//------------------------------// // Chapter Four // Story: Cape and Cowl II: Puppetmaster // by Artimae //------------------------------// 1 “It was your fault.” She was back in that street where it all began. Frost Storm was standing off with their attackers, blocking them from getting at her. He told her to run, but she wouldn’t this time. No, she would fight. She galloped straight at one of them, lowering her head like an animal. She slammed into one of the shadowy forms at full force, but it did nothing. The collision sent her sprawling onto her rump, where she realized she was just a little filly again. Frost Storm turned, and Snow’s startled scream escaped her in a choked whisper. His eyes were sunken and pupilless. “It was your fault,” this creature said again. Its voice was hoarse, almost gravelly. The other beings took shape; first Bolt Buck, then Facade, Rough Houser, and finally Bloodshot. He stood like a mountain against her incredibly smaller body. His eyes too were pupil-less, and there was a gaping hole in his forehead. He stood next to Frost Storm; the two looked at each other for a moment, then they all began to advance on Snow, chanting ‘It was your fault’ in a haunting chorus. She screamed, audibly this time, and scrambled to regain her feet. But they were like jelly beneath her. “No, stop!” she begged, curling up into a ball and beginning to sob as the five creatures loomed over her. She squeezed her eyes shut, moaning as the shadows grew darker and darker- She opened her eyes, sitting up straight in an instant. She was back by the fireplace, which had gone out while she slept. She cast a glance at the window. Nighttime, but no stars that she could see. She pulled back the blanket covering her. Figaro seemed to be missing. If he was here at all. She was beginning to lose her ability to discern reality from fantasy anymore. Maybe I’m going cra- Her blood turned to ice. There was a thump from upstairs, like the footfall of a heavy hoof. She came out of the living room and into the main foyer, carefully surveying the house. Everything was dark - too dark, she realized, as though the Princesses themselves had shrouded the world in a complete eclipse. The thump came again, and her heart seemed to skip a beat at exactly the same moment. “F-Figaro?” Her voice seemed small and weak as she called out to the noise upstairs. “Deorsa?” “YOUR FAULT!" The words exploded from inside her own head, echoing madly in her ears. The door to Mr. Orange’s study blew open, as though it had been harshly kicked, and both her adoptive parents and her brother sauntered out, all wearing the same expression of unbridled fury on faces that bore no pupils. “Your fault, your fault,” they continuously chanted while marching towards her. She let loose with a guttural scream which seemed to break her paralysis. She bolted to the main door, pulling and twisting and slamming her hoof onto it. Finally it gave and she jerked it open, and before her stood the Mare do Well. Attached to her hoof was a leash running to the Diamond Dog which she had kicked a little too hard; now it growled at her, baring its vicious fangs. “You’re not good enough,” the Mare do Well said to Snow Storm. The mask seemed to glower at her, perhaps even taunt her. “You weren’t then, you’re not now, and you never will be.” “That’s not true!” Snow shot back. She had to yell over the constant chanting of ‘Your fault’ now. “I’m doing my best!” The Mare do Well only shook her head. “No. It’s too late. You’re too late.” As if it were a cue, the chanting became ‘Your fault. Too late.’ Snow covered her ears, but still it penetrated deep into her skull. “No! NO!” She swung a hoof out at the Mare do Well. A pain shot into her hoof as soon as it connected with the creature’s muzzle; the Mare do Well herself hadn’t moved an inch. “Your fault! Too late!” “No, stop!” Snow began to cry; she didn’t know what else to do. “Your fault! Too late!” “It’s not! I’m not!” As the chant grew louder, her own voice seemed to shrink, coming out in weak, choked sobs. “YOUR FAULT! TOO LATE!” “You’ll never be good enough!” The Mare do Well declared, seeming to grow and grow. Snow realized she had become a small filly again, curled up and clutching her own blue tail while sobbing uncontrollably. “You’re a failure, and you always will be!” “I’m… sorry…” she whimpered. The Mare do Well reached a hoof up, pulling her mask back. Abacus’ face sat beneath it, leering smugly down at Snow. “Your fault! Too late! Failure!” The words swam around her head, piercing her skull like an arrow. They squirmed their way down her spine, and kept only getting louder and louder. “Your fault! Too late! Failure!” “YOUR FAULT! TOO LATE! FAI-” 2 Snow Storm shot up, breathing sharply. Something near her midsection flailed and scrambled away. Daylight washed the main living room in a soft, comfortable glow. The lingering smells of a dead fire hung in the air. Her coat was matted and tangled from a heavy sweat, and she was hyperventilating. Her heart was racing, feeling as though it were slamming against her chest. Her hoof throbbed in agony, though she didn’t remember doing anything to it last night. Nearby, Figaro crawled tentatively toward her, ready to run if he was spooked again. “A-Are you okay, alphamom?” Her breathing slowed its way back to normal, bringing about a wave of nausea so strong it sent her reeling. She could feel the contents of last night’s soup stir within her, threatening to come back up if she so let it. Her stomach felt like it was knotting up, and she burped a little bit, though nothing came out. “I’m… fine. I think.” She raised her aching hoof. It was scraped and bleeding, as though she had punched a rock. Which was exactly what had happened, she discovered; there were was a small amount of blood on the fireplace’s stone hearth. She recalled the dream, though her brain fought against doing such a thing. There was the Mare do Well… but it was Abacus… she went to hit the specter of her dream, but Abacus hadn’t flinched. Hitting her had felt like- Solid stone. Ouch. That nightmare must’ve been more vivid than she thought, if she was starting to lash out in real life. “What time is it?” she asked, looking over at the Pup. Her stomach had settled, her shaking had stopped, and she was quite sure there would be no vomiting today. “Time?” Figaro asked, scooting closer to Snow Storm now that she seemed normal again. She didn’t mean to scare me. She’s not like them. She’d never hurt me. “Yes. What hour is it?” Figaro only cocked his head at her, confused. Of course, she thought, Diamond Dogs don’t tell time, do they? They don’t need to. “Nevermind. I guess you have a bunch of stuff to learn, huh?” She brought herself to stand up, wincing at the way her body cracked and popped as though she were an old dam. The hoof was the worst of her pain - she thought she might have fractured it in her nocturnal outburst. If only Rarity had put a little healing magic in the suit, too. “Say, Figaro, I need to head into the city. You want to join me?” The pup’s ears perked up. “R-Really? I can come with?” “Sure!” Snow smiled, limping her way upstairs to bundle herself up. In truth, she didn’t want to leave him by himself. Not without anypony here to watch him. “And hey, I know an old Dog you can talk to.” “Oh…” He let out such a whimper that she stopped and looked at him. His ears were drooping, and she could see his muzzle twitching with… what? Fear? Something else? “It’s alright,” she reassured him, making her way to the front door. “He won’t hurt you like the others did. In fact, he’ll help you a lot! He’s lived with ponies his entire life.” “Really? He has?” They were outside now. The sun hung directly above a grey winter’s day. The lands had been frosted the previous night, making the world look like it had turned into crystal. “Yep! You’ll see. Come on now, we’ve got a lot of walking to do.” 3 The morning air was crisp and chilly as Amber Shield stood on the corner of Lipizzan Terrace, awaiting her superior. The streets had been powdered with a light coating of snow overnight, giving everything a fresh, immaculate look. “...You’re early, Cadet.” Murdoc was strolling leisurely up to her. Next to him were a pair of fillies, one slightly older than the other, and both beaming up at Amber. “Why, their school carriage doesn’t even arrive for another five minutes.” “Oh, sorry sir, I was just…” Amber sighed, shuffling in place. “I could use a little advice, that’s all. I just broke up with Pel and suddenly the city feels a lot lonelier again… and this nonsense with the Mare do Well suddenly switching sides isn’t helping. It doesn’t make sense…” The younger filly let out a sharp gasp. “You know the Mare do Well?!” “She’s not real, dumbdumb,” her older sister said, rolling her eyes. “Yeah huh she is!” “No, stop being dumb!” “Girls, please.” Murdoc shook his head, smiling at his daughters. “This is no way to behave with one another. Can’t you see your big sister Amber needs help?” “Sorry…” “Yeah, we’re sorry…” Amber smiled at them. “The Mare do Well is real, you know. And who knows? Someday she might even spot you two and save you from some bullies!” She turned her attention back to Murdoc. “What should I do about Pelleas, Sir? I’ve been trying to find him ever since I chucked him out… I’m worried he’s starving out on the streets or something…” Before he could answer, the younger filly spoke up again, looking curiously at Amber. “Who’s that? Is it a boy you like?” she asked, trying to hide what she thought to be a wry grin and failing miserably at it. Amber paused to consider her answer. “He’s, well… hmm.I thought I’d stopped liking him, but I guess I still do after all. I just want to make sure he’s alright…” “Hmph.” The older one developed a sour look on her face. “He can take care of himself. Colts are big, mean, dumb, ugly jerks who only care about themselves.” Amber laughed softly. “True, but… well, you’ll understand someday. Ponies make mistakes… I just hope that big dumb colt’s doing alright.” “Come now, girls,” Murdoc said, herding them towards the newly-arrived carriage and seeing them onto it. “You have given your big sister plenty of wisdom for today.” “Can Amber come home for dinner?!” “Yeah, can she?” “Well, that depends on her.” Murdoc looked back at his cadet, raising an eyebrow and nodding the smallest nod of encouragement. If she didn’t come, he knew, he would never hear the end of it from the fillies. “Count on it!” Amber said, waving goodbye. 4 A hundred different aromas wafted out of The Bread Box as Snow Storm opened the door. The scent of the bakery seemed almost to lift her up and carry her inside. She couldn’t help but smile - even her worst troubles seemed far away, assuaged by the pure goodness of this place. The Bread Box had enough pastry varieties to feed an army, if they wanted to. A single wall was dedicated to different types of bread; heated racks kept rows upon rows of donuts warm and fresh. All sorts of pies went from the kitchen into the hooves of hungry customers on a daily basis, all of them freshly made. Pre-made pies lined the large counter, from which anypony could order a piece either to sample or simply have a quick snack. Cupcakes, eclairs, muffins and every other pastry imaginable littered the store The main attraction, though, was the cakes. Several dozens of different cakes all sat inside a glass cabinet, all of them uniquely decorated by Cinnamon Swirl, the owner’s wife. Marble Swirl had found his talent in creating baked goods, but his wife had discovered hers was turning them into pieces of art. The bakery was a respectable size, with a dozen or so two-seat tables scattered around. Most of the tables were occupied, and there was a general murmur in the air as ponies idly chatted. Snow Storm looked around, though there was no sign of Pelleas. “This place smells nice!” Figaro said, sliding off of Snow Storm’s back and onto the tiled, black and white checkerboard floor. “Could we get something to eat?!” “Hm? Oh, of course,” Snow said, barely hearing the pup. Where is he?! She didn’t care for the sinking feeling in her gut. But what could possibly happen in a public place like this? Surely not everypony here could be part of some elaborate trap? As if they need to be. I’m already trapped. They walked up to the counter, with Snow helping to boost Figaro up onto a stool before settling onto one herself. “And how can I help you both today, Miss Storm?” Marble Swirl asked, offering both her and Figaro a companionable smile. “Ice cream for me,” she said, using her forelegs on the counter as a rest for her chin. A freezer was in the back, where some of the more sensitive goods were stored. Originally the ice cream had been saved exclusively for cakes and pies, but the Swirls quickly learned that they were wasting an opportunity by not offering bowls or cones. Once they had rectified their mistake, their profits jumped tremendously. “Fudge. I could use it.” “Of course, dear. And you, young sir?” “Uh…” Figaro looked around, scared and excited. His tiny tail wagged across the seat of the stool. “I dunno! I dunno what to have!” He looked up at his alphamom, hoping she wouldn’t be mad. “Might I suggest a slice of pie?” Marble offered, scooping out a triangular piece of strawberry pie from an almost-empty tin and setting it on a plate. “I’ve not yet met anyone who’s disliked our pies. Why, I even stopped a rampaging dragon with a single tin of apple pie!” “Did you really?!” Figaro looked up at Marble Swirl, his jaw dropping slightly. Snow Storm let out a few giggles while her own order showed up - it was a story that Marble had been telling young foals, and apparently now pups, as long as she could remember. “You know it, kiddo! It was a real beast, ready to burn the entire city down! But I stepped up, and I said, ‘Dragon! I propose this to you! You may burn Manehattan down if and only if my rhubarb pie does not adequately fill your mighty belly!’ And you know what happened next?” Figaro shook his head, mesmerized now. “Well…” Marble Swirl grinned, proudly puffing out his chest. “He liked it so much that he ordered two thousand more pies to take home. And he said, ‘You have bested my expectations, noble pony. So long as your shop stands, Manehattan will be spared my fury.’ So he took his pies and left!” "Wow!" “Yeah, a dragon smaller than a pony that was begging for table scraps…” a sarcastic voice cut in from behind. “Princess Twilight’s hopeless little helper. What a threat.” Snow Storm swiveled on her stool, coming face-to-face with a lean, buckskin stallion. He brushed a messy lock of black mane away from his eyes, only to have it fall back in place. The beard around his muzzle was similarly black, though far more taken care of than his thick, unruly mane. He hopped up onto the empty seat next to Snow and looked at her for a moment, almost in a scrutinizing way. "You look like you could use a friend." Snow's ears twitched. He wrote the letter. "What makes you say that?" she asked cautiously. The stallion shrugged. “Just a hunch,” he said. Snow Storm swore she could see him grin for just a moment as he helped himself to the seat next to her. “Let’s pretend for a minute I’m right. What exactly would you say you need right now, Snow Orange?” She eyed him for a moment, readying herself in case anything happened. “That’s not my name.” His grin seemed to widen. “Oh? But you’re the Orange’s kid, aren’t you? If I was lucky enough to have parents like that...” There was almost a note of sadness in his voice for the briefest instant. “I’d happily use their surname, even if it didn’t exactly mesh with my own. The name’s Pick Pocket, incase you were wondering.” “Of course it is,” she commented sourly, turning away from him. Just a thief. Of course. “And I suppose you’re one of his. Well good news, your ‘boss’ already has me over a barrel. You don’t need to rub it in my face any more than he already has.” Figaro had been tugging at her tail for a few minutes now, seemingly agitated by something. “Alphamom! Alphamom!” he said in an almost-whisper. “Hm? Oh! I’m so sorry, I promised you we’d go meet that other Diamond Dog. I completely forgot.” She cast a wary glance at Pick Pocket, subconsciously putting herself in front of the pup. “We could go now, if you’d like.” Figaro shook his head wildly, whispering, “N-no, it’s that pony! He helped me when I got here. Him and the fangy one.” “Are you sure?” she whispered back, keeping her eyes on the buckskin unicorn. “If I may cut in,” Pick interrupted, becoming serious, “I’m here because I have information you might want. Information which, if I was working for ‘him’, would be something I wasn’t allowed to tell you. Would be something that he would flog me for revealing, in fact.” “Is that right?” she asked sardonically, rolling her eyes. “And you’re just going to give it to me out of the kindness of your heart?” Pick Pocket flashed her a wry smile. “Just this once. There’s to be a poker game this evening downtown, in one of ‘his’ little hovels. It’s a gaudy little pink building with a broken neon sign, to be specific. One of the biggest loudmouths on the Red Hoof’s payroll will be there. Portly little bastard, you’ll know who it is right away. Whether or not I’m telling the truth is for you to decide. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m a very busy stallion.” He stood up, casually leaving the place while munching on a jelly-filled pastry. “Poker game, huh?” she said after him, rubbing her chin. Now that was useful information. But for who? That was the real question. It could very well be a set up, or even a test. What do you think, bro? Is it a trap? … Look at me talking to myself again. They’ve already got you. What do they gain by snaring you in a trap? Guess I’ll have to find out. “What’s the matter, Alphamom?” Figaro asked, looking up at Snow Storm. Her face was gaunt and she had been grinding her teeth without realizing it. “Huh?” Snow Storm shook her head, forcing herself back to reality. “Oh, nothing. Come on, let’s go meet Stonepaw. You’ll love him.” 5 Gilded Leaf stood at the top of the stairs, watching the floor beneath him. The first shift of the Day Guard were arriving, forcing their way into the Barracks against the combined mass of both night shifts. It was a flurry of activity he hadn’t witnessed since Bloodshot’s first wild rampage years ago, when all four shifts had worked overtime to capture him. He frowned, sensing a storm brewing beneath him. Chaos would sweep across his Guards unless he did something right now. “Attention!” he called out, keeping an eye trained on the main door. All of the Day Guard Lieutenants had arrived, and that was good. That’s all he needed right now. “Attention! This is Captain Gilded Leaf speaking!” His voice boomed over the cacophony of noise below, amplified by magic, silencing and grabbing the attention of everypony. “The Night Guard is officially off-duty! Leave now and make room for the Day Guard. Day Guard Lieutenants, report to the conference room immediately. This is mandatory.” * * * “Ladies, gentlecolts.” Captain Leaf stood at the head of the rectangular oak table, eyeing each of his Lieutenants in turn. Each of them look confused, some even concerned. Meetings held by the Captain were exceedingly rare, and usually only came about when something was significantly wrong. “There was an unusual incident last night,” the Captain continued, beginning to pace around the room. “At approximately zero-thirty hours, Lieutenants Aella and Flyntt received a report of activity downtown. What we discovered was troubling: a group or gang outside of the Red Hoof’s influence inside some sort of distillery or processing plant, working with a new substance we have yet to identify. Stranger still, this place had been attacked by the time we got there. Attacked by the Mare do Well. I wish I could say that was all, but it gets worse. I’d be remiss to believe the word of a criminal, but one of the few still conscious claimed that the Mare do Well had been working for the Red Hoof.” There was a general murmur amongst the group, not of shock, but of discontent and resignation. “So it was just another ruse,” one said, tugging at his thick moustache. “The Red Hoof gave us hope, just so he could snatch it away…” “Yeah, I knew it was too good to be true! Why would anyone fight for us?” “We need to learn her identity and bring her down-” Murdoc stood up from his seat, scowling. “Don’t be fools! The Mare do Well would never work for him. Whatever her reasons for being there, they were her own.” “Nothing is proven,” Captain Leaf said sharply, quieting the squabbling before it got too out of hoof. “And again, I would hardly believe the word of a lowlife. What matters is what we do know. We know there is a new type of drug in the city, we know this group is not with the Red Hoof, and we have a name. Does ‘El Toro’ sound familiar to anyone here?” Murdoc’s ears perked; the rest of the group seemed to have no reaction to the name. “... Yes, sir. Supposedly that’s the name of the biggest crime lord in Liveryburg. Their equivalent of the Red Hoof.” “Liveryburg?” Captain Leaf asked, running the name through his mind. All of the Captains knew each other, of course, though keeping track of them was sometimes more trouble than it was worth. “That would be Captain… Shield. Brass Shield. Your Cadet is his neice, correct?” “That’s right, Sir. She’s the reason I’ve heard of him… should I bring her in to see what else she knows?” “Yes, bring her here immediately.” * * * Amber Shield gulped, feeling the eyes of everyone present staring down at her. When Lieutenant Murdoc had called her in, her blood froze. She was being brought to bear in front of a good number of superiors. Had she done something wrong? They’re all staring at me. It’s like some sort of tribunal. Taking a deep breath, she straightened herself up and turned to Captain Leaf. “Y-you wanted to see me, sir?” “Yes. Please, relax Cadet. It’s to my understanding that you may or may not have valuable information regarding a name. El Toro?” “... He’s a minotaur. My uncle told me about him,” she began, raising her voice slightly as she gained confidence. Brass Shield had told her the stories dozens of times about his worst enemy. Sometimes she thought it was all he talked about. “He’s more aggressive than the Red Hoof, and much crueler. I remember hearing about this weird chemical he had a monopoly on back home. It wasn’t like Diamond Eyes. It was something… worse.” She shuddered just thinking about what it could do to a pony.. “What is it called, Cadet?” “W-well, I don’t know if it really comes from a basilisk, but all the stories ended the same… ponies turned to stone by a strange chemical they called Basilisk Venom.” There was a significant murmur at this, with one Lieutenant standing up, eyeing the Cadet wearily. “Missy, Basilisks are just a myth,” he said in a fading Appleloosian drawl. “There ain’t never been a confirmed report of one in Equestria’s history.” “Quiet, quiet,” Captain Leaf ordered, sitting back down in his chair. “Basilisk Venom… Thank you, Cadet, you’ve possibly been more helpful than you realize. I’ll be sending a letter to Captain Shield for confirmation. And maybe even a progress report.” He shot Amber a small wink. “Speaking of progress, does anypony have new information regarding the Orange disappearances?” After a moment of hushed debate, the Lieutenants all shook their heads. “Nothing but hearsay and gossip at this point, sir,” Murdoc offered. “Most ponies believe the Rinds are involved, but it’s nothing but baseless conjecture at this point, and we can’t enter their grounds to check without something solid to back up the investigation.” “Nothing else? Nothing at all? Very well, then. This meeting is concluded. Those of you with Cadets, get back to your patrols. Those without, keep investigating the disappearances. I want that family found, is that clear?!” “Yes, sir!” * * * “Congratulations, Cadet,” Murdoc said as he and Amber Shield stepped out into the wintery afternoon, heading into their patrol. “You survived your first encounter with the Captain.” “He’s not so bad. A little stern, but I’m used to that by now.” She smiled, allowing herself a brief moment of insubordination. “Indeed.” Murdoc looked sideways at her. She could’ve sworn she saw the corner of his mouth twitch. “Now I understand why Captain Brass sent you here.” “Oh? And why would that be? Besides to get me out of his hair, of course.” Lieutenant Murdoc snorted. “He obviously suspected this ‘El Toro’ of having greater ambitions, so he sends you here, full of knowledge and possibly experience. Your uncle’s a sly one. Hm, I never did answer your question from this morning, did I?” He looked over at Amber, one eyebrow raised. “Do you still want my advice about Pelleas? I doubt it could be as poignant as the wisdom of my girls.” “I need to see if he’s worth saving. I guess I’m still hopeful there’s a pony worth caring about underneath all that self pitying immaturity… he was one of the first ponies to make me feel welcome here, Sir. Maybe it’s just sentimentality, but I feel like I owe him one more chance.” “A cadet is only as worthless as the Lieutenant training him,” Murdoc said coldly. “I asked Aella about Flyntt. I understand you were friends, once…” “Once upon a time, perhaps.” “... I won’t pry. But if you ever feel like telling me the whole story, I’d be very interested to know, sir.” Lieutenant Murdoc shook his head. “Some other time, perhaps. But for now, I believe I spotted a pair of mischievous colts about to throw rocks at a window. I’ll let you handle them.” Amber nodded, heading down the street after the two. “HALT!” 6 Sunset couldn’t come quickly enough for Snow Storm as she paced around the manor, chewing absentmindedly on her lip. Pick Pocket had been vague with a time - probably just to drive her crazy. That poker game she was planning on crashing could be happening right now and she wouldn’t even know it. He said ‘this evening’. That could be anytime. So what’re you waiting for? I can’t just leave Figaro alone. She looked over at the doorway to the common room, where the pup was playing with a set of marbles that Stonepaw had gifted him. If she left him alone, they’d come and get him. They were always watching now. They’d snatch away even the tiniest bit of happiness that she could find. Maybe if I bring him with me… That’s insane! Don’t forget where you are, girl! Where I am-? She slapped her forehead, unable to believe she didn’t think of it sooner. Deorsa. She ran upstairs, flew through her room, and nearly slipped on the balcony outside. “Deorsa! Hey, Deorsa!” Her voice carried out over the grove, twitching dozens of ears and picking up a few heads. The Fulake in question glided over, hovering before her. “Ma’am?” he asked. “Mind doing something for me?” “Of course.” Deorsa’s head was cocked to the side as he waited for her request. “There’s a Diamond Dog pup in the house-” The Fulake smiled gently. “Ah, yes. Figaro, I believe?” Snow Storm cocked her head, pinning her ears slightly. “How do you know?” “Why, I brought him here last night, ma’am.” “You? But… but…” Snow Storm’s eye began to twitch. But he said Pick Pocket found him. Didn’t he also describe a Fulake? Whom you thought was Pelleas? A chill ran down her spine; one that had nothing to do with the evening air. She began to back away from the floating Fulake, bumping her rump on the glass door behind her. “N-nevermind. Leave him alone.” “Are you alright, ma’am?” he asked, genuine concern in his voice for a moment. “We’ll keep him safe, don’t you worry. He was pining for his Alphamom.” Deorsa chuckled softly. N-no, it’s that pony! He helped me when I got here. Him and the fangy one. “I think we need to step inside.” * * * “I don’t understand,” Snow Storm said, sitting next to the warm fireplace. “You’ve been here for as long as I can remember. You can’t tell me you’ve been some kind of spy this whole time…” At this, Deorsa smiled a warm, toothy smile. “I suppose if you want to use that word, though it is much more complicated. Truth be told, Pick Pocket and I have known each other for a long time, but my being here has very little to do with him.” Snow Storm snorted. “You can’t possibly think I’d believe that. It’s too convenient.” Deorsa shrugged. “Believe what you wish, ma’am. But I hope you believe I do love working here. I take my job very seriously.” In fact, Deorsa had worked quite hard to get himself up to Foreman of the night shift. She could even remember him taking a few shifts in the day just to prove himself. “But why not tell me any of this before?” Snow Storm asked, looking at him accusingly. “Why did I have to find out this way?” The Fulake turned away from her, looking ashamed. “The truth be told? I did not believe it mattered until now. I know sometimes it must feel like the whole city knows who you are beneath that mask, but that is not the case. I… I had to tell Pick who you were, why you were important. I almost had to beg for his help in all of this. I never brought him up because… well, I did not want to get your hopes up. He would not budge until I negotiated a price.” “... A price?” Snow Storm cocked her eyebrow. She had a feeling she wasn’t going to like what she was about to hear. “Yes. Three crates of fruit a week, one of them Nightfruit.” “Three crates a week!?” Snow Storm’s jaw dropped. “That’s… that’s… we already give the Guard four!” Deorsa shrugged. “If it makes you feel better, it goes to a worthy cause. Like it or not, his help comes at a price.” “I suppose I have to tolerate it, at least.” Snow Storm whistled toward the common room. “Figaro? Come here for a moment!” Figaro crawled downstairs lazily, stretching out and whining softly as he stared up at Snow Storm. “What is it, alphamom?” “I have to go out again, kiddo. You can’t come with me this time, but Deorsa here will see you’re well taken care of.” She shot the Fulake a look. “Won’t you?” “Of course! Like I’d let a kid down, pony or not,” he said, almost offended at the suggestion. “Now then, I’m late for a poker game.” 7 “So, do I have your agreement? It needs to be unanimous,” the portly stallion said. A fat, smug smile stretched across his worn face as he gazed across the table at the solemn ponies before him. “One hundred bits a week in exchange for complete protection from the Mare do Well and the Red Hoof. I’m really being too generous, I know…” “Man…” one of them said, haphazardly tossing his cards, a pair of deuces, onto the table with disgust. “Your deal’s about as stacked as your deck! We pay you to join your gang, you get all our profits, and we probably don’t even get to run our own operations anymore?! Do we at least get greased up before the big guy sticks it to us?” The stallion stopped smiling, though his eyes remained every bit as cold as they had before the pony before him had dared speak out. “What you get,” he said through gritted teeth, “is the assurance that today won’t be the last of your meaningless, miserable existence. And if you don’t like it, tell me what better offers you’ve been given? No- tell me what other offers you have at all!” The silence that hung in the air after his outburst seemed to speak volumes,and his sickly smile returned. “You see, gentlecolts, I don’t have to take this money under the pretence of a boring card game. If I wanted, I could have my men pull the gold from your fillings right here and now. But because I am a generous individual, I let you play. And who knows? Sometimes you might even win…” The stallion leaned back on his chair, not noticing the figure landing silently behind him. “But not tonight. Tonight belongs to-” “The Mare do Well!” one blurted out, jumping backwards in their seat. “The Mare do Well? No you idiots, tonight belongs to the Re-” “Why don’t you deal me in?” her voice came from behind him, cutting him off. She smiled a bit upon seeing their faces drop at her arrival. A couple of them glanced suspiciously at the pudgy host. “Just what the hell is this?!” the one from before burst out, scrambling to grab what remained of his bits. “This a set-up? Is that it, fatso? Force us into joining or you sic your new dog on us?!” The stallion squirmed in his seat, starting to sweat, the cogs clearly turning in his nasty little brain as he struggled to think of a way to turn the situation to his advantage. “Y-yeah, well the Red Hoof has ears all over this city, and clearly he heard you idiots talking like you weren’t going to pay up. Now maybe you’ll show some respect at last…” The stallion pointed to the pony that had been questioning his ‘protection promise’, grinning widely. “That’s the one, right there. Said we weren’t being fair. Maybe you can show him what unfair looks like, heheheh…” The Mare do Well eyed him for a moment, before turning her attention back to her target. “Mm, no, I don’t think so. I came here to talk to you.” The stallion tried to shrink back into his chair, though it wasn’t working. “M-me? Whaddaya wanna talk to me for…?” “I have a question.” She slipped a foreleg around the back of his neck, grabbing at what little mane there was and pulling on it. “A simple question.” She jerked her hoof back, satisfied at the grimace on his face. If he was smart, she wouldn’t even have to rip any hairs out. “Answer it for me and I’ll leave you alone: Where is your boss keeping the Orange family?” “You… you want the Oranges?” “Yeah.” “Then go check a fruit bowl or somethin’.” Snow Storm threw the table across the room, sending cards and bits flying everywhere. A few of the gang ponies cried out as they ducked beneath the projectile. She tipped the stallion backwards out of his chair, pouncing on him before he stopped his rolling, and stepped a foot down onto his fat throat. “Listen here you tub of guts!” she roared, snarling. Oh how her throat was going to be sore in the morning. “I’m not in the mood for games! Tell me where they are!” She stepped down harder, until his front legs were flailing and scrabbling for purchase against her. “Don’t… know!” he managed, his face turning blue as his eyes bulged in a grotesque little display. “Then where’s the Red Hoof’s base?! Answer me!” She pulled her hoof away from his neck before he could conveniently pass out, instead smacking him across the face. What he didn’t know was how much effort it took for her to hold back the force of the blow. "Answer! Or I'll do to you what I did to Bloodshot!” The room fell deathly silent at the mention of his name. Right up until the monster known as Bloodshot had taken his last breath, most of the Red Hoof’s gang had never considered that the Mare do Well would-or could-go that far… despite the final blow having come from another. The events of that night had become twisted into legend. Tales of a stallion so badly beaten he could no longer be identified floated through the criminal underworld, and ever since then the Mare do Well had carried with her an air of menace even she had not intended, but one she would gladly take advantage of.. “I… I dunno! They send a guy to meet me every Friday outside the Rind’s main grocers! That where I get told what to do…” “The Rinds…?” Snow could almost physically feel the momentum shifting away from her. She was slowly losing the advantage she’d gained over this creton. All because of a name. “The Rinds are involved with the Red Hoof?!” “Maybe,” the stallion coughed out, sounding genuinely uncertain himself, “Or maybe they just want people to think they’re in league with the Rinds. Gives ‘em someone to take the fall if a plan ever goes wrong.” She moved her face close to his again - it was a nice intimidation tactic, she found out long ago. Get up in their face and they crumble immediately. “Fine, then. Here’s what you’re doing to do for me-” She lifted a rear leg up, striking a stallion who’d been sneaking up on her dead center in the muzzle, feeling the bones splinter beneath her hoof. “Anyone else feel brave enough to try that?!” she yelled, not bothering to look around. If she did, the stallion beneath her would make his move. “No? Good. Now, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to meet whoever it is you meet, and I’m going to be there. Got it?” The portly stallion nodded slowly, not daring once to take his gaze from her own. “Good boy.” She patted his cheek, resisting the urge to plow her hoof right through it, and strolled away. Discontent followed her departure, leaving the dim, smoke-filled room completely silent. “So, ‘protection’, huh?” one of the gang leaders finally said, shaking his head in contempt. “We saw how well you can protect us from the likes of her. I dunno about you guys, but I'm out. I ain't steppin' in her way.” There was a small murmur of agreement, followed by the shuffling of hooves as the small-time gang leaders took what bits they could grab from the spilled table. The stallion snarled, picking himself up off of the floor with one foreleg while massaging his throat with the other. “Wait!” he begged uselessly after the departing ponies. “It’s just a misunderstanding, that’s all! The Red Hoof-” “The Red Hoof can kiss my ass,” said Pettie Trotts, the only mare in the room. She sent what was left of the bits flying into a her purse with magic and sauntered to the door, flanked by a pair of her muscular bodyguards. “The way I see it, she won’t mess with us if we don’t mess with her. In fact, I think I might go legit. C’mon boys, the night’s still young and I’ve just acquired some spending money.” 8 Amber Shield wobbled out of Murdoc’s home, feeling as though her belly was going to burst. The Lieutenant’s wife had cooked and baked more courses than she could count, and had insisted the ‘growing young filly’ eat no less than five platefuls. “Urgh,” Amber muttered, dragging herself down the sidewalk. The lighting on Lipizzan Terrace was clear, but not too bright. She passed the corner where she always waited for Murdoc, almost regretting not taking up the offer to sleep in the spare bedroom. Her own apartment was only a few blocks away, but tonight that felt like miles. Her ears flicked, as though picking up a small, out-of-place sound. Her stomach tightened, feeling a sense of dread as she passed from the comforting glow of the street lights into relative darkness. It’s okay. Nopony will mess with you. You’re a Guard. And she wore the armor to prove it. Unlike many of her peers, she chose to wear hers home. More than just a hunk of metal around to protect her body, her armor represented who she was, and she deigned to keep it perfect. Her ears twitched again. She thought she might’ve heard the crunching of snow behind her. She felt a chill, as if there were eyes upon her. Get a hold of yourself! She fought against the urge to look around, even casually. Her brain was just playing tricks on her, that’s all. It wouldn’t hurt if I picked up the pace, though, would it? She did just that, moving into a lengthy stride which shortly turned into a trot. The hairs on the nape of her neck stood up - she could almost feel a hoof reaching out to her. She shuddered, picking up the pace yet again, going from a brisk trot into a gallop. Don’tlookbackdon’tlookback. Too late. She turned her head around, seeing the inky shadows of trees in the night. It was enough to send her bolting down the empty sidewalk. There were things there. Things that were definitely watching her. She would trip and they would pounce. The shadows began to close in around her. She should’ve stayed with Murdoc tonight, now it was too late, the boogeymare was real and it had claimed its next victim, she was never going to make it home now she was- “Hello, Amber,” came a cold, familiar voice from the darkened apartment. Amber Shield jumped, fumbling with the chain on the door as she tried and failed to lock it. “You’re home a little late.” “W-what?” she stammered, backing away from the voice. “Pel, is that you? Please...” “Why, I’m touched. You almost sound like you care.” “Pel, look, I’m sorry,” she began, looking into the shadows with a sympathetic smile. She was still breathing heavily from her mental scare. “I shouldn’t have kicked you out. I promise I won’t do it again…” “Don’t sweat it. I’ve found somepony else, anyways. Somepony who appreciates what I do for her. That’s not what I came here to discuss.” “...Oh,” she said, sounding almost disappointed. “Well, I’m glad to hear it, but what are you here for, then?” “I need your help. The Red Hoof is up to something big, and it’s all going to come to a head in two nights. Warehouse C, down at the docks. We can bust the place together.” “...I don’t understand, I thought you hated the guards… why would you suddenly want to help them? And especially me! I threw you out to the streets…” “Look, the truth is… I did a lot of self-searching. I get it now. I was stupid to put everything into the Mare do Well, and I threw away a career for nothing. But maybe… maybe by doing this, they’ll let me back in. I came to you because… because well you’re the only one I can trust. You tossed me out but that was my fault, too. Not yours. I want to make everything up and move on.” “Should I tell my superior? We’d have a better chance of bringing them down if we have the advantage of greater numbers....” “No. No other guards. I might be able to round up a couple of friends I’ve made, but that’s it. Any more guards and the whole operation is blown. Understand?” “Well… alright. But what about the Mare do Well?” “She’s one of the Red Hoof’s. Always has been. She’s part of his game. We may see her there. If we do, she’s our enemy, whatever she might say.” “Pel…” Amber began, before stopping herself. “Alright. Fine. I’ll see you on Friday, then. And I’m… glad you found someone.” “You’re the best. Thanks for helping me.” She heard his footfalls in the dark, listening as he jumped out of her opened window and flew away into the night. 9 The walk home felt a little shorter than usual that night, and as Snow Storm opened the door of the manor she couldn’t help but smile to herself, satisfied to have finally made some progress with finding her parents. As irritating as that stallion from the bakery had been, she had to admit that his information had been useful. And best of all, she had been given an opportunity to take out her frustrations on a nasty little bully for the first time in weeks. I can’t wait ‘til it’s your turn, Abacus… “Well now, you seem cheerful,” Pick Pocket’s voiced floated down from across the hall. “Oh, hope you don’t mind, I thought I’d make myself at home. Did my info help you, by the way? No thanks needed,” he said, flashing that insufferable grin. “Why am I not surprised?” she growled, looking exasperatedly at Pick Pocket. “I assume Deorsa let you in?” “He did… oh, you aren’t bothered by that, are you? It’s not like we’ve been scheming behind your back or anything. It just helps to have friends all around. I will admit I was wrong, however. I couldn’t have been bothered with something like this until he came to me, cashing in on a favor or two. But now… now it’s getting good. It’s getting fun.” Pick Pocket suddenly smiled, having seemingly remembered something important. “Oh, this is for you,” he said, handing her a letter. She picked it up, cringing as she read its contents. Dear slut, I got a new chore for you. I’m sure you’ll love it! Friday night, same fountain. xoxo, Abby P.S. I hope you didn’t think I wouldn’t find out about what you did tonight. I know everything that goes on in this city. Snow Storm balled up the letter, tossing it into the crackling fireplace. “Were you meant to give that to me, or do you just like rummaging through my mail, too?” “I was curious,” he said, shrugging innocently. “Curious as to why she’s playing with you like this. She has all the power here, and she’s not using it to do anything but gloat and antagonize you… don’t you find that strange? The so-called smartest mare in Manhattan, and this is the best she can do?” “She’s sadistic. She’s just toying with me like a rat in a maze.” “And yet she could be doing so much more… after all, the Red Hoof doesn’t care about torture. All he wants is results, and she’s still his subordinate… for now.” Snow Storm’s ears twitched. “What do you mean, ‘for now’? She’s devoted to the Red Hoof. Whatever she’s having me do is in his name.” “She’s doing to him what we’re doing to her. Playing into his hoof, making her loyalty seem absolute… but it’s an act. The more you put pressure on her, the more you disrupt her plans, the more the cracks will show.” “How can you know that?” Snow asked, beginning to pace around the room. Her legs were restless, even if the rest of her were exhausted. “How did she even know what I did? It’s like she’s everywhere now.” “She likes to make ponies think that, but the truth is she’s cocky, and not as invincible as you think. We can defeat her by playing helpless, then striking when the time is right…” Pick stopped smiling for a moment, becoming serious. “The time is coming when we teach this bitch a lesson. She knows about you, but she doesn’t know about us. Not yet.” “And what happens when she does find out about us? She’s already made it clear that I can’t go to the Guard. She wants me alone.” “That’s why we need to get a proper plan together, and fast. We need her to think you’re completely alone, and that means we can’t stick to a regular meeting schedule or place. Her guys are everywhere, and if you start hanging around the places she doesn’t monitor too much she’ll get wise.” “... There is a possibility. That card game you sent me to. The fatso running it is set to meet another one of the Red Hoof’s lackeys in two days, near the Rind shop. It might just be a dead end, but…” “Ah, I see. My friends and I will handle that, if you don’t mind. If lardass sung to you as easily as that about the meeting, you can be sure they’ll be expecting you to show up. Abacus might even be counting on it… who knows, you might just make her angrier by not giving her the satisfaction of getting to punish you for it.” Pick grinned devilishly placing a paper bag by the coffee table he stood next to. “Here. Another present for you. Now then, if you’ll excuse me, the night is still young...” Before she knew it, Pick Pocket disappeared with a little pop! Curious, Snow Storm peeked inside the bag, seeing few round, hard rubber objects with pins poking out horizontally from their tips. Beneath them was a small note. S., Hope you like these. They’re smoke bombs - I made them myself. -P. She grabbed one out of the bag, rolling it in her hooves. Things are starting to look up, she thought, admiring the piece of craftsmanship, studying to see how the little device worked. It looked fairly simple - just pull the pin and toss it. If it worked, smoke would burst out of it, giving her a convenient shroud. Soon, Abacus, she thought as she played with the little bomb. Soon.