Boss Jeryn of the Southern Hoof Syndicate was the living definition of “unpleasant.” His gray face was more of a sword-tip than a muzzle, complete with hardlined angular features, a frown that could cut glass, and all of that framed by straight-as-a-razor mane hair that hung on either side of his skull like damp black moss. He sat in his lofty balcony seat overlooking the circular Marine Auction House with a sighing slump. With a shrug of his bony shoulders, he adjusted a dark burgundy robe around his figure and muttered to the thugs standing behind him as an escort.
“Another morning, another day of bobbing for jellyfish,” he slurred. His voice joined the noisy vomit of the chamber as several hundred ponies gathered in attendance, conversing anxiously before the start of daily business. “I swear to Verlaxion's teats, it never changes.” He sniffed and glared down at the house speaker as the pony gathered his notes, preparing for the opening dialogue. “One of these days, they'll hoof the key to Shoggoth over to me and I'll show them how to run a good trade station.”
“All in good time, eh, Boss?” one of the personal bodyguards mused, bearing a hopeful smile. His voice reverberated off the looping ring of water floating pendulously above them and the rest of the audience. “The Syndicate's holding more shares in Shoggothian business than ever, and it's all thanks to you!”
“Don't brown nose so hard,” Jeryn droned. “I pay you well, don't I?”
“Well, when in the Muddredge City...”
“Not funny.” Jeryn rubbed his skull, sighed, and stared off at the crowd. “Look at these idiots. You think in a place surrounded by so many sharks, they'd get a clue.”
“How do you mean, Boss?”
“I mean nopony is ever ambitious enough. Over the past twenty years, they've stopped being saps and reverted to being sissies.” His hard jaw clenched even harder. “I've resorted to hiring seaponies to do our aquatic gruntwork, and you know how tedious it can be to even communicate with those googly-eyed buggers.”
“'Never fully trust a pony who makes babies on the outside,'” one thug said with a grin. “That's something Momma always taught me.”
“Good stallion,” Jeryn said.
“Why thank you, sir.”
“I meant your stupid mom.”
“Oh.”
“Seaponies aren't clever,” Jeryn said. “They're just trouts with manes. You'd think a race that stupid would be useful, but damn if that Siren Bitch Camellia isn't the one thing gluing their worthless brains together.”
One of the guards winced while the other hissed. “Shhhh!” He looked up at the scaled equines swimming in the levitating water above them. “Watch it, Boss—!”
“Watch what?” The hint of a smile washed across Jeryn's features. It more appropriately resembled a praying mantis choking on its own mandibles. “Camellia might have all the seaponies in her fins, but she can't flick a tail to so much as touch us.”
“But...” One guard hugged. “You know the rumors... about her getting into ponies' heads?”
“And if she ever got into mine, she'd have a lot of stinkin' ghosts to mess with.” Jeryn shook his head. “Nah, Camellia knows that her days are numbered, and she can't stop the Syndicate from taking over her little trading post. That's why she approves of the Council and this... stupid Daily Meeting Bullshit.” Jeryn stifled a belch and slouched in his chair, groaning. “She's laming it out... delaying the inevitable... hoping that this city and all of its meddling bureacracy will outlast mortals in charge like me and Revan. But that's her defeat right there, cuz the Syndicate won't end with guys like me. The only thing stronger than one flankhole with a lot of power is an even bigger flankhole.”
“Wow, Boss, I wish I had a philosophy that made nearly as much sense.”
“And that's why you work for me.” Jeryn smiled at him. “I do the thinking.” His nostrils flared. “And the monologuing.”
“Still, if Camellia backs out in our lifetime...” One thug rubbed his head hard, trying to choose his words carefully. “...and gives over the entirety of Shoggoth to the Syndicate... what about all the seaponies who live around us, blinkin', singin', and makin' lights n'stuff?”
“Yeah! We're living smack-dab in a whole school of 'em, y'know,” the other thug said.
Down below, the house speaker signaled another pony, and a loud bell was rung. The audience sat, directing all eyes toward the lower center of the circular chamber.
Jeryn leaned forward. As the House tapered into silence, he muttered through a crooked grin: “Well, boys, I suppose the Syndicate will make bold new steps in the seafood business.”
“Heheheh... good one, Boss.” One thug smiled, keeping his voice down as the meeting began. “Good thing to know we're so on top of things...”
“Shit shit shit shit shit shit!” Revan snarled, galloping faster and faster through the narrow corridors of the Southern Hoof's stronghold. The walls around him shook with the hoofsteps of over four dozen guards and thugs following close behind. “They were here! I just know they were there!” He panted, sweating, his eyes darting left and right across the dim manalight within the claustrophobic hallways. “That damn bard! I can practically smell his cruddy ol' hat!” He sniffed once... twice. “Like wet dog hair and hotel sheets, the marble-mouthed fudge-packer, I swear to Verlaxion...”
“Boss! Just calm down!” one stallion exclaimed, trailing after him. “For all we know, maybe they didn't even come here! Maybe they're still casing the joint outside!”
“Hey! You!” Revan scuffled to a stop, glaring down a nervously-blinking guard standing before a supply closet. “Did a griffon, a rainbow-mane'd mare, and a pegasus with a guitar case roll through here?”
“Yeah! Totally!” The guard nodded, pointing down the hall. “Remna took them towards the North Wing about twenty minutes ago!”
“Mega shit!” Revan's voice cracked.
“Uhm...” Cold Stone lingered a few steps behind, his horn glowing above a tense facial expression. “...boss?”
Revan twirled about. “What now?”
“Strong mana discharges...” The unicorn remarked, blinking. His muzzle hung open. “...about three signatures... located north... about a floor down and thirty degrees to the west.”
“How far away?”
“Forty... fifty meters, I'm guessing.”
Revan gawked at the other guards. “Just what in Verlaxion's sleet could be running on mana charges this deep in Jeryn's place?”
The guard before the supply closet looked up from his clipboard. “Hmmm? Oh!” He smiled pleasantly. “That's probably the oxygen tanks of the pressurized suits that we keep in our armory.” He gestured. “Up north, a little to the west, fifty meters away and one floor down.”
“FUUUUUUU—” Revan galloped at full speed. Cold Stone and the rest gasped, struggling to catch up.
Schlummmp!
Rainbow blinked at the self-sealing layers of her suit's neckline, specifically where it made air-tight contact with the bottom edge of her smooth, glossy helmet.
“Heh...” She giggled slightly. “Now that's a cool sound.”
“Dayum...” Bard fidgeted, still struggling to slide half of his suit up his thicker, more muscular frame. “They sure make these thangs tight, don't they?” His muzzle scrunched. “And what's with the color yellow? Are we supposed to be deep sea divers or honeybees?”
“Just pretend you're a underwater wasp.” Rainbow slapped her glass visor in place. “That'll explain the yellowjacket.” A pair of metal tanks situated on her sides glowed bright blue, channeling energy into a series of ventilators that slowly fed her oxygen. “Whew...” She shuddered all over, getting goosebumps. Her voice echoed hauntingly within the confines of her angular helmet. “It's like I'm wearing a reverse bouncy house... or something...”
Twilight Sparkle floated into view. “Rainbow, I just spent the last few minutes studying those tanks you're wearing.”
“Thank you, Science Officer Sparkle.”
“Rainbow, this is serious!” Twilight frowned. “From what I can tell, those things are only going to last you thirty... maybe forty minutes of underwater breathing. Fifty, tops, if you concentrate and pace your breathing carefully.”
“Well, good thing we aren't going out there to do the tango.”
“Darling, do take heed.” Rarity floated in. “I share in Twilight's concern.” The unicorn's eyes narrowed. “Have you ever done anything quite like this before?”
“Uhhhh...”
“Like...” Twilight gulped. “In all of your crazy, dangerous adventures?”
“Well...” Rainbow fidgeted in her outfit. She reached down and strapped her saddlebags over the outside of the tight yellow article. “This one time, me and the Jurists had to go polar bear diving into the super cold waters of a ship submerged inside a partially melted iceberg to rescue Props' uncle-but-not-uncle and a turtle-but-not-turtle... so... uhhh...” She smiled brightly. “No! Never! I mean, not really...”
Rarity and Twilight groaned.
“Now—dang it!” Rainbow gnashed her teeth. “Knock it off, girls, I'm serious! You know I can't face-hoof in this stupid thing.”
“Just promise us that you'll be careful, Rainbow,” Twilight insisted, eyes moist.
“For Pete's sake... I'll be fine,” Rainbow groaned. “I mean... how hard can it be?” She shrugged. “It'll be like flying east... only more bubbles.” She gulped. “...and barracudas.”
“Well, whatever happens, allow us to guide you through it all, Rainbow,” Rarity said.
“Rarity's right,” Twilight remarked with a nod. “It'll be very, very difficult to see out there. I'm talking next to zero visibility.”
“We may just be the edge you need to get to your destination.”
“Yeah...” Rainbow tilted her head down. Yaerfaerda's pink glow was nearly blinding. “Among other things.” Gulping, she looked up and said, “Look, if Camellia felt that this was impossible, she'd never have enlisted my help to begin with. Besides, I'm sure she'll be looking after me!”
“I would certainly hope so,” Twilight droned, folding her forelimbs. “Because, this far down here, Axan certainly can't.”
“Yeah, well...” Rainbow's voice dwindled, and she bit her lips.
“Wuh oh,” Bard uttered from behind.
“Huh?” Rainbow turned around. “'Wuh oh' what?”
Bard stood in front of Wildcard. The griffon was fully-suited, only there was one problem. Bard kept trying to close the visor to the mute mercenary's yellow helmet, but a razor sharp beak stood in the way. Plink! He tried shutting it again and again. Plink! Plink!
“Oh for crying out loud...” Rainbow grumbled. “Look around! Maybe these morons have a helmet for birdcats down here!”
“I had a cat once,” Remna droned from the sidelines. “Turns out they float to the surface if you toss them out the window.”
“Y'all shuddup!” Bard frowned. “I got this!” Clearing his throat, he turned towards Wildcard again. “Pivot yer head some, Dubya-Cee.”
Goggles rattling, Wildcard complied, twisting his feathery head to the right. Schlummmp! The visor finally shut completely, sealing the helmet tight. However, Wildcard couldn't face forward, due to his beak being pressed to the side. With a snarling expression, he raised his gloved talons and began gesturing wildly.
“Oh, stop yabberin' so loud,” Bard groaned, waving a hoof. “Just stay calm and follow me the whole time. Yer a rightie anyways.” He grabbed his own helmet, pivoted, and smiled at Rainbow Dash. “And that's how we get 'er done!”
“And what about your hat, Sherclop?”
Bard's pupils shrunk to the size of pinpricks. “... ... ...aw shiet.”