//------------------------------// // June 14: (Forever) Live and Die // Story: Seven Days in Sunny June, Book III // by Shinzakura //------------------------------// Colton was a small town to the south of Canterlot. It was a sleepy little burb, little more than a bedroom community for those who wanted to live far from the city, and given that it bordered farmland, Colton was as close as you got. Due to the fact that the town was centered in the middle of both farmland and the eastern and western arms of the Everfree Forest, it gave the town an exurban feel, even though it was within an easy thirty-minute drive to downtown Canterlot. All in all, it was just a little out of the way place that people drove through on Interstate 5 while on the way to the city. But one thing that Colton did have for it was a little secret known as the Birch Glider-Colton Equestria County Municipal Airfield. The facility was so small that it didn’t even have an IATA airport code, instead assigned a lesser-known FAA location code, in this case H4G0; and an ICAO identifier, KCCM; but more often than not it was simply known as “Birch Field”. Named after its founder, Birch Glider, a local pioneer in aviation who had made a name for himself during World War I, the majority of the planes at the field were crop dusters and personal aircraft owned by the well-to-do who lived in southern Equestria County. All in all, it was a quiet, out of the way concrete strip in the middle of farmland. But as people in town noticed the swanky Gulfstream 100 coming in for a landing at Birch Field, they knew something was up. Most of the time, jets flew directly into Canterlot, or to the close-by North Canterlot Municipal Airfield in the far north of town by the city limits. Those that flew into Birch Field usually didn’t want folks to know they were landing there, and while that wasn’t necessarily bad, it made for a sight to see for those in Colton that weren’t accustomed to the big city life of Canterlot. A few minutes later, as a man stepped off the plane, he looked around. He looked muscled, with ruddy skin, and from a very superficial glance, could easily remind someone of one of the Hindi warriors of old. But the long, white hair that cascaded down his back and the deep gray suit with black bolo tie showed a man who was far more in tune with the modern age. “Your car, sir,” a soft-spoken woman with glasses and short fuchsia hair said, gesturing to the Mercedes Benz behind her. “Actually, I’m quite surprised that you didn’t ask for something more your style, like a stretch limo—” “Yes, yes, so I can party hardy all day and do the babes all night,” he said in a dull monotone, waving it off. “Trust me, I wrote those lyrics a decade ago and if I could take them back, I would.” He then looked at her. “Did you make the arrangements?” “Well, let’s see: given that shortly after midnight you insisted on a charter flight here and to arrange for a rental car and it’s only seven in the morning?” She crossed her arms impatiently. “Did you really think that we were going to be able to pull this off?” The man scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, you have a point. I guess it’s been a while since I knew what normal people lived like. Well, shall we go get breakfast?” “I can make a reservation for L’ Chevalier Epicurien, if you’d like. I understand it’s one of the finest restaurants in Canterlot.” “I see.” He thought about it a second, then asked, “There an IHOP around here? Probably should get some real food. Have you eaten yet?” She shook her head, then held up two fingers, dropping each on in time: “One, you know the rules about messing with the staff. And two, no not really, but you should know that already.” He brought a hand to his chin in thought. “Hrm. So, who’s your assistant?” “That would be Tasker. He’s pretty on the ball, and he’s more than ready to go.” “You think so?” She got close to him, looking up at him, despite the near-full foot in height difference between the two. “Yeah, I do.” He grinned. “Okay, you’re fired.” She laughed. “You always say that and yet you never do.” “I suppose your husband would be disconsolate if you lost your job,” he replied, chuckling. “So, IHOP?” She sighed. “So much for trying to keep your image.” He shook his head. “If I cared about my image? I wouldn’t be here.” The phone rang, dragging Posey out of a decent night’s sleep. “Yeah,” she slurred. “Mom?” Posey banished the remainder of the sleep from her head as she grabbed the phone with both hands. “Fluttershy?” “Look, Mom…I’m sorry about last night. I’m going to have breakfast over here, then I’m going to come home and talk, okay?” “Sweetheart, just come home and I’ll make breakfast for us. I want to make this right.” “I know. Is Angel there?” “No, he’s staying at a friend’s place. Just…just come home as soon as you can, sweetie. We need to talk.” “I’ll be home in an hour, Mom, I promise. I’ll see you then. Love you, Mom.” “Okay. Love you too, sweetheart.” Fluttershy hung up the line and Posey sat, looking at the phone cradled in her palms. Her hands shook, and she could barely see the phone as tears started welling in her eyes. It wasn’t supposed to go this way, sweetheart, she thought. Your father and I wanted a family and we wanted to b— The phone rang again; Posey let it ring a couple of times before answering it. “Hello?” “Pose? That you?” the voice on the other line asked. Her jaw dropped. “What th…?” “You know how it is? Getting a favor called in, et cetera, et cetera, et ecetera. So, you have breakfast yet? I know this great little IHOP on the corner of Sycamore and Whitefield. At least that’s what Yelp says, anyway, I dunno. So, y’up for that?” Despite how she felt, Posey laughed. “You’re such a cad, you know that?” “Yeah, my wife keeps telling me that for some reason.” “Well, since I just woke up, do you mind if I get dressed and such? I’m off this week from work, so let me get ready and my time is yours.” “Sure; it’s going to take me that long to get there. See you in a few.” She leaned back on the bed, realizing how much things had changed even from just days ago. She was walking on a highwire, and once again her children were in the mix. Somehow, paparazzi would be much more preferable at the moment, she felt, but she had to do what she had to do protect herself, her husband and her children. Just like she knew Discord had, she took her wedding vows seriously. “Thanks for having me over, Rarity,” Twilight said as Rarity drove her home. At the moment, she was looking at the emails and the other things that Sunset and Octavia had sent over the night before. I should’ve looked at my phone last night; I could’ve used these to convince Fluttershy. “Think nothing of it, darling,” Rarity replied. “I’m glad that you were able to help me with Fluttershy’s needs, as I’m not really sure what I would’ve been able to do alone. As it is, I’m not quite sure that we were even able to accomplish that much. To be honest…this is all rather overwhelming.” “Maybe…this is something that we all need to get together to help Fluttershy with. You all once helped Sunny with her problems after she changed, right? Isn’t that the point of our friendship?” “That might be the best idea,” Rarity thought. “Perhaps we can discuss this tonight via Skype or something? Perhaps if she didn’t listen to one of us, then if we all work together, she’ll listen to all.” As they pulled up in front of Twilight’s house, the fashionista added, “It’s something to think about.” “Sounds good. Let me ask Sunny and Tavi and then we’ll get a hold of the others. Maybe we can do it tonight?” “Unfortunately, dear, I have to work tonight, but I can make a call after ten in the evening; I should be home by then. Well, here’s your stop.” Twilight opened the door. “Thanks, Rarity, for everything.” “No, thank you, Twilight, dear.” As Twilight stepped out of the car, Rarity did a three-point turn and then headed home. It was early enough that she could make breakfast for her family – a treat, since she rarely had the chance to cook – before she had to go to work. She promised to put in some overtime today in order to give her employer a chance to attend some business out of town, and besides, it would be a wonderful opportunity for Rarity to practice handling a store by herself – and someday that could very well be the case. No sooner than Twilight had opened the door did she find both Sunset and Octavia sitting on the couch, waiting for her. “Hey, sis,” Sunset called out. “How’d it go?” Twilight sighed. “It would’ve been better if I’d bothered to check my phone last night – the stuff you sent could’ve really come in handy,” she admitted. “Still, we managed to calm Fluttershy down, though she still doesn’t really know what to do.” “That’s understandable,” Sunset said in a tone that indicated she sympathized with her friend’s situation. “I mean…to find out that your parents have lied to you for your entire life. I can’t even imagine that.” Especially since I was the one trying to deceive Celestia, the former unicorn thought. Granted, that was all in the past now, but it still gnawed on Sunset’s conscience now and then. I think Dad called it “Catholic guilt” once. No idea what that means, but if it means excessive guilt, yeah, that’s probably me. “Yeah. I mean, my parents told me little white lies now and then, but that was just for my own good when I was Spike’s age,” Octavia added. “But Flutters has been hearing them her whole life. I don’t know what it would be like to not trust the one that raised you.” “I do,” Sunset said, harsher than she intended. “Trust me, I know exactly what it’s like not to trust.” Of course, that was entirely in my own mind, and when Celestia couldn’t trust me, I brought that entirely upon myself. Part of Sunset wanted to change the past, but if that course of that river had been changed, she wouldn’t have had the love she had now. She wouldn’t know her sister, her brothers, her parents, family and friends. Better to trade the wounds for the balm I have, than to not know the stings of experience and regret. Twilight looked at her sister. “Do you…want to talk about it, Sunny?” Sunset’s eyes followed the trace to Twilight’s violet ones, then over to the same colors, in Octavia’s eyes. “Not now,” she sighed. “Someday, I promise. Just…I’m not ready just yet.” She looked directly into Twilight’s eyes, then into Octavia’s. “I just hope that when I am ready to tell everything, that you’ll still be here.” Twilight embraced Sunset. “You’re my sister. You know I always will, Sunny.” From the other side, Octavia embraced her as well. “Just like she said, Sunny: you’re family and we’ll always be here for you.” “You’re lazy, you know that?” Celestia said to Luna as she practically hovered over the latter’s bed. “And this is why I didn’t want to give you a key,” the younger woman groaned. “God, I’ve got one fuck of a hangover right now. Do me a favor, Tia, and find out where Moonshadow wandered off to, please.” “He’s passed out drunk on your balcony,” the older woman sighed. “Look, Lulu, I don’t want to get into your personal life—” “So don’t,” Luna grumbled sharply. “Now pass me a shirt, or I can just get out of bed naked. Mind telling me why you’re here so Goddamn early?” “Because we’d planned for months to have sunrise breakfast with Mama today since she loves that? Especially at that wonderful little restaurant she so adores?” “Mannaggia….” Luna grumbled, looked at her sister. “How late are we?” “I just got back from it,” Celestia said, sitting down next to her sister. “I told Mama you were sick. Armonia, of course, thinks I’m lying through my teeth and is going to kick your ass and mine next time she sees us.” “Yeah, I can believe that – why the hell are all the violent people in our family the ladies?” “Cadance isn’t.” “She takes after her father in that respect,” Luna grumbled, throwing her hands in the air. “Fuck my life. I knew I forgot something today….” Celestia clucked her tongue. “Luna, you’re a fifty-two year old woman.” “Really? Because I swear to God, sometimes I don’t feel like I’ve even hit thirty yet. Hell, Shadow thought I was younger than him, and he freaked when he found out that I’m older than his mother.” “And yet he’s still here.” Celestia grinned and added, “He does have a cute butt.” “Yeah, and that’s my property, you lech,” Luna grunted, woozily getting off the bed. Sure enough, she was naked as a jaybird, having moved before Celestia had moved to her sister’s dresser. Crossing her arms, the younger woman asked, “So, aside from guilt tripping me, why are you here?” Celestia averted her eyes. “Do you mind getting dressed?” Luna rolled her eyes then walked over to her dresser for a t-shirt and shorts. As she slipped them on, she said, “You know, this isn’t anything you haven’t seen before. We used to take baths together all the time when we were kids.” Celestia blanched, and Luna laughed, cackling as she bent over, “Gotcha!” She continued to laugh until the hangover kicked in again, sending a screaming pain to her head. “Fuuuuck….” Celestia smirked. “You know, you should really drink some water.” “Tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiia, this hurts!” Luna whined. “Get me some water?” Three minutes, a half-liter bottle of Evian and some aspirin later, Luna collapsed back on the bed, though less naked than before. She was wearing a red babydoll t-shirt that was emblazoned with a Street Fighter character – Celestia didn’t know exactly who, but she’d seen the character before – and the words BEAT ME underneath. She was also wearing a pair of shorts that had a not-too-clever downward arrow graphic on the front accompanied with the words SLIDE TO UNLOCK. “Thanks. That’s why you’re my favorite older sister.” “I thought that was Armonia.” “No, she’s my favorite oldest sister. Slight difference, and I don’t want to play favorites,” Luna half-said, half-yawned. “Anyway, so what’s up?” “I came to see if I could borrow some clothing. That sheer black off-the-shoulder top of yours, and the white pants with the embroidered stars down the legs.” “Oh, those? Last I recall, you called them stripperific,” Luna accused. “Because you’re supposed to dress professionally at work!” Celestia retorted. “It was a teacher workday, not a class day,” Luna reminded her. “Besides, I only wore it because I had a bet going with Raven and Cheerilee to see who could get Tofu’s attention.” She grinned. “In fairness, we did apologize for making him feel very uncomfortable.” “I really don’t want to know,” the older sister sighed. “Anyway, do you mind if I borrow them? Oh, and those shoes that match, too.” “Yeah, they’re in the closet; it’s a good thing that we wear the same size even though you’re a few inches taller. Anyway, whydja want to borrow them?” “I have a date tonight,” Celestia said simply. “Oh? Did Velvet decide that you need to be let out of your cage and is sending Night over? Please don’t tell me you’re goi—” “That was just a joke!” Celestia cried, blushing madly; it had been a very uncomfortable episode in her life. “Yes, Night was a gentleman about the whole thing and Vel had laughed her ass off about the whole thing for weeks! Look, in retrospect I wish I’d never done it, but that’s over and done with. Look, seriously, sis, I’m just going dancing with a date; dinner and a night out, nothing serious.” “Nothing serious, you say? So, how long has this been going on and when does the family get to meet him?” “You make it sound like it’s a thing.” “Because you’re going out, that makes it a thing, sis. Ever since we ‘grew up’,” Luna said, making air quotes as she spoke, “you’ve always wanted to play the great diplomat and grownup. Yes, Vel got married and had kids, but she still had time to have fun. So did I. But for some reason, you never did. So yes, hearing you going out for a night that does not involve visiting me, the family, Vel, or doesn’t involve work means it is a thing.” Celestia sighed. “Lulu….” Luna hugged her sister. “Even if you won’t admit it, I hope this one lasts. You’ve suffered enough since you broke up with Discord so long ago. You’re not a nun, you know.” “Never said I was, Lulu, never said I was.” The sound of a key going into a lock rang out, followed a second later by Fluttershy coming into the house, calling out, “Mom? I’m home.” Seated on the love seat closest to the door, Posey turned her head to see her daughter. “Hello, sweetheart,” the doctor said, rising to her feet to embrace her daughter. “Have you eaten yet?” “No, I thought we could go out to breakfast and talk. Is Angel here?” “No, as I mentioned he’s at a friend’s place. And speaking of which, we have guests here.” Fluttershy turned to look at who was seated there, and the moment she did, her purse slid off her arm, falling to the ground even as a look of shock came to her face. Seated on the couch by the far wall, the man and woman very familiar to Fluttershy sat there, both looking at her with both surprise and a sort of weird awe. “You’re right, she does look a lot like you, Pose,” the woman added. As for the man, he stood up, and approached her. “You have grown up,” he said, a strangely proud grin on his face. “You look absolutely beautiful, sunshine,” he added, embracing her. “Uncle Tirek? Auntie Skies?” Fluttershy was overwhelmed. She hadn’t seen her godparents in ages, though her mother continued to correspond with them and they often inquired about her and Angel. They were one of the few ties to her father’s past that she still kept tabs on, and since both of her parents were only children, it helped extend her family just a little. “You look so grown up, kiddo!” he told her, looking at her with his acid-yellow eyes, a hue that was rare even amongst the spectrum of human eye colors. “What’re you now, fifteen? Sixteen?” “Actually,” she said, blushing, “I turn eighteen in October.” Afternoon Skies got up from her seat, going over to hug Fluttershy next. “Just the spitting image of your mother, I swear. Shy, I hope I look even as half as good as you when I’m your age!” “Auntie Skies, aren’t yo—” “A woman never talks about her age,” Skies grumbled, a false pout coming onto her face briefly. “So, what brings you two here?” she asked excitedly before realization struck a second later. “Oh.” “Aww, c’mon, Shy!” Tirek said. “Let’s go get some breakfast. It’ll make everyone feel better, I’m sure. Pose, where’s the nearest IHOP?” “IHOP?” Posey asked. Skies rolled her eyes. “Tirek insists he just wants to be a normal guy.” He grinned. “Nobody would ever think I’m me, since I’m wearing a suit and looking all normal-like.” “Uh, Uncle Tirek?” Fluttershy interjected. “It’s…Saturday morning. Nobody’s likely wearing a suit anyway.” He facepalmed. “Nuts.” Sable Loam jogged around the perimeter of Three Heroes Park, trying to get a decent workout. Granted, he was no longer in the Army and thus could afford to goof off if he wanted, but old habits died hard, he had to admit. It was going to be a rare day when he didn’t put in at least two workouts and there was never going to be a period where he just decided to let it all go to pot. Besides, I got a girl now, he thought with a smile, and given who she is, I’ve got no excuse for not keeping up with her. As he jogged on, he noticed a couple of women, one slightly younger than him while the other was clearly a teenager, sparing in a martial arts style he hadn’t seen before. The two, though they were clearly sparring, were going at it with no protection, blow for blow, and the skill of the older one clearly shown through, though the younger one was no slouch either. Somewhat entranced by the whole thing, he jogged towards them, curious. As he approached, however, the older of the two stopped and looked at him. “Is something wrong, sir?” she asked, looking somewhat flustered. “Oh, no, was just curious as to what martial arts style that was; it doesn’t look familiar. Also, is it safe to be going full contact around here?” The younger one spoke. “It’s Chun Kuk Do, sir. And I trust my sister to keep me safe. She learned it that way from….” The younger one stalled, as if in thought. “I learned it from our uncle, who learned it when he was stationed in Korea back in the 80s,” the older explained. “And I think that’s enough training for today, if you can’t remember that.” Sable, who had briefly been assigned to Korea for stuff that was still classified, struggled to recall any martial art by that name; he’d trained more than once with guys from the Korean Special Forces Brigades and though the name sounded Korean, it still seemed unusual. He did a mental shrug; maybe it was a family discipline passed down, and the younger girl did look Asian, though the older one looked as Caucasian as they came. “Well, just be careful,” Sable cautioned. “Clearly you two know what you’re doing, but all it takes is some cop to give you a citation for not having safety gear and all that….” The older one nodded. “Understood, sir. Thanks for the warning.” “No problem; you two ladies have a nice day.” Nothing else to add, he waved and went back to his jog. Madrigal waited for a few minutes before she walked up to her younger sister. “You okay? Let me look.” The younger girl’s violet eyes looked slightly dilated; seeing that, the older girl hrmed. “Okay, I must’ve hit you harder than I thought. Okay, we’re going to stop for the day and just jog back to the hotel. Think you can do that?” “It’s just six miles, right?” the younger one said woozily. “Should be a piece of cake….” She took another step and then stumbled, falling against Madrigal. “Maybe not,” she said apologetically. Madrigal gently sat her down, and then sighed. “Look, I hit you with practically a love tap, kiddo. How are you going to survive full-duty status in the Sisterhood if you can’t stand up to a simple beatdown?” The girl grabbed her head, shrugging off a headache. “I can do this! I can do this!” she said to no one in particular. Madrigal sighed. “No. You’re really not cut out for this kind of life, and part of me hopes you’ll fail. But…we all agreed to this whole revenge thing…well, the older ones like me did. There’s no rule saying you younger ones can’t back out.” “No…he was our uncle, too,” the younger one interjected. “He was more than an uncle – he was a father to us…to all of us. What they did to him…it wasn’t right. So…I don’t care if I’m not suited for this. I’ll do it or die trying.” “Okay,” Madrigal said, pulling the girl back to her feet and embracing her. “Tell you what: let’s just walk back. It’s still a workout and hopefully it’ll clear your head.” “Okay.” As the two of them left the park, Madrigal looked at the younger girl, who was still gripping her head and gnashing her teeth to ward off the pain, while at the same time trying to look very casual about it…and not succeeding. We call ourselves sisters, but you three actually are, biologically, Madrigal thought as she looked at the other girl out of the corner of her eye. And Uncle Poutine wouldn’t have wanted you to have this life. He wouldn’t have wanted any of us to. But those bastards at Les Scars took that away from him…and we’re going to make them pay. Turning her attention to the sky, she then mentally added, And with a little luck, you three can have real lives. This isn’t a world you three belong in. Madrigal’s hand unconsciously brushed up against the snub 9mm revolver she carried for concealed purposes. It was a weapon…just like she was. Just like the three youngest girls were becoming. This isn’t a world any of us should belong to. If there was a thing that Tirek missed now that he was famous, it was just to blend into the background, just enjoying the world as it went by. He remembered the days when he and Discord were just run-of-the-mill kids from San Diego, laughing it up without a care in the world. They never struggled or lived the hard life, as the backgrounds stated by their record labels claimed, and they certainly didn’t claw their way to the top like rappers supposedly did – though he knew more than a few “gangsta” rappers whose “hoods” were such dangerous places as Beverly Hills, the Hamptons and other wealthy locations in the US. His was just a typical all-American life. So, sitting here in the local International House of Pancakes, looking at his wife, the wife of his best friend and said best friend’s daughter – his own goddaughter – made things feel almost normal. Almost in the sense of the various people around who recognized him and wanted to ask for an autograph but at the same time wanted to let him eat in peace. Looking around nervously, Posey said, “You know, I’d almost forgotten what this feels like. Almost. And no, I still don’t like it.” Skies nodded in understanding. “I know. Took years for me to get adjusted to it, and I’m not the one with kids.” Fluttershy set down her fork, looking at the remains of her spinach and mushroom omelet. She wasn’t a vegetarian, though if asked she’d easily admit that out of all her friends she probably ate the least of it, especially given the burgers that Rainbow, Applejack, Twilight, and Sunset tended to chow down on. But today, even eating this felt like a torment. Maybe it was the uneven, dizzying feeling of seeing extended family while at the same time knowing why they were here. “Shy?” Tirek asked. “You’re awfully quiet.” “I…I don’t know what to say,” Fluttershy admitted. “I mean, I know Mom has lied to me all this time, but at the same time, I know that she did it for her own reasons.” She could see Posey’s reaction out of the corner of her eye and quickly added, “Mom, I know you did what you felt you had to, and a friend recently told me that I don’t have the right to judge that decision. But I feel I do. I wish you would’ve told me about this, before I built up a complete and utter hatred for my father. And that’s not something I can just get over…especially since he’s done nothing to help breach the divide, either.” The man looked at the teen critically. “Done nothing?” “Dear, she probably doesn’t know,” Skies reminded him. “I’d be surprised if Posey knows.” “Knows what?” both mother and daughter said at the same time. “I think…we’d best discuss this at your place,” Tirek advised Posey. “I think there’s something that you should see. Both of you.” “Do I really want to know?” Posey asked, folding her arms and giving her old friend a very odd look. “Hey, what’s that saying about not shooting the messenger?” Tirek asked, wilting from his friend’s glare. At this time the waitress came around, to find the mighty Tirek – she was a fan, though she hadn’t said anything yet – and two individuals, looking very much like a mother and daughter, glaring at him. She then looked at the fourth individual, who had an apologetic expression on her face. “Uh, more coffee?” the waitress asked. “Thanks. Oh, and check please?” Skies blurted. Shining Armor walked into the precinct, the first day since the end of his vacation that he was back. Granted, it was the weekend, but his “weekends” generally tended not to be the same as everyone else’s was. He groaned; Cadance didn’t have to go in until Monday and rubbed it in with every fiber of her being. Yes, my girl messes with me, he thought, a lazy smile starting up on his face. I’m probably the luckiest guy in the world to have the most beautiful woman in the world mess with me. As he walked into the squad room, he saw Melati Jasmine and Cuff ‘Em seated there, waving him over. “Hey, Romeo, welcome back,” Melati told him. “Yeah, how was Italy?” Cuff inquired. “Thanks; glad to be back,” he replied. “So, what’d I miss?” “Eh, the usual,” Cuff shrugged. “Stupid shit with perps, crime, drug dealing, shoplifting – you know, normal shit.” “Looks like the results of the detective first grade results come out next week; hope I pass,” Melati wistfully commented. “Mel, you’re a shoo-in,” Shining replied. “You’re one of the cooler heads on the squad and you said you aced the test, right?” “Yeah, but some guys might not be too comfortable with A, a woman who’s superior to them; and B, a Muslim. Nevermind the fact that I don’t wear a burka, hijab or any of that shit, I love me some barbecued pork, and I chose my own husband, who comes from Kentucky and not some third-world hellhole.” “Fuck ‘em,” Shining said, narrowing his eyes. “They got a problem with you? They’re gonna have to speak to me.” Melati grinned. “And see? That’s why I like you, Shining. You actually care about people. Plus, you’ve got ‘natural born leader’ written all over you. I’m going to bet we’re going to see you at the top of the food chain someday, wearing Chief’s stars.” “Well, might want to hold on to those visions of grandeur, you two,” Cuff interjected. “Sarge just came in.” “Alright you guys,” Sgt. Rosethorn called out, bringing the morning briefing to attention, “We got some really interesting shit going on here. And by interesting shit, I mean ‘laugh at the FBI’ type of shit.” “So what else is new?” someone called out, and the room briefly broke into laughter at that. “No, seriously. We have a report, passed down from the Bureau courtesy of the Dee Oh Jay,” Rosethorn said, taking care to pronounce every letter out of snarkiness, “that the Canadians have fucked up but good.” “Canadians? Hey, I’m not to blame there,” a man named Sundown cracked. He was born in Montreal, but to American parents and thus technically had dual citizenship. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, all you Canuckians are the same, whatever,” the sergeant said, waving his hand to quiet the room once more. “Anyway, DOJ report indicates that a group of Canadian military forces went rogue. Now, I know all you military vets in the room are about to crack jokes, but seriously, the report says that these were special ops types. The Feds ain’t telling us more than that for the moment.” Copies of the report were then passed around the room. “FBI is working with the RCMP to see what they’ll make public, but the long and the short is that we have to keep an eye out for any military-grade hardware with the gangs, as well as advanced training.” “Any word if they went into business for themselves, or are they for rent?” a female officer asked. “No word on that,” Rosethorn replied. “Next?” “How much is this going to impact us?” Cuff asked. “Should we prioritize this over normal operations?” “Are you kidding? Crims would have a field day if we did. No, until we hear more, just consider this backwater shit. It’s not like this town’s going to turn into a warzone or anything.” “Anything else we should be aware of? Insignia, weapons preferences, or anything of the sort?” Shining asked. “Yeah. There’s a supposed copy of the unit’s insignia on the report,” Rosethorn noted. “We had some investigators look into it while we were putting this together for you, but so far there’s nothing that we know about it. No name, nothi—” Shining looked at it as his analytic mind immediately kicked into gear: “Yellow and blue, with fouled rope and an anchor, so that means a naval unit,” he mused aloud. “Two cutlasses, pointed down, which traditionally means no quarter to be given. The placement of the eye of the anchor is such that it implies a spear tip, and since it’s in the center, it implies the heart – another sign of no quarter.” “Armor, how the fuck do you know that?” Shining smiled awkwardly. “Both my aunt and uncle were in the Navy. Aunt Seaspray used to tell me stories all the time. Plus, I have a friend who was also in the Navy, and the sea stories I hear from her are even wilder.” The look on Rosethorn’s face was shrewd. “Okay, Armor, you and your little coffee klatch there sit tight. For the rest of you, get out there – crime doesn’t rest and neither do we. Dismissed.” As the room began to empty, Melati and Cuff looked at Shining. “You got all that from second-hand stories?” Melati asked, wheedling her friend. “Okay, okay, I also picked up a lot from Oceans Away,” he admitted. “It’s a pirate MMO that Cadance and I goof off on, and we’re hoo—” “Yeah, I play that too,” Rosethorn replied, with a grin, “but I can’t ever seem to get past the Dutch Armada, though. Anyway, nevermind that. Armor, since you opened up your big yap, you’re our lucky contestant. In fact, all three of you are.” “For what?” Cuff asked, and in reply, the three of them were handed a card. “Joint Task Force, boys and girls,” was the sergeant’s response. “Personally? FBI not saying a damn thing but insisting on building a local task force comprised of local law enforcement agencies? Means it’s going to be some nasty shit – really dirty work.” He gave a look at the three and the gaze in his leaf-green eyes was bleak. “I remember being in the Gulf War back in ’91. Our squad ran into a group of Iraqi special forces; they tore most of us up, because we didn’t have backup until airstrikes began. To this day, it’s still not well known. But let me tell you three something: the look in those commando’s eyes was something I don’t want to see ever again – I still get nightmares about that shit. And if this shit is anything like that?” The trio waited for Rosethorn to complete his statement. “Anything like what?” Melati finally asked, providing the prompt. “It’s going to make the gang wars down south in LA look like a fuckin’ Teddybear Picnic, that’s what,” Rosethorn finished. “Now, you three are exempt from patrol for now. Take the weekend off and report first thing Monday morning to the federal building. You’ll be working with Special Agent Hardline from the FBI. “And stay safe. I normally don’t say that…but this time, I think I have to.” After a good hour or so of Tirek happily signing autographs and taking selfies with people, the four of them returned to Posey and Fluttershy’s home, whereas the muscular gentleman indicated that he had something to show them. “We got this via courier yesterday, with a request to show this to you two.” He held up a flash key, showing it to Posey. On the key was the emblem of TVT Records. “If you would, please, Posey.” “I hope this isn’t—” Fluttershy began, but was cut off by Skies. “Shy, trust us. It’s not what you think, but it will interest you, I promise.” She then looked at Posey. “Pose, you and I have been friends for years. If there’s one thing that you’re going to trust us on, please let it be this.” “I trust you, Skies, and you too, Tirek. But….” The doctor then looked at her daughter. “This has to be your decision, Fluttershy. I’ve made my decision, but you’re almost an adult, and I think you’re old enough to decide what to do. However, if you really want the answers you’ve been looking for…then this has to be your decision.” Posey took her daughter’s hands in her own, passing her the flash key. Fluttershy took the flash drive in her hands, looking at the USB device as though it were a living, venomous thing. For some primal reason, she feared it. She didn’t know what it held within its digital grasp, her godparents insisting that it would be safe regardless, but they couldn’t know what would hurt her and what would not, would they? She was already in emotional pain, that they knew, but…what was on the drive? Tirek approached her. “Fluttershy…I promise you that there’s nothing bad on it. You know I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you, princess. Hell, I’d tear the world apart, person by person, if I had to, just to protect you. And I certainly wouldn’t give you that.” He gave her a smile and caressed her head. “Reminds me of a time when me and my kid brother were first learning music. Scorpan was insistent that he had to learn the drums, because it was the cool thing, but I told him that he needed to work on his arm strength to do so, and he was always a weak kid. Well, while we were in our first band, he lost the stick and it almost hit our bassist in the head, which let me tell you, is not exactly good for a ten-year-old kid. Anyway, I stuck my hand out to catch the stick and it hit hard, cutting my hand open and preventing me from playing for a good month or so. “Scorps looked at me and asked why I blocked the blow. I told him because he’s my kid brother and I promised to look out for him…and if that stick had hit Wahwah Pedal, he would’ve easily kicked Scorps’ butt. Anyway, my kid bro learned his lesson that day and that’s why he’s the muscle-bound drummer that he is now. “But the point I’m making is that I took a bullet, in a manner of speaking, for him. And for you, Shy, I’d take a whole lot more. If there was anything even remotely bad that Discord put on that, he knows I wouldn’t have done this. He and I are best friends…but there’s best friends, and then there’s protecting the innocent.” He gave her another smile. “So trust this ol’ headbanger once, okay?” Fluttershy looked at him, then to the flash drive and finally gave him a nod of understanding. Silently, she walked over to the television, plugging the drive into the USB port on the side of its bezel, then, using the control, queued it over to the feed. On screen, there was nothing but darkness, soon illuminated a second later, revealing Discord and his band. Discord himself characteristically pranced and paraded around the stage while the opening bars of the song came up, mostly through power chords laid down by a string-bikini-and-chaps-wearing Screwball. Behind them, Freebase wore a serf’s shirt and leather jeans; and from her place behind the drums, Screw Loose wore a NUCK THIS FOISE! t-shirt. All in all, as the song began in full, the four members of Discord’s band romped and played on, displaying their trademark style of snarkiness and extended juvenile attitude. “What’s this?” Posey asked. Tirek smiled. “It’s their new song, ‘When Was the Last Time (You Did Anything)?’ They actually recorded it for a charity album, and I’ve got to spend some time in the studio next week recording my own contribution.” Fluttershy watched the video intently, seeing her father and his bandmates bounce around and play power rock, something that, truth be told, hurt her ears slightly. She tried to keep a neutral expression on her face, but watching her father’s smug, smirking face as he belted out lyrics, nearly rubbing up against the nearly-naked guitarist probably close to half his age, it wasn’t easy by any means. Part of her wanted to scream obscenities at the screen, while the other half wanted to just turn away, turn off the TV and then burn the USB key and never want to do anything with him again. But out of the corner of her eye, she could see the laconic, warm smile of her godfather. If nothing else, she believed in him. “I don’t understand,” she said to no one in particular. “What am I supposed to see?” In response, Tirek went up to her and put his huge hands on her smaller shoulders, as if lending her strength. “Pause the screen and look at his clothing.” Fluttershy watched as her father danced around bare-chested, save for a hot-pink blazer, likely faux-alligator skin pants, and boots. There were some details on the blazer that she couldn’t make out as he moved around and that was likely why Tirek recommended she pause. Her finger travelling to the appropriate button, she then looked at the screen’s still image… …and felt her jaw drop. There, embroidered onto his blazer, on both the left and right panels, as well as both sleeves, were three emblems: a pink tulip, a pink butterfly, and white abstract rabbit head. The pink tulip was easy: it was Posey’s favorite flower, and something her mother always cherished. But the pink butterfly and the rabbit head were the shockers: the insect was the Corona del Mar Dawnwing, a magenta-hued relative of the Palos Verde butterfly, though pink vice blue and significantly more numerous than its endangered cousin; when Fluttershy was three her father had taken her to a park completely filled with them to the point that they’d formed great carpets of pink in the sky. She’d found the image so striking that she’d never forgotten it, and if anything the butterfly could have been considered a sort of spirit animal to her, if she believed in that sort of thing. As for the rabbit, that was simple: Angel always had a fondness for rabbits. She wasn’t sure why, and he was probably too young to really communicate the reason, but it was clear that her little brother had always had a thing for the cotton-tailed animals. To anyone else, those would be nothing more than designs on a custom-made blazer from some throwaway fashion designer in New York. But to Fluttershy…they were a statement. A statement that after all these years, her father still thought about her – cared about her, as well as Angel and their mother. And compared with the realization that her parents were still married to each other…. Fluttershy felt her feet fall out from underneath her, but a split-second later was caught by strong hands. She turned to see Tirek looking at her. “Shy, now you know the truth. Your father – Discord – he’s missed you ever since your parents had to separate. And it hasn’t been easy for him – he’s not a person who takes loneliness very well, at least not since I’ve known him.” Skies rose from the seat and went over to Fluttershy. “Kiddo, do you know what happened two years ago after your dad won the Grammy for Record of the Year for ‘Get Bent’? He went on stage and said in a serious voice that he thanked the stars in the seats and the stars in the sky…but the biggest stars he wanted to thank were the ones that would never see this.” She gave Fluttershy a kiss on the forehead and said, “Discord was talking about you, your mother and your brother – his family, the ones he loves most.” Her eyes stinging, Fluttershy looked to her mother, who merely nodded to her. The teen then turned around, embracing her mother and started to cry, letting the tears stream down her face. Everything she knew was a lie. Everything. “Fluttershy….” Posey began, not sure of what to say. “I’ll…I’ll see him,” the girl said haltingly. “I’ll go. But I want my friends to come. I need them to come with me.” Posey kissed her daughter on the cheek. “We’ll go – as a family.” She reached over and grabbed Fluttershy’s hand, squeezing it. “And your friends can come too.” She then looked at Tirek. “Can y—” “Just gotta talk to the producer,” Tirek answered, knowing what the question was. “Fortunately, as I understand it, Spruce Branch is a pretty upstanding guy, one of the best at our label.” The window on the 211th floor of the Burj Khalifa exploded outwards with a blast of fire and broken shards of glass, sending the debris in all directions onto the city of Dubai in the United Arab Emirates. A second later, a person dressed in a black catsuit and wearing both a backpack and a knapsack, sailed out the window headed towards the ground at a high speed.. That dive was broken as second later a parachute unfurled from the backpack, changing the individual’s descent to a softer trip towards the streets, 2600 feet below. Above from the shattered maw that used to be a window, several people appeared at the window, and one of them shouted in Arabic to shoot at the person. Several security guards complied, pulling out a variety of guns and firing, raining bullets down onto the escapee. The person took the hits, unable to escape; the body jerked and spasmed from the shots. Finally, the movement stopped, and a corpse sailed on the breeze, headed towards a landing on the highway in the distance. The head guard smiled, relieved at stopping a thief…until the wind turned the body, showing that it had been one of his own guards. But before he could say anything, a person jumped from the rafters, kicking him and two others out of the window towards their deaths. The figure then dropped to the ground to kick the feet out from the other two before they could draw a bead, then finally drew a gun from an under-arm holster and shot the two, the spent cartridges falling to the ground. “Digamma!” a voice roared over the earpiece the figure wore. “What the fuck are you doing? Your orders were not to engage!” The girl known as Digamma reached into her backpack for something, pulling a tarp-like object from the pouch. “Yeah, well, you see how you like a bunch of thugs shooting at your ass, Chi! One of those assholes threatened to use my body like it was a gift!” “When did you learn to speak Arabic?” “I don’t – he said it in English. In any case, I have the object. But I can’t promise any more casualties, only that I’ll follow the rules.” “Rounds can be traced, you know.” “Only when it’s one of their guns – and I boosted it from one of the guards I knocked out an hour ago.” Digamma unfurled the tarp and started slipping it on, then fastening the closures via a series of tungsten-metal hooks to the back of her boots and the thick steel bracelets she wore on her wrists. Finally, she put on a pair of goggles, making sure they were tightly-secured. Looking at the gun again, she said to no one in particular, “Looks like a Chinese Type 54 Black Star. Can I keep it?” “Just get out of there before reinforcements come, you idiot!” Digamma holstered the pistol and said, “Want one? They left a – ooh! 9mm Makarov! Score! Keeping this one too!” “At this rate, you’re either going to get caught from the delay, or you’re going to plummet to your death from too much weight!” “Okay, I get it – no more shopping. Plus, I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast, so I should be fine weightwise.” She slipped the Makarov into the backpack, then doublechecked the connections on her contraption. “Okay, going silent and doing the Batgirl.” “Roger that; I’ll be waiting at the dropzone.” Hearing screams and footfalls down the hall, Digamma did the only thing that she could: she paused to put a wad of white plastic and a device on the floor. And with that done, she effortlessly back-flipped out the window, spreading her arms and legs open to let the parts of her hastily-slipped-on glidesuit carry her from the upper breezes. A second later, the plastique went off, leaving a bigger explosion than the original already did, distracting the police helicopters that were already approaching. Down Digamma went, slipping into the steel canyons that made up downtown Dubai, and the frigid cold night, despite it being summertime. Most people never understood why deserts were cold at night, but Digamma read up on it: there was really nothing to keep the heat in, and deserts in general were a study of near-polar opposites, of blistering days and freezing nights. It had been information that would keep her alive, and alive was something she very much wanted to stay right now. Finally, as she approached the lower buildings, she aimed her right arm, hoping that the device still worked; she’d banged her arm against a wall earlier while trying to fight her way out and with a little luck, it still worked. Sure enough, the small harpoon shot out, with the small steel cable still attached, finding purchase on a medium-sized building. She clicked her wrist in the opposite direction and the small winch inside the gauntlet did its thing, pulling her in and causing her to make a controlled crash on a rooftop, rolling until she came to a stop against the wall. Stripping off the outfit, she wasted no time in pulling her pistol out and heading for the door— —only to see a little girl no older than five standing there on the roof, looking like she’d been beat up; her clothing looked like it had been torn apart, and the implications weren’t good. The look in her eyes was terrified, not for Digamma’s appearance, but of something else. A drunken, slurred voice shouted in Arabic, and the girl winced. Digamma silently waved the girl over, and without delay, the little girl moved behind her for safety. “!افسانه، أين أنت؟ الوقت لإرضاء والدك” the voice replied, then looked up in shock as Digamma pointed the gun at him. The response was a scream of rage, cut off two seconds later by the tinny sounds of two shots fired. As the body of the man fell to the ground, Digamma holstered the gun again, picked up the girl, kissed her on the cheek and hugged her, then, making sure she was safe, carried her in her arms. “Chi, Digamma. We have a problem.” “Problem? What the fuck do you mean a probl—” “Chi, shut the fuck up. I just picked up a little girl, no older than five, who looks like her father used her for entertainment. Well…let’s just say she qualifies for the Sisterhood now.” “Digamma, I thought you knew the rules: no ci—” “No, the rules say no innocents!” Digamma shouted, enough so that the girl in her arms winced. “That man was not innocent!” “Fine, but you had better consider this a failing grade, Digamma. We have Rho enroute to come get you. You have seconds to join her or you and she are both caught, understand?” “Roger that.” With that, Digamma ran down the stairs of the building – now revealed as a mostly-empty apartment complex – heading towards the stairs. As she reached the outside, a beat-up Toyota van opened up, and a girl screamed, “In, now!” With no argument, Digamma dived in, head first, making sure to protect her precious cargo. As the door to the van slammed shut, the girl that screamed to her said, “What the fuck’s going on, Digamma? You had better have gotten the object!” “Yeah, I got it,” was the response. “And I see you picked up someone? Fuck, could you have made this sit-u-fuckin’-ation any worse?” Digamma ripped off her goggles and mask, revealing a girl with short, orange hair and almond-shaped, wine-colored eyes. “Don’t get me started, Rho. If you saw what I had, you’d have done worse. Now get the kid some candy and let’s get the fuck out of here. Last place I want to be is in one of these third-world jail cells.” Hours later, a private – and likely stolen – passenger jet knifed its way across the Atlantic. In the cabin, a discussion was being had. “At attention,” a woman barked to Digamma, who was currently sleeping in one of the chairs. “Yeah, yeah, I gotcha, Mezzo,” Digamma replied, standing up. “You’re still on duty, recruit,” came the response, quiet but firm. “Report for debriefing!” “Aye!” Immediately, Digamma got the message and stood at ramrod attention. “Sorry, Lt. Intermezzo Blue, ma’am!” Digamma replied. Intermezzo got right into the girl’s face. “You caused a lot more damage than your allowance. Far more. So much more that our intermediary has to shell out some extra bribes – with her bank account and her body,” Intermezzo growled. “Ever know what it’s like to be on support duty and not having any interest in seducing your target whatsoever, even from the biological standpoint? It’s painful – especially when the person isn’t of your particular persuasion.” “Not my problem,” Digamma said, looking straight. “Yeah,” Intermezzo said. “It’s mine. Harpsichord, right now, has to do something – or rather, someone – that she wouldn’t do by her own choice, and that’s your fault. So she asked me to give you a little message.” And with that, Intermezzo punched Digamma right in the stomach. The younger girl crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath, only to be kicked in the side of the head by the woman. “And that’s for nearly costing the mission! Do you know how long Maddie, Vesper and I have been working to convince Cantata that you three are ready? And you almost cost us that!” Gasping for air and wincing in pain, Digamma gasped, “Sorry, ma’am.” “I know you are.” Intermezzo suddenly softened, and where a roughshod officer once stood a second later was a caring young woman. “You’re off duty now.” The older girl then hugged the younger one. “And you did a damn good thing, enough so to overturn your grade to pass. Belcanto talked to the girl, and you were right – her mother died in childbirth, and her father decided it was the girl’s job to take her mother’s place.” “Thanks, Mezzo,” Digamma said, accepting the hug. “And I’m sorry.” “I worry about you more than the others, you know? You’re a risk taker, just like me, and that’s going to get you killed.” Mezzo brushed Digamma’s hair out of her eyes, and said, “Fortunately, your final mission is just a simple espionage gig in California; I’ll get you the briefing documents later. You pass this, and you and your group are full members of the Sisterhood.” “That’s great!” Digamma cheered, wincing as she stood up, only to be helped to a chair by Intermezzo. “You punch like an ox, you know that?” “Surprised you didn’t block. You’re the better martial artist.” “Never back down from punishment, Mezzo. That’s what you always taught me. And speaking of which….” Mezzo shook her head. “She’s not even on the plane. Belcanto is responsible for smuggling her out of the country and getting them to America, where she’ll be given a new name and identity. She’s Belcanto’s petite sœur now.” “Oh,” the younger girl said softly. Intermezzo reached into her pocket, pulling a piece of paper out. “But she left this for you; Belcanto helped her write it. And as you can see, it has her new name.” Digamma took the note, seeing that it was written more by Belcanto than by the girl. But when she came to the girl’s new name, she smiled. “Really?” Intermezzo smiled. “Yup. But I’m sure little Adagio Sirocco will be more than happy to know you’re thinking about her, and someday you’ll see her in the field, I’m sure.” “Good,” the girl said with a smile. “She deserves happiness, and the Sisterhood can give her that.” “Glad to hear it. So, ready for your final challenge, Dagi?” Seated in her chair, Adagio Dazzle smiled. “I’m always ready, lieutenant,” she said with a wolfish grin.