You're not gonna believe this, but uh… criminal justice." Crespelle rubbed the back of her neck. "I mean, it's just a Bachelor's. I can't practice law or anything. But I guess when I get older and stuff, I can keep working on that, right? Heh, can you imagine? Me, a lawyer? Heh heh."

"She's also got a cute new coltfriend," said Lily, gently elbowing Crespelle's side.

Crespelle's face turned bright red. "He's not my coltfriend. We only went on one date."

"And…?"

"And… and we're going on another date after the sandstorm clears up. So what? That doesn't mean anything!"

"Uh huh. Sure it doesn't."

"How 'bout you, old timer?" Rainbow asked the older stallion, Gallop. "I hear you're coaching these losers these days. How's that goin'?"

"Youth is wasted on the young," Gallop said, mustache bristling.

"I don't know how to respond to that. Is that good?"

Gallop's mustache curled in a smile. "It means that they're young and ambitious, and that I wish that I could still play with them. But I'll settle for making sure they're the best team they can be while I still have some life in these old bones."

"And we love him for it," said Crespelle, hugging the old pony's side. "He's like the grumpy old grandpa I never had."

"Hey, so, Havoc invited us all here to see you," Dart said, scratching his cheek. "And it's great seeing you again, absolutely. But I thought for sure she'd be here too, yeah? A full-on Mid-East Rockets reunion, or whatever? So what gives? Where is she?"

Rainbow raised an eyebrow. "Huh? She's right over—" She glanced behind her to see that Havoc was still seated in her seat from earlier, but had sunk down low enough that it was hard to see her. "Havoc! What're you doing, hiding over there? The whole team showed up, in case you haven't noticed?"

Havoc grumbled something under her breath, then took a long breath. "Fuck it, might as well rip this bandage off, huh?" She then practically leaped out of her seat and hustled over to the group with a purpose in her step. "Go on, everypony, get it out of your systems now while you can. And watch what you say, I still sign your paychecks."

A collective silence went over the team.

It was Lily that spoke first. "Holy crap, boss, what happened to your face? Are you okay?"

"Just her face?" Dart blurted. "Her whole left side's all burned up!"

"Does it hurt?" asked Crespelle.

Havoc gestured with her hoof for them to keep going, but when nopony did, she said, "Let's keep it simple. I still do work with the military, and there was an accident during a routine job last week and I got fucked up. I can't give any details because the work was classified and shit, but here I am, the New Havoc, get used to it."

"Oh wow, I heard about that accident on the news," Lily said, hoof over her mouth. "That big airship crash out in the Wastelands, right?"

"Yeah, that's right, I remember hearing about that too," said Salsa. "Didn't the NPAF admiral step down over that? I didn't hear about anypony getting hurt, but that was like half a million bits in tech that went up in flames."

"Three-quarters of a mil, but yeah, it was a pretty expensive fuck up. And yeah, I was involved, but again, can't say more," Havoc repeated. 

"But it doesn't hurt, right?" Crespelle asked, eyes wide with concern. "Do you need anything? Is there something I can get you?"

"Ease up, Jailbait, it's fine, I'm fine," Havoc chuckled. "I got over it all pretty quick, no biggie. The only thing that sucks is that I have to give up smoking for a few months. Otherwise, I finished my recovery and got cleared to leave the hospital and everything a few days ago."

"Wow, that fast? Those military hospitals must be pretty state-of-the-art, huh?" said Dart.

"I certainly hope the military is compensating you for this," said Rainslick, scratching his ear. "I don't necessarily mean financially, either. That accident was the talk of the whole city for days. A few pundits here and there are still harping on about it and how the whole thing is a result of poor funding."

"Funny you should mention it, 'cause that's part of why I'm here actually. You know how the admiral stepped down? Well, I'm stepping down too… or getting discharged or whatever. More than that, I'm leaving New Pandemonium once the sandstorm clears up."

"You are?" asked Dart. "Why?"

"Personal reasons. Family shit. And, uh…" Havoc cleared her throat and, in barely more than a whisper, added, "And I'm getting married. So yeah, there's—"

"You're what?!" exclaimed Crespelle, a huge smile on her face. "Oh my stars! That's great news!"

"Yeah yeah yeah, let's not go into it," Havoc interrupted before anypony else could say anything. "Point is, I'm moving to Hope's Point after the sandstorm clears, so I won't be around as much. I'll check in a few times a season, and that's already less than I have been lately. But you guys should know, since you're my team. My friends." She gestured at Rainslick. "Rainslick'll keep things running just fine, like he has been. Right?"

Rainslick smirked and nodded. "You mean like I have been for the last few years, no thanks to you? Yeah, I can handle that."

"Don't get smart with me, Slick. I can still dock your pay if I think you're sassing me. I know you can be a sassy bitch, but this ain't the time."

"Oh, no sass here boss, I promise. And hey, that oughta work out well for you, since I remember you being pretty tight with King Lockwood."

"And that goes for the rest of you! Just because I'm not gonna be around as much doesn't mean you losers can start slacking off, you hear me?" Havoc started pacing, looking at her team like she was some sort of drill sergeant; she reminded Rainbow an awful lot of Spitfire at the moment actually. "This season's almost over, and in six months the next season starts! And that, team, is our first professional season!

"I'm gonna be watching your every move, your every play, every single shot, block, twist, and turn. Every single moment of every single day from here on out needs to be your Best. Day. Ever. And if any one of you starts to look like you're slacking off, I'm gonna come back up here, and I'm gonna whip your ass back into shape! If I hear that one of you is so much as half-assing taking a shit, there's gonna be hell to pay."

With a final stamp of her hooves on the floor, she shouted at the team, "Am I clear?!"

The team, all with dead-serious expressions—and little hints of smiles—saluted like proper soldiers. "Ma'am, yes ma'am!" they shouted back in unison. Well, except Gallop and Rainslick. They weren't players on the field, so they were exempt from this little display.

"Damn right I am." Then, Havoc flipped the switch from Drill Sergeant to… Team Mom? With a big smile, she gestured at the empty seats in the box. "Go on then, pull up a seat. You guys can join us in watching these two pansy-ass teams try to play the sorriest excuse for a skyball game I've seen in years. Who wants a drink? Crespelle? You want a beer? What am I asking for, yes you do."

Rainbow grinned to herself as Havoc went about taking drink orders and gesturing at the bartender to start doling them out. For years, she'd been hoping that her old team was doing well, and dang, Havoc sure as hay had done a good job making sure that had happened, especially after they'd had a big low point in their lives.

But most of all, she was proud of her friend. Havoc may have been a foulmouthed, rude, crude, ornery, tempestuous—Rainbow learned that word from Twilight—sort of mare who didn't seem like she could care less about anypony or anything but herself, but at the end of the day she was deep down a kind-hearted pony with lots of love in her heart. It was a weird dichotomy—another ten-bit word Twilight taught her—but heck if it wasn't awesome to see.


*****


Pinkie watched with rapt attention as Caramel—her best friend's son! She couldn't get over that—typed away on his little datapad. He was working on a homework assignment for one of his classes, mathematics it seemed, and was certainly diligent about it. In his lap was the datapad he was using for doing the assignment; at his side, resting against the edge of his bed, was another datapad that was opened to the chapter he was reading. Pinkie was never good at advanced mathematics—unless it was required for a joke, of course—so she was surprised that a colt as young as Caramel was working on such difficult equations.

In a chair at the side of the bed was Marée, also working on the same assignment and situated in much the same way as he was. Velvet said they were in the same class, so they had the same subjects and the same homework and the same schedule, so it only seemed natural that they'd be friends and work together on their assignments. It was kind of cute, actually, kind of like how Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo were when they were that age.

"Aren't they just the cutest?" asked Velvet.

"Oh, they're adorable," Pinkie replied, putting her hooves together under her chin and letting out a happy little sigh. "I love kids, did you know that? And not just because it's easier to make kids laugh than adults, oh no. I love 'em 'cause they're just so genuine about their fun. A young colt or filly can have fun doing just about anything."

Velvet smiled. "They can, can't they? All my kids like to make their own fun, come to think of it. The tower's not the best environment for colts and fillies to grow up in, but I think we make due pretty well."

"What's the deal with this school of yours anyway? Don't get me wrong, it's the greatest thing ever, but it's just so… what's the word?" Pinkie scratched her head and bit her tongue, thinking, thinking. "Ah! It's so peculiar. Learned that from Twilight."

"How so?"

"Well, you never mentioned anything about being a teacher when we were being bestest-best friends way back when. So I figure that it happened after I left, but it can't have been too long after 'cause these kids aren't that old yet. So where'd they all come from? Did you and your sisters just pick them up off the streets? Are they all orphans?"

Velvet tilted her head back and forth. "It's… com—"

Pinkie grabbed the sides of Velvet's face, squeezing her cheeks together. "Red, I swear, if I have to hear somepony say something is 'complicated' one more time, I think I'm gonna have a major freak out."

After Pinkie let her go, Velvet finished: "Complex."

Pinkie snapped her hooves. Somehow. "Hoo boy, what a turnaround."

"Hey, I live with Dawn. I had to learn how to use a thesaurus just to understand what she wants for dinner." Velvet cleared her throat. "So, yeah, complex. I'm not really allowed to go into a lot of details, but… y'know what? It's you. If Dawn wants to get mad at me, she can go fly a kite."

"That sounds like fun, why wouldn't she want to do that?"

Velvet rolled her eyes. "Pinkie—"

"I know, I know." Pinkie giggled and booped Red's nose. "Gotta watch your language in front of the kids."

"Anyway… like I said, it's complex, but the short version is that they are all orphans, yes, but not for the reasons you think. They don't actually have parents at all."

Pinkie tilted her head. "That's… what being an orphan means?"

"Shush, you. I mean that they literally don't have a mommy and daddy of their own, because they weren't born like… average ponies." Velvet leaned over and whispered, "We don't use the word 'normal' to describe ponies that live out in the city, 'cause it makes the kids sound like they're abnormal. Lots of negative baggage with that word."

"So, wait… they weren't 'born' like you and me?" Pinkie asked.

Velvet bit her lip. "Yup. That's right. Not born like you and me in a perfectly natural, ordinary, traditional manner, no sir."

Even Pinkie had to raise her eyebrow at that. "Uh… okay. So then how were they born?"

"Simple answer: from a test tube." Velvet shrugged. "They already know that, so don't worry about it being some big secret."

Pinkie gasped and put her hooves on her temples. "Oh my stars and garters. You mean they were geometrically imagineered?"

"I believe the term you're searching for is 'genetically engineered'," came the voice of a stallion at the doorway.

The voice belonged to a unicorn, a handsome one with a rich, light gray coat and a darker gray mane, which was short but very tidy. He wore a black lab coat and nothing more.

"Hey, Pedi!" Velvet said, hopping out of her chair to greet the stallion. "You're finally done with that assignment Dawn put you on?"

"To a degree that she finally found satisfactory? Yes," he replied with a nod, though he didn't look particularly pleased. "I would share the details but Miss Dawn has requested that I maintain utmost secrecy on the project, even from you. I honestly don't know why, since the project isn't a particularly sensitive matter—"

Velvet slapped his chest playfully. "Aw, that's just how Dawn's gonna be about everything these days. After what happened with that royal fiasco last week I doubt she wants information spreading around anywhere about anything."

"I suppose."

Velvet looked at Pinkie and gestured to the stallion. "Pinkie, this is Pedigree, but I call him Pedi nowadays." She then gestured at Pinkie. "Pedi, this is Pinkie Pie. The Pinkie Pie, by the way."

Pedigree glanced over and noticed Pinkie—had he not actually noticed her before?—and his eyes widened slightly. "Oh! I knew we had a guest but I wasn't expecting this. Hello, Miss Pie. A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance." 

He stepped over and offered his hoof, which Pinkie took and enthusiastically shook. "Hi there!" Pinkie replied. "I'm Pinkie Pie, Red's Best-Twin-Sis— wait. Finally make my aqua-what-now? Have we met before?"

"Formally, no, but I know all about you from—" 

Velvet elbowed him in the ribs hard enough to get his attention but not hard enough to hurt. Which was weird. That was weird, right?

"From all the stories about you I've told him," Velvet completed with a big, big smile. "Yup! Just a perfectly normal way of knowing about my bestest friend in the whole world: via conversation, and no other methods."

"Uh… okay?" Pinkie said, tilting her head a full ninety degrees. "Is everything alright, Red?"

Red smiled a little widely and nodded. "Yup! Why do you ask? I'm not acting weird. Who said I was acting weird? Ah ha haaa." Her eyes drifted to Pedigree, then to Pinkie, then back to Pedigree, then back to Pinkie.

Now, Pinkie was used to being the weird one amongst her friends. Somepony had to be the weird one in every group and Pinkie decided it should be her with her group, otherwise it might have to be Rarity or something and that was just… well, weird. But she'd never figured Velvet was the weird one between her and her sisters. She thought Insipid was the weird one. Speaking of which, where was she anyway? It had been three days and she and Rainbow hadn't seen her in the tower yet.

Anyway, yeah, Velvet was acting weird. Why?

"Ahem," Pedigree said, clearing his throat. "Well anyway, yes, a pleasure to meet you in person, Miss Pie."

"You can just call me Pinkie," Pinkie replied with a smile. "My mom is Miss Pie. Wait. No. That's not my mom's name, that joke doesn't work. Sorry, let's try that again." She cleared her throat. "You can just call me Pinkie. Miss Pie is incorrect anyway, it would be Missus Pie 'cause I'm married." She then tapped her chin. "That's such a weird concept. I married Rainbow Dash, so… am I Pinkie Pie Dash now?" She paused again for a long moment, then shrugged. "Eh."

"It is a bizarre concept at times, I agree," Pedigree said. "Ponies do not technically have surnames, though they do have family names, yet the family names tend to be attributed in peculiar ways. Horribly inconsistent."

"Right? Like, everypony I know refers to my family as the Pie Family, but my parents don't have Pie in their names at all. So why are my sisters and I the ones who get the preferential treatment? It's weird! It's also weird 'cause I know these two ponies, Mister and Missus Cake, but Missus Cake's birth name wasn't Cup Cake at all, it was Chiffon Swirl! She changed it when she got married. But not all ponies do that? Weird!"

"Chiffon Swirl to Cup Cake? Why would she—" Pedigree shook his head. "At any rate, Pinkie it is. So, hmmm…" He rubbed the back of his neck, as if searching for a question. "I suppose the manner in which you've returned here isn't common knowledge. I don't know how to address this situation, honestly."

"We were talking about the Shadow Project when you came in, Pedi," Velvet said, putting one hoof around his shoulder and tapping the other on his chest. "Why don't you tell her more about it?"

"Ah, yes, I suppose I could do that." He cleared his throat. "The Shadow Project is the brainchild of myself, Doctor Blutsauger, and Lord Silvertongue, originally an attempt to engineer artificial ponies who would serve as loyal agents of Lord Silvertongue's agenda, whatever that might be. The project involved the infusion of magical energy extracted from the Beacon, which granted them extraordinary abilities not seen in average ponies."

Pinkie gasped. "Oh. My. Gumdrops. You gave them superpowers?!"

"Not an inaccurate term, but a rather… juvenile way of looking at it, yes." If Pedigree had glasses, Pinkie was sure he'd be adjusting them now. "Their enhanced abilities would allow them to serve as more effective agents than any average pony could." With a sad look at Velvet, he added, "Regrettably, the process was only partially successful."

"Aw, it didn't work?"

"No, it worked. But not all of the foals infused with the Beacon's magic… survived."

"Oh? Oh…" Pinkie's frown couldn't be more immense. "That's so sad…"

Velvet gestured at Caramel and Marée; she looked sad, but still just a little happy. "Caramel and Marée—all of my kids—they're all that's left of the original project. And once Daddy left, he gave the project to my sisters and me, so we could do something different with it." She nodded firmly. "I convinced Dawn to give the responsibility to me, and I turned the project into the school."

"We still refer to them collectively as 'Shadows' because the name sort of stuck," Pedigree admitted with a shrug. "As the original project head, Velvet requisitioned my aid in the transition to fit her new vision. I think it's been a tremendous success."

"Yup! Pedi used to be kind of a jerk," Velvet said with a jocular smile and a tilt of her head. "But he's gotten better about it. He's great with the kids now, and I couldn't be happier to have him with me." She leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "He's just a peach, am I right?"

Pinkie grinned. "Well, if you've been helping Red out with all these cutie pies, then you're alright in my book Mister Pedigree."

"Please, just Pedigree will do. 'Mister' Pedigree is much too formal." With a grin, he added, "And no, Mister Pedigree was not my father, either."

Pinkie paused, then let out a loud guffaw. "Hoo boy! I like you already, Pedigree, you're alright. Thank goodness Velvet got her hooves on you when she did. I don't want to think about what might've happened with you and all these little youngsters without her."

"Oh, I don't think it would've been pretty," Velvet agreed.

Pedigree glanced between the two, then humbly nodded. "My results-focused conduct would likely have resulted in more pain for these young ponies. I can admit that." He shook his head and cleared his throat. "Anyway, I was just stopping in to let you know that I finished Miss Dawn's project," he said to Velvet. "I'm on my way back to my office to start making lesson plans for next week. Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm good, thanks," Velvet replied, patting his chest. "I'm gonna stick here with Caramel for a little bit, make sure he and Marée finish their homework. You wanna grab some dinner? I hear the chef's making your favorite tonight: penne arrabiata."

"Oh ho, then you can definitely count me in," he said with a grin. "It's been weeks since he last offered it. Care to meet me at the cafeteria in, say, thirty minutes?"

"Sure! And maybe afterwards we can get some… dessert?" Her hooves delicately played across his chest as she said it, and there was a certain hunger in her eyes, and no, it was not for penne arrabiata.

"Ah." Pedigree glanced sideways and Pinkie, who just gave him a little wave, then tugged his collar. "That sounds lovely. I have been rather… stressed." He cleared his throat, then nodded at Pinkie. "Pinkie, a pleasure."

Pinkie waved more enthusiastically. "Same to you! See you around!"

With that, Pedigree left down the hall; Pinkie noticed Velvet leaning just slightly to watch him go. 

Once he was gone, Velvet turned back to Pinkie. "So, where were—"

She stopped, because Pinkie had begun a wild display of gestures, facial expressions, and just general miming to nonverbally pose the most important question she had on her mind right this moment. The reason for the nonverbal questioning was because she wasn't sure if Caramel and Marée knew and she didn't want to spoil anything for them, by which Pinkie meant she didn't want to ruin a surprise if there was one. 

The gestures weren't obscene, of course; what kind of a mare did you think Pinkie was? There was an awful lot of winking and nudging, though.

Velvet raised an eyebrow, glanced back out into the hall, then shook her head. "What? No, he's not my coltfriend."

Velvet was the only pony in the entire world—in two entire worlds in fact—that understood Pinkie's gesticulations without fail every single time. Even Rainbow had trouble sometimes, but she was learning. But Velvet? No, she'd never once had an issue. If that wasn't proof that Red and Pink weren't Long-Lost-Twin-Sisters-From-Another-World, then nothing was.

Pinkie, though, wasn't satisfied with the answer and started gesticulating again, but Velvet just rolled her eyes, grabbed her by the hoof, and dragged her out into the hall instead.

"You don't have to be secretive, the kids would only care if he was," Velvet said, though she kept quiet enough that her voice wouldn't carry into the room.

"Then why are we whispering?" Pinkie asked in a similar whisper.

"Because I know you're gonna ask other questions and my answers are going to get too raunchy for them, and I'm not about to have a conversation with you about my sex life without being able to even use the word 'sex'." With a glance at the doorway, she added, "The kids only just finished learning about the birds and the bees, they're not ready for the X-rated stuff."

"Fair enough. So you're telling me Pedigree isn't your coltfriend?"

"No, he's not."

"That's a load of baloney, Red. And no, I did not spell it wrong. The other spelling is a type of deli meat."

"Why are you telling me? I know."

"Just answer the question, Red."

Velvet rolled her eyes. "He's not my coltfriend, Pink. I have lots of coltfriends, but he's not one of them."

"What does that mean? 'Lots of coltfriends'?"

Velvet rolled her eyes again, and this time she pulled a little black book out of her mane—Pinkie was impressed since Velvet's mane wasn't poofy like hers—which she opened and showed to Pinkie. Inside were several names of stallions—Pinkie assumed they were stallions—along with addresses, telephone numbers, something called a "screen name", and little stars next to their names. Some had more stars than others.

"This is my list of coltfriends," Velvet explained, sliding her hoof down the page before flipping it to show more. "When I've got the need for a good dicking, I just call one of them up and see if they're free for the evening, and that's that. Sometimes they're not, so I just pick another name off the list."

Pinkie's eyes widened. "Red, that's cheating! Adultery! Infidelity!"

"No, it's not. They all know that it's not a romantic deal, we're not in permanent relationships. Remember when I had to explain to you the concept of casual sex?"

"Yeah, I remember that it's not the opposite of formal sex, which to me implied having sex while wearing a tuxedo," Pinkie said matter-of-factly. "You said it was the idea of just… having sex with someone that you weren't in a relationship with. I didn't know it had a name like that. Wouldn't 'spontaneous' sex be more appropriate?"

"Sure, whatever. Anyway, this is like… the next step." Velvet tapped a name on the list, Bell Ringer; he had four stars, which sounded pretty good, whatever it meant. "Take Bell here. I met him at a club down in Mid-South a few years ago. He bought me a few drinks, we danced together a bit, then we snuck off into the alley behind the club and went at it. Casual, right?"

Pinkie felt her cheeks burning. "Y-yeah, pretty casual, I guess? Wow, right there in the alleyway? What if you got caught?"

Velvet grinned wildly. "That's part of the fun! Anyway, he was pretty damn good at what he did, so we traded numbers and I told him to call me up if he ever wanted to hook up again. Nothing serious, just sex. At most we'd do something to get us in the mood before doing it, like get some drinks."

"So, like, a date?"

"Yes and no, but that's the gist of it. Nothing like dinner and a movie or anything, just real casual stuff." Velvet pointed at more names in the list. "Same goes for Chocolate Souffle here, and Coconut Crisp, and Dash Charger, and so on, and so on, and I have the pick of the litter. Sometimes I'm in the mood for a unicorn, sometimes a pegasus, but most of these are earth ponies. I have a type, so sue me."

"Can I… ask what the stars are for?" Pinkie paused and winced. "Oh sassafras, do I even want to know?"

"Take a wild guess."

"How many times they've seen Blazing Saddles?"

Velvet blinked, glanced at the black book, then back at Pinkie. "What?"

"Wild guess, sorry. I'm going to assume it's how, um…" Pinkie cleared her throat. "How 'gifted' they are?"

Velvet just nodded.

"So… four stars means what? 'Cause it can't be— you know what? Nevermind. I'm treading dangerous waters here and I don't have my floaties." Pinkie closed the book shut for Red. "Red, honey, sweetie, these aren't coltfriends. They're booty calls. And yes, I know what that means now."

Velvet shrugged. "Same thing, right?" She paused, tilting her head. "How do you know what a 'booty call' is?"

"No, that's… no!" Pinkie shook her head. "No, Red, it's not the same thing. Is Pedigree in that book?"

"No? That's why I said he's not my coltfriend, Pink, keep up. Sheesh."

"No, because this isn't a book of coltfriends, it's a group of hook-ups. That's it. A coltfriend is something more than that."

"So why do you think Pedigree's my coltfriend?"

Pinkie threw her hooves in the air. "I saw what I saw! How you talked to him, looked at him, acted around him. You like him, Red. And I mean as more than just a friend."

Velvet tilted her head. "I mean, yeah, I do. He's a good friend to me and everything, a great friend, but… well, if we use your logic and say that we have to be dating for him to be my coltfriend, then he's still not by that standard. In fact, he would be by my standards actually and— oh my stars he would be by my standards."

"Huh?"

"I mean, he's not in this book, but he and I basically do exactly what I described earlier. Sometimes when I need a good fuck, I'll ask him 'cause, well, he's good. Real good. And conveniently close by, too. He's like, just shy of five stars. Just shy. A smidge, even. I'd bump him up if he was a little rougher with me."

Pinkie crossed her hooves over her chest. "But you two are… y'know. You know."

"Fucking? Yeah. I mean, have you seen him? How could I not? He's a total specimen, heh heh. Rawr."

"And you asked him out to dinner? Y'know, like on a date? You even knew his favorite dish was being served and everything!"

Velvet paused, then went wide-eyed and looked at the ground. "Oh wow, you're right. He is my coltfriend. Wait, no, no, he's not." She laughed and gently gave Pinkie a push. "You almost had me there, Pink. But no, Pedigree and I are not dating. We work together, hang out sometimes, and yeah, we fuck, but that's it. Friends with benefits at best."

"Does he know you've been with these… other stallions?" Pinkie asked, crossing her hooves even harder.

"Yeah, of course he does. Again, it's not like we're in a relationship or anything. I told you, monogamy ain't my thing."

"So he's okay with it?"

"He's never given me any reason to think he's not. He's even helped me out a few times by checking out some family histories and stuff. That's a… a long story in and of itself. We can talk about that another time, it's a bit much for right now. But yeah, even if he did mind, he's never said that he does, and what would it matter if he did? We're not dating."

Pinkie sighed and shook her head. "I don't know what I'm gonna do with you…"

Velvet set her hoof on Pinkie's shoulder and gave it a gentle shake. "Look, Pinkie, it's cool, okay? Pedi and I are just friends with benefits, that's it. Can we drop it now?"

"Fine, fine," Pinkie said, putting up her hooves. "This little chat's gone long enough as it is. You'd better go get ready for your Not-Date with your Not-Coltfriend."

Velvet grinned. "Thank you. I'd invite you along, but I don't think you wanna be a third wheel. At my Not-Date. With my Not-Coltfriend."

"Naw, that's alright. I'll stick here with the kids for a lil' bit. Auntie Pinkie's gotta get her time in if she's gonna compete with your flesh-and-blood sisters. They've got a few years head start!"

Velvet's smile turned awkward. "Flesh-and-blood, right, right, that's us, totally… blood-related, yup. I'm, uh… I'm gonna go now. Bye!"

And like that, she was gone down the hall in a puff of smoke.

Pinkie crossed her hooves again and hummed to herself, then nodded at nopony in particular. It wasn't just that Velvet had been acting weird that was concerning, oh no. It had been a long, long time since she'd ever had to deal with a Friendship Problem—Twilight never trademarked it but she should have—and certainly she'd never dealt with one like this before. 

But, she knew in her heart of hearts that she had a mission, a duty, to solve it, or her name wasn't Pinkamena Diane Pie.

And it was.


*****


Dawn sat at her desk that evening, dressed in her most professional dress suit—they were all extremely professional, but this one, a plum-colored one with a matching bow tie, was a cut above the others—and prepared herself for her first Committee meeting since the last major changes had gone through. Admiral Jetstream had already taken his oath of office at the last meeting, but they hadn't attended any business then; today's meeting would be addressing a few minor matters that had come up over the week since.

Her desktop computer was already prepped for the meeting; the communication software had been launched and Dawn was just waiting for the assigned time to start the conference call. She normally hated doing these calls at later hours, but it had been a specific request from Director Underhoof as she was overseeing a case and required time to finish with several of her own duties. 

Dawn knew that she needed to stay on the Director's good side to maintain the rapport they'd had thus far; Curaçao had even suggested bringing her into the inner circle soon. But that was Dawn's decision at the end of the day. Not Curaçao's.

Once the proper time arrived, Dawn activated the call, and it only took seconds for the other members of the New Pandemonium City Committee to answer, their faces appearing in small windows around her screen that surrounded her own image, which was in turn being transmitted to them. She didn't know if their arrangements were the same as hers, but she thought they should be; why would she not be the center of attention?

Clockwise, from the top right, the members were the same as they had been for the past seven years, with one exception:

Quill Feather was a bespeckled pegasus with a beige coat and a brown mane who dressed professionally, and was in possession of the largest overbite Dawn had ever seen. He was the Community Administration Secretary, which meant that he was in charge of every bureaucratic organization in the city, from the Records Department to Foster Care Services.

There was then an empty space which would normally be occupied by Taskmaster Concrete Girder, who was in charge of the city's construction and development projects. He was still in the hospital after a most unfortunate heart attack brought upon by a sudden shock just earlier this week.

Next was Treasurer Vendetta, a pegasus stallion with a light blue coat and a two-tone gray mane who always dressed to impress. He was in charge of the city's finances, obviously. Dawn did not like the way that he looked at her, especially in the past week; it made her feel uncomfortable.

Director Underhoof was the head of the infamous CIA, the city's intelligence agency—the actual acronym was Committee Investigation Agency—which also placed her in charge of the city's general law enforcement. She had an orange coat and a light gold mane with prominent bangs, and as usual was dressed professionally.

Then there was Doctor Blutsauger, an off-white unicorn stallion with a neon green mane who was almost never seen without his signature goggles, though they weren't always over his eyes; tonight, they were. He was the city's Chief of Medicine, putting him in charge of all of the city's medical developments, procedures, and guidelines.

Next was Admiral Jetstream, the newly-appointed Commander in Chief of the NPAF, and thus the pony in charge of the city's enviable military. He didn't look anything like his father, ex-Admiral Hotstreak; his coat was a dull blue, his mane a bright yellow, his jaw square and prominent. He wore a formal dress uniform—black, of course—decorated with medals.

Last, Champagne Diamond, Chairpony of the Resource Department, which put her in charge of obtaining and monitoring the city's natural resources: water, oil, metals, and most importantly, the import and export of food, because fresh crops couldn't be grown here in the north and needed to be shipped in from the southern continent. She had a pale yellow coat and two-tone red mane, and looked and carried herself every bit as exquisitely as her name suggested.

As for Dawn herself, she held the title of Shadow Associate. This put her in charge of overseeing these Committee meetings, wherein she could put forth proposals and debate with the others, but she was unable to cast her own vote in issues in order to maintain a properly odd number. 

This rarely presented a problem; the latter three members of the Committee were, unbeknownst to the other four, loyal servants to Dawn and her family and would vote the way that she wanted them to, as they had done for her father before his ascension.

The opening statements of the meeting were as droll and unworthy of note as they always were; Dawn rarely paid them much heed unless she was the one delivering them, but she did not call for this meeting and so that was not her responsibility. Once that was finished, the floor was opened to the members of the Committee to discuss matters; as a rule, whomever it was who called the meeting was typically given the floor first.

As such, Director Underhoof addressed the group, clearing her throat to start off her spiel. "An issue has come to my attention that I found concerning, and I wanted the Committee's take on it. Actually, I specifically wanted Taskmaster Concrete's take on it, but since he's still in the hospital I suppose I'll have to make due without it."

"What could you possibly need his opinion on?" scoffed Champagne. "Directions to the nearest buffet? Advice on where to buy chairs that won't break when you sit on them? Or let me guess, tips for how to get grease stains out of a white shirt?"

"Now now, Champagne, let's not speak ill of the Taskmaster while he's recovering from his heart attack," said Quill, adjusting his glasses as he did so. "It's not polite to talk behind somepony's back like that."

"I'd need to take the bus to get back around to his front."

"Any updates on the Taskmaster's condition, incidentally?" Dawn asked, addressing Blutsauger; she didn't care much for Champagne's jocularity at the moment and wanted to move the meeting along.

"Nein, Miss Dawn, nothing of note since our last meeting. His prognosis is positive; he'll live, but I have had my staff recommend bed rest, prescribe a number of pills to help alleviate his heart condition, and even assign a nutritional specialist to help him change his diet so as to hopefully avoid any further issues."

"You're asking for a miracle, Doc," chuckled Champagne.

"I believe that I had the floor?" Underhoof snorted. "The Taskmaster's slovenly ass aside, he would be in the best position to help understand some concerns I'm having. He hasn't been responding to private calls, so I was hoping to get it done here in the meeting, but I guess I'll have to keep trying other avenues.

"My concern, of course, brings me back to the string of disappearances that has been plaguing our city for the past seven years," she continued. "This has naturally been a cause of concern for me and citywide law enforcement, and to this day we still have no clues as to the whereabouts of the missing ponies. The last numbers reported before the sandstorm hit showed that the rate of disappearances has gone down in the past few months, but it's still high."

"We haven't heard an update from you on this in a while, Director," noted Quill. "I was under the impression that the issue had been addressed years ago. We allocated additional resources as requested, so I'd just assumed—"

"At the request of the Shadow Associate, I have not been delivering update reports until there was something to report."

Dawn tilted her head. "I thought it best not to waste the Committee's time with repeated updates and incident reports until there was a significant change in the pattern."

"And thank you for that, Shadow Associate Dawn, grazie," said Vendetta with a smile, lifting a glass of alcohol in a toast—Dawn couldn't tell what kind it was in the lighting of his room. "I was sick of hearing about it after the first year or so, and so was Concrete for that matter, Director. I don't know what you were hoping to accomplish asking him for an opinion."

Underhoof grunted, hooves over her chest. "His knowledge of the city's infrastructure would prove beneficial in finding out wherever those responsible for these disappearances are taking their victims. He's been stonewalling me for years and I'm getting tired of it."

"But why bring this up now?" asked Champagne. "The entire city is in lockdown because of the sandstorm. Don't you have other cases to attend to?"

"The sandstorm is actually the cause of my concern relating to these cases," Underhoof said, leaning back in her seat. "Logic dictates that the reports should be down because ponies aren't going missing, or at least that we wouldn't find out that they're missing until after the sandstorm is over. Most would assume that a 'missing pony' just got locked down someplace else; ignorance is bliss, after all.

"The issue is that I've been getting reports over the past few days of missing ponies. Ponies who, at least according to those who filed the reports, were perfectly accounted for and who should not have gone missing considering the lockdown."

"With the lockdown in place, nopony should be leaving their homes without the escort of one of our designated unicorn teams for protection. Explain how this is possible," Dawn requested. "Provide us with an example."

"Sure. I just finished up with a set of cases today, hence why I requested this late meeting. I didn't want to wait until morning. One report was from an older stallion who lives at an apartment complex in Mid-South. He called in to report that his neighbor was missing. She's a younger mare who apparently helps him down the complex's stairwell every morning so he could use the laundry room and has been doing it for years.

"She didn't answer the door when he knocked, which he found unusual as she normally would inform him ahead of time if she wouldn't be available. He was worried, so he put a call in to the landlord, who then came up and opened the apartment to check on the tenant. The mare was gone."

"And this means she just disappeared?" Vendetta scoffed. "Maybe this mare visited her coltfriend the night before and just never came back to her apartment? I've been known to have mares spend the night in my penthouse on multiple occasions; their families never file missing pony reports." He winked at Dawn as he finished; she ignored it.

"We're still investigating the case, of course, so that could be a possibility, but at the moment all of the evidence we have suggests otherwise." Underhoof shook her head. "Her neighbors say that the mare was single and rarely left her apartment in the first place; she was a total shut-in. Her family lives on the opposite end of the city and they haven't spoken to her in years, so they weren't any help either."

"Perhaps you are merely being paranoid, Director," Dawn suggested, adjusting her glasses; she didn't know where she'd picked the habit up. "You have been investigating these disappearances for years now and provided miniscule results. I am of the opinion that you are perceiving continued threats when there are none."

"I don't necessarily think it's a bad thing to be overly cautious," quipped Jetstream, hooves under his chin. "Considering the events of the past week, I'd say that taking extra precautions to make sure that there isn't anything wrong would be commendable, wouldn't you agree, Shadow Associate? A little extra caution might have avoided last week's… incident."

Dawn narrowed her eyes. "On that, I would agree. It is a shame that your father did not take such measures—"

"Ah, but here's an interesting thing." Jetstream made a show of looking at a datapad just off screen. "According to my father's reports, when he completed his investigation and purged the seditious elements within the NPAF a few years ago, he made note that he wanted additional measures taken with the fleet's dismantling process. He was concerned about the potential for a resurgence.

"Only, when he brought those concerns to you, you apparently denied his request." Jetstream looked at the datapad and shook his head. "In fact there are a number of concerns that he brought to your attention regarding the fleet dismantling that you ignored or outright refused. The process was going slower than we had agreed upon as part of our treaty negotiations with Hope's Point.

"Funnily enough, the Chameleon-class cruiser responsible for last week's incident was supposed to have been dismantled three years ago, but you repeatedly delayed the approval for it until just days before the incident. Something about not wanting to give any ground to Hope's Point too quickly? Imagine if that ship had been properly taken apart? No other ship in the fleet could've done what it did."

Dawn's eye twitched; she was barely containing her anger at the moment, because several other members of the Committee were looking at her with confused expressions. "Admiral Jestream, I am afraid that I am unaware of any of these conversations—"

Jetstream tilted his head, then made a mock display of surprise. "Oh! Right, sorry. These weren't conducted in official Committee meetings. Sorry for the confusion, that's my fault. I should've said that first. Sorry, everypony. I'm new."

Vendetta chortled. "Look kid, I understand that you want to sit at the table with the adults now, but you're out of line if you're sharing private conversations with the Shadow Associate in a Committee meeting."

"Indeed, that's a violation of Committee Guidelines Article Seventeen," said Quill with a sagely nod. "The Shadow Associate is permitted to conduct business and private debates with members of the Committee without a full Committee meeting in effect, but such private conversations are considered just that: private. Bringing them to our attention is punishable by—"

"I think you'll find, Secretary Quill, that I'm not in violation of anything," Jetstream said. "Those conversations were conducted with my father, the former NPAF Commander in Chief, and as such he cannot reveal the nature of said conversations. There isn't a single rule in the Committee Guidelines that forbids me—a third party—from sharing evidence of these conversations."

"He's right," said Underhoof. "He hasn't done anything wrong, not any more than if one of you were to have overheard those private conversations and brought them to the Committee's attention." She shrugged. "It's not admissible evidence for any official action to be taken, but he can still share it."

Quill raised an eyebrow and glanced at Dawn. "So these conversations are real? I was under the impression that the former Admiral Hotstreak was progressing through the dismantling process at a decent pace. Could he have been going faster?"

Dawn's eyes darted to and fro on the screen, but then she took a breath and, in a calm, even tone, said, "It is irrelevant. The actions that were taken led to the results that transpired. The attack on the royal family and the resulting postponement of our peace treaty signing have already occured; nothing can alter that fact. It would be prudent to continue forward with our agenda, hmm?"

Underhoof coughed into her hoof. "Yes, that would be best. Incidentally, my investigation thus far into the NPAF officer corps has suggested that this was an extreme, yet isolated incident. Commander Skyfall's troops mutinied against him and took control of the Chameleon according to the data that I've collected."

"Then the ideal solution would be to investigate the regular troops to ensure their loyalty," Dawn said with a nod. She turned to Jetstream. "Can I rely upon you for this task, Admiral?"

Jetstream nodded. "Certainly, Shadow Associate. I was brought aboard on this Committee to remedy the failings of my father in regards to this incident, and I plan on doing just that. I've already begun the process of assigning AMP Troopers to positions and roles in which they can monitor for suspicious activity. It won't be simple or quick, but it will be done."

"Very good. So then, to the next order of business: what to do regarding Taskmaster Concrete? He is refusing to abdicate his position despite his failing health. While no Committee Guidelines permit us to rectify that particular issue, there must be some solution that we can all agree upon?"

"Are we seeking to replace him?" asked Quill, steepling his hooves. "Because that is a rather bold direction to discuss."

Dawn tilted her head. "That would be my preferred outcome, yes, but I know that I cannot force an issue here. We have all been in agreement that the Taskmaster's performance in this past week has been lacking; because of his condition, he has been unable to attend any Committee meetings and as such prevents proper voting procedures from taking place. This will not stand; our government will not grind to a halt because one slovenly oaf cannot properly monitor his cholesterol intake."

"Or go to the gym once in a while," huffed Underhoof.

Quill nodded in agreement. "I agree, this is a gross breach of proper conduct. All Committee members swear an oath of office that ensures that our city's government carries on regardless of outside circumstances. As much as I sympathize with the Taskmaster and wish him a speedy recovery, this is a dereliction of duty."

"Article Thirty-Two of the Guidelines allows for a sitting member of the Committee to appoint a stand-in should the Committee member in question require absence for a variety of reasons," suggested Champagne, fluffing her mane as she said it. "I have made use of the process many times in the past."

"Yes, when you're busy down on the southern continent…  'inspecting' the local produce," Vendetta quipped with a knowing smirk. "Those farmer ponies must have quite a lot to offer for you to make trips down there five times a year, Chairpony."

"Indeed they do, Treasurer. Sizeable, hmm hmm, crops as far as the eye can see, and I don't make a purchase without sampling the wares. Though you don't have to take my word for it; your wife is quite an aficionado for… agriculture. I've seen her on many of my trips. A shame that she can't get such farm-fresh produce at home."

Vendetta's smirk turned wicked, and with a glance towards Dawn, he added, "On the contrary, I'm sure there are several mares out there who would gladly refute any claims that I am lacking in the produce department."

Dawn rubbed her temples; part of her wanted to just strangle the stallion until he stopped breathing so that she would never have to deal with his advances ever again; another part of her wanted to rewrite time so that she'd never broken into his penthouse and seen him in such a compromising fashion. The image of his… of him, was burned into her brain, and she hated it.

"A substitute would be an acceptable solution," she interjected. She then turned to Blutsauger. "Doctor Blutsauger, can you request that your attending staff subtly suggest that the Taskmaster appoint a stand-in to alleviate stress or something to that effect?"

"Ja, that should be simple," Blutsauger said with a nod. "Whether he accepts or not is another matter, but I think that if I had one of the nurses provide the proper 'incentive', he would consider it. The good Taskmaster has complemented our city's lovely medical staff in the past, after all."

Champagne gagged. "Ugh, I feel sorry for whatever mare gets that detail."

"Do it, whatever it takes," Dawn affirmed. "We shall reconvene once we have somepony to at the very least fill the vacancy. Unless there is any other business to attend to, I would say that we can adjourn?"

There wasn't.

"Then this meeting is indeed adjourned. You are all dismissed."

And with that, the windows winked off and the conference call ended.

But Dawn was not finished for the evening. Oh no, not at all.

She immediately called Admiral Jetstream, and she was impressed that he immediately answered, his face winking back up onto the monitor in a larger window so that she could see him in greater detail. "Shadow Associate Dawn, what can I do for you? We only just finished the meeting—"

"How dare you," she hissed, her voice nearly cracking from the sheer anger she felt coursing through her body.

"I must apologize, but I'm afraid I don't understand. What is this about?"

"Wipe that coy smirk off your face, Jetstream, you absolute buffoon. Your actions in this meeting were unacceptable, and I will not have a repeat performance. Do you have any inclination as to the consequences of your actions?"

"You can't fire me, if that's what you're implying, and you can't pressure me into resigning. Logistically-speaking that would be ill-advised anyway, seeing as you need somepony with the knowledge and drive to ensure that any potential seditious elements in the NPAF are properly purged. I understand that Miss Curaçao went to great lengths explaining just how much you need me."

"Be that as it may, your behavior at this meeting has jeopardized my standing with the remainder of the Committee! I most certainly can replace you if need be! Committee Guidelines are in place—"

"For you to impose those punishments on screw-ups who have committed some public mistake that would serve as grounds for termination. Nothing of the sort has happened here, or at least, nothing that I'm aware of. I haven't done anything wrong. Unless you're referring to me airing your dirty laundry?"

She could not contain a sneer; her teeth hurt from how hard she was clenching them together. "Those conversations with your father were private. You had no right to reveal their contents to the Committee, nor did your father have any right to share them with you—"

"Oh, he didn't. I found them on my own in his records. They were encrypted and everything, like they should be, like this conversation we're currently having is. But I knew that something was wrong with the way my father was handling the situation over the years, so I did my digging." Jetstream gave her a smug grin. "Or did you think that I was stupid?"

Dawn's eye twitched. "You are supposed to be loyal to me, Jetstream—"

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why should I be loyal to you? Hmm? Because I was loyal to your father? You may have roped Blutsauger and Champagne into that bullshit, Shadow Associate Dawn, and my father may have gone along with it too, but you said it yourself: you didn't want another repeat of my father, right?

"I was loyal to Lord Silvertongue, to New Pandemonium, and that won't change any. I will do everything in my power to ensure that his work to improve our city continues and succeeds, and I know that you're passing along his mission to the rest of us because you're the only one who can. I have to trust that everything you say that he tells you is true, because I have no other choice."

Jetstream smirked and leaned back in his seat. "But you? I'm not loyal to you. You haven't earned it; your father did. You haven't earned my trust and respect; your father did. You don't treat me with any due respect; your father did. 

"So until you can prove to me that you're even half the pony your father was, don't talk to me like I'm some loyal advisor, like you do to Blutsauger, to Champagne, to my father. If you wanted a loyal subject that did whatever you asked him to do, even to the detriment of our prosperity, then you shouldn't have let him go."

Dawn was breathing heavily through her nose at this point, barely able to contain herself from lashing out in anger at the screen, at the insubordinate cretin behind it. "Very well… Admiral," she said through clenched teeth. "If that is how you wish to proceed, then so be it."

"Wonderful. Now, are we done?"

"You may go."

Jetstream smirked again. "Lovely speaking to you, Shadow Associate Dawn. Have a pleasant evening." 

And then he shut off his end of the call, leaving Dawn in a state of sheer anger and bewilderment, so strong in fact that for the first time in a long, long while, she had difficulty formulating proper thoughts. It was only through sheer force of will that she didn't vaporize her entire office.