//------------------------------// // Chapter Twenty-Two: Changing Winds // Story: Jumping In At The Deep End // by Anotherrandom //------------------------------// Agent Sweetie Drops was facing a dilemma. Not a problem. The special agent was more than capable of solving problems. Problems have solutions. It's not a problem if there isn't a way to solve it, after all.  Dilemmas don't have solutions.  Dilemmas have choices. Her choice right now was between staying in the warm embrace of her loving fiancée, or getting out of bed and doing her job.  A difficult choice, if there ever was one.  But the mission always comes first. "Sorry Lyra," Sweetie Drops whispered gently, slowly peeling herself away from the still form of the sleeping unicorn. Said form then suddenly stopped being so still, as Lyra stirred and reached for her now absent partner, her eyelids fluttering as if to open at any moment. That would be very bad. The agent had, of course, prepared a cover story, one she'd been establishing since yesterday, so the unicorn wouldn't panic when she woke up alone. No, keeping her secret mission secret wasn't the reason behind her trying not to wake Lyra.  Bon Bon simply didn't want to say goodbye. Thinking quickly, Sweetie Drops took one of her pillows and moved it into reach of Lyra's grasping hooves. The minty unicorn let out a satisfied snort, rolled over with her prize firmly in her grip, and promptly began drooling all over it.  Bon Bon smiled. "Never change, Lyly," she whispered. "Never change."  Shaking herself back into the world of the waking, the agent slowly crept away from her shared bedroom and into the hall, briefly stopping by Springs' door, listening in for any abnormality. What she heard was crying. The agent grit her teeth. The door was locked. And for good reason. Anon's room was supposed to be hers, for her to feel safe in. To breach her privacy like that… Bon Bon couldn't ignore the muffled cries. A pony's ability to grasp objects with their hooves is a curious thing. Enveloping the appendages was a constant, low-level magic field, letting them hold and interact with objects more delicately than one would think.  What few realized was the full potential of that field. With enough study, training, and sheer stubbornness, a pony could learn to further manipulate the field, pushing it to its very limits and even extending beyond the bounds of one's own body. The field got weaker the larger the distance between the hoof and the object, yes, but one didn't need to exert much force, to let's say, jolt a few pins into place, or to turn a small, brass bolt. The lock that stood between Bon Bon and her distressed daughter did not stand a chance. Sweetie Drops opened the door, head slowly craning inside to see what was happening.  On her bed, laid Anon. Flailing and shivering in the midst of her nightmare.  Bon Bon's heart broke at the sight.  She knew that what she was doing was risky. Anon did not react to surprises well at the best of times, and being suddenly awoken in the middle of the night definitely wasn't one of those. The opposite, really. She took the risk anyway. The mare sneaked towards the nightmare-stricken filly, carefully avoiding all the creaky floorboards. "I'm sorry," the filly mumbled. "I'm sorry."  Bon Bon's ears perked up. The filly tossed and turned, mumbling to herself in her slumber and kicking her blanket off, exposing her to the relative cold of the  morning air.  The agent's body moved on its own. She picked the blanket back up and gently tucked the filly in, careful not to disrupt her.  "It's alright," Bon Bon whispered, her voice cracking up a little. "You're safe. I won't let anything hurt you. Not again." She rose up from the bedside. "I promise."  Anon's flailing subsided, and her breathing settled as she drifted into deep, silent sleep. Perhaps the first real sleep she'd had in a very long while.   Seeing this, Bon Bon smiled. Again, ever so carefully, the agent vacated the bedroom, closing the door behind her and quickly relocking it. She let her shoulders slump the second it closed, letting her release the tension she didn't even realize was there.  Sweetie Drops shook herself. She still had a job to do today. She made her way into the badly lit basement, moving several crates of heavy baking supplies to reveal a rune circle underneath. The agent tapped the communication array thrice, counting between each tap. She had to get the sequence right, or she risked sounding the silent alarm.  The runes lit up. In a midst of shimmering light, a picture of a pony materialized - and her expression said it all.  She sat in a nest of cushions, wearing a fluffy bathrobe and slippers. Her normally flawlessly-groomed mane merely hung down over her head and shoulders in a formless mass. And she nursed a kettle - not a cup, a whole kettle - of tea, whose color and texture was more akin to tar than anything fit for pony consumption. The taste, too, must have been something fierce, judging by how she grimaced as she took piping swigs of the stuff, in between picking it out of her mane, and her mane out of it.   To the great delight of the gods of irony everywhere, Princess Celestia - Shepherd of the Sun, Dawnbringer, The Unconquered Sol, etcetera, etcetera - wasn't a morning pony. "Good morning, Celestia," Sweetie Drops said playfully. Princess Celestia, glared at the agent as she let out a guttural growl, loud and feral enough to scare timberwolves. "If anypony gets to decide when it's morning, it's me," she said in a tone that allowed no argument. "And three a.m. is not it."  Still, her expression softened somewhat. She took another sip of her tar-like beverage, scrunching her muzzle at the bitterness. Then she looked up, and asked, "How is-" "Better," Sweetie Drops interjected. "Not good but… better." Celestia sighed, diverting her gaze away from the agent. "I guess that's all we can ask for."  Sweetie Drops simply nodded, and the basement basked in uncomfortable silence for several seconds after that.  "I'm still angry at you," she said after a good long moment. "We shouldn't keep stuff like this from her. It's only going to hurt more later."  And back to awkward silence the basement returned.  Suddenly the alicorn asked, "You know why I offered Anon to stay with you in exchange for protecting the elements?" The agent tilted her head, surprised by the change of topic.  "I have some ideas," Sweetie Drops said tersely.  You do very much like to use the talents and abilities of others for your schemes, after all.  Sweetie Drops was aware of that facet of Celestia, acutely in fact.  Her plans were always calculated to benefit the ponies wrapped up in them, just as they furthered her own goals. Sweetie Drops understood that, she was okay with that, especially since Celestia was mostly nice about it. So of course she'd use Spring in some scheme of hers. It was for the mission - for the greater good. And if it wasn't good, it was at least necessary.  So why is it making me so angry right now?  "I wanted to help her," Celestia spoke up again, regaining the agent's attention. "But the things she's seen, the life she's led…" The alicorn sighed and shook her head. "If I simply offered her a place to stay, a safe harbor, to let her rest for however long she needed…" The rune array flickered as Princess Celestia took a big sip of her tea, closing her eyes for a moment as the scalding hot liquid proved a good source of something to ground her from drifting into uncomfortable memories.  "She would not accept it. She could not accept it." Celestia spoke with a voice that, to Sweetie Drops, sounded almost regretful - and left the agent wondering if she was even speaking about Spring at all. "We all walk our own paths, but we can't choose a path we can't see." The princess smiled a little. It wasn't a full smile - more of a hint of her usual playfulness when she got her scheme just right, but there was still sadness to it. "By offering her a deal, I played into what she knew," she explained. "Mutual sacrifice, and mutual benefit. The usual." Sweetie Drops expression lit up.  "You offered the deal to help ease her in," the agent said as the realization dawned on her. "She didn't look for a hidden catch that wasn't there, because she thought she had already found it." The agent scrunched up her muzzle. "But what does this have to do with withholding the truth from Anon?" she asked. "Letting her be trapped here?" "Everything!" the Princess exclaimed. "Think about it. She couldn't fathom that we'd help her with no strings attached. The idea was so foreign to her it simply never even occurred. And yet she still wanted to save us. Because it was the right thing to do. After everything, she's still holding onto something, or to put it into the right words, something's still holding her together." The princess' expression fell and she shifted her position on the cushion - not to be more comfortable, but more to avoid looking at an empty spot where a certain mirror should have been. "We can't take that from her," she whispered. "Not without giving her something else. It wouldn't be the worst cruelty committed against her. But I do fear it would be the last."  The basement once again fell into silence, only interpreted by the thrum of magic powering the runic array.  "...You had an assignment for me," Sweetie Drops finally said, her voice tense. The alicorn gave a curt nod, eyes drifting to the stack of papers under Sweetie Drops' hoofs. "Yes. I trust you read the dossier." The agent sighed, sifting through all four of the pages that made up the file - including pictures, generous line spacing, and a lengthy, rambling essay structure that would make any college student proud. "For what little good it did me," Sweetie said. "Calling it a dossier is a stretch. It's closer to a handful of post-it notes hastily scrapped together." The Princess arched a brow.  "Interesting isn't it?" she said. "We were able to find surprisingly little information about the, hmm-" the princess tapped her chin and hummed, searching for the right words. "… Gentle-stallion's club." Sweetie Drops shot her a deadpan look.  "You mean the seedy den where stallions go to get drunk and ogle mares?" she replied. "Charming venue, I'm sure." If the alicorn minded the agent's sarcastic tone, she did not show it. Instead, she shrugged with her wings, attempting to display a measure of calm wholly incompatible with her disheveled mane, face, the kettle of murder tea and everything else.  "It used to be, but they now brand themselves as a nightclub," the princess said easily. "From what I gathered, that's a fairly common occurrence for gentle-stallion clubs these days. Or Nights, I suppose. Bigger crowds, more revenue, less regulation. Especially in regards to the treatment of employees." Sweetie Drops nodded, absorbing the information, before suddenly perking up, hit with one particular detail the princess may have shared unintentionally. "Wait," the agent said hesitantly. "You gathered?" Celestia, the Harbinger of dawn, Diarch of Equestria, defeater of Discord and Tirek, blushed. "Luna wanted to explore more of the nightlife around Equestria," The alicorn said slowly as if weighing each syllable, eyes somewhat distant. "It was an… enlightening experience."  Agent Sweetie Drops - a pony gifted with natural curiosity and great ability to gather information - looked at the mare she called "mom" most of her life and made a simple, very wise decision. Nope.  "I don't think I want to know more." She paused, her imagination working overtime despite her best attempts at stopping it. "Scratch that. I definitely don't want to know more. Keep it relevant to the mission, I beg of you." Celestia hid her abashed smile behind her wings, but in her head she filed this away for use at a later date. Perhaps for after their honeymoon… "Of course," she said easily. "Near the Cauliflower nightclub, in a-" "Cauliflower?" Sweetie Drops interrupted, her brows raised.  The alicorn shrugged.  "I was led to believe it's a euphemism," she explained. "For certain…parts." "Oh…" the agent slowly said, the single sound she made conveying far more than any real word could - or should. "Wait, Cauliflower?" The princess coughed and looked away  "All the good euphemisms were already taken by other clubs," her muzzle turned into a frown. "Or at least I hope so, otherwise I feel my investments into the education system must have failed horribly." The agent fought the urge to face-hoof and so she just gave a long suffering sigh instead.  "Continue, please," the agent motioned with her hoof, Celestia more than happy to oblige and began to read from the official report.  "Three days ago, emergency services in old Manehattan docks were called to the scene by an anonymous source," she began. "Near this nightclub, they found two unconscious stallions - twins by the names Flim and Flam. The victims were both found in a dumpster in a back alley, presumably left to-."   The princess interrupted herself, putting the paper down as it started to smoke. The agent nodded, trying to ignore the fact that Celestia's mane, for just a second, looked aflame.   Because Celestia, for all her warmth and care, was still the avatar of the sun. And the sun, for all the light and life it gives, still burns.  "They were dying," the princess said with a quiet intensity. "If not for the anonymous tip, they would have likely perished within the hour."  The princess shook herself, the moment of intensity passing. The alicorn reached for her tea, drinking some of the, for the lack of other words, liquid.  Chamomile, good for the nerves.  "At first, the medical staff thought they'd been poisoned," the princess continued after a few sips. "That is until one doctor used one of the more modern bio-magical scanners to… worrying results." Sweetie Drops nodded at that. "I read the medical report," she pointed at the 'file' in her hoofs. "No magical reserves. Strained and overextended mana pathways. Totally destabilized core…"  The agent shuddered. The effects of such an attack were…very serious. Ponies were inherently magical creatures, to the extent that even their emotional states had a magical charge.  To have it simply… drained out from your body. She could only imagine how painful that would have been. "Strangely enough," the princess continued, "the blood tests they made for toxins came out today, testing positive. The drug's exact composition is unknown, but it seems to be a powerful anesthetic. Keeps the victim from passing out or feeling any pain, while significantly reducing their mental capabilities." Sweetie Drops tapped her hoof against the floor in thought. "So the doctors were right, they were poisoned," the agent said. "Just not in the way they expected."  Whoever attacked them probably spiked their drinks so they wouldn't defend themselves while they were drained. But why not just knock them out fully? Maybe the victim has to be awake and conscious for the draining process… The agent shook her head as if to try and get that unpleasant thought from her head. But the reasons for the drug usage didn't matter by itself, not now. What mattered was figuring out how it was administered, and preventing them from using it on her.  "Fortunately," Celestia said, derailing Sweetie Drops train of thoughts. "The victims were treated in time and are on track to make a full recovery. Though they seem to have lost their memories of the day of the incident." That made the agent pause.  Partial amnesia. Could it be a side effect of the drug, or the draining process? Or was there still more to this?  First, the agent felt a tinge of dread sneak up on her, before she pushed it away with anger - a much more productive emotion than fear.  For if she was to face a mage capable of forcing their will on the minds of others, fear would not save her, but anger just might. "Unfortunately," Celestia said sadly, "the same can't be said about the third victim - an as yet unidentified body found floating in the Cudson river yesterday evening."  There was a shocked silence as Sweetie Drops scanned her thin file once more. That was not in my dossier. With a flourish of her horn, the princess levitated another file into the view of the array, before she lit it on fire.  A second later, the same file materialized next to the agent, who immediately began flipping through it. "On the order of the guards investigating the other two cases, the body was not only autopsied, but also scanned with the same method used on the previous victims. You can see the results." And the results she saw. First were the pictures taken before the autopsy.  Sweetie Drops was surprised just how normal the picture of the body - the victim, the agent corrected herself - looked. A blue pegasus mare, about her age. Stay a little older. The stay in the river apparently hadn't damaged her much. She seemed as if she was asleep, except with her eyes open.  Those eyes made the agent stop. Those sad, teal eyes. No, not sad. Empty.  And forever, they would remain so.  Under the photo were the scans themselves. And even though they were somewhat fuzzy, they still showed clear signs of no remaining magical reserves, enough to be lethal. The agent was about to put the papers down when she noticed some crossed-out writing - scribbles really - on the coroner's report. Body shows clear signs of magical exhaustion, it read, and not-so-clear signs of malnutrition.  The agent stared at the writing, confused.  Why does that sound familiar?  Celestia cleared her throat, the agent turned to the alicorn as she opened her mouth to speak. "There isn't much to connect the victims," Celestia said. "They belong to different age groups, have different living conditions and occupations. There's no common thread between the twins and the mysterious mare. Except for witness statements indicating all three victims were regulars of the Cauliflower." The alicorn took a deep breath,  "Normally, the Manehattan police would be leading this investigation, but considering the strange circumstances around this case, I believe it's a matter of national security. So it falls to us." The agent's eyes flashed as something clicked. "How can we have witness statements for the third victim if she's still unidentified?" Celestia smiled.  "I believe I may have misled you, agent," Celestia spoke with an almost amused tone, if one could ignore the hint of very real anger underlying it. "We do know an identity of the third victim. Her name was Soft Blossom, a pegasus mare from Trottingham. She used to live in Happy Canters apartment block on Farrier Hill, was well liked by her neighbors and community, and, apparently, never existed." The alicorn's horn lit up and, in a shower of golden flame, summoned another stack of papers. "This is all the paperwork establishing Soft Blossom's existence. From birth certificate to her school diplomas. And all of them are forgeries." The alicorn frowned. "I hate to admit it, but that term does them a disservice," the princess said. "I'm sure that if they fell into the hooves of your average government worker, they wouldn't be able to tell the difference." Celestia gave a predatory smirk. "But while I'm loath to brag, I'm not the average government worker, I’m the government worker."  The princess turned to Sweetie Drops. The agent was silent, focusing on the files and the medical report as she rifled through them once more. "Well, what do you think it means, agent Sweetie Drops?" The agent cleared her throat, eyes fixated on the picture of a blue pegasus mare - just a few years younger, smiling and alive. Soft Blossom, remember that name.  "I believe we've already found the pony responsible for the anonymous tip that saved the twins' life," Sweetie Drops said. "A pony from the inside that went against the rest of the conspiracy." The agent's head lifts up to meet Celestia's gaze. "And she paid with her life." Celestia gave a grim nod.  "Your mission is clear, agent Sweetie Drops. Covertly infiltrate the Cauliflower, uncover evidence of misdoings, and get out. You're to be our scout so we walk blindly into a trap. Don't raise suspicion. They don't know we're onto them. Don't lose that advantage." The rune array light dimmed as the connection was cut, but the princess' two last words echoed through the basement. "Good luck."