//------------------------------// // 1313: 8 // Story: They're EVERYWHERE! // by Nameless Narrator //------------------------------// Zamira would call the past week spent by asking around mercenary and guard bars exciting albeit, unfortunately, not exactly rewarding. 1313 would disagree with the first part while he was washing stale beer thrown his way out of his mane and coat in the shower almost every evening. The fact that Zamira was there as well, “helping”, made matters a lot better, though. Hopefully, tonight will be different thanks to a clue they paid handsomely for. As 1313, his mane and coat dyed black and grey due to Blueblood being far too recognizable, and Zamira approach the “Rusty Blade” bar, they’re immediately spotted by a bulky pegasus with an eyepatch standing by the entrance, who keeps watching them walk all the way while smoking a cigarette. “He’s inside, sitting at the bar,” he growls when faced with Zamira’s raised eyebrow up close and presents a hoof. 1313 reaches into his saddlebag for a pouch of coins but Zamira shakes her head, interrupting him. “You’ll get the second half of the bits once we’re done here.” “Missy-” the pegasus spreads his wings threateningly. “There’s only one exit out of here,” Zamira rolls her eyes, grabs 1313 by the ear, and pulls him inside. Ignoring the pegasus merc further, they enter the Rusty Blade and immediately spot a solitary unicorn at the bar wearing a rather sophisticated cast covering one of his forelegs. They’re being watched as they walk between the tables, but their target unicorn is one of the few armed ponies not paying them any attention. Once they get closer and the heavy stench of liquor surrounding him assaults their nostrils, it becomes clear why. A bar stool on each side of him fills up, Zamira taking the right one and 1313 taking the left. “Heeeya, buddy,” Zamira gives the unicorn a friendly smile. “You this guy’s friends?” growls the bartender, approaching the newcomers. “Wha-?” the unicorn gives Zamira a hazy look. “You could say that,” replies Zamira with a smile, “We’re a pair of curious friends who only want to ask a few questions.” “Missy,” the bartender glares at her with sudden irritation, “Ponies in a certain line of work stick together and, sometimes, the answers you’re looking for aren’t worth the trouble.” 1313 looks around at the majority of ponies sitting at the tables now watching them while playing with knives, cudgels, horseshoe blades, and overall a variety of heavily customized weapons. “I’m sure that,” Zamira raises her voice, “breaking and entering into Canterlot castle and thankfully unsuccessfully attempting to murder Princess Luna’s close friend,” she lowers it again, “might warrant an explanation or two.” The unicorn can only make the first semblance of movement before Zamira grabs his cast and slams it against the bar counter, making him groan in pure agony and collapse on the counter while the situation in the room calms down somewhat. “You sure about that guy?” asks the bartender. “Yes, the survivor drew us a picture and did this,” Zamira puts pressure on the crippled hoof again to wake the unicorn up, “to him. We just want to know on whose orders he did it. We might even let this small fry go afterwards.” The unicorn groans. Zamira grinds his hoof against the wood. “I. Didn’t. Hear. You.” “Aaaaaaaargh!” screams the unicorn. “Stop!” says the bartender sternly as he slams his own hoof against the counter, “I understand he did something heinous, but nopony here exactly has a clean slate. Either take him to prison and question him there or ease up. You won’t be torturing anypony here.” To 1313’s surprise, Zamira lets the unicorn’s ruined leg go. “So, what’ll it be, buddy?” she leans closer, unbothered by the stench of liquor, “Are you talking to us or should we ask Princess Luna to put your brain through the wringer?” “You ‘ere bout the bug m-monster?” the unicorn gives her an exhausted look while slurring his words, “Tha’ worst job ev’r...” “Bartender!” Zamira raises her voice, “Cold water, please.” Once the mug arrives, she helps the unicorn drink it. “Now try to wake up and speak like a pony,” the zebra adds, “I’m not about to spend my youth deciphering your blabbering. And you’d better try really hard or I’ll have my hired muscle here,” she nods towards 1313, “have a chat with you outside. Well, I say chat but you’ll be helping him learn his math using your teeth. And let me tell you, subtracting is the easy part.” 1313 only grunts, mostly because he’s trying his best not to tremble under sooo many heavily armed ponies’ stares. “T’was that weird rich colt...” grumbles the unicorn, “Fleshlight or whatver-” “Torchlight?” asks Zamira. When the unicorn nods, she adds, “You deal with him personally? That sounds so stupid of him.” The unicorn shrugs, carefully articulating his next words. “The hay do I care? He paid well, said that a bug monster got into the castle, and that I had to kill it. Little shit kicked my leg off...” “Got any proof?” asks Zamira. “The cast you just ruined, zeeb,” he growls, clearly slowly waking up from his drunk stupor due to pure adrenaline. “About Torchlight, smartass. I’m halfway to letting you go but I can still just drag you off to the castle.” “I don’t,” he breathes out in defeat, “Met him a few times, got my orders, got paid in cash. No paper trail at all.” “Hmph!” Zamira huffs, tapping her hoof against the counter while thinking. “Then I guess we have no choice,” 1313 speaks out, “You’re going to help us a bit more-” “Haaay no!” the unicorn turns towards him. “-and you will get paid extra to leave Canterlot and never return. You will visit Torchlight and tell him the changeling survived-” “No, no no no no!” the unicorn’s ears perk up as he pushes himself upwards, completely ignoring his ruined hoof this time, “I’m not going back there again! That bucker’s weird,” he shudders. “Look, it’ll just be a quick visit-” “NO!” his voice jumps up an octave. “Calm down!” Zamira grabs him but he swats her away. “I’m not going back there. Drag me off to prison or whatever but I’m not getting near that place ever again!” “What the holes?” 1313 leans backwards while Zamira grabs the unicorn and forces him back down into a sitting position. “Alright, buddy, we won’t do that, but we’ll need a signed confession. We’ll give you some time to GTBO before we give it to the guards, don’t worry about it,” despite her puzzled expression, she talks the unicorn down in the calmest tone she can muster. “Yeah, sure,” he nods. “Yo! Got a clean sheet of paper around here?” Zamira waves at the bartender who nods and walks off into the back room. 1313, though, has to ask: “What got you so unsettled about Torchlight?” “Look, ask this mare about him,” the unicorn rubs his temple with his healthy foreleg, “Stable Fade. Used to work there as a maid. Lives at 12 Stalwart Sun lane.”  The bartender returns with a notepad and a pen and puts it on the counter. Despite being drunk, the unicorn fires up his telekinesis and starts writing, slowly and meticulously, while 1313 reads every word depicting gaining access to the castle, messing with Raven’s memory, getting past Royal Guards on watch using Torchlight’s council seal, and unsuccessfully attempting to kill the changeling. Finally, he finishes the slow but detailed description with a signature. “Hazard Pay,” reads Zamira, “Now, if I were you, my real name would be the last thing I’d put under a confession like that.” “It’s not the only one I use,” Hazard Pay shrugs, “But if you’re worried about the nobles not believing this is real,” he nods towards the bartender, “You have a witness, you have details nopony should know, and-” he thinks for a second before his horn lights up, he presses it against the sheet of paper, and leaves a glowing mark on it, “-you have a magical signature. Once you walk through that door,” he nods towards the exit, “I’m finishing my drink, paying my tab, and leaving Canterlot for good. It’s not as if there isn’t enough work in any big city in Equestria.” 1313 looks at the bartender. “Can you sign the confession as well as a witness? Just so that we don’t have to come back here later,” he tries to retain his burly tone but it loses its weight with such a polite question. The pony shrugs and scribbles his name and the name of the establishment under Hazard Pay’s. Zamira smiles and shoves a gold coin across the counter towards him, saying: “For your time.” With something finally in their hooves, 1313 and Zamira leave the bar and pay off their pegasus informant. “So, do we just give this to Celestia?” asks Zamira when they’re alone again, “It might not be good enough for a trial but it should give her an idea who to keep an eye on.” “We could,” 1313 rubs his chin, “buuuut… aren’t you curious about why he was acting the way he was?” “Kinda,” she admits, “You wanna pay that maid a visit?” “Yep, but first we drop this off at home,” he pats his saddlebag in which the signed confession is resting next to his emergency love source - Zamira’s dreamcatcher, “Wouldn’t want it to get damaged in case of any trouble.” “Got it.” With that, they head back through the deepening gloom of the evening towards Blueblood’s estate. *** Not even ten minutes later, Hazard Pay rushes out of the bar as promised. However, unlike 1313 and Zamira, as he’s passing by one of many dead end alleys, two shadows swoop down from a nearby roof, quickly covering his mouth and disabling his horn using a magic suppressor, and pull him up on the roof again despite his violent struggling. Nopony has heard anything, nopony has seen anything, and the unicorn going in places by the name Hazard Pay has never been seen again. *** “Stalwart Sun lane, number 12,” 1313 stops in front of an apartment building in the mountainside quarter of upper Canterlot. Zamira squints through the darkness at the barely lit number plaque to the left of the entrance. “Let’s hope the pinhead wasn’t lying,” she grumbles. “Even if he was, we have his signed testimony as well as a picture,” 1313 shrugs her concern off. “Yeah, unless he spends the rest of his life dying his coat like we’re doing now?” Zamira gives 1313 a skeptical glance. “There are always clues to follow,” 1313 shakes his head, even though he has to admit Zamira has a point. After returning home, his mane and coat remained dyed black and grey, but Zamira opted to cover her stripes and is now looking like a simple, brown earth pony mare with blond mane. Torchlight can’t know who is asking around about his recent dealings, “Anyway, do we ring the bell and ask whoever owns the building where-” Zamira simply puts a hoof on the handle, pushes, and the door lets her inside. “I don’t know how it was in Appleloosa, but mailponies here are busy and can’t waste time looking for the landlord of every place they need to deliver something to,” she says as she leads the way through the barely lit hallway, stopping only examine a section of a wall covered with mailboxes, “Stable Fade… apartment 36,” she pokes the stack of papers sticking out of the mailbox, “Looks like she hasn’t checked her mail for a while.” “I wouldn’t need to be an infiltrator to suspect that’s a bad sign,” comments 1313, following Zamira up what looks like a central staircase. “Maybe, maybe not. I wouldn’t jump to conclusions,” Zamira shakes her head, “Most mail one gets in a big city like this are advertisement pamphlets,” she stops on the third floor and checks the first door to the left and to the right, “31. That way,” she nods to the right and gets going. Several moments later, they’re standing in front of apartment 36. 1313 knocks on the door. “Miss Fade?” he asks. No one answers, nor do his keen ears catch any noise from the inside, “Is now the time to jump to conclusions?” he looks sideways at Zamira. “We’ll see-” she presses on the door handle which clicks, “Huh?” with a quick push, she lets the door swing open inside, “Guess who’s downright amazing with her hooves,” she forces a chuckle, unable to hide the twinge of nervousness in her voice as she peeks into the pitch black apartment, “All jokes aside, who would leave their door unlocked in this part of town?” she adds in a whisper. 1313 sniffs the air before gently pushing Zamira away and entering the apartment. “Someone who’s not worried about being surprised anymore,” he scowls, flicking a light switch by the door. “What are you doing?” hisses Zamira, watching 1313 sniff the air again and walk into the short hallway with a door on each side and one at the end. Before answering, 1313 enters the door to the right, and Zamira hears him sigh. “Come here...” She does so, and her nose finally catches the moldy stench of decay that makes her gag and back off again. “Oh gods,” she immediately reaches into her saddlebag and puts a scented bandanna over her muzzle, a standard tactic for a mercenary about to enter any hazard zone. One she hasn’t needed to use since landing the cushy job as Blueblood’s bodyguard, but one she used many times before. Finally ready, she enters the kitchen and takes in the now expected scene. An earth pony mare, presumably Stable Fade, is slumped in a chair, surrounded by a pool of coagulated blood on the floor. “She slit her fetlocks,” 1313 comments, examining the deep cuts on both of the mare’s forelegs. “But why?” Zamira shakes her head, “I know how much Blueblood pays his staff, and unless Torchlight was underpaying them super hard, losing a job shouldn’t have been such a problem. Besides, nobles are always hiring each other’s servants, if only to eventually overhear some gossip they can use against each other in the politics game.” The two lights in the kitchen flicker at the same time. “Doubly so, if she lives in a cheap apartment like this,” notes 1313, looking around and noticing an envelope on the counter, “Maybe this will explain something,” he walks over, “Bad family news or something else-” The lights flicker again as he reaches for it, and the moment he touches the paper, they go out completely. “Umm, lovebug?” Zamira, standing by the kitchen door, immediately slams her hoof into the light switch with zero effect. To 1313, light or pitch darkness makes little difference even in pony form, so unlike the zebra, he sees Stable Fade rise up from the chair in a jerky, uneven motion accompanied by cracking of bones and sinew. The mare’s hoof splits open into an abominable facsimile of claws with which she grabs the kitchen knife she used to kill herself. “ZAMI!” 1313 lunges forward just as Stable Fade does the same, far too quickly for a body limited by pony physiology, “GET OUT!” He manages to push the zebra back into the hallway but grits his teeth as the thick kitchen knife buries into his back. In the next second, the inequine claws grab his leg and pull him back into the kitchen. The door slams closed. Zamira reaches for the handle on instinct but the door fails to open. She clicks two golden hoops, one around each of her forelegs’ fetlocks, together which makes them faintly light up. “RUUUUN!” she hears from the inside. Something heavy slams into the door from the other side, splattering the glass top part with blood. “...help me…!” she hears an exhausted groan clearly belonging to 1313. “DON'T LISTEN TO IT! GET OUT!” shrieks 1313. Zamira turns away from the door… ...and bucks as hard as she can, kicking it off of the hinges. This big booty isn’t just for show. A quick look backwards reveals 1313 on the floor while Stable Fade swings her twisted hoof to shove the door away from herself, her mouth hanging ripped open into a grin filled with eel-like rows of teeth. Using the ex-maid’s moment of distraction, Zamira repositions and bucks her away… or she tries to. A pony’s neck would snap under the powerful kick, and it does, but Stable Fade’s head rights itself with a series of sickening crunches. “Tried that, didn’t work!” blurts out 1313, pushing Zamira away from himself and out of the way of Stable Fade’s swipe, “Run! I’ll make the collar blow up!”  “DON’T YOU DARE!” barks Zamira furiously, grabbing 1313’s saddlebag and violently ripping it off, “And buy me time!” For 1313, it’s more instinct than bravery as he pushes himself up to block Stable Fade’s lunge at Zamira, making her land on his barrel again. The mare rears, her teeth lengthen, and she bites down on his foreleg covering his face. *Crunch!* She rips it off, pushing 1313 against the floor with a victorious grin and locking her eyes behind him, presumably on Zamira. He feels her legs tense in preparation for a lunge, and as she does so, he drags her down with his remaining foreleg. “Would work on a pony, not on me,” he groans in agony as Stable Fade starts twisting in his weakening grasp. Suddenly, her spine cracks as she rises backwards up like a snake, grabs 1313’s neck with one foreleg, and rams the other into his face. The agony of his muzzle bones shattering finally makes 1313 let go, and through a haze of blood in his eyes, he sees Stable Fade rise up for a second punch which will doubtlessly end with his brain splattering all over the floor. Not even I can get back from that… And I can’t even blow myself up because Zamira is right behind me… “...work, you stupid thing, work...” he hears Zamira mumble, “Habash n’gik shang!” A wave of blue light bursts out from behind 1313, almost physically pushing Stable Fade away. “Habash n’gik shang!” Zamira keeps repeating over and over. “It’s.. working?” 1313 gurgles through his obliterated, bleeding muzzle, as he sees Stable Fade withdraw. “Habash n’gik shang!” Zamira says more aggressively, “Get up, pick up your leg, and moooove!” 1313 pushes himself up, and risks a quick reach for his bitten off fetlock. It seems that Stable Fade can’t pass through the blue light emitted by… ...Zamira holding the glowing dreamcatcher and chanting. With 1313 limping ahead, Zamira doesn’t stop facing Stable Fade who is following the blue bubble while pressing her open muzzle against the light until they leave the apartment and the main door slams shut, leaving them in the lit corridor of the building. Gasping for breath and sweating as if she just ran a marathon, Zamira drops the dreamcatcher on the floor, her legs shaking from exhaustion. Next to her, 1313 is lying on the floor, pressing the bitten off part of his foreleg against the remaining stump. It’s clear that it’s reattaching itself badly, but they can always fix it when they get back home. “Zami...?” 1313 croaks. “Let’s... get out... of here...” she forces out of herself. “Should we tell someone?” “We can… leave… a tip… for the guards… later...” she lowers herself to help 1313 get up, “Now move...” 1313 rises up, not sure if he’s being propped by her or if her’s propping her up, but they’re soon  limping away together, both knowing that if one of them fails, neither of them are getting up again. *** It takes close to two hours for them to get back home. Two hours of constantly looking around, twitching at every movement, and unable to shake off the feeling of being followed. However, the Blueblood estate is well-lit, other zebra bodyguards are standing around, and there are servants awake in the middle of the night, some fixing up 1313 and others preparing a meal for Zamira. Eventually, the two meet up again in Blueblood’s study where the fireplace is crackling, all lights are on, and there are two zebras stationed outside just outside the door. “Any idea what happened?” asks 1313, barely understandable over the amount of bandages keeping his face together. Zamira shakes her head. “But you stopped it,” he keeps going. “I doubt it,” she shakes her head again, “It’s still there. I told Zaida to immediately go and leave an anonymous tip at the guard station telling them to examine the apartment alongside a paladin.” “How did you know what to do with… the monster?” “I didn’t, but the other option was to leave you there to blow up,” on the soft couch in front of the fireplace, Zamira leans against 1313, “I couldn’t let my ticket to a cushy retirement get eaten by some eldritch horror.” “Heh, I’m happy to be useful,” 1313 chuckles, “Got a new dreamcatcher by any chance? Whatever you did seems to have burned out all the love remaining inside it.” “It was what the shaman of my tribe back home called the ‘Litany of Peaceful Rest’. Using dreamcatchers charged by the faith and unity of the tribe, it was used to help warriors relax after suffering a traumatic experience and to ward off the nightmares about the blank eyes of enemies they had to kill from following them into their dreams.” “Now I wish we had a lot more of them around, fully charged.” Zamira smirks, points at the bed, and says: “Wait there, close your eyes, and don’t open them until I tell you. I’ll show you something.” As 1313 does so and sits down on the blanket, Zamira whistles. 1313 hears the door open, a set of hoofsteps softened by the thick carpet enter, and the door closes again. The bed creaks, and Zamira says quietly: “Open your eyes.” In the darkness of the room now only lit by the fireplace covered by smoked glass, 1313 can see a zebra standing by the door, her coat covered in shimmering white markings.  Zamira, however, is sitting in front of him, her chest bearing the same glowing marks arranged into a familiar shape of the dreamcatcher. She pushes him down and pulls the blanket over them before draping her legs over his barrel. “Here’s your fully charged one, lovebug,” she whispers. 1313 has never slept better in his life.