//------------------------------//
// 31 - Agendas 
// Story: From Dusk to Night 
// by KuroiTsubasaTenshi 
//------------------------------//

I awoke with a start. Every fibre of my body insisted that something was wrong, that I needed to go right that instant. What scared me even more, and almost became its own feedback loop, was that I immediately agreed with my instinct. This, despite there being no obvious danger in my cell or the hall, as well as the fact that it clearly wasn’t time yet; even that slit of a window could tell me that the sun was still high in the sky.

Quickly standing, I forced myself to take a series of deep breaths. Once I’d reined myself in, I took a proper assessment.

My cell appeared to be completely undisturbed and no thugs suddenly appeared to take me to my doom. All was quiet. That’s when I noticed that there was one thing: the door was just barely out of alignment with the rest of the bars. In fact, I couldn’t be certain it wasn’t the lingering haze of sleep playing tricks on me until I got closer. The door was ajar just enough to make it quite clear that it wasn’t locked.

This has to be a dream. I leaned down and bit my leg. Nothing.

There was no way this was a mistake. Carelessness aside, the guards had no reason to open the door in the first place. This was either some sort of sick game or someone on the inside was working to help me. The former was more likely, especially if Diligent Duster’s remark about Summer Leaf’s excitement over my arrival was to be believed; a little mundane payback before whatever ritual she had in mind was not inconceivable.

While I wished and hoped so badly for an ally, my mind knew the time frame just didn’t fit. I couldn’t have been here for more than a couple days, and as much as I love my friends, they hardly had the clout to access any kind of spy. First, they’d have to even realize I was gone, which was information that Mahogany could provide, but which the Cartel had deliberately engineered to come after we’d disappeared. Then, Night would have to get in contact with his father, who would have to not only predict where they’d take me, but also get in contact with whatever agents the Guard may have had in place. It was just too many thousand-to-one shots put together—not the kind of odds a mare like me hedges on.

Therefore, I had to assume they’d be on the alert, watching me. But that didn’t mean it was over just yet. I could play along, pretend to fall into their trap, then, when they got complacent and sloppy, make a break for it. The whole plan was far from ideal, somehow even managing to be worse than the lockpicking gambit, but beggars can’t be choosers.

If there was one advantage, it was that I wouldn’t have to smash a bed to make my escape attempt. Yet. From what I could remember, there were two doors. If the other was locked, I’d be right back to my original plan.

Nosing my door open, I peered down the hall. On the left, about ten feet from the end of my cell, was a barred gate, much like an upsized version of my cell door. Beyond that was a sharp turn that I was reasonably sure led to the stairwell I’d been led up.

On the right, the hallway continued for a length of about five more cells before ending with a large room. The room had a couple windows, in addition to a windowed door, that looked back into the hall. Even at this distance, it was easy to tell that they were tinted. Still, that style isn’t entirely one-way and any vague hint of silhouettes would be enough for me. To my relief, none of the windows had silhouettes of any kind, never mind pony-shaped ones.

I crept up to the gate, commanding it with my gaze to be open. It wasn’t a very good listener. What was worse was just eyeballing the lock told me that the thing could not reasonably fit any definition of ‘simple’. Jamming a bed bracket in there was just going to make me even more locked in.

The only way past was going to be with the genuine key. My eyes flitted back to the guard post.

If this was payback, they were likely all waiting for me. But strangely, I wasn’t afraid. I almost felt like I could take them on—more than that, that I had to find a way to make it work. I would get through this and I would get back to my friends.

With that, I started stalking down the hall. Though, as I neared Diligent Duster’s cell, I paused. Things had changed. This was no longer me noisily smashing things to get me out of my cell and making a break for it. If I were to get the keys, he would be on the way back, it would be silent and I wouldn’t have to mess around trying to open a lock with a bracket. And if I gave him a chance, maybe we could throw the Cartel off enough to make a clean getaway.

As I padded up to his cell, ready to gesture for silence, my heart fell. He wasn’t there.

His cell was also entirely bare, similar to mine, but with the old style of ‘bed’. I didn’t know what to think. For a long-time prisoner to not have any personal effects seemed odd, but at the same time, the Cartel obviously didn’t treat him well. This could extend to even the small things. Regardless of whether or not he was gone for good, I couldn’t exactly wait around and see.

With nothing to do but press forward, I realized I still had four more cells to pass by. If there were people inside and they figured out what I was doing, there could be trouble. From what Diligent Duster had told me, it was possible that I could incite them to riot or even something more organized. But I didn’t know that, either. I hadn’t had the same time to talk to them as him, to determine both their allegiances and their disposition. For all I knew, I could end up letting out some real crazies.

This left me with a couple choices. I could march down the hall like I owned the place, such that they’d assume I was just a guard. However, the noise risked alerting the real guards of where I was, and if anyone questioned it, they might recognize my voice. My other option was to just sneak past and hoped no one noticed me. The downside there was, should I be caught, there would be no talking my way out of that.

Of course, this assumed there was even anyone there. I hadn’t heard a peep from the other cells, nor the guards doing anything in this section. This was still no guarantee that the other prisoners weren’t just quiet, but it was a strong possibility.

With an inward sigh, I settled on sneaking. Both plans carried significant risk, but the only thing that would get me caught for sure would be waiting around. My heart was practically coming out of my chest as I stepped in front of the first cell.

It was empty.

The second and third were much the same, but they only served to make me wonder if my luck would run out with the next. As I approached the fourth, I was already sweating. Once I cleared the wall, I just about jumped out of my coat: a pony was staring right at me.

A second later, I felt like an idiot and then, almost like laughing. Almost. It wasn’t a pony, but a dress form, its eyes obscured by a tilted fedora and a blanket thrown over the body. I had to squint a little to see it, but a way-too-wide smile, the kind fictional serial killers are depicted with, was drawn across its muzzle in black permanent marker. The thing was also positioned perfectly to both be within the shadows of the cell and facing anyone who might approach from my direction. Summer Leaf wasn’t just toying with me—she wanted me to know.

I glanced at the guard post and felt my hooves become as iron. Even so, I was somehow able to keep my steps quiet as I lumbered up to the wall nearest the door. Pressing my ear up against the wall, I strained to hear something, anything. During that time, my eyes drifted over to, then locked onto, the dull grey door. It was just barely—by less than an inch—ajar.

Are they lying in wait? Some part of me didn’t care, wanted to rush in and catch them by surprise. I pushed the thought aside. While it could pay off and perhaps even in a big way, it was too risky. I needed to outwit the Cartel, not barrel in like a crazed warmonger trying to brute force her way through.

I nosed at the door as lightly as I could, darting back afterward, even though I felt no resistance. In fact, the door kept moving, giving way a couple more inches before exhausting its momentum. There was no one in that tiny bit of room and, while the cement floor was covered in dirt and scuffs, there were no shadows to speak of. Now I just had to clear the other three-quarters of the room.

Craning my neck, I tried to get an eye up to the closest window without giving myself away. Being closer hardly helped with the tint, but any movement at all would be enough to tell me if my shenanigans with the door were problematic.

When there wasn’t a sound, nor a flickering of shadow, I decided that was it. Something in the back of my mind objected, but I felt I could handle whatever was before me as I burst through the door.

That table must have been scared stiff. So scared, in fact, that it was already ready to give me all of its bits. The cards were all stacked up and packed away in the middle of the table. Must be quite the shark.

I shook the dumb thought from my head as I surveyed the room. There may have been no one there, but judging by the mess, they sure had left their mark. Casually discarded sports magazines, dirty magazines under those, empty beers cans, the works. I wondered if I was looking at a guard post or some young teenager’s room. After a moment, two words came to mind: Amber Lane.

As I tried to ward off guilt for things I couldn’t fix, I searched for more useful things. Sadly, there were no keys, weapons or tools; I couldn’t even find any food. I ended up stuffing as many of the bits as I could fit between the pages of one of the magazines and tucking it under my wing.

This left me with the matter of my route. Directly across from the door I’d entered was another, nearly identical door; the only difference was that the window wasn’t tinted. Through that, I could see a short hallway, then a gate, and another door. The gate was, quite suspiciously, wide open. But it wasn’t like I had anywhere else to go. With what I had to work with, that other gate might as well have been a brick wall.

So I pressed forward, as quietly as possible, past the gate. When nothing happened, I edged the door open, expecting an army to be on the other side. My heart leapt when I saw that not only was there no army, but ahead of me was another stairwell. However, as I poked my head further in, my joy came to an abrupt end: this was the lowest floor. Instead, stairs went up many flights, likely to the roof. And that was probably where they’d be waiting.

I eased the door closed as I retreated back into the hallway to consider my options. Charging up to meet them was out of the question. Which left one of the other doors. Thing is, I had no idea what was behind any of them and the stairwell itself didn’t leave me many good options for fighting or retreating if said doors proved unfavourable. However, some chance was better than no chance. The question, then, was what I hoped to accomplish. Even if I could successfully infiltrate one of the floors, wandering around aimlessly was bound to end badly.

It was almost certain to backfire on me, but at that moment, my mind was set on one thing: another stairwell. I knew the one on the other side went lower, so if I could just find entry on another floor, perhaps I could get down to ground level, with Summer Leaf none the wiser. Of course, this required the floor to not be full of Cartel, the stairwell to not be full of Cartel and the Cartel on the ground floor to not notice me. But if it worked, I would be home free.

Emboldened by a plan in hoof, I slid out into the stairwell. As luck would have it, not only was the door to the next floor unlocked, but upon nudging it open, I was greeted by a wall of crates. I allowed myself a small smile; a warehouse floor would be the perfect place for me to disappear. It was a good thing that this first option panned out, because just as I was getting ready to slip through, the crash of a door hitting a wall echoed down the stairwell.

“You idiot. How could you forget that?” a male voice growled. “Go back and get it. Now.”

Once the door had shut, he grumbled something I couldn’t make out, but given the few words I did catch, he might have been insulting his companion’s mother. Something told me that this all had to do with the Cartel’s “voodoo room”, but I reined my curiosity in—I was already up to my neck in trouble as it was.

Once I was certain no one was on my side of the crates, I eased the door shut with extra care, bracing it with the entirety of my muzzle and slowly stepping backward. As it settled into place, I didn’t even hear the click of the latch.

Satisfied that I was safe, or rather, safer, for the moment, I began to explore the maze of crates. Most of them were the strong, wooden kind, but occasionally I’d pass by sections of cardboard stacks. They were generally about three boxes tall, although some stacks went higher. I considered looting them to try to find supplies, but none of them had much for meaningful labels, which led me to believe the greater majority of it was ‘product’.

Additionally, the lighting was more than a little poor. I mean, there were lamps with that old style of pull cord every few feet, but only a token amount of them were on along the side and near the centre of the huge, rectangular room. Unless I had a very strong reason to check a specific crate, I didn’t want to touch the lights, for fear of giving myself away. Sure, the place seemed empty, but there was no telling who might be hiding in the darkness—or even just working on whatever in the sections that were lit.

In fact, I was determined to skirt around anywhere there was light. That is, until I was passing by the centre of the room. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted what must surely be my saddlebags, leaning up against an open crate. Other items, from knives to wallets and other bags, were strewn across the floor around it. The crate sat beside a small desk, where someone had abandoned a large platter of greens.

With great care, I circled the area, but it quickly became obvious that whoever had been working at this station was actually gone and not just sifting through something in the darkness. I glanced behind myself once more before sneaking over to my saddlebags. After giving the contents a onceover to determine it still had all my travel supplies, I slipped the bit-filled magazine in on top.

It took a bit of digging, but it wasn’t too hard to locate my scarf inside the crate of what I could only assume was old victims’ belongings. The empty sheath reminded me that my search was for naught, that my blade was still in Ponyville. I placed a hoof to my forehead.

After stuffing my scarf into my bags, I sifted through the remaining weapons, but there was nothing of real interest. The only knives I could find were larger ones with the mouth-handle and those weren’t something I was going to be able to use. Their cumbersome nature made them a liability to all but unicorns and the highly trained. And come to think of it, even if I had found a wingblade, I wouldn’t have known its magic words, anyway.

“Enjoying yourself?” came the voice of a stallion—one that, once I’d finished nearly falling face first into the crate, I recognized as Diligent Duster’s.

I whirled and there he was, standing at the edge of the light, staring straight at me. 

“Hardly. What are you doing here?” My question was almost pure confusion, but the longer I watched him, the more suspicious I became. He still looked battered, but not in the same way as before. He didn’t slouch at all. In fact, he exuded an air of confidence. Facing him for the first time, I was finally treated to all the scars—and there were many. Putting it all together, I felt more like I was looking at an enforcer than forced labour.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He took a few steps forward.

I wanted to shy away, but I held my ground and his gaze. “You could, but do you really need to?”

“Hah. I guess not. Very well. I’m here to talk,” Diligent Duster said. When I didn’t give an immediate reply, he added, “Don’t worry, there’s no one else here. There won’t be for some time.”

“Oh? And how do you know that? Who are you really? One of her enforcers?”

He laughed. “Who? Summer Leaf? No. I’m not that bitch’s lackey. She can go to Tartarus for all I care.”

“Then who? They’re obviously not as concerned with keeping you as locked up as you claimed.” I squinted at him, daring not to hope. There was no way he could be a Guard, not the way he carried himself. But if he really didn’t have any love for Summer Leaf, perhaps we could make a deal.

“I’m no one,” he said. When I gave him a skeptical look, he continued. “The stallion I was died when my love did.”

“Amber Lane?” I raised an eyebrow, perhaps more than a little surprised that of all the things he probably lied to me about, the most intimidate detail was true. Then again, maybe he was still lying.

He nodded.

“So what does this have to do with me?”

“It’s about revenge.” His gaze hardened.

Things were starting to come together a little—and that potential deal with it. “Against Summer Leaf?”

“Yes and… you.” With that, the whole thing crumbled.

“What? Me?”

He looked me straight in the eye. “You killed her.”

Try as I might, the name didn’t bring anything to mind. Then again, I didn’t exactly know the name of everyone I’d fought. So I gambled. “You must have the wrong mare. I didn’t kill your marefriend.”

“Don’t lie to me, Dusky Down. I know what you did.”

A chill ran down my spine, but I kept my face straight. “I swear I’ve never heard the name.”

By this point, he wasn’t listening. “You were her last job. A wild card informant cowering behind a line of Guard. She should have been the one to come out of that alive. She was your better.”

What? That doesn’t make any— As the realization pierced through my fatigue, I felt like an idiot. Amber Lane is A.L., which can also be Autumn Leaf. Well... shit.

“I didn’t want to fight, you know.”

“Bullshit! Then why would you target the Cartel?”

“Because I didn’t. I took a thing I found on the ground and left it with the Guard. Anonymously.”

“You really expect me to believe that?”

“Regardless of what you believe, it’s the truth.”

“Enough. We’re done talking. Eat your meal so we can begin.” He motioned to the platter on the desk.

“What.”

“I’m not a monster. You’ll get your last meal before I put you down.”

I walked over to the platter, feigning compliance as I looked for a good escape route. There was no way I was winning a direct confrontation against someone his size. “What, no lobster?”

“I didn’t know you were a griffon.” He sneered. “Either way, this is better.”

If we were talking solely in expensive meals, he would be right. I hadn’t paid as much attention to the contents before, but as I scanned it with one eye, I was a bit startled to find that the entire bed of greens was Ghost Leaf. Which meant that the colourful bits garnishing it could only be one thing. I stared at both him and the food. It hurt a little.

“What’s wrong? Some ponies on the street would kill for premium Ghost Petal.” He frowned when I didn’t move, probably disappointed that his sales pitch didn’t have me scarfing it down. “You do know what it does, don’t you?”

“Yes. It’s one of the strongest parts of the plant, which defers pain and fear.” I continued to scan my surroundings, finally deciding that I preferred the passage to the right, which had less lights. No sense taking the shorter route if I couldn’t lose him. “Provided it’s prepared right.”

“It is. Can’t have the things end too early, now, can we?” The grin he gave me could slice through steel armour.

I sniffed at the dish, slipping a wing up against the platter. The thought did occur to me that if the Ghost Petal was genuine, it would give me an actual chance of being the one to come out of the fight. But only if he hadn’t taken it too—and he almost surely had. No, either way, indulging it would be a mistake.

With a quick turn, I flicked my wing, launching the meal right at his face, before darting off into the darkness. Behind me, I heard a dull clang, followed by a curse, then the platter clattering loudly across the floor.

“Get back here!” Diligent Duster bellowed, followed by the echoing crash of wood colliding with wood.

I kept running until I reached the closest wall. In fact, I was going so fast as I ripped around the corner that I almost slammed into it. Only a moment later did I realize that said wall also appeared to be a set of wide elevator doors. Without thinking, I mashed the button. I guess I hoped that Diligent Duster had taken it up and that the car was still there. No such luck.

Waiting around would be stupid, as the sound would almost assuredly tip him off. Then again, I could use that to my advantage, sneaking toward the stairs while the elevator drew him over. I didn’t get ten feet before some of the nearby crates launched forward with explosive force.

I dropped to my belly, just narrowly avoiding having my head pulverized, then rolled away hard to spare my back the same fate.

“You can’t hide from me!” Diligent Duster yelled, advancing at a slow, pointed speed that almost demanded I get up.

Obliging, I scrambled to my hooves, falling into a defensive stance as I inched my way backward. The crates didn’t break for several more feet, and the hallway they created was littered with some of Diligent Duster’s errant launches. It would be a death trap if he started throwing stuff again. Likewise, if I tried to fly, I’d be crushed in an instant. So I had to make him whiff and maybe find some way to physically slow him down, before I could make another break for it.

I darted toward him, but quickly backstepped as his forehoof lashed out. For someone who was so precise with his projectiles, his strikes were more than a little brutish. However, he made up for it by being fast, far faster than I’d given him credit for, and it took all my concentration to avoid the flurry of follow-up strikes and lunges.

One of my hind legs brushed against a crate and I almost didn’t sidestep in time. Diligent Duster’s stomp came down an instant later. The wood let out a sort of alien screeching crunch as its top buckled like paper. But as he pulled his leg away, he stumbled, and I saw my opportunity.

Bounding off the nearest crate, I lightly stepped off Diligent Duster’s back, getting just enough height to reach the top of the wall of crates. My hoofwork was probably unnecessarily daring, but since this wasn’t really the kind of maneuver I trained for, I was playing it by ear. Then again, it wasn’t often that I faced an opponent where anything short of a crippling blow was ineffective. As I touched the top, I spun, kicking off my hind legs to get just a bit more height. Then I let myself fall, bringing my forehooves down like a pair of sledges.

I missed.

By chance, he shifted his hind leg, which would have been the ideal target. If I had broken that, even if he could ignore the pain, there was a limit to how fast it could carry him. Instead, my hooves dug into his side, a blow that would have been incapacitating in any other situation. He barely flinched, audible crack be damned.

The inevitable counterattack found my face on the way up, then again on the way back down. I stumbled back, still on my hind legs, hardly realizing I was pinned against the crates before his head smashed into my chest. The crate wall crumbled behind me and I spun end over end until I was stopped by another stack of containers. I didn’t feel a thing, not even when my blurred vision cleared.

Diligent Duster stood over me and laughed. “Surprised? I knew you wouldn’t take my offer, so I had your food supplemented with ground Petal. Not the best way to administer it, but oh, well. I can just be more delicate!”

He turned and bucked, giving me just enough time to roll away. That crates that used to be behind me went flying.

As I scrambled to my hooves for the umpteenth time, I scolded myself for letting them get to me so easily. But if I was already stuck with it, perhaps I could make it to the stairs, regardless of how much he hit me. His next charge proved that that wouldn’t be so easy.

He only clipped me, but it was enough to send me crashing into another set of boxes. Diligent Duster himself careened into the crates obscuring the elevator. As they crumbled, I had a vision, one that I was certain must be the fault of the Ghost Leaf.

Standing in front of the elevator, with dumbfounded looks, were Night, Blaze, Mahogany, and a blurred mix between Noble Light and an ash-coated pony. To further my point, Diligent Duster didn’t even notice them, although they seemed to react quite realistically when he charged again.

I was almost too distracted to get out of the way. At this point, I had to wonder if he was causing as much collateral damage as possible on purpose. Regardless, I took the opportunity to push myself to my hooves and create some distance.

The almost-Noble-Light shimmered for a second before becoming actual-Noble-Light, which was really just a lighter grey pony. He leapt between Diligent Duster and I; when they collided, I started to realize that I wasn’t just seeing things.

“Riot!” Noble Light hissed. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

So that’s his real name. But why does Noble Light know him?

Somehow, despite the size difference, the two seemed to be evenly matched for strength. Whenever this ‘Riot’ tried to push past, Noble Light pushed back.

“Out of the way, old fossil. You’ll get your turn.”

“Old fossil?! Riot, I am your commanding officer!”

“That’s why you’ll get your turn.”

“Have you lost your mind? What the hell are you talking about?” Noble Light’s indignance was palpable.

That’s when it hit me. The collateral really was intentional. “Autumn Leaf. He… he’s taking out everyone he thinks is responsible.”

“Thinks? THINKS?! You all threw her under the cart!”

“She was a criminal who got herself killed,” Noble replied coldly.

By now, my friends had surrounded me, defiantly brandishing weapons at Riot. Night had his hoofblade; Mahogany, a boxcutter; and Blaze held a long knife in her magic. There was so much I wanted to say, but we weren’t out of the woods yet.

“No!” Riot bellowed. “She wasn’t just a criminal! She was… she was...”

“A kind soul? Is that it?” I interjected, which got me a funny look from all my friends. “Then why would you do this in her name?”

“Because…” Riot’s face darkened. “I’m not as kind as her.”

He had barely finished speaking when he shoved Noble Light aside and lunged. From there, everything just deteriorated into a big melee. By all rights, a five-on-one should have ended instantly. But Riot, he was as a demon, sustaining more than a dozen stab wounds, all while tossing us away again and again.

As the fight continued, everyone began to slow, even Riot; Ghost Petal only did so much to mitigate sliced muscle. Although things were still quite hazy, there is one thing I remember that stuck with me. It was the grace with which Night fought. At first, I was grateful that he was keeping up. But the longer it went on, the less natural it felt. This wasn’t just a few weeks of tutelage under Starshadow at work. He moved with intent, striking at vital points like a trained killer.

At no point was this starker than the final blow. I’d struck at Riot’s foreleg one more time, leaving it even more battered than before. I could see the counterattack coming from a mile away as he raised his hoof. It was then, with the entirety of Riot’s attention on me that Night lunged in, plunging the hoofblade deep into Riot’s throat. Still, Riot wouldn’t yield, pushing forward.

Afraid that Night would be crushed beneath Riot’s corpse, I leapt behind him, bracing him with my own body. It was there, as I looked up at those sweaty, blood-covered stallions, at the murder in their eyes, that a chill slid down my spine. This was the price of fighting for passion.