Between Needles and Knives

by Dancewithknives

Ravens and Swans

Upon unlocking the latch to the guest closet, Balisong slipped his copy of the Theatre’s keys back into his pocket as he opened the door. Calmly waiting, the female guest remained at his side as he entered into the room.

The coat closet was dark, but it still had just enough light so that anypony inside was able to see and not aimlessly stumble around in the dark. Other than that, the walls of the compartment were wooden lockers. Their purpose was to further compartmentalize and organize the guest’s overcoats while still keeping them safe and separated in groups of five.

“As soon as you find the right section, I’ll unlock it for you,” Balisong said.“Ya dike,” he thought.

From behind him, the guest leisurely walked out and proceeded down the line of lockers, slowly turning her head from one side to the other as she looked for the correct designation for her possessions.

She walked down the length of lockers until almost reaching the end, where she turned to one and said, “Here it is.”

Balisong walked into the dark and looked at the locker. He was about to reach back into his jacket for his keys when he realized that the door actually didn’t have a lock. “Oh, its already open…I guess you’re all set then!” he said as he turned around headed back towards the door.

But, before he was half way back to the exit, he heard her say, “Excuse me, aren’t you going to open it for me?”

Luckily, since Balisong was not facing the other pony in the room she could not see him roll his eyes and mouth, “You have got to be fucking kidding me, you friggin gigantic cunt.”

Balisong turned around and marched back to the mare in the suit, up to the secure coat locker, and grabbed the handle with his teeth. He bit the knob and ripped the door open, causing the handle to make a dent in the door next to it.

He was so angry that he didn’t notice that the locker was completely empty.

A black noose-like embrace was thrown around his neck, before he knew what was happening, the left hoof of his aggressor locked the strangling knot right into place. Before any sort of counter could be mustered, the mare behind him forced him up and kicked the back of his knees, making his four hooves swing around and slap at the air aimlessly.

Balisong’s back hooves scrapped against the carpet, scratching for traction or some sort of grip to put up some sort of fight, but then the vise was finally tightened. The left hoof, which was first used to lock and support the right one’s choke, was relieved of duty as it moved to its next operation. Now, the left front hoof forced itself against the backside of the victim’s cranium, applying crushing power to his poor windpipe.

Balisong’s eyes bulged, the pressure of his head ready to be ripped off made his eyes become bigger and bigger, like two plump water balloons being stepped on by a foal during a summer pool party. His snout all the way to his forehead felt as if it was pooling full of blood, wishing to travel down to the rest of its body but being kinked by his poor neck.

Air. He needed air!

His hooves, still kicking out for some type of means to fight, reached back, trying to fight off the pony who was attempting to end his life, but could do nothing to stop the inevitable. His mouth opened and swallowed, his tongue stretched out to try to shovel the sweet sounding air in to save him, but was all for naught.

In the dark room of the coat closet, the lights began to fade. The floor was gone, the lockers ceased to exist, and his clothes were weightless. The last thing he could consciously decipher was the drip drip drip of blood from his nose landing on the silk sleeve of the mare in black. His hooves fells, shoulders shrugged, and head slouched off to the side. As he relaxed, the last of his air, trapped in his throat when he was attacked, was finally released as a whisper.

“Diiiiieeee Kuuh…”

Balisong thought that it was the end, the green mare was his undertaker and the coat closet was his mausoleum, but that was not the case. There is a grey area from when the lights go out to when they can never be turned back on again, and Crocodile Tears was much too familiar with it. To his coworker’s disappointment, it was within that precious and critical timeframe when the green unicorn released the trash mouthed, knife wielding, cynical Detrot native from its grasp. So, other than some temporarily loss of memory, Balisong would be fine.

So fine, that only a few minutes after walking into the coat closet with the mare in the suit, Balisong walked out of the closet and locked the door behind him.

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Like the grand entrance, rooftops, streets, and the cargo platform, the backstage and entertainer areas were also protected. The whole purpose of the mass gathering in the hall was to see the performers be paid a ridiculous sum of money to perform their hobby, after all. During their stretching trot around the globe, Sapphire Shores always had a team of at least ten bodyguards at her disposal. But, although they were equally important to the show –being that their names were one half of the act- The Canterlot Orchestra did not have a single bodyguard between the one hundred of them. Other than if the governing parties of their venues issued security to the group, they would basically go unprotected. Being that some of the places they met were not very safe by any means, the excessive security detail for the area as a whole put the instrumentalists in a general sense of ease. But, even though they had a few pairs of eyes on them, there was one particular double bassist who was not feeling the same. And, to further worry her, it did not take much to sneak away from the security personal.

Octavia Allegrezza Soprano, wearing her lucky pink bowtie and her black, tailed suit coat uniform, walked around a corner. This had been the spot that they agreed to meet, but she had expected her partner to be here already.

She stood at the corner of the hall and anxiously looked down the two end of it, constantly checking to see if anypony was approaching. Even though she had taken great care to maintain her appearance, she could not help her OCD from nibbling at her cheek, nor could she stop the sweat from pooling under the pits of her uniform. But before too long, her coconspirator had arrived. Wearing a midnight black silk dress that opened up at on the side of her back leg, reaching up the long and slender limb until it hinted at the F-Clef on her flank, a mare of Octavia’s height and species was escorted by one of the many nameless ushers of the theatre down the hall. Upon making contact with her brilliant emerald eyes, Octavia relaxed. “Mother!” She said.

Sonnet Soprano gave a small and quaint smile instead of verbally addressing her daughter. She wore a wreath of pearls around her neck and a dress that teased of her finely chiseled form with each stride she took. Yet, for as enchanting the divine and shapely mare looked, the usher did not find the need to peek at her curves or the other areas that would happen to attract the eye. Either he was not attracted to it or he had an almost military-like discipline.

The two mares of differing shades of grey met. For as relieved as Octavia felt for having her mother with her, she did not dare embrace her. She had known better than to try to disrupt the perfect appearance of the being that had made her. But, that was not the same mentality of Sonnet. Slowly, and with a soft whisper, she said, “Welcome home, darling,” before leaning in and tenderly kissing her on the cheek.

Like a well-trained servant, the usher stood at the ready, being seen but not heard.

Sonnet pulled her head away after the greeting and returned to her composed form from before. Octavia, after making sure that she had not disrupted her mother’s perfectly woven mane, looked down and into her eyes, and was frozen.

They say that the eyes were the gateways into one’s soul. While the face and the mouth could spin a web of fallacies and lies, they could not hide what the eyes could tell. They were the keys to the absolute truth, the sweet nectar behind the ever-changing and deceiving surface of the face. When Octavia made eye contact with her mother, she could see what was hidden beneath. While she did indeed love her mother- and her eerily cool form of affection -she knew it was fake. When she had been growing up she slowly began to recognize the cage, the shell of who she pretended to be, but every now and then the monster that she kept locked up would show.

It would only be for a second, like if something startled her, if she was frustrated, or if she was lost in memories of the past, the bars of the cage would rattle, its prisoner begging to be released. But she would always return, composed and careful, never allowing anypony to see past what was skin deep. But now was not the case.

Now, the cage was open, the beast within was out on the prowl, the inmates were now in charge of the asylum that was Sonnet Soprano.

“How are you?” Sonnet asked.

“A little nervous…”

“Are you feeling ill?”

“No, just a tad bit anxious.”

“Will you be able to perform?”

“Of course! Of course.”

“Then there is nothing to worry about. Your friend made the right decision coming to your first, and now we have taken care of it all.”

Octavia, even though she trusted her mother, could not stop the lurching inside of her stomach. She rubbed her hooves together and said, “I don’t doubt you, but I still cannot shake this sense of eminent danger.”

Sonnet smiled and slowly shook her head, “Octavia… You are the only good thing I have ever done in this world. I would never allow any harm come to you. Please, show some faith in Mr. P34C3.”

Octavia swallowed once more, “Yes… faith… I’ll try.”

Sonnet, with a stare that made Octavia feel as if her mother was looking straight through her, shifted her gaze down to the tie on her only child’s neck. “Octavia my love, have you been wearing your charm?”

Octavia froze in her spot, her mother may as well have slammed a gavel down and sentenced her to death. “I…. I’m sorry, but we were told not to wear any personal j-jewelry.”

“Preposterous,” Sonnet said, “Here, this will make you feel better.”

The older mare reached up and around the back of her neck, much to her daughter’s protests.

“No! You don’t need to do that, please!”

Deaf to the request to cancel her action, Sonnet reached back under her pearls and pulled out a string. The string, connected to a small container that was hiding behind the expensive necklace, was freed from Sonnet’s neck and pulled over the head of Octavia.

The musician froze and complied with her mother, waiting for the talisman to rest freely on her bosom. She looked down and gently tucked the small vial of sunflower petals inside her shirt.

The usher, almost daft through the conversation, witnessed the entire exchange.

After the necklace was within Octavia’s shirt, Sonnet kept her hooves on Octavia’s shoulders, looking her over inch by inch with her emerald peepers. Octavia, now knowing what a microbe under the scope of a magnifying glass felt like, stood still as Sonnet tightened her hold and brought her daughter’s head into her chest, nuzzling the top of her head with a cheek.

“There, safe and sound.”

Sonnet released Octavia and checked to make sure her appearance was still preserved. She turned to the usher that had escorted her to the hallway and said, “Balisong, that was your name, correct?”

“Yes.” He said.

“You may leave us, I will see myself out.”

“If you say so, Ms. S0NN37”

The usher walked past the two mares and made his way further into the backstage innards of the Theatre.

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After parading before the cameras and the media, it was time for everypony to find their seats. With their guards clearing the sea of civilians, Celestia and Luna led the way for the Elements of Harmony as they reached their VIP box seats.

After going up a secure staircase and down a hall where only the wealthiest of socialites could obtain, the group finally arrived at their seats. Besides the two exclusive seats for larger alicorn Princesses, the remaining two were more to be Lazy Colts in a living room rather than studio seats at a theatre.

But, before Rarity could marvel at the exclusive seats, the view of the vantage point took her away. When she propped herself up and looked over the railing, she could see everything. Like the queen atop a mountain, she felt as if everything that she saw was hers, from what would be called the “cheap seats” and nosebleeders at a normal performance to the stage itself below the booth, she reigned supreme over all of it.

As the group settled in to their seating arrangements, a knock was heard at their door. Of the eight ponies in the room, Applejack was the closest to the door. Be it a practical sense of usefulness or a lack of ladylike manners, she casually opened the door by placing her mouth on the handle and then letting it slowly swing open.

She gasped as soon as she saw who -more like what- was waiting on the other side. At about half the size of a pony, a creature with a dense brown coat was sitting on its bottom in front of the door. It was gently panting with its pink tongue slightly sticking out of its mouth while a thick broom like tail stuck out from its bottom and swept back and forth on the carpet. Underneath a black broad-brimmed hat with a red peacock feather sticking out of the top, sat a creature with a long muzzle and a black mask of fur around the eyes and nose. Two brown rings hung within its eyes, standing out from the darkness of its face.

Applejack’s eyes lit up and her smile expanded to consume almost all of her cheeks. “Why hello there, you handsome little thang you,” she reached out her hoof to pet the German Shepard on the head. “I have a little guy just like you!”

Applejack’s hoof was about to rub against the head of the large 90 pound animal when its mouth opened, and a sound from the back of its throat rumbled the box seat. Applejack jumped, Fluttershy even took cover behind her seat from the growling beast. It took a second for Rarity to realize that the new guest had, after issuing its warning, said, “Unless you want to become a part of my extensive hoof collection, you’d restrain yourself from petting me.” It then pulled its lips back, not showing a straight and orderly line of pearly teeth, but instead a shining row of titanium dentures.

“Jafar!” Rarity and all of her friend’s heads turned at breakneck speeds to the other side of the booth, where Princess Celestia had just tipped the usher. Celestia blushed and walked over to the German Shepard and apologized, “I am sorry, but this is just one of my cabinet members. He is also organizing the security for the event. If you’ll excuse me there is just a small bit of business that I must take care of.”

From Princess Luna who was completely nonchalant over the incident to Applejack who felt like apologizing to Jafar, everypony allowed the two to go about with their business.

The Director of Celestia’s Intelligence removed his hat and said, “Security report, your Majesty.”

“Proceed, Jafar.”

Clearing his throat, the German Shepard said, “The building is secure, all teams have reported in, we have not discovered any disturbances.”

The Princess smiled, “good! Carry on.”

Jafar took his hat and was about to place it back on his head, but it began to glow with golden magic, the same magic that nudged Applejack towards the Princess and the attack dog. Knowing what was going to happen next, Jafar barred his titanium dentures and rolled his eyes.

Gently, Princess Celestia reached one of her hooves back and began to scratch the hair behind the canine’s pointed brown ears. He clenched, he bit his tongue, and he closed his eyes, but no matter how hard he tried he could not resist how…goooooooooooood it felt.

After a good dual mare scratching of his ears, Jafar left the booth, and just like that the atmosphere in the gallery seating returned to its previous attitude. Rarity played along and acted humble for the gift she shared with her friends, but had a nagging suspicion biting at the corner of her mind.

What Jafar had said, “…We have not discovered any disturbances.” It could have just been a figure of speech, like a thoughtless choice from a group of words and phrases that held a common meaning, but it was still odd. He could have said something along the lines of ‘All’s clear, the situation is under control, everything is OK,’ or a group of mindless code words, but he had not. It felt almost deliberate how he had reported to the princesses. It was almost as if he was saying that they were looking for trouble but had not found it yet…

Rarity, for the second time tonight, shook her head to rid itself of her paranoia. She sat down in her seat and readied her ladies’ binoculars for the show. “Relax,” she told herself, “there’s nothing to worry about. With all the security here, what would the guards be looking for at a time like this?”

It was at that time that Rarity remembered who she thought she saw walking into a coat closet…

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Establishment Shot, like the other hired camera ponies at the theatre, was corralled into the room that had once been the break room for the Theatre’s staff. Normally, this preparation would not need to be made, but for the fact that a surplus of film specialists were on the job at the time to record the final concert of the tour in order to cut, snip, and repackage the deal as a music video and behind-the-scenes documentary. So to the nerves of the dedicated staff, revisions needed to be made.

While the film crew was unpacking their equipment, setting their film, and completing the many other tasks of getting ready to work, the door to the lounge opened to the Commissioner of the Canterlot Police.

Although his hair was grey, and he was upwards in terms of years, he commanding voice and presence in the room caught the attention of the cameraponies as soon as he spoke. Upon getting their attention, he directed them all into a small side room, where the staff would discuss their jobs for the evening on a normal day, and the Commissioner was going to update the recording team on their rules of the night. To the ones who did not want to leave their equipment unattended, the old Police officer reassured them that two of the Royal Guards had been loaned to him and that they would assure that their possessions would be safe.

And so, even with a little reluctance, the camera crew followed the police chief into the meeting room to be lectured on how to do their job. Like he had promised, two guards were placed on watch at the only entrance to the employee break room.

And, it was when the rumble of hooves emptying one room to enter another died that Balisong came up to the door. He tried to enter, but two wings shot up from the two guards and barred his entrance.

“Whoa, buddy. Can’t let you in there. Your break room is somewhere else today.”

The usher rolled his eyes and moaned, “Oh, come on! I got a job to do and the keys are in there!”

“Hey, it can wait. The Police Commissioner is just talking to the film crew and then you can do your job.”

Balisong rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Oh dear Celesta, your captain-guy told me to get the keys to the rafters so they can check the catwalks again except the door’s locked. The keys are in the break room, so let me in you bellhop!”

The two guards narrowed their stances, ready to pounce at the insult, but still kept their heads cool, “We’re on loan to the Police for now, and the Commissioner told us to wait.”

Balisong groaned, and the groan escalated into a miniature temper tantrum, “Hey, you fucksticks! Its bad enough that that I can’t pop a piss without somepony watching to see if terrorists pop out of my dick, so if you want me to go grab Captain Equestria: Shimmering Helmet to tell you two glorified bellhops to fuck off, then fine by me.”

The guard on the left jumped, but his partner luckily restrained him at the right moment. While one guard tried to rip Balisong limb from limb, the other shouted, “Hey! Hey! He’s not worth it! Let it go.”

Balisong slipped into the door as the one guard calmed his friend down before he did something that he regretted.

The earth pony slipped into the Break room and closed the door behind him. Counter to what he had told the two guards at the door, he did not look for the key to the rafters. If the two guards were familiar with the fire code of Canterlot, they would have known that it dictated that it was prohibited to have a lock on the doors to utility areas, such as the rafters of the theater, in order for everypony to escape in the event of an emergency.

But, regardless of his sly entry, Balisong did the task that he had sought to do. One by one, like digging holes on a deserted island for the promise of treasure, he checked each and every bag scattered throughout the room. Under each zipper, every bag was a puzzle of its own. All of the filming equipment, with the different models, different brands, different designs, were all a challenge to investigate. While there was a need to check each and every possible switch and function of the devices, care had to be taken to maintain the assumption that it had not been tampered with.

But, it was not long before he found what exactly he was looking for. One of the bags, lying on the ground beside a chair, was particularly conspicuous by how inconspicuous it was. The device itself was nothing out of the ordinary on the outside, but after pulling out the lens cap, one could tell that the glass was a tad bit dark to be used to record something. The operator’s scope was a natural zoom, and upon seeing a strange formation on where fresh film reels were to be placed, there was revealed to be a hidden switch.

When said switch was activated, the wall of the camera opened, revealing that the majority of the filming equipment had been gutted from the interior of a recorder and instead, a propulsion device was occupying the shell. The device was currently dormant, but as the crank for the filming equipment was to be pulled, it would tighten and lock the solid steel bolt into place. When fired, the projectile would penetrate through the lens of the camera.

Balisong closed the bag up and set it back to hopefully fool the owner that it had not been tampered with. It was as he assumed, tonight was the night that it was going to happen.

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one hour later…

Intermission. Sapphire Shores, the Canterlot Orchestra, the seating, the atmosphere, it was everything that Rarity thought it would be and more. But, for as much as she wanted the moment to last forever, she had to do the other thing that she had come her to do. Sell herself.

Like the rest of the audience, Rarity and her friends –sans the Princesses, for they decided to stay upstairs- had made their way to the audience hall to mingle and chat while the entertainment took a well-deserved break.

As soon as they met with the crowd, Rarity went off on her own to do what she had intended. Like an Istallian wedding, the purpose of this idle gossip was not just to find a person to chat with, this was business. Networks were formed, deals were initiated, secrets were shared, interests were piqued, and clients were made at a time like this.

For as sure as the Rarity was in that the quality and grandiose of her clothing would be all the advertising she needed, the businessmare within her knew that was not the case. Seeing and hearing that something was made by hoof with love and care was one thing, but it also sounded like something that was put on a label. Like a nice and fluffy promise of that was used to rationalize a price tag and purchase, the way that others viewed her products was often admiration, but always with a pinch of salt. While she wanted to get her name into their minds, drop the names and titles of a few of her clients, and actually show the work that she was currently wearing, this was not going to be enough.

Rarity, to make this recreational trip worth the while of the Boutique, needed to assert herself as the tailor that she dreamed of being to assure the potential clients that she was the mare for the job of making their garments. The attendees of the concert were the best, they demanded the best, and by the end of the night, she was going to make them know that Rarity Belle was the best.

But, unfortunately, she had not gotten very far when she saw it again.
From the corner of her eye as she introduced herself to a film director and his wife, she saw the mare wearing a suit again. She was minding her own business at the time, standing off to the side of the crowd, not particularly around anypony else, but still noticeably alone, and checked the watch on her wrist once every few seconds.

From this distance, and while she stood still, Rarity could tell that she had not been mistaken. The green unicorn standing alone was indeed wearing her suit. From the cream shirt, grey vest, and black jacket, she knew that suit more than its own, because after all, she made it.

Rarity should have remembered what her parents had taught her when it came to the impoliteness of staring, for as she shifted her vision up and down from the mare in the suit, she reached her face, and made eye contact. For as much as Rarity was watching her, she was watching Rarity.

A whistle was sounded, and like that, the doors to the theatre hall were opened once more. Rarity wiped the sweat off of her head, “Saved by the bell.”

But, when she looked up, all was not so.

“Hello, Rarity, I didn’t think I’d be seeing you here. What a strange coincidence.”

Rarity was face to face with the mare in her suit.

She was smiling in a sort of reserved and quiet sort of way, and what had also surprised her was that her voice had some emotion to it, if she didn’t know better, she would have believed that she was surprised.

“Oh… I didn’t see you… How did you get here?”

The green unicorn shrugged her shoulders, “Ah, the place I worked was raffling off tickets, and what do you know, it just happened to be this lucky filly’s day.” She said, pointing her hoof at her own chest.

“Good…” Rarity muttered, trying to keep the conversation rolling, but could not keep her mind up.

Now face to face with her, Rarity looked for signs of a disguise, like if there was a wig, false eyelashes, if there was an uneven coloring to the green on her face, if it was a dye job or not, but found nothing. Instead, what she was looking at was a somewhat pretty mare. Her voice was natural and clean, her personality was a bit bubbly, and in no way shape or form reminded her of the robotic and impersonal…thing that had made her become so paranoid.

“Say… the other guy who won a ticket never showed up, so I have two seats all to myself with nobody to share with…” Whoever the green unicorn was, she reached her front hoof out and wrapped it around Rarity’s and fluttered her eyelashes, “Want to sit with me?”

Be it a lack in “beside manners” or just the absence of intimate companionship, but even if Rarity was not half convinced that this pony was some sort of criminal or deviant, she would never have been swooned over by a mare who knew her name and had tried to impress her with a free sea-

“Hiya Rarity! Who’s your friend?!”

If her hairs were not already standing on edge from the intrusion of her personal space, Pinkie Pie throwing her leg over her shoulder like some sort of Hoofball Teammate would have.

Pinkie jumped over the mares and landed in front of the two, quickly switching between both of them in case either one tried to cut or run away… which was actually not too far off from what Rarity was thinking of doing.

Whoever Rarity’s new “Friend” was, she cleared her throat and said, “Hello, I don’t believe I’ve met, Miss…?”

“Pinkie Pie!”

Rarity tensed up, Pinkie could unintentionally pull down the shades on her all of her work. If this pony said something wrong and Pinkie asked Rarity about it later, who knew how much information would need to be shared? If one string of this thread was pulled, the entire organization of months of investigating could be for naught.

Rarity’s time was running out, this was the time to act, not to think.

“Yes, Ms. Pie, It is good to meet you, my name is-”

“Oh Pinkie, how rude of me, this is an old client of mine! I have been putting it off, but we made arrangements to meet tonight. I should have told you all before, but I unfortunately will not be joining the rest of the fillies upstairs.”

“Oh…” Pinkie said, looking at the two for a good second, but then looked between the two and saw that the mare was holding Rarity’s hoof. But glanced at Rarity’s dress, and her friends suit, and then became red in her already pink face. “OOooooohhhhhh….. Oki Doki Loki!” Before running off to the much less awkward and not-gushy-slimy-kissy-lovey-dovey-romancy-in-the-slightest VIP booth.

As Pinkie Pie’s tail disappeared up the stairs. For the second time of the night, Rarity wiped the sweat off of her brow.

“Wow, quick thinking,” the interloper said. Giving Rarity a nudge, she began to escort her towards the rest of the Theatre. “The band’s not going to wait for us.”

Rarity, although relieved that she saved herself from the scrutiny of keeping a secret, remembered the legitimate dangers of its consequence. Without any further option, she tightened her hoof in her escort’s grasp, and followed her into the impeding darkness, down the stairs and towards whatever destiny had decided for her. She had married herself to the charming yet mysterious stranger, followed him into his home, and was now traveling down into his bloody chamber where he performs his pastime. Now, Like the characters from Sweetie Belle’s fairy tales, it was now her hooves to decide what happens next; to free herself from the gears of death, or to be just another repetition of the cycle.

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,

And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;

And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,

And their hearts but once heaved, and forever grew still.

Author's Note:

a cookie to whoever gets the ravens and swans reference.

Comments

[Dancewithknives]

4474974 no, this is a standalone sequel, written so that prior reading was not required.