//------------------------------//
// Sabotages Tin 
// Story: Manehattan's Lone Guardian 
// by Curtis Wildcat 
//------------------------------//

In just thirty minutes, the city's atmosphere had gone from "taking things day by day" to "barely concealed panic", with "concern" being the best possible mood. Scarcely anypony knew what was going on beyond the basics: six different locations had gone up in flames, the causes of which were unknown, and the peace was greatly disturbed. Some began to wonder if their home or business would be next, and subsequently started battening down the hatches. Others were bound and determined to continue living their lives the way they always had, though they inwardly resolved to keep their eyes open for trouble.

The city's weather control and fireponies stepped in, extinguishing the flames caused by the widespread distractions. The cleanup crews arrived at the scene of Leviathan's battles to clear away the debris. With the situation calm, at least for the moment, the Minutes' best journalists and reporters ventured forth to find out exactly what happened. It would mean less sleep for them, but this was an emergency; they didn't care.

After confirming who was healthy and who wasn't, the Police made sure their remaining prisoners were still secure and set about dispatching those who could still patrol out onto the streets, trying to reassure the citizens with their presence. In the meantime, they made plans to get into contact with the nearest construction company and get their headquarters repaired posthaste. The forensics department set to work compiling reports and evidence, trying to at the very least determine who was responsible for the attacks on the Police.

There was one bit of surprising news. The cells holding the Midnight Castles' two pegasi had been breached along with their leaders, but they had both refused to leave. Their reasons for remaining were threefold. First, according to the one who identified herself as 'Knight'--a washed-out prospect from the Wonderbolts' training program--their encounter with Leviathan was an eye-opener. While the robot had ruined their plans the night they were captured, they were amazed that such a creature existed, and they didn't feel like it would be worth it to go back out on the streets if somepony like her roamed around. Those listening suspected that there was more to it than that, but didn't press the issue.

"What I'd said before still stands," Gargoyle had added. "She's the unholy love child of the Termarenator and the Masked Matter-horn. Not changing my mind about that."

Second, while they were thieves, they were not warmongers. They had more respect for their home than to join with somepony who would strike against it. They wanted nothing to do with whatever was going on, plain and simple.

And third, dragons terrified them.

...

While everypony started making plans and consolidating what they had, conversations were taking place. The first and foremost one took place at Leviathan's home away from home.





Coffee-and-Cream had contacted her superiors to notify them of my willingness to assist the Police. She told me afterward that unless something happened that I was in a position to react to, I was to head straight for the Station at 0930 hours. That would give everypony time to analyze their information, plus get a few hours sleep. I'd wondered to myself how many of them would be pulling all-nighters.

I retrieved my purse from where I left it, double-checking to make sure its contents were still accounted for. There was a tag I'd placed on it that read "Property of Fairy Leviathan - Steal at your own risk", but there's always going to be at least one overconfident fool who believes they can get away with it. Satisfied, I made tracks for the Pyre.

I returned just as Drama's final performance for the day ended, and her audience was leaving. Some of them saw me and either waved or cowered; I nodded at the former and stayed out of the latter's way, but they all saw my serious expression and didn't try to talk to me. Did none of them hear the explosions going off? I mean, the walls would have muffled some of the noise, but they're not soundproof. A lot of them look on edge, but that could just be due to Drama's usual storytelling.

Well, they'll be getting anxious soon enough.

...

Drama and Gray are putting everything away for the night as I approach them behind the stage. The former is the first to see me. "There you are," she greets me. "I was wondering what was taking you."

Gray finishes stashing a few minor props in a storage chest before doing the same. "I'm guessing those explosions we heard were the reasons why that random stallion shoved those groceries in my hooves?"

"Yes," I answer curtly. "I'm surprised no one here panicked."

Drama's sporting that little half-crazed smile of hers. "Who says nopony didn't? I was able to work the noise into the fabric of the performance. I was at the point in the story where the protagonists... if you want to call them that... were escaping the dungeon. I claimed that the explosions were due to an unknown third party assaulting the castle for their own reasons, and the story took an entirely different turn."

Curiosity once again overcomes me. I'm going to need to leash it someday. "Dare I ask how the story ended this time?"

"The destruction of all involved. Care to know the details?"

"Pass," I say, regretting my question immediately. The last time I answered 'yes' to that question, Drama explained everything in full grisly detail. I'm no stranger to that--in fact, I've dealt with some of that personally--but I have my limits all the same. "I feel that what I have to say is more important than that..."

...

The last fifteen minutes have been spent explaining the truth behind the explosions, my encounters with the drone waves and the Gorridra, and the destructive break-in at the Royal Police station. "...So they're supposed to be letting me know where exactly they'll be needing me tomorrow morning," I finish saying to them. "I have a strong feeling that I'm going to be busy for a while. If you consider both fugitives to be one team, I'll be facing off against eight different opponents. And that's if they can find them all before our meeting. Just between you and me, I don't feel it's likely."

Part of me wonders if I should go ahead and start working on unlocking the remaining passwords in my brain. You never know with this place; I might end up needing the abilities they're hiding. Particularly since one of my possible enemies is a bona fide dragon. Being able to subject it to dry ice via my very own facepalm of doom would be advantageous.

...Maybe I'll deal with one of the non-draconic threats first. If it turns out that I'm given more of a fight than anticipated, I'll boot up that subroutine again and set it loose.

Drama's absorbing everything I say with worry, which on some level offers me relief. She might be a few songs short of a record, but she's no combatant. She's not going to get involved in this.

On the other hand, Gray's face was undergoing convulsions. When I'd first began, she was perturbed. When I talked about the drones, she was incensed. When I told them about the break-in, she became a perfect candidate for laser vision. And when I informed them of the discovery that part of it had been an inside job, I could've sworn her sclerae turned red for a moment from anger. I could hear these deep-throated growls that she's still making. Ponies are not meant to produce those noises.

Given her prior occupation, I suspect that she's taking this personally. I'd better nip this attitude in the bud before she starts. "No, Gray."

So of course my words would be met with an angry snarl. "What do you mean, 'no'?" the pegasus protests. "This is my city, Fairy. My home. I have every right to step in and protect it, and I was doing it long before you arrived. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't help you!"

"I'll give you seven," I answer, counting off on my fingers. "One: Ocean Guard."

Gray flinches.

"Two: Ebony Evening."

Her mouth opens to say something, but that 'something' refuses to appear.

"Three: Pure Energy."

Her tail, which had been lashing about, hangs limp.

"Four: Five-of-a-Kind."

Both eyes are becoming mournful.

"Five: Zig-Zag."

Her ears are turning back.

"Six: Echo."

A foreleg lifts reflexively when I mention her pet cat. The siblings have certainly talked about him enough for me to know that she sees him as part of the family, too.

I move in for the kill. "Seven: Drama Heart."

Gray hisses in surprise as she turns to my patron. "You---!"

"Listen to me, Gray," Drama states, holding up a hoof to stop her before she speaks. Could be just a trick of the light, but I think there's something in the corner of her eye. "I don't know what kind of crazy past you have that would warrant you being sent to fight Fairy by the Princess herself, and I don't care. Having to watch the pony who probably understands me the best go off and put herself in danger is not the kind of horror I specialize in."

At a loss for words, Gray plants her posterior on the floor. The fight's more or less taken out of her by this point. She doesn't have much of a backbone when it comes to her friends and family, does she?

"And before I forget..." Here, Drama's lips curl back in a snarl of her own. Her horn glows, and I can see her equine teeth morph into the crystalline drills she uses for her on-stage performances. Pretty impressive illusion. Whatever it was that was in her eye, it's gone now. "You still haven't worked off your debt to me. Until Mortar & Son is fully paid you're still working here full time, and I do not want you running off. If you do, jailbreaks and explosions will be the least of your worries."

That first one I'd expected. The second one is making the corners of my mouth twitch. Gray's chuckling, but there's a nervous edge to it.

...Though now, Drama's words are reminding me of something important that I'll need to speak with the Police about tomorrow. Between the Pyre's remodeling and the Ghost-Guard family's occasional financial issues, I'm going to need to know whether or not they're going to offer any money for the capture of those Wanted. Or if they're going to offer any sort of salary at all. Money's not an issue for me, but it will be for my friends; if I'm not going to use it, somepony ought to.

I get my smile under control, though I retain my inward eagerness. No matter what happens, the coming days aren't going to be dull.





Caramel Mocha sat at her suite's gaming table, waiting for Hazelnut to finish in the bathroom. Every few seconds she worriedly gazed out the window and watched the distant emergency workers finish their tasks. The steadily sinking sun was making it increasingly difficult to discern their details.

Much like she imagined everypony else in the city to be, the unexpected explosions and resulting fires had caught them both off guard while they were winding down from another long day. Both of the young scions had wanted to see if they could do something--anything--to help. A few guards and a janitor downstairs were able to catch them before they left and talk some sense into them; reluctantly listening to reason, they returned upstairs so that they wouldn't be in anypony's way.

Still frustrating. We went through weather training just the same as every other pegasus. We could've at least tried.

The bathroom door opened, and Hazelnut exited with a laundry basket on her back. On her way out she stopped, flinched, and raised a hoof to her head. She muttered a few words that their parents had not taught them to use before she remembered where she was. "Ughhh... sorry, Carrie," she apologized as her sister rushed over to her. "Headache's still bothering me."

Caramel offered one of her 'arms' for support, which Hazelnut accepted. "You took something for it, right?"

"Yes, but it hasn't kicked in yet." Hazelnut stumbled over to the suite's exit and deposited the basket there for their family's hired servant to pick up. "'Quick-acting', my wings. It's as slow as every other medicine."

"Everything takes time," Caramel gently rebuked her, guiding her towards her room. "C'mon, let me get you to bed. Maybe a good night's sleep will help you deal with it."

"It had better," Hazelnut grumbled before wincing. "...Sorry again. That was a bit too rude."

"I've heard worse from you in a good mood. Don't worry about it, Hazel. Good night."

"Meh. I wish."

...

After taking her own turn in the bathroom, Caramel didn't follow Hazelnut's lead. Instead, she planted herself in her favorite reading chair and tried to distract herself with other things.

As Hazel had guessed, Leviathan had wanted nothing to do with the company's business offers, if 'total silence' qualified as a reply. She seems more content just doing her own thing and carrying out her own objectives.

Oh, well. At least we tried. Now if only the board of directors could take a hint and stop whining over the lack of acknowledgement. Even I'm not stupid enough to think that the promises of money and benefits can sway everypony, and I'm the one who likes to flaunt my wealth in public.

Speaking of stupidity, there was a 'Robot Sighting' reported in the newspaper this morning. That artist who did our grandpa's portrait pitched a fit over Leviathan randomly splashing her for laughs. Personally, I don't buy it. That's a rooftop swimming pool that the artist owns. Shouldn't there have been more ponies reporting on it if the robot had climbed the side of the building?

It's best if I don't think about that one anymore. There was always something about Ms. Spiral's attitude that rubbed us the wrong way, and it wouldn't show us in a good light if we were onboard with that. If 'being behind the eight ball' means being in a precarious situation, 'being behind the nine ball' would mean supporting a moron, and I don't want the expression coined with me in mind.

Caramel was never very good at billiards.

The connection between Limefrost and her grandfather made her turn her attention to the carpet. Cocoa had stubbornly persisted for a while after his diagnosis, but the time had almost come for the twins to say their final good-byes to him. For a lack of known relatives, his personal butler Ignition would be made their legal guardian per his Will until they reached adulthood. She didn't like it: he was a decent stallion, but there was always something about him that wasn't quite right. There were better parental figures out there that they knew, and had they a choice, the twins would've picked one of them. She wondered, like she had so many times since the twins first begged him for martial arts training, what her grandfather was thinking.

If she had known what was taking place a few floors above, Caramel would've hated herself for thinking like that.





The entire team of malcontents reconvened in the same meeting room as prior, pleased with the evening's events. The thieves that they had been sent to rescue were now seated alongside them, engaging in idle conversation like the rest and waiting for their boss's servant to arrive.

"...so Alexandrite's went and buggered out, didn't she?" Gates was saying to #4. "Good. Means we don't have to worry about any fallout from her angle. Would've liked to get some extra bits from her, though."

"No news on where she went," said #1. "She threw all of her property on the market, stayed long enough to grab the essentials, and took off like her tail was on fire. The article said that she was withholding where she went for the sake of privacy."

Bastion 'hmmed' thoughtfully. "And no indication as to why she just up and left. That's concerning."

Gates snorted. "Isn't it obvious? She left because 'the unholy love child' scared her. You don't need to be a psychologist to figure that out."

"'Unholy love child'," #7 repeated, laughing a little. "I read about what your Gargoyle said in the paper. It was pretty funny."

"An unstoppable robot with ice powers... an apt comparison," #4 admitted. "And this is coming from somepony who doesn't read comic books."

Gates waved at thin air, his annoyance clear. "Can we not talk about Gargoyle, please?"

"Why not? You're the one that brought her up," #3 pointed out.

"He's upset because she and Knight chose not to go along with us when given the chance," Bastion said in response to the group's unanswered question. "I'm disappointed, but not enough to be angry at them for their decision."

"We agreed not to give those who don't want to join us a hard time," #2 said, slowly nodding. "It's only when they directly tangle with us that we target them. As long as they stay out of our way, things will be just peachy."

The door at the far end opened, admitting Ignition. Everypony straightened and gave him their attention. "It would have been a nice bonus had they decided to join, but what's done is done. What matters is that all of us are present and accounted for now. Fine work to all involved."

"What about Leviathan?" #6 asked. "Do we have confirmation of her destruction?"

"Unfortunately, that was the one major hiccup," Ignition informed them, his mood a tad darker. "All of our Magiflies, Evisceragers, and Torchounds were systematically destroyed. The Gorridra barely put up a fight before she did the same to it. She wasn't even winded."

"What kind of names are those?" Gates complained, his tone snide. "Is our boss a foal? Should we be concerned about him playing hooky?"

"Gates..." Bastion warned.

"Hey, you can't tell me that a foal didn't have their hooves in those names. 'Magic' and 'Fly'. 'Eviscerate' and 'Badger'. 'Torch' and 'Hound'. Ask anypony off the street, and they could give you better names than those."

"Calm yourself, Gates," Ignition answered him. "And learn some tact. Our leader is dying, in case you forgot."

"And that changes what about his creativity?" Gates said. "Doesn't matter if you're eight or eighty. If you can't come up with intimidating names for intimidating creations, that's all on you."

"Infidel!" #5 shrieked. "I ought to use you as bait for trapping Timberwolves!"

"And I'd help," #2 joined in. "You'll need an expert with you if you want to prowl the Everfree."

"On the one hoof, Gates isn't wrong," #6 added, making a conscious effort to rein in her anger. "On the other, I really want to make him eat a boomerang right now for insulting the boss."

"Charming death threats from the continent's finest. Really, they are," Gates purred. "But your priorities are just this side of misplaced. Instead of focusing your ire on me for stating the facts, how about we talk about what's really important: giving the killer robot a taste of its own medicine? I don't know about you, but I want to slap the smug right off its face."

The conference room as a whole seethed at his insubordination, most of those present muttering to themselves. #7, having remained calmest the longest, cleared his throat. "I vote that we save the anger for when he actually fails to destroy Leviathan," he suggested, then sheepishly turned towards Ignition. "If it's alright with you, sir."

"...Indeed," Ignition dryly agreed. "All of you, be silent. #8, keep your partner in line."

"I will require hazard pay," Bastion requested after a moment.

If anypony heard the out-of-character "snrrk" from #4's direction, none of them commented on it. Gates glared at Bastion, but didn't say anything further. Ignition continued: "And #5, count yourself fortunate that the room is soundproofed forwards and backwards. Mr. Mocha's grandchildren are not to find out about our operations at any cost."

"Ooh," #5 crooned. "I thought I smelled sassafras."

Ignition kept talking, all the better to keep the group from getting distracted by that random statement. "Back on topic. Our plan if Leviathan destroyed the drones would be to deploy you as needed to kill her in their stead, and that has not changed. Aside from #3, how many of you achieved your secondary objectives? #1, we'll start with you."

"The break-in at the facility in Diarchs was successful," #1 reported. "I grabbed as much information as I could carry without being slowed down. Heh. It's their own fault for not shutting down like they were told to."

"I took out as many Officers as I could without fatally injuring them," #2 brought up. "One of them was a close call, but the hit he took isn't immediately lethal. If the hospitals here are as efficient as you claim them to be, he'll survive. And if the Police are as stubborn about their independence as is believed, there will be no support from the outside. They'll have no choice but to turn to the so-called 'Guardian' for help if they want to counter as broad a threat as us."

"Mr. Mocha's pet unicorn was unharmed. She was nowhere near any of the places that were hit," #4 confirmed. "She's still dead-set on leaving the city in a few months once she has everything she needs. Will everything be finished before she goes?" Ignition nodded, and the agent leaned back in her seat. "Then there were no problems on my end."

"I am a dainty sugarplum," #5 warbled, sounding out of it. She paused and glared at everypony, then put more emphasis on her speech. "I... am a dainty sugarplum."

It was hard to mistake the sound of hooves--or hands, in the case of #3--hitting their owners' faces. "Of all the places to find recruits," #3 complained, "you had to pick an asylum?"

"Mr. Mocha believes that her skillset is worth the trouble of keeping her around," Ignition told her. "Though what she means by that, I don't understand..."

"She said that she got away clean with everything she stole," #6 said. She shrugged when everypony turned to her in confusion. "What? You just have to know how to talk to her."

"You know her?" Bastion wondered.

"Not as well as the boss." #6 propped her head up on the desk. "But sometimes a little 'crazy' goes a long way."

"Well, that explained diddly squat," Gates grumbled.

"Deal with it, soldier-boy," #6 grunted, idly scratching an itch through her armor. "That's all you're getting."

"I trust you'll be more informative with your own report?" Ignition questioned meaningfully.

#6 waved off the veiled warning. "Is Ignition the Lord of the Dance? I took advantage of the chaos and bought every sapphire I could get my hooves on before the patrollers caught on to my presence. The shopkeeper was so eager to close up shop in favor of hiding that I was able to get a very good deal. I don't think I even spent half of what you gave me to use."

"I scoped out my entire district," #7 finished proudly. "The safe houses that Mr. Mocha procured are all in good shape. I made sure that all of them were well-stocked, up to code, and locked up before I left to begin my part of the plan."

"Well done, all of you." Ignition didn't hide how impressed he was. "I was expecting at least one of you to be met with difficulties, but you all pulled through."

Most of them smiled or leaned back in satisfaction. "So when do the two of us get our armor?" Gates inquired, being one of the two that didn't.

"Right now. #8 and #9, please follow me." Ignition turned and left the room, the thieves quick to obey.

"All of our equipment places emphasis on our capabilities," #2 remarked idly. "#1's deals with mobility, mine on hunting... wonder what theirs will do."

Idle conversation befell them all again for a time, which was a sign of how well they got along. For a group as diverse as theirs, that was surprising but welcomed. They wouldn't be willing to throw any parties for each other, but they could at least be counted on to support each other in the field. While they may have been completely different, they all had the same thing in common: respect for Mr. Mocha and his goals, and a desire to see them carried out.

Ten minutes later, the door opened and drove them all to silence. The two thieves entered the room first, now covered from head to hoof in armor. With as dark as the room was, nopony could discern any major details. Ignition followed them in, shutting the door.

Gates made his satisfaction known as soon as he was seated. When he spoke, his speech possessed a tinny overlay. "This... is what it's all about. And you're positive we're allowed to wear these full-time?"

"For the third time," Ignition sighed tiredly, "yes. In fact, I recommend it."

"Sweetness in a can."

"Just like you never left the Guard at all," #1 joked.

"Except this armor provides better protection than anything we had before," Bastion answered, his voice having gained the same quality as his partner's. "Enchanted steel isn't as durable or flexible as dragon scales, and it doesn't provide full coverage."

"You can thank me later," #3 rumbled, self-satisfied.

Ignition shook his head. "Don't get so sidetracked by your defenses that you forget why we're here. We still need to discuss where and when you will be deployed. We don't have all night, and I'm sure most of you are tired from your work today."

"You say that like I'm ever going to be distracted. Fairy Leviathan is going to die," Gates promised. "We both know it, no ifs, ands, or buts. And you wanna know what we think the best part is? With her out of action, there's going to be nothing stopping me and Bastion from carrying out our original job."

"We were hired to savage the Pyre of Fears and put one Salamandra out of business," Bastion reminded everypony. "Nothing has happened to nullify our assignment. Our eyes are on the target. And no matter where she's hiding, Alexandrite will pay us what she owes once we are finished."

"So let's quit gabbing about trivial tripe and get to the good stuff, shall we?" Gates leaned forward, both hooves resting near each other on the table. "All my pockets are still empty."

"...I'm not the only one hearing a very ominous guitar right now, am I?" #6 uttered, unsure.

"It fits," #1 stated. "And it's indicative of how all of us feel. All of us want to see two things: Celestia off the throne, and the robot rusted out of reality."

"But for the first victims of an extra-terrestrial machine..." #5 started to say, her usual dazed words temporarily stabilized.

"...this is very personal," #4 continued.

"The machine ruined what passes as a successful track record for thieves..." #7 joined in.

"And they want to fix that error with force," was #3's addition.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" #2 finished. "Different motivations, same end goal. No point in delaying anymore."

"I'm happy that we're all on the same page." Ignition gestured, and a diagram of the city appeared on one wall. "Moving on..."

...

And thus Bastion and Gates, ex-Royal Guardsponies and admitted criminals, set themselves on a course that would inevitably lead to them clashing blades with the lost Guardian once more.





From: G. G.

To: The Crown

Problems have arisen here. Multiple facilities have gone up in smoke to distract from a jailbreak. Two of the thieves that Leviathan captured have escaped, and it is sheer happenstance that the rest of the gang couldn't follow. No knowledge as to who is responsible. More information to come in tomorrow's edition of the Minutes.

Due to circumstances revolving around me, my family, Leviathan and my current employer, I am unable to act openly as a former Officer. Everypony in my apartment is frowning, Princess. And if my family's not happy, I'm not happy.





From: The Crown

To: G. G.

Cheer up, my little pony. Trust in your former department, and trust in Leviathan. I am sure they will be able to make you all smile again.





An hour and a half after everypony else had gone to bed, Gray lay awake atop the kitchen counter. This wasn't due to the surface being uncomfortable, as she'd slept peacefully on it plenty of times. Rather, she was waiting just a few moments more for the sake of nopony realizing that she had someplace she needed to be.

Eventually she climbed down and quietly drifted through the apartment, checking on her family. All of them were sleeping peacefully, though it stung her heart a little to see Ocean Guard's hoof stretched out towards her often-unoccupied spot on the bed. She stopped in the living room to pet Echo, who was meditating on life as only a cat can, then slipped silently through the kitchen window.

...

Decades before, there was a quaint little eatery known for its excellent soups. Its owners did a good business, its customers loved eating there, and everypony was happy. This came to an end when it was discovered that the building was home to a massive rat's nest. The eatery was closed down, the building was condemned, and the property went on the market.

To their credit, the owners were incredibly stubborn. They did everything in their power to try and salvage their reputations and the property, claiming that they were willing to clean everything up, take steps to exterminate the rats, and resume their life's work. In the end they were able to clear out the vermin and clean up the restaurant as thoroughly as possible, but it was too little and too late. Ownership of the property was transferred to Hay's Pizza the day they finished their tasks.

The disappointed and upset former owners were left with no choice but to downgrade to a smaller building in order to make ends meet, and it would be years before their reputations were restored. Meanwhile, the new pizzeria joined three others under that name that were scattered around the Manehattan area.

There were only a few individuals in the city who knew the truth behind Hay's acquisation of the establishment. One of them had just slipped into the building's cellar unseen, having understood the hidden message in Celestia's letter.

"Black suit, white shirt, this little pony's gonna bring the hurt..."

Gray hummed near-inaudibly as she donned said clothing items, a catchy little song from years earlier scampering through her brain. And as most from her generation were prone to do, she created lyrics that were only distantly related to the song's original topic.

"Smooth hat, sweet shades, it's a crime to have them maaaade..."

She adjusted her hat and tie, trusting that they were on straight. Finished, she claimed some sunglasses out of a pouch and placed them on her muzzle. Ready to protect the city solely with the methods that were available to her, she turned to leave the cellar while the song came to its end.

"Giving monsters far more than they can bear, while stallions go crazy for the sharp-dressed mare..."