It had begun snowing in Oxford when the ponies arrived. The first few light flurries descended from the heavy gray clouds in the skies overhead, each flake swept along by a bitter breeze cutting through the archaic town. Oxford was a university town, centered around the University of Arcana, a unicorn school for the study of all things magical. It was the Canterlot outside of Canterlot, built by those and for those who sought the serene retreat of a coastal town with all the benefits of Canterlot’s academics.
The town itself was a sight to behold. Old, renaissance-style architecture made up the buildings surrounding the station, with high spires looming aloft towards the heavens. Old gray stonework was incorporated into the roads and walls, many of which had a thin layer of moss and vines creeping up the sides, accentuating the natural balance Oxford maintained between nature and civilization.
The ponies were mostly unicorns, dressed in fine suits and dresses alike, all looking like something out of an old catalog. They certainly didn’t have the cutting edge fashion or flare Canterlot possessed, but the air of sophistication and wisdom was just as thick as ever.
Fleethoof took a deep breath of the cool winter air as he led the way across the station platform. There was a hint of salt on the breeze, carried over from the nearby ocean, blended with the scent of freshly roasted coffee from a nearby café and something baking somewhere in the town. With a light dusting of powdery snow beginning to veil the tranquil scene, he couldn’t help but wonder how the idyllic settlement would look in the springtime.
The eight ponies made their way from the train station down the wide Broadway thoroughfare to the town square. A large statue of Celestia and Luna was erected in the center of town, the two sisters frozen in mid-prance above the citizens. Behind him, Fleethoof could hear Chaim groan. He brushed it off.
“Talk about admiration,” Sharp Shot said as the ponies walked past the statue.
“It was erected in honor of the college,” Blue Shield explained. “Celestia and Luna founded the university a thousand years ago as a monument to the dedication of the magical arts. They wanted to make sure everypony had access to knowledge, not just the wealthy ponies of Canterlot.”
Sharp turned his head around. “How do you know so much about that?”
“I applied here when I was going to school.”
The sniper couldn’t pass up the opportunity for a joke. “What, did you get rejected or something?”
“No, I was accepted, with a scholarship.” Blue Shield smirked a little. “But the Canterlot Academy of Medicine accepted me too, and they’re a little more… prestigious.”
“Mazel tov,” Chaim muttered in a flat tone.
“This town is big, Captain,” said Valiant. “How are we going to find one pony in here?”
“We start with the most likely place a lost, lone soldier would be, then spread out from there,” said Fleethoof, locating a building with a sign marked with a flagon on it. “And here we are.”
The tavern, as Fleethoof had correctly interpreted the sign, was a stark contrast to what he had been expecting. Instead of the raucous groups of youths one would expect a college town to come with, small clusters of unicorns with books and scrolls filled the booths and tables. Study groups had been set up around the bar. Even off campus, the students were hard at work.
“That’s… different,” Fleethoof mused with a chuckle, but led the way in regardless. “Sharp, watch the door. Everypony else, fan out and ask questions.”
Following their officer’s orders, the ponies separated. While the others kept watch and began questioning the local pony population, Fleethoof took to the bar. If there was one surefire place to find any information, it was from the mouth of the eyes that saw all: the barkeep.
“Excuse me.” The pegasus’ beckoning caught the stallion’s attention.
“Afternoon, sir. What can I get for you today?”
Fleethoof pulled the three pictures of Union out of his saddlebags. “We’re with the Royal Guard, looking for a couple of ponies. We heard they might have headed through this way. Ever seen any of them?”
The pony set down the glass he had been cleaning and levitated the pictures up with his magic. He stared long and hard at the first, then flipped to the second.
“No, I don’t recognize any of these—” He flipped to the final photograph. “Wait, him! I know this stallion. I’ve seen him before.”
His hopes soaring, Fleethoof pulled the photograph down to see who had been identified. The winner was Nightflash.
“Where have you seen him?” the captain pressed.
“He’s come in here every night for the past couple nights now,” the pony said with assured certainty. “Always sits at the end of the bar. Doesn’t say a word. Just orders, drinks, and walks off again. It’s kinda strange.”
Fleethoof cocked a half smile. “Really, silent patrons are strange?” He cast a dubious look around the hushed tavern.
“No, not that. He’s a pegasus. We don’t usually get a lot of pegasi around here—no offense. He just doesn’t fit in. He’s always dressed like he’s going into battle. It made a lot of the patrons nervous at first. When I asked him if he had any other clothes he could wear, he just left and came back the next night the same as ever.”
“That’s because he doesn’t live here.” Fleethoof gathered the photographs back up. “What time does he usually come in at?”
The barkeep checked the clock on the wall. “Oh, about eight thirty... sometimes nine. Around there.”
“Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.” Fleethoof whistled sharply and made a motion to his team to gather up again, meeting around the door. “Nightflash is the pony we’re looking for here. The bartender says he’s been in every night now.”
“So we wait for him here,” Cupcake surmised, earning a nod from the captain.
“Right. But we can’t let him know we’re here or that we’re looking for him. For all we know, he might have turned as well, but gone off on his own. So we play this close to the chest, understood?”
Everypony nodded. He turned his gaze to the two Re'emians.
“That goes for you two too.”
“We understand,” Adira said with a roll of her eyes. “We will follow your lead, officer.”
“We can’t spook him, which means we’ll have to hide. He won’t look twice at a unicorn, but two Earth ponies, two pegasi, and two Re'emians he’ll catch. We’ll have to lay low in the corners of the tavern. Sharp and Blue Shield, you’ll be our eyes. Sharp, I want you outside, on the door. If you see him approaching, radio us.”
“Got it, boss.” The sniper saluted.
“Blue, you’ll be at the bar. Our eyewitness says he always sits at the far end, so I need you to sit at the opposite side. Tell us when he sits down, and try to get a positive ID on his face. You two will trade places every hour to keep you both fresh and warm.”
“Yes sir, Captain.”
Fleethoof nodded, and glanced up at the clock. “Everypony else, get a drink and relax. We’re going to be here for a while…”
As the day rolled on into the night, more ponies began to flock to the tavern. In the dead of winter, the warm, welcoming atmosphere attracted ponies of all sorts. Muted conversation had grown to a dull roar as the bar filled to maximum occupancy.
From a table in the far corner of the establishment, Fleethoof sipped at his hot chocolate, the thick, sweet liquid flowing richly down his throat and warming him from the inside out. His eyes traced around the Hearth’s Warming Eve decorations hung on the walls, and the boughs of holly hung around the rafters and doors. Everypony seemed to be getting into the holiday spirit—or studying for their winter exams. It reminded Fleethoof how very glad he was to be out of school.
Every so often, the pegasus’ blue eyes would turn towards the door, waiting for some word from Sharp Shot on the other side. He glanced up at the clock. It was almost nine o’clock. Was the bartender as reliable as he had hoped?
“So, tell me about your unit, Captain,” Adira said to break the silence, her voice low and kept to the immediate table. “You are not typical soldiers.”
Fleethoof turned his gaze toward the mare seated beside him and dipped his head in a subtle nod. “No, we aren’t. We handle the special cases the Guard can’t touch.”
“Ah, special operations…” The Mossad agent cooed in admiration. “You are like our kin in practice.”
“The Mossad train assassins, not soldiers.”
“And is there any difference between what we do?”
“Yes,” Fleethoof snapped abruptly. “I haven’t taken innocent lives.”
“Neither have I.” The ponies locked gazes, walls up on both sides. “We kill clean and precise. It ensures our survival, and our own harmony. Do not tell me you have never taken a life of a civilian to protect your home.”
“I haven’t.”
“You will.”
Fleethoof could feel his resentment for the Re'emian’s insinuations rising. “What makes you so sure of that?”
Adira smiled at him, like a predator studying its prey. “Because it is the nature of our lives. It is part and parcel of the duty we perform. Granted, The Mossad may be more cloak and dagger than your Skyfall Team, but we operate on the same principles and methods.”
Fleethoof made an exaggerated motion of rolling his eyes, and went for his drink again. “We are not as alike as you—”
And then Fleethoof froze. The mug hovered less than an inch away from his snout, his gaze distant as the gears turned and clicked in his head. A sudden realization dawned on his brain. Slowly, his head turned toward the Re'emian mare again.
“I never told you the name of my team.”
Adira’s cool smile turned wide and proud. “No, you didn’t, did you?”
“Then, how—?”
“Like I told you before, Re'em monitors everything very closely,” she said once more, flipping a lock of burgundy hair out of her face and grinned at Fleethoof’s shocked expression. “You revealed yourselves in Saddle Arabia months ago. Since then, your unit has been under the watchful eye of The Mossad. We wanted to understand what your purpose was in aiding our enemy, just in case Equestria had created you to shift the balance of power.”
“We protect Equestria, nothing more.” Fleethoof’s answer was sharp and concise. “We aren’t throwing our hats in with anypony else.”
“And we swiftly discovered that, which is why you haven’t had Mossad agents after you.”
Fleethoof’s eyes narrowed to fine points, a threatening growl rumbling in the back of his throat. Adira merely chuckled, and continued.
“You are an interesting hybrid, Captain Fleethoof—you and your ponies. Part assassin, part soldier, part monk. You kill ruthlessly, yet you adhere to a code of ethics and honor. You break the rules so that you maintain them. What exactly are you trying to prove? That you found a grand scheme in life—a golden rule of engagement? Or maybe you just want to feel like you're better than anypony else with a gun and good judgment.”
“I’m just somepony trying to make the world a little bit better,” replied the equable officer.
“So I gathered. But you have a dark, profound method to your madness.” Fleethoof didn’t reply to that statement. “You know, we have a name for you back in The Mossad.”
Fleethoof did his best to ignore the subject of that institution. “Is that so?”
A nod from the assassin. “We call you tsel sooss. It means ‘shadow ponies’ in our tongue. You strike from nowhere without warning or clemency, and leave no trace, like ghosts. It is an impressive feat, I must admit.”
Shadow ponies. Ghosts. The corners of Fleethoof’s mouth twitched as he fought a smirk. He liked the sound of that. But Skyfall’s reputation was becoming known. It was exactly as he feared. Fortunately, the wrong attention hadn’t been garnered yet. If anything, they had earned the respect of The Mossad, and he’d much rather have those ponies as mutual business partners than an opposition.
“Boss, we’ve got the target incoming,” Sharp Shot’s voice spoke through his headset, hushed to avoid detection. “He’s walking up to the door now.”
Fleethoof felt his heartbeat accelerate. “Places, everypony. It’s show time.”
Within a few minutes, the front door opened with a burst of chilly night air. In stepped a jet black pegasus, his mane and coat covered with a light dusting of white snow. He shook himself off at the hearth, and then proceeded across the floor to the bar. Fleethoof followed the pony with his eyes as he went to the spot the bartender had pointed out earlier, and took a seat without a word to anypony.
Although they were at a distance, Fleethoof recognized the uniform the pony was wearing. He had seen it before. Across the bar, Blue Shield casually sipped at his drink, eyeing the pony at the far end of the bar.
“It’s him, Captain. It’s Nightflash.”
“It’s him,” Fleethoof relayed to Adira, downing the last of his drink before standing once more. “Keep an eye out for any danger. I’m going to make contact.”
Fleethoof sauntered casually around the tavern, keeping to the walls and looking as nonchalant as possible. Nightflash was too preoccupied downing the alcohol he had just ordered to notice the approaching soldier. The closer he got to the rogue agent, the more Fleethoof’s heart began to race. His breathing picked up to compensate and keep him steady as he turned direction, straight for the bar.
Still oblivious to his presence, Fleethoof took the seat beside the former Union member at the bar. Even when he sat, the pony just stared down into his drink.
“You’re a long way from home, Specialist.”
That caught the pony’s attention. Fleethoof saw Nightflash’s ear closest to him twitch, and his head perk up ever so slightly. The subtle motion was enough to let him know he had his attention.
“Or maybe you’re just lost and looking for a friend in all the wrong places.”
Nightflash looked over at the captain, eyes widening with a mixture of surprise and dread. “Captain Fleethoof! How did you—?”
“We tracked your movements with the help of some friends,” he said plainly, looking with empathy back into his comrade’s eyes. “You’ve got quite a story to tell, don’t you, soldier?”
For a while, Nightflash was completely silent. He looked shell-shocked, overwhelmed by the presence of the operator. His gaze dropped, and then turned away with shame. He ran a hoof through his scraggly mane. The bags beneath his bloodshot eyes looked as if the stallion hadn't slept in days, clearly distressed and guilt-ridden.
“I’m sorry, sir… I failed,” he apologized, voice ragged and tinged with regret. “I never thought things would ever go like this…”
“Tell me what happened. From the start.”
Nightflash swallowed back his pride, and exhaled. “After the debriefing, Glider and I went after Strike. He had stormed out of the castle, fuming about how we were being disrespected and were treated like expendable tools. Glider suggested we go back to the Academy and cool off, so we left. But when we got back… things went downhill fast…
“Glider didn’t do anything to calm Strike down. If anything, he exacerbated the situation. He kept goading the colt, saying things like we had to take the respect we deserved, and the only way the princesses would see our worth was if he proved what we could do. Strike drank it up like punch at the prom… It was all too strange. I think Glider’s been doing this to him for some time though… He seemed... brainwashed... like really not himself anymore.”
“He’s been corrupted,” said Fleethoof calmly, barely speaking above a low whisper. “Glider is the traitor. He was never in the Royal Guard. He’s a mole for Chitin, Codename: Commie, sent to ruin Union and keep your operations from succeeding.”
“That makes a lot of sense, actually,” Nightflash said, proceeding to clarify to the puzzled officer. “Glider was always the one who egged Strike on, or gave Harp Strings the toughest time… He’s probably the sole reason none of our ops ever went right. He’s the one who said we should ditch and prove ourselves, and Strike was all for it… I tagged along to see what they had in mind, to keep an eye on them.
“Glider said we should head south and stop in Oxford. He said he had some friends who could help us out—get us gear, supplies, things like that. So we came down here… but when we got here, Glider started acting really weird. He got very secretive with his actions, and wouldn’t let us go with him to meet his contacts. He just came back with a lot of stuff, and said that in order to prove ourselves, we had to demonstrate our power and skill on somepony who would actually be a challenge… That’s when he said we should attack FOB Sierra Alpha with his friends…”
Nightflash drifted off, his breathing slow and labored. He winced and pressed a hoof to his shoulder. Fleethoof cocked his head, his expression deepening as he apprehended what had occurred.
“You’re wounded.”
The pegasus nodded slowly. “I stood up to Glider then, and said that was treason, and he was insane… I told him that I was going to the Guard and turning him in, and I was taking Strike back with me… That was when he shot me…”
Fleethoof clenched his jaw so tightly, his teeth began to hurt. “Glider shot you.”
“No, not Glider… Lightning Strike.” The captain’s heart sank when Nightflash corrected him. “I took a round to the shoulder and ran like hell outta there. They chased me through a building, but I shook them when I leapt out a window and flew down an alley. I was able to patch myself up, and lay low for a few days. When I was sure they were gone, I didn’t know what to do… I didn’t have enough bits left for a train ticket, the Guard was hunting us for desertion, and I was in no condition to travel back to Cloudsdale to explain myself—so I stayed here, hoping to end my misery with enough alcohol to kill myself and drown my shame…”
Nightflash began to lift the glass back up to his lips, when Fleethoof grabbed his leg and forced the drink back down to the bar. He shook his head firmly.
“Don’t do that to yourself, soldier. You haven’t committed treason—your teammates did.”
Nightflash snorted and chuckled grimly. “Don't call them that... They aren’t my brothers anymore…”
“We’ll get you shipped back to Cloudsdale. You focus on your recovery, and I’ll see to it that no black mark is left on your record. You did your best to prevent this, and you’ve been very helpful.”
Fleethoof patted the soldier on his good shoulder and went to stand up again. He motioned for Blue Shield to come over, and the medic began to make his way across the tavern.
“Captain.” Fleethoof turned back around when Nightflash addressed him, looking to the officer with downhearted eyes. “What did they do? You colts wouldn't be after them if they just ran away. They did something... didn't they?”
There was a pause between Nightflash’s question and Fleethoof’s hesitated answer. “They attacked Dodge City and killed four ponies. More were injured. We think they’re still heading south, to FOB Sierra Alpha, like you said.”
The former Union member’s eyes dropped to the floor, disgusted and broken hearted for his disgraced unit. “Whatever atrocities they’re committing, it’s Glider’s doing. He’s a twisted pony, and he's poisoning Strike’s mind. Strike, he’s a good colt, Captain. He’d never do this on his own. If you can, please save him. There might still be some good left in him.”
Fleethoof took a deep breath and nodded. “I’ll do my best.”
Blue Shield had begun to inspect Nightflash’s wound as Fleethoof turned to leave again. “You mentioned somepony by the name of Chitin.”
Yet again, the stallion had caught Fleethoof’s attention, if only momentarily. “Yes, I did. That’s the name of your target: Commie. His actual name is Chitin.”
“He’s here, Captain.” Nightflash locked eyes with the officer. Fleethoof could feel his mind trying to process and understand what his ears had just heard, trying to ensure he'd heard right. “Chitin is in Oxford.”
“How can you be sure?”
“If Glider’s a traitor and working for him, he’s gotta be the friend he brought us here to see,” said the wounded soldier. “That, and when we stayed here, we checked into a room at the inn under a pseudonym. When Glider was gone, I got suspicious and snooped through his stuff. I found an address for somepony named Chitin.”
Nightflash reached into a breast pocket on his uniform. With a slow motion, he pulled a thin strip of paper out and set it on the bar. Fleethoof snatched up the scrap in a flash, reading it off. Sure enough, the address was a local one, with one name listed beside it: Chitin.
“Get him, Captain, for all of us,” Nightflash entreated, his eyes bitter and tightened to points. “And give him a good kick for me.”
Fleethoof’s expression shifted to fierce loyalty and dedication, and replied with a short, swift nod of his head. Blue Shield applied an antiseptic cream to Nightflash’s injury as Fleethoof looked over the address again, and began making his way towards the door.
“Let’s move, everypony. Our target is still in town,” he radioed in. “Alpha to HQ, come in, over.”
There was a moment of radio silence.
“This is HQ. We read you, Alpha. Over.”
It was Quarter Master on the other end, ever in Skyfall Headquarters, as always. Fleethoof questioned with a bemused smirk if that pony ever went home.
“Is Overlord Actual there? Over.”
Again, another bout of radio silence greeted the pony’s ears. Skyfall Team and the Re'emians had gathered around him by the door.
“Overlord Actual is here, my little ponies. Is there something you need to report? Over.”
Princess Luna was present. Good, that made things easier.
“We’ve located a second primary target, Codename: Commie. He is still within city limits. We can engage now, before we lose him again. Over.”
“Do as your judgment sees fit, Alpha. How can I assist? Is there anything you need from me? Over.”
Fleethoof pulled the door open and stepped out into the cold winter night. The snow had stopped falling, but had already accumulated in a nice thick blanket across the ground. The clouds overhead had begun to dissipate and disperse, revealing the half moon and stars glistening, covering the majestic town in silvery light.
“We could use a dark night.”
Fleethoof made a mental note to thank Princess Luna when they returned to Canterlot. That alicorn was a miracle worker. She really moved heaven and earth when it came to her ponies—literally. At his request, Luna had turned the night sky into a dense black canvas. Not a single star twinkled anymore, and the moon had vanished from sight. In an instant, the silver cast was lost, and foreboding darkness took over the world.
It was a welcome shroud to the eight ponies darting down the quiet, empty streets of Oxford. The citizens, confused and scared by the sudden loss of the nighttime sky, sought shelter in their homes. Only the old oil lamps illuminated the streets with a low, warm glow, just enough to see where you were walking and to make out street signs. It helped when it came to navigation. Nopony in the group had ever been to Oxford before, but finding your way in the quaint town did not prove much of a challenge.
Fighting through the bitter breeze that cut right through his uniform, Fleethoof led the ponies down one street, then around a corner and down another, until they came across the right road. From there, it was a simple matter of finding which direction the numbered addresses ran, and from there, finding the correct house. The street was lined with houses, all dark with slumbering citizens.
“Captain,” said Valiant, pointing to a house down the street. “There it is.”
He was correct. Fleethoof checked the number on the slip of paper Nightflash had given him. It matched perfectly. The building was four stories tall, and looked identical in appearance to the other homes they had passed by. No significant symbols or decorations marked the outside, and no semblance of permanent residence stood out. It looked and felt as if the owners had no intention of remaining there for extended periods of time.
The dark windows didn’t bode well, but Fleethoof had long-since learned to distrust anything and everything at face value. His instincts told him there was something off about this house… His heart began to beat faster, pumping adrenaline through his veins.
“Valiant, take Cupcake, Flash, and Chaim around back. See if there’s a way in there,” Fleethoof said. “Sharp Shot, Blue, and Adira, you’re up front with me. Remember to use your night vision.”
The ponies of Skyfall nodded and split up into their groups. Fleethoof waited until Valiant’s team had disappeared from sight before rushing up the porch to the front door. Behind him, Adira stuck close, with Sharp and Blue watching the rear. The stallion turned the doorknob slowly—and felt it click tightly.
Locked…
“Allow me,” Adira whispered, slinking in between Fleethoof and the door. She produced a small set of lock picks from a case on her belt and set to work on the door. In only a matter of moments, the bolt slid audibly out of place, and the Mossad agent slowly opened the door without a sound.
Fleethoof pulled his night vision goggles down and took a deep breath—then he stepped into the house. The inside was pitch black, but Quarter Master’s new device worked like a charm. Through the eye the optic sat in front of, the house was bathed in an eerie infrared neon green color, with every detail in the wall and floor illuminated. He could see a nightstand with a potted plant beside the door he otherwise would have missed. He could see perfectly.
I wonder if this is how Bat ponies see in the dark, he mused in thought as he raised his suppressed pistol and took point. Adira stuck close to his side, both ponies sweeping the narrow hall the front door opened up into.
Sharp Shot and Blue Shield stepped in after them, quietly closing the door behind themselves. Now in total darkness, Skyfall had the upper hoof. Adira kept her side pressed against Fleethoof’s, following him by feel through the hall. They came up to an open doorway. Sidling up towards it, Fleethoof swung around and swept the room. It was a parlor, devoid of any life—but not signs of life.
Switching on his taclight, the pony illuminated the coffee table for the Re'emian. She stepped carefully over towards it. Plates and glasses had been left out, half eaten food still remaining on one. Adira picked up the half eaten pastry, then put it down without a sound again.
“Still warm.”
Fleethoof nodded, and motioned with a hoof to his partners to be alert. Sharp and Blue took point and continued down the hall while Fleethoof waited for Adira to rejoin him before leading her down the hall after the other two. The silence made his pulse race, anxious tension gripping at his nerves. He did not like the calm before the storm.
Another door came up on the left, closed this time. Fleethoof watched as Sharp pushed it open and Blue Shield rushed in. Silence followed. The medic stepped out again, shaking his head. The ponies carried on as the hall opened up to an open space, a staircase leading up to the next floor at their side. Another narrow hallway cut perpendicular to the room. From either end of the hall, the other ponies joined up with them.
Valiant exchanged a shake of his head with Fleethoof. This floor was clear. The ponies turned their attention upwards, and headed up the stairs. They moved slowly in a single file line up, keeping their hoofsteps as lightly as possible so as not to creak any floorboards or make any noise whatsoever. The second floor consisted of another flight of stairs, and two hallways running in a right angle. Doors lined the halls by the dozen.
With a motion of his hoof, Fleethoof sent each pony to check each door. As they moved on their targets, he stepped up to the closest one himself. Pressing his form against the solid wooden panel, he gently turned the handle and opened it enough to peek inside. It was a bedroom, with four beds crammed into the tiny space. Each one was occupied by a sleeping pony.
Slowly closing the door again, he glanced down at the others. Skyfall Team had stepped away from their rooms as well—but Adira and Chaim were missing. Gritting his teeth, Fleethoof moved swiftly and silently to regroup with his team.
“Where’d the Re'emians go?” he asked in a sharp whisper.
“I think they went into their rooms.”
And then Fleethoof heard a very muffled popping sound. He turned on his heels, and saw a burst of light beneath a door in time with each pop.
Oh shit, no…
Rushing to the door, Fleethoof pulled it open slowly. Chaim was standing over one of the beds, pulling a pillow off the face of one of the bedded ponies. He tossed it to the floor and glanced at the pegasus, smiling as he waved his silenced pistol to him.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he hissed in the darkness, keeping careful control of the volume of his voice.
“Taking care of business. What are you doing?” Chaim asked quizzically, motioning to the four dead ponies. “Re'emian mercenaries, like we told you. They had to be taken out.”
“Where’s Adira?”
“Probably doing the same thing.”
Sure enough, another door opened a little further down, and out stepped the mare in question.
“They won’t be a threat anymore,” she murmured softly, smirking at her handiwork. “Did you all take care of your rooms?”
“No…! We don’t murder innocent ponies…!” the captain seethed.
“Innocent? Captain, these ponies are killers for hire. They would shoot you just for their next meal and not lose a wink of sleep over it. Be careful who you grant amnesty and innocence to.”
“Regardless, we won’t kill sleeping ponies that may or may not be clean.”
“Very well,” Adira said with a sigh. “We’ll take care of it. Come along, Chaim.”
“At your side, sister.”
“Stop! We are looking for Chitin, not killing out of a grudge!”
The ponies were unfazed. “You have your directives, Captain, and we have ours. Go, find your target. We will clean up down here.”
Seeing that there was no arguing with them, Fleethoof groaned and motioned to his team. Skyfall left the Mossad agents to their work and proceeded up to the third floor. There were fewer rooms further up, all on a single hallway. The ponies checked the rooms, surprised to find another arsenal of weapons in each. Pistols, rifles, and explosives of all kinds lined the walls and tables in each. Some even Fleethoof hadn’t seen before, and could not identify in origin.
“We are definitely in the right house…” he muttered hopefully.
“Chitin must be on the top floor,” said Sharp Shot with a glance to the floor above.
“Then let’s get up there.”
And then a loud crash was heard from downstairs, like a lamp or a vase falling to the floor. The shattering sound made all six ponies cringe and flinch, tightening their hold on their weapons. For a long, breathless moment, there was absolute silence. And then the sound of hooves on the floor came from below. A lot of hooves on the floor.
“Fucking Re'emians…!” Cupcake growled angrily.
“Upstairs, quick!”
At their captain’s orders, the ponies rushed the last staircase. As they ascended to the top, they came out at the far end of a straight hall down to one door. Two griffons were barreling down the darkness towards them. They didn’t even see the ponies as Fleethoof lit them up with a flurry of bullets from his pistol. They dropped to the floor with dull thumps of flesh on wood while Skyfall trampled over them to get to the door.
Ponies, Re'emians, zebras, griffons… Chitin's really got a multicultural terrorist cell to himself… thought Fleethoof.
Light shone out from underneath the door, a promising sign. Running with all his might, Fleethoof charged the door and didn’t even bother to check if it was locked or not. He drew down and fired three shots into where the lock was to be sure, and slammed his body against the frame. The door gave enough to open halfway before he caught it. That was enough of an opening he needed.
Grabbing a flashbang grenade from his vest, Fleethoof pulled the pin with his teeth and tossed it into the room. He slammed the door shut, and heard the scrambling of at least a dozen hooves inside. Then came the bang, and the stallion bucked the door in. It flew open, and Skyfall surged in.
Pulling his night vision goggles aside as the light threatened to blind him, Fleethoof assessed the situation. Five ponies lay across the floor, clearly having attempted to dive away from the grenade. Two had guns out already and shot blindly at the ponies. The bullets went high, almost into the ceiling, as Skyfall killed them with a few clean shots.
The room was a large study, with bookcases lining the entire room, and a pair of desks at the far end. Taking to a hunch, Fleethoof ran and slid across the desk. As he guessed, a navy blue unicorn pony sat crouched behind the desk, grasping a revolver in his vibrant green magic. Fleethoof’s hoof made contact with the side of his face as he dove over it.
The unicorn collapsed to the floor, dropping his weapon. Fleethoof spun on his hooves and drove a knee into the stallion’s back, pinning him to the floor.
“Don’t move!” he ordered harshly, wrestling to keep the pony held down.
The unicorn fought with all his strength to get the soldier off of him. Fleethoof proved to be the stronger of the two. That was when he noticed the unicorn’s horn glowing again. He saw the revolver’s hammer cock as it began to levitate.
Fleethoof brought the butt of his weapon down into the back of the pony’s skull, near the base of his horn. The pony cried out, and his magic cut out, stunned by Fleethoof’s blow. Fleethoof heard a couple more silenced gunshots at the other side of the study. Skyfall must have been putting down the rest of the opposition. Once the combat had ended, he pulled the photograph of Chitin out of his pocket, checking it with the pony beneath him.
“Boss, we’ve got incoming!” Sharp shouted, slamming the door shut and throwing his body against it.
“It’s all right,” said Fleethoof, grinning to himself as he identified the pony beneath him. “We’ve got him.”
Valiant and Cupcake came over and helped drag the struggling unicorn up and threw him to the chair behind the desk. Pulling out cable ties, Fleethoof bound Chitin's hooves to the arms of the chair. Now restrained, the ponies got a good look at the one responsible for all the trouble they had gone through.
At first glance, Chitin didn’t look like much. He had a long slate gray mane and bright orange eyes that were narrowed viciously with rage like a caged animal’s as he fought against his bonds. A cutie mark of a stack of bits marked his flank on either side.
“It’s over, Chitin. We’ve got you.” Fleethoof permitted himself to gloat a little, smiling proudly at his team’s good work.
Behind him, a loud banging was heard. He glanced back and saw the door shaking. Cupcake ran over to add his weight to help Sharp Shot keep it closed. All that was left was to deal with their prisoner.
Chitin snorted twice, glaring daggers into the captain. Their gazes locked intensely, staring off with one another as Fleethoof leaned in close.
“Do you have anything to say at all?”
He scoffed, and chuckled as a twisted smile spread across his face. “Took you long enough, Guard.”
“Sorry to disappoint, but we’re not the Guard.”
“Oh, I know… You’re that Skyfall Team. Special operations ponies, right?”
Fleethoof’s glare intensified. “How do you know about us?”
Chitin gave a booming laugh. “Glider has been a very useful informant.”
“Where are they right now, Chitin? What is Glider’s goal?” he asked tersely. As far as he was concerned, the games were over.
“Glider is such a good drone… So obedient... Follows orders to the letter… And such a silver tongue on him too. I heard he got that pegasus following him to fold like a house of cards once he killed Harp Strings.”
The next thing Chitin knew, his chair was spinning wildly and his face stung. Fleethoof had hit the pony so hard, he’d spun the chair around on itself. Waiting until the unicorn came spinning back around again, he stopped the chair with a hoof and leaned in closer. He was in no mood to play these games.
“We already discovered your mole inside Cloudsdale Intelligence. She’s been dealt with. Would you like to find out how?” Fleethoof threatened darkly. “You’re going away for a long time, Chitin, but I will find out what I need to know. What is Glider planning?”
Chitin blew a strand of his mane out of his eyes and smirked at the enraged stallion. “Oh, can you really not guess, pegasus? You know what they say: if you have to ask, you already know.”
Fleethoof ground his teeth together and turned away from the pony. No, wait… He wasn’t a pony. He faced his captive again.
“What are you?”
Chitin looked confused. “Beg your pardon?”
“I said, what are you?” Fleethoof repeated the question. “I know you’re not a pony. I’ve seen your mole’s true form. She called you ‘master’, like a slave would. So what are you?”
Chitin’s eyes gleamed as another unsettling laugh left him. “Oh, such a clever pony! Very well, since you know about me, I suppose there’s no use in using this disgusting form any longer…”
Chitin’s form began to glow green as the skin literally burned and melted away from his body. Just like the mare’s had, Chitin’s form shifted. Skin changed to a shiny black carapace, and soulless, insect-like eyes replaced his orange irises. It looked just like the other creature, but larger.
“Are you intimidated, soldier?” Chitin hissed, baring its sharp fangs in a menacing grin.
“No,” Fleethoof lied. “What are you?”
“An old race, long thought gone. That is all you need to know.”
“So what is a creature like you doing dealing arms?”
Chitin let out a sound crossed between a purr and a hiss. “Very perceptive question, pegasus. I don’t do it for myself, you see. I do it for a good friend of mine. Granted, he doesn’t know about my true form, but we’ve had plenty of dealings for years. I merely do it out of boredom now.”
Fleethoof didn’t feel like he was getting anywhere. “And what is your friend’s goal?”
“Why, to escalate the wars. He stands to make a great profit in the business of bloodshed. And nopony, not even you, can stand in his way. You didn’t even know he existed before now!”
Outside in the hall, soft popping could be heard, along with the sound of bodies hitting the floor. The Mossad agents had apparently survived. Waiting a moment longer, Sharp Shot opened the door, and Valiant stepped into the frame. He fired a few silenced rounds into the hall, and then the combat stopped.
Moments later, both Adira and Chaim rejoined the group. Their fur was splattered with blood. They took one look at Chitin, bound to the chair, and froze where they stood in a combination of terror and bewilderment. The threat now neutralized, Skyfall began to congregate around their leader.
“Who is your friend?” Fleethoof all but shouted. “Tell me now!”
“Not a chance! I’m more afraid of him than I am of you! This goes way beyond your head, pegasus!” Chitin sighed and reclined leisurely into the chair. “But I grow tired of this discussion, and I have nothing more to say. Take me into custody, if you dare, but it would be a grave mistake. Hellfire would rain down on your cities if you locked me in prison.”
“Hey, boss.”
Sharp Shot’s call caught Fleethoof’s attention. Turning away from the prisoner, he trotted over to where the sniper stood with Cupcake, looming over a book in the unicorn’s magical grasp.
“This was open on one of the desks. You might wanna take a look at this.”
Fleethoof took the book from his teammate. It was a small journal of sorts, detailing all the transactions Chitin had dealt over the past. It was dated back a few years. As he flipped through and skimmed the pages, Fleethoof began to pick up on a pattern of names. Glider came up a few times, but more prominently was one, ominous word: Silence.
“Who is this Silence you refer to in your ledger, Chitin?”
The creature refused to respond. Fleethoof cocked his head, waiting patiently. The waiting continued, until Cupcake stepped forward and brought his hoof across the creature’s jaw, hard. Again, the chair went spinning, disorienting the assaulted captive.
“Answer Captain’s question!” Cupcake demanded in a yell.
Again, Chitin stared off blankly at the wall. Tired of fooling around, Fleethoof slammed the book down on the nearest desk and stormed up to the creature. With a swift kick to the chest, the chair collapsed backwards with Chitin. The creature gasped and wheezed for breath, the air knocked from his lungs.
But before he could catch his breath, Fleethoof pressed his hoof down on Chitin’s throat, cutting off his oxygen supply. The creature choked and gurgled for air, thrashing uselessly against the cable ties.
“I am not playing games any longer,” Fleethoof growled, seething with unbridled rage. “Who. Is. Silence.”
No answer. Chitin continued to suffocate beneath the pegasus’ hoof. Despite his unwillingness, Fleethoof stepped off the prisoner, letting him breathe. Chitin gasped for air as the Re'emians set him back upright again. It was clear he was willing to die before giving up his partner.
“You can never get me to tell you. Nothing you could do to me could ever be worse than the wrath of Silence,” Chitin snarled viciously.
“Then we’ll have to find him the old-fashioned way,” said Fleethoof, picking up the ledger again and stowing it in his saddlebags. “We’ll find him, one way or another.”
“If you survive.”
Fleethoof furrowed his brow. “Excuse me?”
A sick, wicked grin came over Chitin’s face. “One of the perks about being my race is that all my followers know when I’m in danger. And they all come flocking to my rescue, ready to throw their lives away just to see you die.”
Downstairs, the sound of doors smashing inward was heard. Everypony turned toward the noise, hearing rapid steps swarming up towards them.
“Oh shit…” Valiant muttered.
“Positions!” Fleethoof ordered, facing off with Chitin alone as Skyfall began to set up a defensive position. “You summoned them here.”
The creature smiled proudly. “I did.”
“And you’re never going to tell us anymore.”
It was a statement, not a question.
“Have fun with the ‘old-fashioned way’, pegasus.”
Chitin laughed again, his voice reverberating around the study. Shouts could be heard coming closer from downstairs in response to the cackling. Fleethoof closed his eyes, taking slow, deep breaths to control his rage. Cadance’s words of control echoed through the caverns of his mind.
And then he brought his hoof hard into Chitin’s jaw again, watching the insect-like creature spin a few more times. He had effectively shut him up.
Fleethoof drew his rifle and made his way across the room to the door, taking position at one side, opposite of Valiant. The hoofsteps were running up the stairs right towards them.
“Hold them back, everypony,” he called out. “Don’t let them get to Chitin.”
“To me, my siblings!” the captive shouted to the advancing ponies, grinning widely to himself.
The first of the enemies came bolting up the stairs, barely illuminated by the light pouring out from the study. Adira and Chaim engaged them first, standing in the doorway and emptying their pistols down the hall at the charging masses of flesh. When they went empty, Fleethoof and Valiant took center stage.
Sucking in a breath through his teeth, Fleethoof turned with his second-in-command at his side. In a split second, he identified five bodies on the floor, and behind them, even more ponies were coming up by the dozen. Fleethoof picked the closest target and opened fire. Four rounds smacked wetly into the pony’s chest, and he fell to the floor. A second corpse was added to the pile a few shots after.
Valiant picked off two more ponies before return fire began peppering the walls and doorframe. Fleethoof ducked as a bullet just barely missed nicking his ear. He could feel the air displace and hear the snap, and responded by ducking quickly back behind the wall. Valiant managed to get off a couple more shots before he had to return to hiding as well.
Adira and Chaim had reloaded their weapons, and were ready for round two. Just as the stallion stepped out to take a shot, a pegasus flew through the door and tackled the agent. Chaim grunted as they flipped backwards over the wood floor and crashed into a bookshelf. Before anypony could react, three more ponies had rushed through.
Fleethoof kicked a hoof out, tripping one of the attacking ponies. The stallion went flying face-first into the floor. Adira put two rounds into his back and one in his head before he could get up again.
Sharp Shot and Cupcake gunned down the ponies still trying to push through the door. Fleethoof turned on the others who had made the surge, dropping one with a short volley of shots. Blood splattered from the wounds, and most remarkably to the captain, it was the same viscid blue gore he had come to recognize. These ponies were those horrifying creatures as well.
Sure enough, a few moments after each one had been killed, their images began to shift and change back into their natural forms in short bursts of greenish fire.
Chaim grunted as he managed to land a punch to the pony’s stomach twice, and then flip him to the floor. The Re'emian reversed the pin, holding the stallion down on his stomach and wrapping his hooves around the pony’s neck. The stallion cried out, but was swiftly silenced when Chaim grabbed the pony’s head and twisted his hooves in opposite directions, snapping his foe’s spinal column like a dry twig.
He panted lightly, snatching up his weapon again—and then the pony corpse began to change back. The Re'emian yelped and leapt backwards in fear as the body caught fire beneath him, singeing the underside of his belly and earning a hearty laugh from Sharp Shot and Cupcake.
Blue blood had begun to pool and spread across the floors, and was spattered across the walls and bookcases. Yet, despite the casualties suffered, the creatures just continued to swarm up after them from somewhere.
Where did they all come from?! Fleethoof thought as he killed another enemy trying to fight her way into the study.
His mental pondering was interrupted when a force sent him reeling. He could feel cold, smooth legs wrapping around his neck from behind, squeezing into his windpipe. Giving a choking gasp, he struggled against his attacker, but the enemy refused to let go. From the other side of the room, he could hear Chitin laughing at them.
His mind shooting straight back to his training, Fleethoof brought his hoof back, jamming the crook of his leg into his opponent’s stomach as hard as he could. He felt the resilient force behind him buckle a little, and that was all it took. Fleethoof threw the weight of his body backwards, sending both of them stumbling back and crashing into the wall with as much force as he could muster.
The legs disappeared from his neck, and Fleethoof’s lungs filled with soothing air. He stumbled forward a couple of steps and turned, facing off with the creature that had attacked him. The insect-like equine hissed as it got back to its hooves, and bum-rushed the captain. This time, Fleethoof was ready, and caught the creature with a grapple up underneath its legs. He used the momentum of the charging creature to flip it over onto the floor.
In one fluid motion, Fleethoof spun and drew his knife from its sheath. Bringing the deadly blade about, he dropped down onto the creature, aiming for the thing’s chest. He didn’t notice his enemy’s jagged horn illuminate with a green aura. The creature pulled a book from the closest cabinet, bringing it across itself just as the knife came down, stabbing firmly through the leather-bound book and sticking in the pages.
Before he could even contemplate drawing the blade back out, the book was flung magically across the study. The moment the book disappeared, the horrific face of the creature greeted Fleethoof as it snarled and lunged at the stallion. Fleethoof cried out in surprise as he was taken back down to the floor, struggling against the abomination’s strength. Hissing and growling like a wild animal, the creature kept lunging at the pegasus’ throat again and again, snapping its dangerously sharp teeth mere inches away from his tender flesh.
Fleethoof’s heart raced in his chest, desperately trying to rush oxygen-rich blood and adrenaline to his struggling muscles, frantically fighting for survival. He could feel the heat of his opponent’s breath on his neck and the creature’s drool dripping onto his skin. Those empty blue eyes burned with single-minded determination: to kill him.
With a roar of defiance, Fleethoof pushed the creature back a little more, just enough to get some leverage in his position. And then he performed the only action he could in his position. He let the creature fall back down closer to him, all while simultaneously bringing his head upward, smacking his skull against the monster’s.
Stars blinded Fleethoof, and his vision blacked out for a moment. He heard the thing atop of him cry out in pain, and felt the weight lessen on his chest. His vision returned a moment later, blurred, but functional. The creature was still above him, shaking its head in a pained daze. Fleethoof wasted no time in drawing his pistol and putting half a dozen shots into his enemy’s chest. The creature gave a short spasm, and flopped backwards. Kicking it off, Fleethoof rolled to his stomach and began popping off rounds from his prone position into the remaining ponies and unidentified creatures in the study until his magazine went dry.
The windows of the study suddenly exploded inward with a spray of glass and shrapnel, startling the fighters within. Several pegasus ponies had dove into the room from outside, and instantly entered the fray to defend Chitin. Rolling across the floor, Fleethoof grabbed his fallen rifle and flipped over to his back. A pegasus lunged through the air towards him. Fleethoof squeezed off several shots into his would-be attacker, watching it flip limply through the air and tumble across the floor upon impact. Still on his back, the crimson stallion began picking his targets across the room, firing whenever he had a clean center-mass shot.
Across the room, Adira shot out a pony’s knee, watching her collapse to the floor, and then send a second bullet through the back of her skull, watching her body collapse with a splatter of blue blood. She smirked, and turned to face a unicorn pointing a handgun at her chest. The unicorn smirked, and cocked the hammer. Before she could squeeze the trigger, the Re'emian had brought a hind leg around, brutally knocking the gun from her grasp in the blink of an eye—and then the agent spun in perfect momentum, bringing her other leg around into the unicorn’s face.
The pony groaned and recoiled from the strike, right into the hoof of Chaim. The stallion’s blow sent her reeling back towards Adira. The Re'emian mare caught her opponent and landed a blow low, beneath the unicorn’s ribs. The air knocked from her lungs, she doubled over with a gasping rattle. A quick hoof strike under the chin sent her stumbling back into the hooves of Adira’s partner, holding the stunned mare steady. The Mossad agents worked in perfect sync, and the last thing the mare saw was the Re'emian female pull a small blade and with a rapid flourish, sliced clean through her throat.
Chaim dropped the exsanguinating pony to the floor and exchanged a nod with his sister. Adira grinned, and pivoted in place, using the motion to ready her stance as she threw her knife through the air, straight into the back of another of the creatures. The monster let out a noise like air being released from a balloon, and crumpled to the floor in a heap, clearly dead. With one last burst from Valiant, the final opponent was killed, and the study was covered in blood, bodies, and brass.
Breathing hard and covered in a mixture of blood and sweat, Fleethoof got back up to his hooves. His heart was racing so fast, still coming down from his combat high, and he couldn’t feel anything. His body had gone completely numb. He allowed his eyes to roam around the room, taking in the sight of the gory battlefield, and making sure his friends were all right. Other than looking as worn and breathless as he felt, everypony seemed to be intact. A few bruises and cuts, but nothing serious.
“Somepony must have heard the fighting by now…” he said between deep, steady inhales and exhales. “The Guard is probably on their way up now…”
Sharp Shot chuckled weakly, looking at the mess they had made. “How the fuck are we going to explain this one to them, boss?”
“We can take care of that.” All eyes turned to Chaim as the Re'emian spoke up. “Do not fret. My sister and I have been well trained in the art of cover ups.”
“You’re going to hide all of this…?” asked a highly skeptical Fleethoof. Chaim nodded proudly. “All right then, it’s all yours.”
The pony smiled widely, and left the study with Adira close behind. Behind him, Fleethoof heard the beginnings of a deep, low, rumbling chuckle. His ear twitched at the sound as he slowly turned to face Chitin. The creature sat slouched back in his seat, smiling the most cruel grin Fleethoof could have imagined.
“Well, it looks like the ponies have a little fight in them… Bravo… I would applaud your actions, but I’m afraid I’m a little ‘tied up’…”
Fleethoof scowled, and slowly progressed towards the prisoner. “Consider this a small recompense for what you’ve done.”
“How much does it hurt, pony, knowing we so easily slipped past your radar? Does it sting?” Chitin taunted and jeered. “I bet it burns knowing that my subordinate did so much damage and you failed to even notice. It will bring me great solace in my cell knowing that though I fall, I brought a hammer down on your ‘military might’ and revealed you for what you really are, and that Glider has taken enough lives to make you shiver with anger. And Silence will come and avenge our fall. You cannot stop Silence. Silence is everywhere, and Silence cannot be killed!”
The dark blue eyes of the pegasus before him scorched with fury and abhorrence. His hooves pressed hard against the arms of the chair, quivering as he held himself back with everything he had. The two held an intense stare for a long while. Something was burning in the soldier’s eyes, like a lingering threat, and Chitin could see the predator inside the pony waiting patiently to strike.
And then something snapped in those sapphire orbs. Fleethoof had made up his mind.
“Captain,” Valiant said after the silence had lapsed into the point of becoming uncomfortable. “We have to go. The Guard will be here any moment. We can’t let them see this.”
No response came from the silent captain.
“…Captain…?”
“Go…”
Valiant’s brow lowered in confusion. “Excuse me, Captain?”
“Go… Get out. All of you. I’ll be down with the prisoner shortly.”
Every member of Skyfall exchanged worried, puzzled looks of bewilderment. Valiant looked uneasy by his officer’s response.
“Are you sure, boss?” asked Sharp hesitantly to ensure they had heard him correctly.
Fleethoof turned his head in their direction just a fraction and dropped his head in a half nod. “Go.”
Still put off by the abruptness and unusual request of their leader, the five ponies gathered their equipment and slowly made their way back downstairs. Valiant lingered by the door for a moment, opening his mouth in the beginnings of a statement—but no words left him. He didn’t know what Fleethoof was planning, but he trusted him. He left without a peep.
Chitin was now alone with Fleethoof.
Fleethoof waited until he heard the hoofsteps on the stairs disappear into the silence of the night before acting. Turning around, he made a slow lap around the study, extinguishing the lamps that had been illuminating the room, until just one on the desks remained lit.
From Chitin’s position, bathed in the warm glow, the soldier was lost to the darkness. The light right in front of him messed with his ability to see into the dark. He could still see the silhouette of the pony, standing in front of the far window. He lingered there for a while, perfectly still and quiet, wrapped in a shroud of solid black. And then he vanished into the night again.
Chitin listened, straining his eardrums to hear each subtle hooffall across the hardwood floor. Second by second, in perfect time, the steps came closer and closer. Natural reflexive instinct dictated the villain’s physical reaction. His heart rate picked up, and his breathing became shallow while he struggled to find the threat in the dark.
“What is this?” he asked, shouting at the ghost in the night. “Do you think you can scare me into talking? It won't do you any good!”
He didn’t receive a response. The steps continued to cross the floor ominously. And then Fleethoof stepped into the light, forming out of pure shadow before the bound creature. The hard light cast dark, menacing shadows across the pony’s face, his eyes burning like blue fire as they bore into Chitin’s skull. In the new light, the pony no longer looked like a poster child for the Equestrian Army, but more like a cold, remorseless assassin.
The predator within him had emerged.
“You sent your friends away so you could intimidate me?” Chitin scoffed. “It’s not working, pegasus.”
“I’m not here to threaten you, Chitin,” said Fleethoof, muttering his words and setting his rifle down on the desk. “I sent my team away because I didn’t want them to see what I was about to do.”
A thrill of actual fear struck Chitin’s heart, though he hid it behind a mocking façade. “And what, pray tell, is that?”
Fleethoof moved so fast, Chitin didn’t even see the attack coming. The next thing he knew, he was spinning around in his chair again, his face stinging and aching where the pony had hit him. Fleethoof caught the chair in motion, stopping it to face him again as Chitin reoriented himself.
“That was for Nightflash,” he growled roughly, his voice lowered, forewarning of the danger Chitin was in.
Chitin shook his head and spat a mouthful of blood out across the floor. His narrowed gaze turned to glower at the pony that had struck him.
"You have some nerve, pegasus..."
Another blow sent the creature spinning in the opposite direction for a few rotations. Fleethoof caught him again, eyeing the scoundrel as his head wobbled on his shoulders, clearly concussed by now. Slowly, the pony circled around the bound captive, like a shark. He had gotten all that he was going to get from this monster. But he was still far from done with him.
"That was for Spitfire."
Chitin blinked back the stars and spots in his vision, trying to tune out the ringing in his head. A dull ache was splitting the back of his skull. He direly tried to find the pony again, even as he heard him circling around behind him. He barely noticed when the pony’s leg came up, bucking him hard in the chest and knocking him backwards onto the floor. Chitin grunted and groaned as he was knocked breathless, staring up at the dark ceiling overhead. In a split second, Fleethoof was over him again, pressing his hoof to his chest to hold him in place. The pressure left a throbbing pain where he had been kicked.
All at once, Chitin began to realize that Fleethoof no longer had any intention of taking him into custody. He wasn't going to give the creature a second chance at life in a cozy cell for however many years he existed in this world. He was out for revenge—to repay the blood that had been spilled. The pony was going to murder him.
“That was for Harp Strings. And this…” Fleethoof drew his pistol, pointing it down at Chitin’s head. “This is for the soldiers you had killed. And for Lightning Strike. We will find Glider, and we will get him back, one way or another. You will never harm another pony again. Mark my words.”
Chitin opened his mouth, beginning to speak. Fleethoof never gave him that opportunity. He squeezed the trigger, feeling the gun kick in his practiced hoof as the suppressed round tore through the creature’s thick head with a splatter of blue gore and brain matter.
Standing in the perpetual silence, Fleethoof stared down at the body beneath his hooves. He focused on his breathing. In, and out. In, and out. It kept his mind from thinking about what he had just done. He could feel the tingling numbness returning to his limbs. He had just executed an unarmed prisoner. He had murdered Chitin.
It was justified though… wasn’t it? He had been a great enemy and danger to Equestria. Leaving him alive was a massive gamble with innocent lives. But he had been restrained. He hadn’t fought. Fleethoof had just… killed him. The debate tore through his brain, making him feel lightheaded and dizzy. Even deep breaths couldn’t steady him.
Swallowing back the bile threatening to rise in his throat, Fleethoof closed his eyes, and went far, far away. He saw Canterlot, with Shining Armor and Cadance waiting for him to return. He was the majestic city that had become his home, and how it would be decorated for Hearth’s Warming. He pictured visiting his family in Cloudsdale for the holidays. He did miss that city… He thought of how the soldiers, especially his Marines, would be spending their holidays. He wondered how Midnight was doing with them.
And then he opened his eyes again, and the body was still there. Dark, sticky blood had begun to pool beneath his head. The deed had been done. But at least he didn’t feel frozen in place anymore. He swallowed back a lump in his throat and took one, last deep breath. It was difficult to even do that.
Fleethoof put one more round into Chitin’s chest, right where he knew the heart would be on a pony, just to make sure the kill was confirmed. The body jerked slightly as the round impacted the flesh, but otherwise remained still and lifeless. Then he grabbed his rifle, and left the study, never looking back. Each step took extraordinary strength just to move, as his body had suddenly seemed to weigh a ton. The trek downstairs seemed to take an eternity in the darkness with his thoughts. Try as he might, he couldn’t quiet all of them.
I did the right thing… he told himself over and over again, half walking, half stumbling down each step. I did the right thing… I did the right thing…
Everypony was waiting for him at the foot of the last staircase. He could see the confused looks on Skyfall’s faces through his night vision goggles when he came down alone.
“Where’s Chitin?” Valiant asked, starting to head up the stairs to retrieve the captive.
“Don’t bother,” Fleethoof said tersely, stopping the sergeant dead in his tracks. “We’re leaving—now. Let’s go.”
Nopony spoke, none daring to refute their captain’s command. The ponies followed in line behind Fleethoof out to the street, following the old, snow-covered cobblestone road away from the house. Once they were far enough away, Fleethoof risked a glance over his shoulder at the building—and a question struck him.
“I thought you said you were going to handle the cover up?” he asked Chaim, perplexed. “How were you doing that, exactly?”
Chaim didn’t answer. He simply gave the pony a cryptic smirk, and continued walking past him.
A few moments later, the house burst into flames as a small explosion shattered the silence. Skyfall hit the snow on reflex, turning to the burning building as the fire engulfed it in a matter of moments. Fleethoof had to tear his night vision off, the bright inferno blinding him otherwise. His jaw went slack, hanging open as he stared in astonishment.
“What was—?”
“Oh dear, it looks like they must have had a gas leak,” Chaim observed from afar, his voice sickeningly nonchalant and sweetly innocent. “Those are very dangerous hazards, you know. That’s why you always need to make sure your stoves aren't leaking, especially when burning oil lamps. I don’t think anything will be recovered from that. Fire cleanses all, you know.”
Although extreme as they were, Fleethoof felt a rush of cool, soothing relief hit him like an ocean wave from the Re'emians’ methods. Those creatures would burn with the house, and the Guard would be none the wiser. This was a matter he wanted to keep quiet until the princesses told him what was happening, and deemed it safe to declassify.
“So, about that prisoner…” Adira said, casting a knowing glance to the downed pegasus.
Fleethoof scowled and bit at his lip. “I’m no assassin.”
“Of course not… And neither are we.”
As much as Fleethoof had resented the ideals The Mossad practiced, he knew their logic applied more than his ethics did in this situation. He had killed Chitin to defend his home, the same way they murdered to preserve Re'em. But he had also killed in cold blood, out of bitter rage and a desire for revenge. His emotions had taken precedent at the time, not logic. He had rebuked them before. Now he was like them. It was a strange feeling… one he wasn’t sure how to process just yet.
“Back to the station, everypony, before we’re caught,” he ordered calmly, collecting himself again. “I think it’s time we started looking for Glider and Strike.”
In moments, the neighboring residents had rushed out to the streets to see what had transpired. The fire came as a terrible shock to everypony. Nopony stepped forward to take any action, though, too startled to react. Slowly, more ponies came to investigate, and by then, the house was little more than a massive bonfire.
By the time the Oxford Guard arrived at the reported scene, the house had been reduced to a smoldering skeleton. Cinder and ash was all that remained, and the cause of the fire was impossible to determine. Focused entirely on the destroyed building, nopony noticed the stars and moon steadily becoming visible again overhead—or the hoofprints fading into the snowy ground, a trail left by vanished ghosts.