EQUESTRIA—Knicked Hoof Headquarters, 2;00am
The black stallion was having a bad day. In fact, the entire bloody week had been problem after problem piled up on another as if they were going out of style. And then with everything else going on, three of his best ponies had failed, and to what? One scummy mare that wasn’t supposed to be there at the base in the first place, yet had the skills to defeat his ponies. Because of their mistakes, Lock was now assigned to take care of the one bothersome mare, and it was turning into a project. And Lock did not like long term projects.
Things couldn’t get any worse, Lock had seethed, only to be proven wrong a few minutes later. He had been informed by Storm Trotter, of all ponies, second hoof spy, that his ponie’s target had gotten away, and was un-traceable and lost. This in particular would be enough for him to be sentenced to death if Scarlet Demon was informed. So Lock was warned to clean up the mess before things got any further. And he would, but he had other matters to take care of first.
Lock liked to be punctual. In fact, he would have been at his destination even sooner if it weren’t for Brown Tail’s apprentice; some young colt called Super Bank. Apparently, mixing pure cesium and water didn’t super saturate it; it just imploded. Last week, the colt had been mixing water and lithium.
After cleaning up that mess, Lock was free to his assigned business. Thought it was a project, he enjoyed this one much more than any other assignments he’d been given. And today, he would enjoy causing pain to the lowly Princess in revenge for the muddle her companions had caused their company.
Counting the door numbers, Lock’s hooves clopped with satisfying authority as he treaded down the metal grating. He reached door 14-B, and arching his neck back to his saddle bag, took hold of a ID card between his teeth and flashed it in front of the scanner stationed at the side. A red light glowed, and there was a beep as the monitor confirmed his ID. There was a hiss as the air-sealed doors slid shut behind him again. Pausing, he observed the room before him.
Moniters and machines beeped and blinked against the windowless, concrete doors, going about their programmed commands like they were supposed to. Various computer screens blinked and flashed numbers while the others beeped steadily, showing a constant update on the prisoner’s condition.
The prisoner herself was in the center of the room, laying on the cold ground, tethered in place by several ropes around her neck, muzzle, and legs. The mare’s eyes were closed as she breathed slowly, not acknowledging Lock’s entrance. Her light golden mane splayed around her head, her face dirty matted from left over debris from the explosion days earlier, and recent interrogations. Her black uniform, covering her normally white pelt, was torn, dirty, and burned through in some places, giving her an overall exhausted, dirty appearance. Where the fabric on her forelegs had been burnt away, there were angry, red burns eating away at her skin, some starting to fester. She had been fished out of the middle of a fire, after all, Lock remembered, and was not given the privilege of recovery. The entire company knew what the mare here was capable of, and letting her recover to her normal health was dangerous. No, it was better to keep her weak and injured. Easier to handle that way. Despite her youth, Lightning Hoof’s sister was more hazardous than Lock and his men combined.
Lock observed his subject, listening to the computer’s beeping and shallow breathing of the mare. He had to commend Scarlet Demon for the capture of this mare; she was quite the prize. This was the most valued player in the Herd’s little rebel band; she had been put on their radar years ago, when she had just been an apprentice, for her hacking skills. They had lost many valuable documents and files because of her. Their security had been improved and enhanced because of this mare. And yet she made it seem so easy every time she breached a large fire wall or coded security, and Lock wanted nothing more than to pick her brain apart and see how she was wired. But that would come later. For now, the actions of her sister was what mattered, because Lightning Hoof was unpredictable.
((TO BE CONTINUED…UNDERGOING SEVERE EDITING))