She woke up to the smell of pancakes in the air and to the sound of her own stomach growling from said pancake smell. She smiled at the thought that her boyfriend woke up every morning to make breakfast. Of course, being a country pony, he was used to getting up early. As per usual, she put on her robe and entered the kitchen. To her surprise, he wasn't there. There was a stack of pancakes there, sure, but as for her somepony, all he left was a vase with her favourite flower, the tiger lily, next to some burnt coffee and some kind of burnt pancakes. She asked once why he burned everything he cooked, and he passionately answered "Cause burning makes everything better, Sugarcube!" He wasn't totally wrong, though, and he DID have a special way of making ashes taste good, although she would never let him hear her admit that. She never let anything be that easy, just like when they met. She always did play hard to get. She walked over to the note and read it: "Sugarcube, went to the market to pick up groceries. Ran out of milk, eggs, apple-bacon. Be back around lunch. Love you." She put the note down and, with the realization that she had the whole place to herself for the next couple of hours, decided to just chill on the couch.
She decided then to turn on the radio to see what songs were playing on her favorite station. Much to her surprise, there was a news report. It sounded important, so she turned the volume up. "This is Microphone Mic with a special report on the heroine, Mare-do-well! She was last seen leaving the sight of an assault on one of New Maredrid Cities most ruthless crime lords, Dirty Money. Doctors say that he will make a full recovery with a few weeks but he will be brought in for questioning. As for the elusive vigilante, police chief, Flashing Lights, had this to say."
"We at the NMPD do NOT support the actions taken by-" She turned off the radio at that point. True artists are never understood in their time, she thought to herself. She smiled at that thought. She sounded like one of her best friends back home now. Now was as good a time as any to eat, so she went for her burnt breakfast that her boyfriend made for her and chowed down. It really was good, but again, getting a complement out of her was like squeezing water from a rock. He knew what he was getting into when he moved out here with her, though, and he said so himself that he wouldn't have her any other way. She smiled at that, and then got a light bulb in her head. She should do something nice for him. She thought of cooking, but then immediately decided against that idea. She was a terrible cook. If her boyfriend had a thing with burning food, then she had a thing with starting fires and completely annihilating what she had set out to make in the first place. She thought of a movie night, but there were no good movies playing at the theaters. There was only a Celestia-awful flick about a changeling that falls in love with an earth pony who is then challenged by a buffalo for her love. One of her friends made her read the book once. She abruptly set it ablaze. The two bits she paid for the matches was totally worth it, but then the fire reminded her of something. Her somepony loved barbeque. She thought about it and then settled on that. There was a place downtown that they went once. He loved it, but they never really had an occasion to go back, that is, until now. She smiled and made a call for the reservations. She still had maybe a few hours to go before he got back, so she figured she should get everything ready for him.
...
He walked through the long hall ways of the underground catacombs briskly but cautiously. If he was late, then his bosses would have his head. But if he intruded early, then he was equally screwed in that regard. In this organization, timing and discipline had been drilled into each and every operative, high ranking or not. And Cloak & Dagger had no interest in losing his life due to some petty tardiness. Not if he intended on excelling in this shadow organization. Eventually, he looked at his wrist watch and then the giant wooden doors that have been well over a hundred years old. "11:00 AM. Right on time." He opened the doors to the room that was much more akin to a theater, only he was the performer and they were on the stage, and walked in cautiously, careful not to lose the papers he carefully placed in the folder that he held with his violet aura. He was nervous and his sweet dripped down his mauve coat, although he tried to hide it. He gulped and finally spoke to his superiors. "You summoned me, sirs?
"We did," The first council member stated flatly.
"You have brought us information in regards of what happened to Mr. Dirty Money?" The second member asked.
Cloak gulped once more. He had what was no doubt bad news. "Sirs, Mr. Money is in police custody and has undergone severe head trauma. He is not expected to survive his night at New Maredrid General hospital." He spit it out and assumed some sort of outburst would follow. He was mistaken.
"That was to be expected, Mr. Dagger." The first council colt informed him in an unsurprised way that surprised Cloak. Dirty Money had been pivotal in establishing their monetary strong hold in this city for years. Why would they not care?
"Sir?" Cloak asked, hoping an answer would follow for the apathy he had been presented with.
"Mr. Money was far too visible of an ally and this organization has moved past the use for such... blunt methods of monetary gain." A third council member spoke out, this time it was the silhouette of a mare, one that was maybe in her forties. "His disposal was already in the planning process." Well, that explained it. Nopony lasted long in this group if they outlived their usefulness. Leaders were found quickly and plucked from their origins early on, while all other members had their place. If you weren't exceedingly useful, you were either killed after you could be replaced by somepony else, or you just didn't move up. Sometimes ponies stayed at low stations because they were simply that good at their jobs, and others were there as covert agents to make sure everything went right at that level. Cloak learned early on that there was almost always an 'almighty janitor' at some point within each operating group.
Then the fourth and final council member of this organizations leadership spoke up. "Was there anything else, Mr. Dagger?" Judging by the voice, she was the prodigy he had heard rumors about. She was only maybe 23 at most, but she had a calm and sedated voice that still had an air of impatience befitting her youth. Her predecessor had made a bid for control of the entire organization. It failed miserably and he was quickly executed. "Or will that be all?"
"There was one other thing," He pulled out a report that had been summarized by one of his subordinates earlier that day. He used his magic and placed a copy of it in front of each of his bosses. "We may have a new interloper in our affairs."
"Is this about the 'Mysterious Mare-do-well'?" The fourth member asked, irritated. There was no doubt she was there for a reason, but her swift ascension had done little to temper her arrogance. It was made worse that she was promoted as a mistake. "If so then-"
"We have a new one, Sirs," He looked at all of them when he said that. He was no doubt close to execution for cutting off a superior mid-sentence like that, especially one that was little more than a brat that saw herself as a big fish in a small pond. "It wasn't Mare-do-well that ended Dirty Moneys tenure early." He took a pause, confident now that he had bought himself more time among his employers. He took a breath, and then continued. "One of my scouts was on his way home from his earlier assignment when he saw Mr. Money being confronted by a colt in a hat. Upon his escape from the scene of the assault, my scout tailed him as he led Mare-do-well to the Spire clear on the other side of the city. Please note that he did this while evading capture of Mare-do-well, who does have a reputation of tracking down rogues herself."
The first council colt was still reading over his copy of the report, and then spoke. "Are you certain that this one is a threat? Remember what your being wrong about Mere-do-well cost you." He didn't need to remind him of that. A little less than three months ago, when Mare-do-well came to town, he had filed a similar report on her after she assaulted several of his subordinates. He had been wrong; she was merely a vigilante do-gooder out to save life for the moment. Shortly thereafter, she was established to have no grand machinations beyond turning in petty scum. For his mistake on that matter, they had taken off his cutie mark along with the skin surrounding it.
"Sirs, this one seemed very aware of what he was doing," Mr. Dagger insisted on this one. He seemed as capable as this cities other resident hero, only more cunning. "Both when he ended Mr. Moneys career and when he led Mare-do-well to the Spire. I suspect he wants to forge an alliance of sorts with her."
"You believe he may know of our plans, Mr. Dagger?" The third member asked, showing a slight air of concern in her voice.
"Not so much, no, Sir. But he may have ideas of our general existence and may try to take moves to hinder us in general. If he continues in impeding our progress, I want to take actions to neutralize him as a threat."
The second leader finally spoke up again. "Your concern is noted, Mr. Dagger. Rest assured, you will be given resources as we see fit to deal with this new interloper. But not until we decide for certain whether he is or is not a genuine threat." The old horse then pulled out a folder of his own, then flipped through some of his papers. "As for Mr. Moneys replacement... I was considering Tasty Gold."
"Sir? I was under the assumption that we no longer needed that sort-"
He went back to his paper, then explained his choice for Mr. Daggers sake. "Random street violence is messy and can be counter-productive, so we will need some leadership to maintain crime at a certain level of control. Mr. Gold has displayed self-control and a fair disdain for unneeded bloodshed, so he would be perfect for this position." He looked at Cloak & Dagger once more. "You are dismissed, Mr. Dagger. You have done well this day. Please continue your work on this matter discreetly. We don't need to give this new hero a reason to dig around our affairs if he isn't already."
"Sir," Cloak said obediently. "I understand." He slowly walked backwards, then turned around and left the chamber. This new hero troubled him greatly, but to disobey his superiors was tantamount to suicide. He needed to tread carefully in the following days as he continued work his position in this organization, the Echelon.