//------------------------------// // 3. The Wake-up Call // Story: Machinations // by TheLoneWombat //------------------------------// The group behind us had moved into a formation so that they had their unicorn at the front of the pack, wanting to give her a clear shot at us. I didn’t know what she had on her mind, but looking at the bright blue currents arcing around her horn and the determined sneer on her teal face, it didn’t take much to figure out that it wouldn’t end well for me. I was sprinting down the alleyway at top speed, but everytime i put any weight on my damaged leg a muted spike of pain shot through me. The adrenaline was keeping me focused on the more important things, but if i didn't do something soon i'd either loose the will to keep running, or the unicorn behind us would find an oppertunity to bring me down. A flash of silver in the moonlight ahead of me gave me an idea; I just had to pray that Buckshot wasn’t looking behind him or this could go spectacularly wrong. I dipped my head to the left as I ran, and bit onto the edge of a circular dustbin lid as I fled down the alleyway, and with a quick flick of my head in the other direction I lobbed the metallic disk over my right shoulder and sent it flying behind me. Buckshot saw my impromptu frisbee heading right for him, and had the good sense to duck underneath the spinning lid as it skimmed over the top of him, giving my projectile a clear path to it’s real target. Unluckily for the unicorn mare she never saw it coming, as she had completely forgotten one of the crucial rules of spell casting against a hostile; Never build up a spell strong enough to force your eyes shut. She only had her vision blocked for a fraction of a second, her brow furrowed under the strain of both casting and running at a dead sprint, and so she never registered the chunk of metal flying towards her until it hit her square on the base of her horn. The surprise and sudden pain was more than enough to break her concentration, and the incomplete spell discharged against the dustbin lid. Random bolts of lightning flew out in all directions from the stainless steel surface, it was as though a malicious spirit of pure energy were reaching out with extended tendrils to snatch at anything nearby. The pair of Sentinels nearest to their unicorn companion were both caught in the grip of the wild spell almost simultaneously, causing their muscles to seize up as the currents of energy grounded through their bodies and into the pavement. The two stunned ponies instantly hit the deck, taking out the legs of both the unicorn and the final Sentinel behind them, and the co-ordinated pursuit turned into a tangle of limbs as they hit the floor. A bolt of lightning flew past my head to strike the fire escape in front of me that I had just been about to try and climb, and unbridled power hummed throughout the structure as blue arcs danced over its frame, as I swiftly ditched that idea and carried on running. Buckshot didn’t luck out as I had however; one of the lightning fingers reached out and connected with the jingling bag of bits strapped to his back, the energy racing through his body causing him to lose all control of his legs, and the stallion bit the dust as his limbs pulled taught against his chest. Hearing all the commotion behind me, I chanced a look back to asses the situation. The Sentinels had been put down hard but the ceramic armour they wore was a great insulator, and whilst they didn’t look like they were going to spring straight back on to their hooves, they wouldn’t stay down for long. Buckshot looked like he had missed the brunt of the wild spell, but he hadn’t been armoured and had taken a solid hit to the face from the asphalt when he went down, blood was running from both nostrils as he struggled to climb to his hooves. I turned around and ran back to his side, and whilst he was unable to complain or resist, I bit into the bag on his back and tore a hoof sized hole in the material before helping him to his hooves. As he rose, several bags of bits cascaded out of the bag and spilled out across the alleyway, dumping their contents everywhere in a wave of gold behind us. “Damn you!” Buckshot cursed; forcing the words out through a clenched jaw as the effects of his shock hadn’t completely worn off. “I’m not going to be the one who explains how we lost all the bits when we get back.” “We aren’t home free yet, just get your arse moving!” I gave Buckshot a shove to get him back into motion, conscious that the Sentinels behind us were also slowly managing to get their legs underneath them as well. We both limped down the alleyway towards the road at the end, taking a right turn onto the pavement and moving as quickly as our battered bodies would carry us. I didn’t know if the Sentinels were still chasing us or not, but we didn’t dare stop moving. We had completely lost all sense of direction as we fled. Running was now out of the question with our collective injuries, so we hobbled along as fast as our legs could go, our heads constantly looking around us for any signs of more Sentinels. Back alleys, roads, and industrial estates all blurred into one as our attention was more focused on looking out for red spotlights than figuring out where we were going. It was only when we realised that we had been completely alone for several blocks did we eventually slow down, the pair of us wandering down a road lit with soft purple crystalline streetlights as we gained our bearings and headed towards The Hounds Head. As I caught my breath I became painfully re-aware of the damage in my fetlock. Whilst the adrenaline of nearly being captured had almost blinded me to it in the heat of the moment, the sensation of trapped nerves, torn muscle, and what I was convinced was a knackered knee joint returned with a vengeance. “I can’t believe we lost the take, I can’t go back to Grapevine after this, I’d disappear from the face of Equis within a day!” Buckshot rambled more to himself than me, his eyes staring unfocused into the distance as a look of a stallion who knew he was screwed began to form on his face. Where once it had only been every fourth step that had caused me pain, it was now every single step; with the fourth being particularly excruciating. Perhaps helping Buckshot come back to his senses would be a welcome distraction. I tapped a misshapen bulge at one corner of the bag still strapped to his back, producing the distinctive sound of bits chinking against each other. “We didn’t lose it all. It won’t buy you a trip to Roam, but it was all we could save if we didn’t want to get caught.” Buckshot ignored me as he trotted down the road, still muttering to himself as his desperate look intensified, a drop of blood falling from his muzzle and splattering against the pavement. “How the hell did this happen... He’s gotta see that it wasn’t my fault... No, it can’t have been my fault... He’s gotta see...” Damn it, I was too tired and in too much pain to have to put up with this guy having a breakdown as well. “Hey!” I pushed his side with my hoof. “Panicking never helped anyone. You got away didn’t you? Hell, almost all of us did, and we even saved some of the bits!” I was concerned that my words were falling on deaf ears as Buckshot continued to plod onwards, not even breaking his stride as he started into the distance. After a dozen paces though, his expression began to lose some of its anxiety as what I said finally started to get through to him. “We... We did, didn’t we?... We got away from them. I’m still free...” His eyes came to focus as he realised that although it had been close, we were definitely in the clear. We were battered, tired, and bloody, but we weren't cuffed in the back of a Sentinel chariot. No matter which corner of Equis you came from, that’s definitely called a victory. “Oh sweet Celestia, I’m still free... I’m still free! Hah!” I grinned at him as I saw his spirits lifting. “You’re damn right you are! Even with a ton of bits strapped to your back and my knackered leg we still left those guys to choke on our dust!” That was one way to spin it, the final stretch of our escape hadn’t been nearly as speedy as the first part; we had actually ended up limping down any road or alley we saw in order to flee a force that we wasn’t even sure was still chasing us, but that wasn’t the point. We had beaten them. Buckshot reared onto his hind legs and kicked the air, his previous despair completely forgotten in the rush of euphoria from successfully evading capture. “Oh you better believe it baby! That’s one more giant fuck you to the Sentinels! Hoo-yah!” I allowed myself a small chuckle at his antics. Joy and relief are intoxicating emotions; mix them with adrenaline and dopamine and you’ve got yourself a fine cocktail that’ll swing moods faster than a baseball bat. The evidence of how potent it can be was etched right there on Buckshot’s face as he bumped my shoulder with a hoof. “And you mate, they might have caught us both if you hadn’t lobbed a bloody chunk of metal at them! Did you see the lightshow that thing caused??” I tactfully decided to leave out the part where I nearly took his head off with said chunk of metal, and also that it was because of the lightshow that Buckshot tripped and had a mess of dried blood for a nose and muzzle. Why dampen the mood with needless details like that? “Lit ‘em up like a Hearth’s Warming tree. I’d almost feel sorry for them if they hadn’t been about to take us down with the same spell.” A small sack of bits broke free from the bag on Buckshot’s back and hit the ground with a muffled ca-shink. “And where do you think you’re going?” Buckshot scooped up the sack and stuffed it back into his ruined bag. “You’re our ticket to staying on Grapevine’s good side, don’t think that I’m letting any more of you get away from me!” I can’t say that I shared Buckshot’s worries that Grapevine would lose it when he found out what had happened. With everything stacked against us like that, we hadn’t performed too badly. “From what I know of Grapevine he isn’t unreasonable. They hit us hard and fast, and frankly it was a miracle we got away with anything at all. He’s going to see that we did our jobs, and we came out of it with more than we had any right to.” We’d just come within eyesight of The Hound, and I could feel an urge inside of me for cider. Anything that allowed me to just sit down and enjoy something ice-cold to take my mind off my aching body was a nice thought. I gazed longingly at the front of the door to The Hound. “I dunno about you, but I just know that there’s a pint in that building calling my name, you sticking around?” “Looking like this?” Buckshot waved a hoof over his bloodied nose. “I’ll pass for now; I’m ready to spit my bit. I need to make sure as many of these bits as possible get back to Grapevine anyhow.” “Oh, but do me a favour though?” Buckshot turned around and offered a limb out. “If you run into Nightshade, put in a good word for me? I’ve even got some more scars in the collection to show off now.” I chuckled as I bumped his outstretched hoof. “You do realise she isn’t the secure, settling down type of mare right? Will do, but on your head be it.” “And when did I claim to be a settling down kind of stallion?” Buckshot tired to flash a cocky grin, but with all that blood and scratched flesh on his muzzle it was a pretty hard look to pull off. “Later, Pathfinder.” As Buckshot turned and shambled off into the night, I turned my attentions to the now most important item on the agenda; Ice. Cold. Cider. I checked the eyes of The Hound’s trademark neon sign out of pure habit and found a set of red irises staring back at me. That was good as far as I was concerned right now; more work was definitely something I wanted to avoid in my current state. I nudged the door to The Hound open, suppressing a wince as raw patches of my hide brushed against the grain of the wooden doors, and found The Hound to be thankfully less busy than when I had last visited. Keg was behind the bar of course, even Old Forty was propped up in his usual corner, minus his usual ex-service drinking buddies. The rest of the pub was occupied by the kind of ponies whose faces you had seen so often you felt like you knew them, but had never been curious enough or had chance to ask for their names. I didn’t even bother to pull up a stool as I propped myself against the bar, if I was going to sit down I could wait until I found something more comfortable. I had the feeling that if I parked my backside down now I wouldn’t be able to get up again for the rest of the night. Keg glanced over at me whilst he was cleaning a glass with his copper coloured hooves, giving my appearance the once over with his eyes before raising an eyebrow questioningly. “...Yes, I know I look like shit. Yes it’s dumb of me to be here instead of at home recovering. And yes, I’ll take my usual please.” Keg grunted an acknowledgement and poured me a pint of cider. I was also pleasantly surprised when he slid an icepack over the bar to me with my drink. Grateful for his uncanny ability to read minds (especially for an earth pony), I pocketed the icepack for now and dropped some bits onto the bar, before hastily gulping down half of the pint the instant I got it in my hooves. Savouring the taste can come later, for now I just wanted to get as much of the happiness-in-a-bottle inside of me as quickly as possible. Finishing off the rest of the drink at a more reasonable pace, I dropped another trio of bits onto the bar and found another full glass already gracefully gliding across the polished hardwood surface and into my hooves. With service like this, it was hardly surprising that The Hound was always in business. This pint I was going to hang on to a bit longer however. I scanned the room looking for somewhere out of the way for me to sit, and my eyes settled on the sky-blue pegasus form of Old Forty who was scowling into his own glass. I remembered that there was something I had wanted to ask the old timer about from the other night, and now was as good a time as any. Sitting back into one of the chairs surrounding his table, I pulled out the ice pack and rested it on the fetlock of my leg that had been trapped under the rich filly’s carriage and took a sip from my cider. Forty didn’t move. In fact, he showed absolutely no signs of realising that I had sat down at his table at all. “It’s a rough night on the town out there, hardly surprising you’d want to stay in here all evening.” No response. “... I’m glad there’s not much of a crowd in tonight, how about you?” Still nothing. He wasn’t hammered already was he? I knew it was past midnight, but Forty never went home until it was closer to daybreak. “...I’d heard something interesting about the Gryphons, and I was hoping I could get your take on it.” “...The Gryphons of old? Or the debased mockery that took their place?” Ah, now we were getting somewhere. “The modern kind, although I can’t say I was aware that there was a difference.” Forty took a long pull of his drink before bringing the glass down with a thud. “Then you haven’t fought them. When I took my first watch on the boarders between our nations, the Gryphons then were honourable. Aggressive yes, perhaps they were brutal even, but honourable. If a Gryphon gave his word you could trust that he’d stick to it in writing and in spirit. The marauders that came after them pissed all over their tradition, and now look where they are.” It was rare enough to hear about Gryphons in any manner in the Union, indeed a small section of the nation was probably ignorant to their existence at all. When you did hear about them, it was either in textbooks or news reports describing them as heartless renegades, guns for hire, or just plain psychopaths. To hear a pony describe a gryphon as ‘honourable’, especially a pony that had probably killed a few first hoof, was a fairly alien concept in this day and age. “I’ll have to take your word on them being honourable. All I’ve ever heard is that they’re raiders who occasionally take a break from fighting amongst themselves to try and kill us instead.” “You’ve been listening to ponies who don’t know what the hell they’re talking about.” Forty took a deep inhale as he leant back in his chair, his eyes glazing over as he was lost in thought. “You aren’t completely wrong; they do fight us and each other all the time, but they aren’t mindless beasts from the depths of Tartarus. They once held their beaks high, and were easily our most formidable adversaries.” His gaze suddenly hardened as he continued. “Now they’ll just wait until you have your guard down before slitting your throat in the night.” Did I detect a sliver of bitterness there? It seemed like Forty was mourning the loss of a rival he had once respected, he was never usually this serious when talking about his service in The Watch. Whilst his change in tone was concerning, there was absolutely no doubt in my mind that this wasn’t one of his usual tall tales. “For a race as proud as the Gryphons were, defeat is something to be truly ashamed of. So imagine what must have been going through their heads when they didn’t even lose to a worthy foe; they lost to us when we were weak.” “Luna had vanished, Celestia refused to speak to anyone and soon disappeared herself, and Equestria as a nation was in turmoil. The majority of our army had only just returned from slaughtering the changelings, and the entire country was wondering why the princesses had just left us so suddenly. The gryphons should have annihilated us after The Fall of the Gods and they knew it.” “The charisma of Rarity and the valour of Rainbow Dash shook Canterlot out of its grievance and we drove them back. The Gryphons have lived with the humiliation of their defeat ever since, and each new clutch of hatchlings grew more and more resentful of how weak their ancestors had been, the rage of having to burden a dishonour they did not deserve slowly shaped their culture.” Forty took a pause from his story to have another swig of his drink. I knew all about Rainbow Dash and had heard mention of Rarity before, aside from being hailed as the creators of the Union as we knew it, one went on to become a Wonderbolt legend, and the other laid the foundations for the Altruists. Never once had I considered what became of the enemies they had to defeat in order to establish the Union however. “Posted on the Watch, you saw the way they were changing with each skirmish. They became more reckless, arrogant, and deceitful with every engagement. You would wake to find your comrades slain in their sleep, or find explosives hidden inside civilian trading caravans. I know of similar stories of how they treated each other and gained power within their own kingdoms.” “I hear there’s trouble in the kingdoms now.” I said as I sipped at my cider. “The word is that there are no stories coming from there at all, the few neutral kingdoms we trade with have gone completely silent on us.” Forty scratched a hoof against the silver stubble on the underside of his face as he mulled over what I had told him. “...If it were a civil war there, then there would be refugees fleeing the region, and I haven’t heard that asshole on the news go on about any new immigrant problems. If I were to hazard a guess, some sneaky bastard of a gryphon is making as many alliances as possible to try and grab some power; you get characters like that now and again. Won’t be too long until some other ambitious gryphon takes him down though, I wouldn’t be that concerned by it.” That seemed pretty dismissive of a potential threat to the Union, but if Forty wasn’t that bothered by it then I guess I had no reason to be, he knew a hell of a lot more about gryphons and how they acted than I ever would. Still, the thought of a single gryphon with several kingdoms in his claws was more than a little unnerving. “Listen here squire; trust Fortification, Captain of The Watch, slayer of a hundred gryphons, when he says that it’ll all blow over soon enough.” Ah, and there’s the exaggeration. It was a fairly welcome relief that Forty couldn’t resist a chance to grab some extra fame when he had a captive listener, his serious retelling of history had me slightly concerned for a minute there. I was beginning to think that he was actually Nightshade pulling the disguise trick again. Realising my mistake I shot a quick glance around the pub. Usually fate doesn’t miss an open temptation like that one, but Nightshade was nowhere in sight. She was more than capable of evading the Sentinel air support that had been chasing her, but I couldn’t ignore my concern for my friend. I had only gotten away by the skin of my teeth, rather literally as it had turned out, but I supposed that there was nothing that I could do about it from here. “You’re not asking because you ran afoul of a gryphon yourself did you? You look like something tried to take a chunk out of you.” “Something being the right word there.” I muttered to myself. “I’d rather not talk about it. Right now, I just want to get so drunk that it’s not important until tomorrow. Future Me gets to worry about that.” “Hah, I can drink to that squire.” We chinked glasses, and I settled myself in for a long night of tall tales, laughter, drinking, and good times with a friendly crowd. Because right now, that was exactly what a doctor would order. Or that’s what I told myself at least. Thump-thump ... Urgh. What time is it? Midday? Too early... ... Thump-thump ... ...Ok, I’m up... I think. To say I got out of bed would be far too generous. I crawled out from under my sheets to the edge of the bed, rolled out, fell onto the floor, and was almost immediately fast asleep again. Who knew that floors could be so comfy? ... Thump-thump No really, I’m awake this time. How was I supposed to get up again though? I could feel the room spinning around me even with my eyes shut. Thump-thump And why won’t the door stop making that damn noise? My heartbeat was already amplified inside my own head and was thumping out of time with the bangs from the door. No, I’m not in. Go away. Thump-thump Eventually, I became more annoyed at the constant banging sooner than whoever was at the door became bored, and forced myself up off the floor to answer it. Thump-Smack! I opened the door and was greeted by a tennis ball to the face. An orange pegasus mare with a light blue mane who was propped up against the door opposite mine grinned rather sheepishly as she held the offending tennis ball in one hoof. “Ah, er... Hey Pathfinder! I er... kinda got bored knocking, so I figured out a way to pass the time and get you up all in one go!” I just stared at her. It didn’t really hurt to be pelted in the face by a lazily thrown ball, not compared to all the aches I’d acquired yesterday. I’d just had much better starts to a hangover day in the past and was silently whishing that it could have been one of those days instead. “...Nightshade. I would really, really like to be spending all of this day asleep. What’s so important that you had to be sat there for hours knocking at my door?” “Ummm... I’ve actually only been here about twenty minutes. But anyway, we still have to report back to Grapevine and he’s getting pretty insistent, you remember the whole reason we were out there in that mess yesterday?” I remembered, I just really couldn’t find the effort to care right now. “I’m tired, aching, and since the room is still slowly revolving I don’t think I’m in any state to go places just yet. Can you just give me a few minutes?” “A few is fine, just remember though that a girl doesn’t like to be kept waiting!” I gave her the most expressionless look I could. “You made me wait for days before turning up last night to give me that job. I think I’ve earned some time to at least look like I wasn’t camped out on the street all week. Give me a minute.” “Sure, I’ll just wait out here then.” Thump-thump Almost the instant the door was shut behind me the sound of Nightshade’s tennis ball resumed, just as a background reminder for me to hurry up before she eventually drove me insane. Suppressing the urge to go back out there and strangle my best friend for tormenting me like this, I headed for the bathroom to try and at least make an effort to clean myself up. That’s one of the joys of being a stallion, a quick five minute shower and a swing of mouthwash and your good to go. When a mare tells you she’ll only be a few minutes, you might as well get comfy and accept that you’ve just lost an hour of the day. For a guy its get up, wash, go. Ten minutes, tops. Thump thump I waited until Nightshade had already thrown her ball before opening the door this time. “In case you hadn’t figured it out, I’m still pretty hung-over, and I’m not sure my brain has actually turned on yet, so don’t expect me to be too clever today. Are we walking, or do we have another magic carriage waiting for us?” “Walking I’m afraid.” Nightshade picked herself up off my floor and pocketed the tennis ball. “Grapevine originally had the carriage put aside, but it took so long to wake you up its long gone by now. We’ll have to walk to the Altruist’s Refuge if we want to catch him.” After locking my door and tossing my saddlebags onto my back, we left my flat and headed for the central district of Canterlot. The Altruist’s Refuge is a much grander building than the name implies, and was situated right on the main road from Canterlot’s outer gates to the Old Citadel itself. This was the part of the city constantly depicted on postcards and is the first thought that comes to mind when ponies think of Canterlot, it was certainly the most glamorous district of the city, and was always full of tourists or the Canterlot high society. As we slowly pushed our way through the crowd on the most famous road in Canterlot, I noticed Nightshade visibly tense as she walked forward. I quickly scanned around me to see if she had spotted something, but I couldn’t see anything that might have spooked her. “What is it? Have you seen something?” “You could say that.” Nightshade was looking down at the cobbles directly under her hooves, but I still hadn’t caught on to what she was talking about. “Look at the street itself Pathfinder, I always hate walking across this part of town.” I looked around, not sure what she was referring to. The street looked just like it did every day, a huge crowd surging past the shops and market vendors with ponies of all kinds and several other beings of various races going about their business. Hey, was that a Minotaur? Don’t see many of those around these days. It was only when a large partition appeared in the crowd around me did I see it, a cluster of the cobblestones in the street was darker in some places than in others, and formed the elongated silhouette of a creature vaguely resembling a pony. Ah crap, how could I have forgotten that?? I could have blamed the cider I’d had last night, but that was no real excuse. No wonder Nightshade hated this part of town. “Shit, I’m sorry. We could have avoided coming here if I was a bit more awake.” “It’s fine, really. I couldn’t have lived here more than a few weeks if I couldn’t accept it. I have to wonder though; just how many ponies here realise that they’re desecrating the graves of my ancestors just by walking here?” Nightshade stepped off the cobbles as we resumed our walk towards the Altruist’s Refuge, but now that I was aware of them there I spotted dozens of shadows on the street that didn’t belong to any of the ponies walking upon it, hundreds even. “These shadows are all that is left of the changelings that had infiltrated Celestia’s royal guard who tried to flee when she declared war on our kind. The heat and light of Celestia’s fury vaporised them, and burned their shadows into the very stone of the street itself. You don’t fuck with a God, and that's something we had to learn the hard way.” Nightshade spoke to herself more than me, maybe it was a self-comfort thing by trying to distance the shades on the road to mere historical facts rather than imagining them as the sentient beings they once were. I tired to walk in a path that would avoid stepping on as many of the shadows as possible, but with a crowd of ponies pushing in on either side it was almost impossible to achieve. What had been going through the mind of the last changeling queen for her to attack a pony as powerful as Celestia a second time? It was madness. I was feeling more and more awkward and out of place as we walked, I wanted to say something to Nightshade but couldn’t really find the words. I decided that she’d probably prefer respectful silence than a half-thought out attempt to apologise for something that had happened before either of us was born. It felt like a huge pressure on my shoulders had been lifted when we finally stepped off of the main street and towards the Altruist’s Refuge, and it was a feeling I was incredibly grateful for, even if we were about to step into a building that I had promised myself long ago I would never turn to. Considering that it was a group that had been created to help others and named after selfless generosity, I couldn’t help but feel that they were doing incredibly well for a non-profit organisation. White marble seemed to be the material of choice, the outside of the building resembling a simplistic but still elegant ivory diamond with a large circular window cut into the face of the building oriented at the street below, four or five floors of ponies at work clearly visible through the violet tinted glass. Stepping inside the entrance, the reflections of a yellow / brown stallion and an orange / blue mare were projected by the indigo crystalline floor along with the ceiling above us to give the building an even larger feeling than it already had. I was struggling to find the right word to describe this place. Amazing seemed just too plain, unbelievable was outright untrue as here at was in front of me, dare I say that it was… fabulous? That’s not a word I used often, or at all, but it certainly seemed fitting here. Nightshade bypassed the front desk entirely (which I secretly whished she hadn’t, it was worked by a pair of the prettiest mares I’d ever seen) and headed straight for the platinum-coated elevator doors. I reluctantly followed, but reasoned to myself that perhaps a battered and hung-over Pathfinder wouldn’t make the best of first impressions on the pair. The doors opened to reveal a luxurious but empty compartment, save for the small green levitation gem that hovered perfectly still near the floor of the elevator. As the doors closed behind us, the green gem glowed and hummed ever so quietly with power, and the lift began to rise up the diagonal spine of the structure. Although I could feel the floor of the elevator pushing upwards against my hooves, as though someone had turned the gravity of Equis up ever so slightly, the gem never moved. It stood completely immobile in the centre of our compartment, never turning nor reacting to the inertia of the moving lift. It was quiet eerie to see a small object such as that completely defy non-thaumatic physics without even betraying much effort on its part, but then again I had always been a bit wary of arcane technology. They just seemed to have a habit of not working when I was around them, Marephy’s Law was a real bitch sometimes. We arrived at our destination, the doors gliding open with a whisper of well maintained machinery to reveal a white marble hall with a pair of large hardwood doors at the other end of the room. As Nightshade took the lead and opened them into a lavish office I spotted a familiar dark green coated stallion with a cut-back cream mane. Grapevine sat back in a large wheeled office chair, hind legs propped up on the mahogany desk in front of him as he scooted the chair back and forth in a small arc behind the desk, making a faint rustling noise as it rolled across the carpet. When he noticed us enter the room he raised a foreleg in greeting. “Ah, a good morning my fellow compatriots! Or is it good afternoon? The day certainly seems to have flown by for some of us has it not? Although if Buckshot’s recounting of yesterdays events is anything to go by, I believe I can forgive this minor discrepancy.” Slightly embarrassed at how quickly I had ditched all professionalism after I escaped the raid last night, I said nothing as the pair of us took a seat in front of the monolith that Grapevine called a desk. Actually, on closer inspection it probably wasn’t even his desk at all, if the gold and platinum nametag on it was a giveaway. Not unless Grapevine had recently changed his name to ‘Silver Belle’. Grapevine caught my wandering eyes and pulled a particularly smug grin as he adjusted his position in the chair, his hind legs still firmly in place upon the desk. “Unfortunately Miss Belle was unable to join us this afternoon, but as a token of appreciation for an old favour, she has kindly allowed us the use of her personal workspace. This is why it’s always good to make acquaintances before they gain any real stature, the very motto the Altruists themselves work to these days if I’m not mistaken.” “Regardless, we are in a place of business, so straight to it then! I’m rather grateful that you passed a warning to my employees; I hear that they would have been in quite the conundrum otherwise. But, I’m particularly interested to know what you overheard before the Sentinel’s decided to interfere.” I decided to get what I felt was the more important piece of news out of the way first. “I heard a stallion and a mare, a couple, they seemed like they were members of a noble house. Ingot, the mare was called.” Grapevine rested his hooves together and balanced his chin upon the point they formed. “Ingot... I’m aware of half a dozen mares of that name, and all of which hail from the House of Industry. Did the male give any inkling to his identity?” “He was never named, although he must be a regular at the ring since the runner knew what to get when he asked for his ‘usual’.” “Ah! That would be Lord Wrought Ferrous then; terrible anger issues that one, but luckily for us we sell just the right prescription for him. And by powers of deduction, that would make his partner the Lady Brass Ingot. Issues amongst the House of Lords are always a hot topic, do continue.” “It seemed that they didn’t buy the story of Blueblood turning traitor, and that they were pushing to deny Rolling Thunder’s request to stop sending spies into the Motherland.” Grapevine looked... slightly disappointed. “Predictable, even though they knew Blueblood far to well to believe his supposed defection they’re still afraid of sharing the same fate. I’d guessed as much already, although I suppose it’s nice to have confirmation.” I’d thought that this had been serious news; it was a little disheartening for Grapevine to dismiss something I believed to be important so easily. What would he think when the only other information I had to offer was of the spoilt filly who doesn’t play nice? “Was that all you gathered? I know that you’d barely had time to eavesdrop on a few carriages before the Sentinels made their move but I was rather hoping for more.” I took a deep breath, praying that Nightshade wouldn’t tease me for weeks to come about this. “There was one other; although I’m not sure what they said was significant.” A steely edge appeared in Grapevines expression. “I believe that I will make the decision of what is relevant and what is not Mr. Pathfinder, continue.” “I heard some rich filly complaining about how she didn’t like to be seen with this singer, Flowing Mantra or something.” Grapevine actually sat up slightly. “Flowing Mantra came into the public consciousness after she unexpectedly replaced another act on an entertainment show viewed by hundreds of thousands. Her message of equality, promotion of the working class, and her sudden appearance all indicate that she might be a subtle propaganda relay for the Motherland. If this is the case, it’s highly important that you recall as many details as possible from the conversation.” You’ve got to be shitting me. Grapevine was more interested in what a bratty filly had to say than a couple in the House of Lords itself? Had I made a seriously mistaken judgement call back then? “Erm...” Celestia-damned Brain, think! I could feel Grapevine’s expectant stare drilling into my skull as I desperately tried to recall a conversation I had almost completely dismissed. “Erm... She was talking about how Mantra was trying to fit in with the rich group and she didn’t like it, she was planning to introduce her to a crowd that would somehow discredit her? And... and she was roping her maid or servant into helping her, Mrs Sweep I think she said her name was?” “The Sweep family is wide and deeply spread amongst the Canterlot nobility in all manner of households. The filly. What was the name of the filly?” Argh! I knew this one! I tried to imagine the ridiculous pink carriage I had clambered underneath, and the voice that came from it. The amazingly shrill, whiney, loud and irritating voice that I’d tried so hard to forget. “it’s R-something Tiara!... Red? no... Regal? no...” Grapevine finally took his hind legs off the desk and leaned forward in anticipation. “Ruby Tiara? Ruby Tiara, daughter of Lord Visage??” Ding Ding Ding! We had a winner! “Yes! Yes that’s the one!” A rather predatory grin crept onto Grapevine’s face as he eased himself back into his chair. “Ruby Tiara… Whose housemaid is Mrs. Clean Sweep. Quite the gambler if the rumours are to be believed, and if that filly is as annoying as I hear I’m sure Mrs. Clean Sweep would not have many real ties of loyalty to the family. Her relationship with Ruby Tiara requires further investigation, but if I play my cards right not only would I learn of Visage's intentions, I may even acquire an asset in the House of Culture itself, closer to the Chancellor of the Union than I’ve ever been!” Grapevine said nothing for a while, he just stared over the top of our heads as he propped his hooves back upon the surface of the desk, his devilish grin still playing upon his features as his spoke again. “What you witnessed was an insight into how the Union defends itself from more insidious threats. Lord Visage is well renowned for his eye for detail, and if he’s spotted a danger to the union in Flowing Mantra, a smear campaign would be the perfect defence for a public figure such as her. Of course it's entirely possible that she's just a normal mare who had a lucky break, but even then Visage and his house has significant investments in competing performers. Fame is fickle, and if she’s caught Visage’s gaze then Miss Mantra’s new found celebrity status will be her undoing.” Grapevine produced a sack of bits just barely the right size to fit into my saddlebags if I split it in half and tossed it onto the table. “It seems my investment in you was a wise choice Mr. Pathfinder, Information is a valuable commodity that can be sold or acted upon. These are for your trouble and for aiding Buckshot in his escape; the lost bits are insignificant in what it would cost in lawyer fees.” Grapevine then turned his attention to the changeling in disguise sat next to me. “Well then Miss Nightshade. What do you have to report?” Nightshade had dropped her gaze before Grapevine had even turned to face her, and seemed quite content to speak at the nametag on the desk rather than look Grapevine in the eye. “The Guild of Traders has lost a caravan on the outskirts of Ponyville, there were signs of battle, but both the caravan and the ponies that were guarding it have gone missing.” Grapevine’s brow furrowed. “The Guild are a particularly honest bunch, it seems unlikely to me that they would have had any of their members turn renegade. But the route from their outpost to Ponyville is far from any dangerous wildlife, and there are no organised bandits or raiders in that area. This could be nothing, but I shall see if I can’t get a copy of the Guild’s investigation. Was there more?” “Unfortunately not. The next carriage contained a group of party-goers who were heading to the bars for the night, and the final carriage had a mare inside who was incredibly excited to see The Six Companions with her new coltfriend, who apparently is ‘the perfect catch’. She’s probably in a Sentinel lockup by now.” She must be referring to the carriage that had been swarmed by Sentinels as we had made our escape. I wasn’t sure if I should pity the mare who had been caught or not; yes it seemed like she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, but it was her decision to be there in the first place. Only when Grapevine reached under the table did Nightshade lift her gaze again. This no eye contact thing was really starting to bug me now, perhaps now wasn't the time to go hunting for the real reason when i was barely awake, but clearly i was missing something here. Grapevine’s head emerged from under the desk as he tossed another bag of bits onto the table. “I thank you both for your services. But before you leave, whilst I realise that it may be rather much for me to request your assistance again so soon, this task leans very much to your skillset. I have a package that needs recovering, and that is all. No theatrics, no danger, no sneaking into military compounds, it’s just a simple retrieval job.” Just a simple job. I really, really wanted to go back to bed. And frankly, I thought that yes, it was rather much for Grapevine to ask me to do another job so soon. But whilst I was trying to come up with a more civilised way of telling Grapevine where to stick his job offer, Nightshade beat me to the punch. “We’ll take it.” Wait, what? No, no we wont! I still had a thumping head from the night before and was still kind of irate that Nightshade had woke me up in the first place. “Ah this is excellent! I’m overjoyed at my ability to recruit such devoted employees.” Grapevine said, as he pushed off the desk lightly with one hoof and his chair went into a slow spin. He waved a hoof lazily behind him as the chair came to rest facing the tinted glass window. “You will find the details in the envelope on the desk.” I drew in a breath to point out that whilst Nightshade and I were good friends, she did not dictate what jobs I would and would not take, but felt an invisible force clamping my jaw shut. Suddenly I was a lot more awake than I had been when we first walked into the office, I looked over at Nightshade to see a faint lime green aura playing around her horn, and put two and two together. Nightshade responded to my scowl with an ever-so-sweet smile that I only ever saw when she knew she had me over a barrel. “Of course Sir, we will retrieve the package shortly.” Will we now? As Nightshade rose from her seat and turned to leave with the envelope in her magic field, I still had my backside firmly parked in my chair. It was madness for me to take another job in my current state, it took far too much effort just to get up this morning, I wasn't leaving until I had asked Grapevine for a day to recover at least. ...And now I was silently being levitated towards the door. Celestia-damn that changeling and her magic tricks. Only once she coolly closed the large doors to Grapevine’s ‘borrowed’ office did she finally put me down and removed her invisible binding from my mouth. “Ok then Nightshade, what the hell was that? I don’t know about you, but I’m in no state to be running jobs right now!” I didn’t know if the door was sound proofed or not, but even though I tried to keep my voice down, it was too hard to let slip that I was just a little bit pissed off. “I did you a favour you stubborn mule!” Nightshade replied defensively. “You don’t get to waltz into a meeting with Grapevine both late and hung-over and expect him to be ok with it! If you had turned down that job, and I know you were thinking about it, he’d never give you work again.” “Look, I get that I didn’t leave the best impression there, but what the hell were you expecting after a night like that? Even if I knew that I was turning up for an interview I’d still look a mess anyway.” “You’d have been much worse if you hadn’t remembered that filly’s name! Listen to me when I tell you that Grapevine never stops watching you, I’ve been working for him ever since I came to Canterlot and I’ve never felt like I wasn’t being scrutinised by him the entire time!” I bashed my hoof against the call button for the lift probably a little harder than I needed to. Whilst I was a bit pissed that Nightshade had decided to talk for me, I was even more irritated at the fact that I knew she was right. I’d gone in there and made a complete arse of myself, I knew I was better than that and would apologise later, but right now I just wanted to get this over and done with. The elevator door’s ‘dinged’ to signal the arrival of the lift, but before the doors were a third of the way open they snapped back shut again right in front of Nightshade’s face, almost catching her nose like a mousetrap. The lift made a further set of dings but refused to open again, and a small image of a trio of fillies hitting a large set of jammed gears was projected in red light onto the doors. Below the moving pictogram of the fillies trying in vain to get the cogs moving again by hitting it with screwdrivers, an ‘out of service’ message flashed repeatedly, It’s why Marephy’s Law was a law and not a guideline; if it could go wrong, it would. I sighed to myself as I rested my head against the firmly shut doors, the hologram of the filly with a bow in her mane merrily hammering away with her screwdriver at the side of my skull. Perhaps I should just accept that this day wasn’t going to go smoothly for me. “...Stairs?” I asked the question aloud, with my head still propped against the metal doors. “Other side of the building. Apparently the notion that his elevators could break down or that ponies would be fine with taking the stairs was insulting to the architect.” Of course it would be, this was Canterlot after all, and Canterlot was designed to impress ponies, not be useful to them. We headed around the back of the elevators and opened a much more simplistic set of doors into the meat of the Altruist’s Refuge; the recruitment floor. A massive white expanse, everywhere you looked there were ponies sat at desks, either waving their hooves across the interactive projections in front of them, or pitching the recruitment offer to other ponies – many of whom looked like that had been picked right of the street corners. We didn’t get many looks as we headed to the opposite corner of the massive room, as everyone their seemed to be focused on something, I could even catch snippets of the conversations going on around me as we walked. “...Sir we would prefer it if you did not use that word, this is a binding contract to live within the confines of our rules that you willingly signed yourself...” “...Can offer me? I graduated with a first class in Thaumatic Dynamics and the best you have is a Telekinetic Labourer??...” “...Yes Ma’am, whilst you will receive no pay for your work for the first three years we will cover all of your living costs, and once we’ve helped you back on your hooves you will be legally required to donate a percentage...” “...The court deemed you unable to help yourself Sir, and so we are obliged to help you. Either you can agree to our contract, or you will be facing jail time for the large debts you have amassed...” Amongst all the background chatter a particularly loud unicorn stallion caught my attention. “I severed this nation for eight years on the Watch! Eight years! And now you parasites want to send me to some Celestia-damned glue factory??” “Sir, please try to keep your voice down.” The mare sat at the other side of the desk urged. “That unfortunate term comes from the power plant’s statement of ‘Being the glue which holds the Union together’ and has absolutely nothing to do with its function.” Holy shit, I recognised this guy! I remembered back to a few nights before when I was making my escape from the Aerodrome - this had been one of the homeless ponies keeping warm around a burning barrel. “I gave my eyesight in service to a nation I believed in! I can’t believe you’re doing this to me!” “Sir, you were brought to us because you couldn’t pay your bills, and because of your disability we have no other positions to offer you.” “Your damn right I can’t pay! As soon as I wasn’t useful to you leeches anymore I was discharged. No pension, no aid, nothing!” That’s a story you heard often in The Hound. Not because it was a popular story to tell, but because the amount of bodies the Watch swallowed up and spewed back into the Union was tremendous. It was dangerous work, and if you couldn’t do it for any reason, you were gone. “Its not even work at all Sir, you should consider yourself lucky. All you need to do is stand upon a siphon for a half-hour and that’s you done for the day! Then you can go home to the accommodation and food that we provide for you.” “Stand around whilst you stuck the very magic out of me? Just so you can play with your fancy gizmos? I’ve spoke to the ponies that come out of that damn building, and they ain’t the same ones who went in.” They may have been founded by the very embodiment of Generosity, but all that remained of Rarity’s legacy was a pristine, shiny, soulless example of her good intentions. I had to feel sorry for the old buck as we found the staircase and began to descend to the bottom floor. This wasn’t even a case of being dealt a bad hand, he had been royally fucked by a broken system. This was why you never went to the Altruists of your own free will. Indentured Servitude, Long-term binding contracts, legal obligations, however the they tried to spin it with fancy words and offers of good will, you would always lose. Work for us or starve. Work for us or go to prison. Work for us or die. Those were hardly choices if you asked me. As we left the building and I tried to hide my rather obvious staring at the receptionists (Were they twins? they had to be twins.), we headed down a path that would avoid the main road, so that Nightshade and I could read our instructions in relative privacy and so that we didn't have to go walking down the street of shadows again. She opened up the white envelope, which had a printed image of a black Zebran tribal style glyph that I didn't recognise on the reverse side. “It appears our package is hidden away in the back room of a Shop n’ Drop. We just need to collect it, and take it back to the factory where you were introduced to Grapevine. Should be a cakewalk.” That sounded easy enough, the industrial sector was only a stones throw away from my apartment. If we were lucky, I could be back home and in bed again within an hour or two. “Which Shop n’ Drop is it though? There’s one on practically every other block, must be at least two dozen of them in Canterlot alone.” “It’s the one near the Celestial Academy campus.” I sighed internally. Of course it would be the one on the exact opposite end of town, I’d be lucky if I got home by nightfall at this rate. At least there wasn’t a strict deadline, or someone chasing us, or state of the art security when we got there. I just had to resign myself to a long walk across tow before I could drag myself home. We travelled the distance at a relatively steady pace, neither myself nor Nightshade were in the mood for our usual shenanigans, and the changeling led the way at a leisurely stroll. To take my mind off our conversations, I let my attention wander as I looked up at the cityscape. When you had time to take it all in, Canterlot wasn’t a bad city. Sure, it had its shady areas and dark secrets, but actually walking out in the daylight amongst normal ponies just going about their business, it was kind of relaxing. Maybe I’d spent too much time in the dark running with the less noble crowd, being out in the sun for a change might do some wonders for my outlook on it all. We walked in silence for the most part, there was only so much that idle chatter could cover before just talking for the sake of talking lost its charm. I knew exactly why things felt a little awkward, and as we finally came within sight of the Shop n’ Drop we were interested in, I decided that it would be good to clear the air before we let the words in our argument outside Grapevine's office fester. “Nightshade, I’m sorry for snapping earlier. I was tired and not thinking straight, but you were absolutely right and I owe you a favour after saving me from making an arse of myself.” Nightshade carried on walking forward, but glanced an eye my way with a half up-turned mouth. “If there’s one thing you know, its how to make an arse of yourself. Apology accepted; just wait for me before you start the cider flowing next time.” “Mmm, I had offered Buckshot a round, but he was in more of a mess than I was. He’s not a bad stallion after all; either that or electrocuting a squad of Sentinels has a previously unknown ability to bring ponies together.” Nightshade snorted to herself. “He asked you to put a good word in, didn’t he? One day Buck’ll learn to take no for an answer, but until then I’ll gladly take the free drinks he keeps sliding my way.” This particular Shop n’ Drop seemed nigh on deserted at this time of the day, lunch hour had been ages ago and most of the students on the campus were still in class, even then that was assuming that the had enough bits to spare from alcohol and Celestia-knows what else to spend them in here. I noticed a Locomoted carriage pulling up on the kerb just as we opened the front door, so atleast they would be getting some business today I supposed. The small chime of the doorbell signalling our arrival caused the only check-out mare on duty to perk up and offer us a friendly wave, but her cheerful demeanour quickly vanished when Nightshade showed her the emblem on the back of Grapevines envelope. With her mouth firmly shut, she gave a particularly exaggerated nod to the opposite corner of the store. It really was empty in here, infact the only other sign of life I saw was the lone pegasus stallion stocking the shelves at the far corner of the building, who was far too engrossed in his work to notice us slip into the store room. The chime of the front door bell went off once more, just before the storeroom door softly closed behind us and deadened all noise from outside the rather cold and dingy storeroom. “...The instructions from Grapevine say that we’re looking for a small package, about two hooves high, one wide, and really thin. It should be hidden amongst the Zanzebran Spices.” Careful not to damage any of the glass bottles of cinnamon or black pepper, I dug my hoof around in several large cardboard boxes before brushing against something that definitely wasn’t a Zebrican spice container. “Is this it?” I asked, pulling out a brown envelope. Turning it over the package it didn’t have any distinctive markings, other than the postage stamp which was an exact copy of the glyph on Nightshade’s envelope. “Gotta be, that emblem there is Grapevine’s mark for this month, it’ll change to something different in a week or so to stay ahead of customs. Any idea what’s inside it?” “It feels like a small book.” I said as I gauged the object in my hooves. “It could be a diary or journal maybe? Whatever it is, I’m pretty sure Grapevine wouldn’t appreciate it if we took a sneak peak, lets get it back to the industrial sector and then I can finally call it a day.” Feeling rather happy that Grapevines small job had turned out to be exactly that, I walked up to the edge of the room and reached for the door... BOOM!! The tranquillity of the store room was shattered by an earth-shaking noise, and though the door stayed shut, shards and fragments of chipped wood shot into the room, catching my hide in a number of places and ripping open some shallow cuts across my body. Dazed, I struggled to stay on my feet as my vision blurred for a moment and my ears were filled with the sound of an endless high pitched ringing, like if a filly were screaming as loud and high as she could right in front of your face. The dizziness wore off almost as quickly as it had arrived, but the ringing was still going strong in my head as I looked around the room to try and figure out what the hell had just happened. The door still stood in its frame, but the outside layer was showing massive splinters of broken wood , and several small equally shaped holes had punched right on through, letting a small amount of daylight peep into the storeroom. If I had been stood just a few feet to my right… Oh shit, Nightshade! I wheeled around to find my friend still standing behind me, she looked like she hadn’t been hit with anything significant, but even with the small holes of daylight I could clearly see a fine dusting of red droplets covering her face. She stood with one hoof pressed to her cheek, staring at the miniature spotlights in the store room door. She wasn’t hurt, I could tell that much as I did a quick look over her to see if something had hit her that i hadn't seen, but if that were the case, then where had the blood come from? Nightshade still hadn't moved, hoof still firmly in place on her face, eyes open wide as she breathed with rapid shallow breaths. I looked back toward the door, it was still firmly shut, no-one had tried to come in. But as I tried to see if I could spot any movement out of the neat holes drilled into it, I saw a slowly advancing pool of liquid creep under the doorframe. If I hadn’t been stood quite as close to Nightshade as I was, I might never have caught the barely audible screams coming out of her mouth with each shuddering breath. My body had finally realised that now would be an excellent time for fight or flight, and as the adrenaline hit my system and clarity came to my head, I realised several things that had just happened. One, someone had just fired a shotgun through the door we were hidden behind. Two, if they hadn’t been using raspberry jam as a clay pigeon, then another pony had died on the other side of that door. Three, my best friend was having a panic attack and if I couldn’t make sure that she stayed quiet, then whoever was on the other side would know we were in here. Panic hit me with tidal forces as I turned around and gripped my friends shoulders, and as loudly as I dared I tried to get her attention. “Nightshade! Hey, hey! Look at me, just try to keep calm ok? Try your best to stay calm.” I could hear her screams becoming less silent with every haggard breath that she drew, it wouldn’t be long before they’d be loud enough for someone to notice if they were stood at the other side of the room. “Nightshade, I need you to be calm, they may still be outside! Please, please try to keep quiet!” I couldn’t tell if I was doing any good or not, Nightshade was hyperventilating and lost in fear. I drew her into a franticly tight hug in an attempt to bring her back to her senses. “Shhh shh shh, We’re going to be fine, you hear me? Just take some deep breaths and come back to me, try and focus on your breathing and keep it steady ok?” I was getting through to her, I could tell the instant that her screams turned into sobs as she buried her head into my neck. I held her tight and stroked the back of her head as she silently cried, unable to hold back her tears, but aware enough to try and be as quiet as possible. We couldn’t have stayed like that for more than a few seconds, but it felt like hours as I was painfully aware that there was something outside our room that might find us at any moment. I was torn between consoling my friend and finding out if we were still in danger or not, Nightshade certainly didn't give the impression that she wanted to move, as she was clinging on to me with all her strength. Eventually, the need to ensure that we were both safe won out, as I knew that all the reassurances in the world wouldn’t mean jack if someone actually came in here. “Nightshade? Hey. I have to go see if anyone’s still there, ok? I need you to stay strong for me, can you stay here a while and keep calm while I see what’s going on?” Nightshade didn’t say anything, but I felt her nod her head against my shoulder, telling me that she understood. Even though I knew it was necessary, I still felt rotten as I gently set her down in the darkest corner of the room, and slowly crept my way back to the door. I pressed my head against one of the undamaged sections of the door and listened. ...Nothing. No hoof-steps, no cries of terror, nothing. I then moved my head so that I was peeking through one of the miniscule holes in the door itself to get a look outside. All I saw was the same store that had been there when we first arrived, everything was still stacked neatly on shelves, and there were no ponies in sight to speak of. If I hadn’t been seeing this sight through a hole that had been drilled through a door by shotgun pellets, I would have thought that everything was normal. I couldn’t get a larger field of view through the holes however; at some point I was going to have to open this door. As quietly and slowly as I could, I nudged the storeroom door open. It moved about two inches before it was caught on something on the other side, but allowed me a slightly better view of the store, where I actually saw the first signs that something was amiss; an upturned box with various objects that had been scattered in our direction. Knowing full well what I was going to find, but dreading it none the less, I put my shoulder to the door and nudged it open wide enough for me to slip out. I could feel myself pushing something out of the way, and heard the sliding noise of a large object being shifted across the floor. Still seeing nothing out of the larger opening, I took a deep breath and stepped out of the storeroom. Sure enough, lying in a heap on the floor just outside the door was the limp form of a pony. Judging by the few patches of colour where his fur hadn’t been soaked in blood, and the tattered mess of feathers, this had to be the pony I had seen stacking shelves earlier. Where a large pool of blood had started to form under the door, there was now a red angular smear mark to show where I had pushed his corpse out of the way. Fighting the nausea inside of me, i tried to disconnect from the stiuation be reducing what i saw to potential was that he got here. He must have seen something and made a break for the back door, but a hail of lead pellets stopped him just before he could dive into the storeroom. Whilst I couldn’t help but pity the poor guy, a much smaller and darker part of me was slightly relieved that he hadn’t made it in, or both me and Nightshade might have shared the same fate. Better him than me a quiet voice said in the back of my mind. Disgusted that I could even think something like that, I banished the thought from my conscious, and moved as silently as I could further into the store. From here, I didn’t have the insulated walls of the storeroom blocking any sound, and could quite clearly hear the distress of the mare who had been working the checkout opening as many of the tills as possible, probably in order to give the bits they contained to whoever was holding the gun in this room. I reached the end of the isle and trying to be as subtle as possible, I slowly peeked around the corner. There was the mare from earlier, desperately shovelling as many bits as she could into a large black rucksack placed on the conveyor belt nearest to her. To her left was a stallion with his back to me and a silver revolver in his mouth. He wore all black clothing and although he had a black balaclava over his head, I could clearly see his orange fur and red mane poking out of a gap in his outfit at the base of his neck. Hang on, silver revolver? There had only been a single shot fired against the worker who had tried to run, and that one shot had took him down and put several holes in the door at the same time. That indicated a shotgun, not a revolver. There was another armed pony in the building. I backed away from the corner and checked behind me. I wasn’t staring down a gun barrel, so that could only mean good things, but whilst I couldn’t see the second pony, I saw a clear trail of bloody hoof prints leading right from the storeroom door to me. Shit, if someone saw that then they would know for certain that I was running around the store. Not good. I double-backed along the shelf I had been hiding behind, and quietly edged towards the other end to check the other side of the building. I still couldn’t see anything, but I could hear some steady hoof steps moving through the aisles. This had to be the second pony, but where the hell was he? I could hear him moving around but still had no idea where he was, I could turn a corner and bump right into him without realising. I chanced a look all the way around the corner to see into the aisle that I hid behind, and still saw nothing. Should I move up and try and find this guy? Or stay where I was? Maybe they’d leave, or maybe they’d find me and turn me into a wet stain on the floor before checking the storeroom to make sure I wasn’t alone. I couldn’t take the risk of not doing anything; I had to start making decisions before the chance to be able to was taken from me. I moved forward, but the instant I left my cover I spotted a flash of movement at the far end of the aisle. Heart in mouth, I pressed my back up against the end of the end of the row, trying to ignore the sound of my thumping heart in my head so that I could listen out for an approaching pony. Noticing a crack between the boxes on the shelves, I realised that I could look into the aisle without exposing my head, and took a glance to see if anyone was coming. There he was. At the other end stood a pony in similar black outfit and balaclava, but with a twin-stick type shotgun braced in his mouth. Two barrels in total, joined together by a horizontal grip in the middle, so that each barrel pointed forwards and the pony had one on either side of his head. He was moving from the right to left side at the end of the aisle, right where I had been hidden not a few seconds ago. Shit! He’s going to spot the blood trail! That means he’ll follow it one of two ways, either back to the storeroom door, or if he was clever he would notice that the direction of the trail ran away from the door and around the corner, right to where I was currently hiding! Even worse, I thought, if he was really clever he’d alert his buddy so that they would both hunt me down at once. Regardless of what he did, I needed a weapon, and I needed one now. I frantically looked around me trying to find something I could use, hopefully something sharp and pointy, or at least blunt and heavy. I could hear hoof steps coming my way. Shit Shit Shit!! Canned tomatoes, no. A glass of pickles, no. Cheese in a tube, when was that ever useful?? The steps were closer now and picking up the pace, he must know something’s amiss now. Scissors! I grabbed them from the top shelf and bit onto the handle, pointing the blades out at a ninety degree angle from the right side of my head. I wasn’t scared, I was down-right terrified. It wasn’t even a case of me bringing a knife to a gunfight; I was bringing kitchen scissors against a pony who I knew was armed and very capable of killing others. Shit, I’d been in a fight or two but I’d never actually killed someone before, did I actually have it in me to do this? Maybe if I just tried to... I didn’t get time to finish the thought as I saw the shotgun barrels point round the corner, and all rational thought was disconnected as instinct took over. I swung my head to the right and upwards in an arc around the corner, and felt the points of the scissors I held in my mouth break through the resistance of flesh, tearing a bloody hole right through the other pony’s throat and into the back of his neck. A warm splash of liquid hit my face as the shotgun fell out of the pony’s mouth and clattered to the floor, the rest of his body frozen stiff with shock. I let go of the scissors and took a few shocked steps back on trembling knees, I couldn’t believe what I had just done. The other pony couldn't either; he pawed helplessly at the scissors still lodged in his throat, unable to stem the flow of blood escaping from his neck. I’ll never forget the look he gave me. Although his face was masked and I never learnt his name, his expression will be forever burned into the back of my mind for the rest of my days. It wasn’t a look of pain, or surprise, or even fear. It was questioning. Why? “I’m sorry.” Was all I managed to whisper out before his eyes lost focus and he slumped to the floor. My mind had completely shut down. I stood and stared at the pony whose life I had stolen. Yes, it could be argued it was self-defence, and Yes it was almost certainly him who had killed the store worker earlier, but did that make it right? I couldn’t bring myself to believe so. “Oi! Did you slip or something back there?” I didn’t know this voice, definitely male though. Oh shit! The other guy! If I was worried that he might have killed me beforehand I knew for damn sure that he would now that his buddies blood was smeared across my face. I had to end this now, one way or another. I walked over to the fallen robber and picked up his weapon. I’d never used a firearm before, but I’d spoken to Forty and seen enough footage of them on my light caster to have a basic idea of how to work it. I broke open the barrels to see the rear ends of a shell in each tube, and snapped them back into position. The safety was already off; I probably should have done this before checking for ammo, but I flicked it back on so that I could bite down on the horizontal grip between both barrels without accidently firing them, getting a taste of metal from both the grip itself and the iron in it’s previous owners blood. “Hey! The hell are you doing back there? Get your ass back up here and watch the front!” I could feel the split-button controls with my tongue. I could either fire the barrels individually, or fire both at the same time. I braced the guns in my jaw and moved around the side of the store until I could see the other pony with his revolver still pointed at the mare, although he kept flicking his head to his left side to see if his partner would come back. Sorry, I might not have meant it to be this way, but you’re all alone now. “Celestia damn-it we’re taking too long, the Sentinels will be here any minute, get back here you asshole!” I was about halfway along the aisle, stood directly behind the pony with his revolver, both barrels of my shotgun levied at his torso. I could see glimpses of the mare every so often as she moved between filling the bag and emptying the next till in the line. I could end this right now. One flick of my tongue, another dead bad guy. You’ve already killed one. The dark voice from the corner of my mind whispered. What’s one more? But I’d never used one of these before, and I only had two shots. One should be more than enough, but what if I missed? Worse, what if I hit the mare by accident? I should move to a better spot, or at least get a bit closer. I had to make sure that I didn’t fuck this up. It might be too late to change position now though, this guy was already starting to catch on that maybe his buddy didn’t have an accident and wont be coming back. If I wait too long he might see me as I try to move, and then things would get really messy. I should just head straight for him, point a barrel in his spine and order him to drop his gun. That’s what a good guys supposed to do, right? The stallion was getting more anxious every second that I waited, I needed to decide now before he looked behind himself and spotted me. If that happened there was a chance that everyone’s lives would be forfeit. I bit the blood stained grip of my shotgun harder. It’s time to make a call.