Equestria Delivery

by JLB

Chapter 12: Address

June 14th, 1013 AN - 6:37 PM

Carol City, Equestria

Ditzy sat on the bed in her room, her back resting against the wall. The bed sheets were crumpled and spread all around, mixing together with dozens of pages of text, part of a larger stack waiting in a folder that lay on the night stand. The wind seeped in through the half-open windows to the side of the bed, ruffling the discarded sheets slightly. The greyish, solidifying paper sheets, much of the text upon them crossed out with different markers, got stuck to the stained carpet or fluttered against the weights, wing-cables, and treadmill that took up most of the room.

040703, Sunlight Avenue. Public toilet found with mess of bodies (4ch2pn) during another monarchist riot. ES/AS cut everyone off and took media attention away. Forensics got no clue what this is, definitely not our riot control. Two detectives lost lunch. Press wants to insist it’s a serial killer now, too. Com let me handle the situation, so for now it's Efree wildlife smuggling gone wrong. Not sure if even a ling can do this? - VP

A dim reflection of the mare’s silhouette showed on the wooden cupboard by the door as the neon signs outside went dark, flickering and sparkling with crystalline electricity. The half-open door of the wardrobe croaked as it moved back and forth slowly, the sleeve of a postal outfit within peeking in and out of view. The reddish rays of the evening sun, dimmed by the thick clouds, just barely illuminated the page she held in front of herself.

060703, Puddinghead Square. Dozen corpses found at 4 AM, streetsweeper called us in. Still stuck at the shrink. Damn massacre, cant get used to this. Obvious gang activity? Local Galiceno group and displaced hoodlums, packs of illicit joy found on both. Easy to write off as gang crime, bad for mayor, good for press. Not sure, however. Firearms went off, but no crystal in bodies. Injuries also very different to gangs, like a feral ling, only much more aware. Either homebrew joy is getting this f'd, or Com's got a point. Ponies will lose their minds if this gets out... - VP

The mare sat almost completely still, good eye slowly browsing the text. Eventually, she reached for a marker and blacked out another large patch of text, scribbling over several pictures. Her marker made a long, trailing stroke, to pause when the sounds of changeling wings buzzing came from outside. After a few moments of immobility, the mare sprung up, ears perked, and got to the window, squinting her good eye.

Outside, a group of flying equines had gathered near the sparking sign on top of a nearby building. They circled around it, a pegasus in an orange jumpsuit pointing his hooves at certain parts of the sign. The neon light went out, after which the hovering pegasus glanced over his shoulder to meet Ditzy's gaze. He immediately turned away and spat on the ground, then smacked the worker next to him. The other equine’s wings paused and began flapping like regular pegasus wings, as opposed to staying static while blurry silhouettes of insectoid drone wings fluttered inbetween. The jumpsuit pegasus fixed his wings too, shaking his head and rubbing hooves against his temples.

The repair crew now acted like regular ponies, and after a few minutes, the mare took her eyes off them. Turning back, she glanced at the papers covering the floor and the mess on her bed. Closing her eyes, Ditzy approached the door, stretching out a forehoof. She missed the light switch and instead nudged a framed picture of a smiling tall, white mare with wings and a horn, whose multicolor mane went outside the frame. The picture was left tilted. Sighing, Ditzy put her forehoof down and nudged the door open with her shoulder.

She made her way into the kitchen. Dinky was curled up on the couch, watching the videodrome. The windows were all opened wide, sucking in as much wind from outside as possible, making the curtains swing and swivel constantly. The mare peeked at the screen and stared at the pitch blackness with a wide, long row of teeth in the middle. The sound of a news report could be faintly heard from the speakers.

“What are we turning into?” The blackness and the teeth went fuzzy, and the unicorn filly sighed, pressing her hoof against the remote several times, switching to other channels.

Taking slow, long steps, the mare approached the couch, her good eye alternating between the screen and the filly. Her bad eye twitched and moved at random. Dinky yawned and rubbed her face, lowering a hoof to look at her mother with one eye.

“Hey…” the filly said, stifling another yawn. “It’s so moody today. I dunno if I’m even awake… Uuugh… I thought it would get better in the summer.” She glanced at the screen lazily and chewed idly on her lower lip. “I’ll get milk later…”

Ditzy opened her mouth, letting out a short raspy sound, and raised her hoof, only to exhale and remain still. She hung her head and shook it, circling the couch with her eyes closed. The warm wind blew her mane back, casting some of the beads of sweat off her face.

“What is there left to do? Isn’t this all the same?” Ditzy grasped for the balcony door handle and pulled it open. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes, putting her forehooves onto the railing. She watched the crystalline traffic speeding on the road below, as well as the rare pedestrians. There was commotion further up the beach, with a group of ponies holding up signs, illuminated by the spotlight of a news airship.

She turned her head to look at the equine figure standing next to her, also leaning over the railing. It jittered and flickered, turning its shifting head to meet her gaze. Her good eye stared into its two blank holes. Her bad eye followed suit, twitching rapidly. The figure bent its head to look at a stool under its rapidly shapeshifting belly, where a letter lay underneath a light-wisp vial, the top of which was directly inside the figure’s body.

“Dear Ditzy,” a voice said. “It’s been a real blast working you these past few months. Rest assured that your management skills are absolutely nonpareil - solid! Your skill, efficiency, and, most importantly, your discretion are all immensely appreciated. Sadly, this is not something we can say about all of our employees. This is why we would like you to pay a visit to our casino and restaurant at 17th Crescent Street, where your layoff bonus is waiting for you. Good things don’t last forever, and it seems we have run out of opportunities in this city. Give us one last good show for old times’ sake, and rest assured that we will put in a good word with any other business in the area that could use your help. We have paid attention to your interests as of late, so expect a little surprise. As for us, it is time to pass on to greener pastures. You’ve been a great help. Sincerely, Flim of the Flim-Flam Foundation.”

The videodrome back in the living room screeched with static, almost drowning out Dinky’s frustrated mumbling. The figure stared at Ditzy, oozing with red and green, its limbs occasionally snapping at various angles. It lifted its hooves and touched its shifting face a few times, occasionally pushing them right through the skull and somehow keeping balance on only its hind legs.

The mare remained on the balcony for half an hour, staring at the wide row of teeth that lingered beside her. When raindrops began to patter on the roof, she went back inside.

Ditzy patted Dinky on the head and gave her a brief nuzzle before gesturing to the filly’s room. She sighed and nodded, mumbling something incoherent in response. Ditzy went back to her own room, emerging a few minutes later in her blue postal uniform, a bag hanging by her flank. She left the apartment, the motion of air causing a pack of yellow bills slipping off a stool next to the front door. The door opened to reveal a large, colored piece of graffiti depicting a pink heart, dark blue crescent, and purple star within a yellow circle, whose limbs stretchedoutward. The symbol had been drawn over an older image of an armored hoof coming down on a cockroach. The mare left, letting the door swing shut on its own.

***

17th Crescent Street - 9:50 PM

Ditzy moved under the cover of darkness, avoiding the bright crystalline glow of the scarce streetlights. The street was wide and nearly empty, the lights out in the apartment buildings, and almost all the neon signs on the nearby businesses had been switched off. Tall, glassy shapes of illuminated office complexes loomed over the street, massive projectors displaying still images onto them.

The only neon light still on was perched on a two-story establishment right in the middle of a cul-de-sac, the bright letters of its name lighting up a portion of the street with a bright green. A police vehicle was parked next to it, with an officer standing by the entrance and talking to a tall white-and-brown hawk griffon covered in belts, wearing tinted goggles. A pair of bags lay on either side of the griffon, who occasionally articulated oddly and clicked her talons.

A pair of stallions in Tunnel Snakes hoodies, metal bars kept on their backs, stood by the reinforced door of the casino. One of them shook his head, looking away into the dark, not far from where the mare stood in the darkness between a pair of streetlights. She entered a small pathway between two buildings further down the road, while the stallion lowered his head and put a glowing smokestick in his mouth.

Ditzy scaled a short apartment building and hopped across three others via the rooftops. The narrow, lengthy pathways between the clumped structures were almost pitch black, making her narrow her eyes each time she looked down. Going from the city’s luminous multicolor skyline to the dark spaces below, she saw nothing except a dark, barely equine shape, whose teeth stretched from one wall to the other. The only other presence was a big, shuddering, horned figure that hid behind a dumpster, keeping a jagged limb against its mouth, which spat green sparks. It occasionally leaned forward to glance at the police cart, then immediately jerked back into its hiding spot. Ditzy looked upon the last building before the casino, and she made the jump once it was no longer visible behind the wobbling, unsteady dark shape and its teeth.

She ended up right next to the roof of the casino, the four-story apartment building she stood on top of towering over the other structure. Up there, moments after she looked down, a dull flash enveloped a dark equine figure holding onto a barrel-shaped object. A dim green vortex spiraled into the air above, dissipating before it got even to Ditzy’s level, as the figure was no longer there. Three goggled equines in hoodies stood by the corners of the roof, while another, a unicorn wearing a cheap black suit, jotted something into a notepad that floated in front of her. After he finished, she put the notepad back in her suit and clapped her hooves, alerting the rest. The three came up to the mare and started conversing.

The mare put her bag down and unzipped it. Ditzy slipped the dove mask over her head, and for a few moments she just stood still, breathless, eyes closed. With an exhale, she turned back, collected a few bricks that littered the roof, and filled her bag with them. Zipping it back and fastening it against her side, she spread her wings and made a dive toward the lengthy roof of the casino.

“The Crown Casino and Restaurant” - 10:12 PM

The dove landed hard onto one of the hoodlums, while her bag struck a glancing blow on the head of another. Blood splattered onto the fabric, while the pony dropped to the floor limply. The chains around his forehooves rattled as they fell beside his crushed face. The one she had landed on did not struggle much longer, as she smashed through its head with her forehoof, dousing it in sizzling green liquid as it tore through the changeling’s neural cortex, tossing up a cloud of green vapor. The unicorn in a cheap black suit stared at the violence with her jaw hanging, and she lit her horn while trying to exit through the doorframe that led to the building proper.

The dove spun around rapidly, launching the heavy bag right at the unicorn, causing a few loud cracks and sending her tumbling down the stairs. Green sparkles and faint fizzling followed the fallen unicorn as her disguise faded in and out, and her horn emitted one last bright green flash before it went dim. The broken glasses slid off her snout shortly before becoming green vapor as well, which then snaked further down and entered the casino proper on its own.

The third Tunnel Snake had backed away as soon as the killer landed on the roof, and he made his way to the opposite side of the lengthy roof, occasionally stumbling on the vents, and eventually he fell when a curved knife hit him right in the side. The pegasus made a wing-powered leap to get close and finish him as he tried to crawl away, bashing his head into the stonework. She then headed down the steps, hopping over the deceased synaptic along the way. The door had been left open, but the dove quickly reached out to pull it shut, after which she kicked it in with her hind legs. A thug with a short leg-mounted gun swore loudly as the door turned his snout into a leaking, bloody mess, and he was quickly silenced when the mare rammed his head into a sturdy pinball machine.

One floor below, all around the rhombus shape of bar stands surrounded by stools, were various relentlessly noisy, flashy, luminous slot machines and other gambling terminals. Among the intense contrast of colors, a contingent of hoodlums shuffled around, some groups gathered around non-functioning machines, kicking them apart and piling cash into bags. A few unicorns were present as well, breaking anything made of wood into proportionate pieces and having the lesser gang members pile it onto heaps of flammable trash, which the unicorns then doused with gasoline and set aflame with greenish sparks.

Several identical griffons were perched on a tall statue of a stylized gold and red crown, only their eyes moving to track the plunder. While these were caught up in their work, the rest of the Tunnel Snakes instantly turned their heads to where the pegasus had arrived, blinking at her for a few moments with distinctly green eyes. Avian screeches emerged first from near the entrance of the casino, far further away, after which the hawks on the crown sprung up. A low hum spread through the foundation of the building, rattling the empty bottles, glasses, and arcades on the second floor.

She continued down the bar areas that hung over the first floor like a catwalk, disposing of two thugs that attempted to attack her at once, swinging bars of metal held in their forehooves in her direction, and missing as the pegasus took a single step back. One of them shook his head, clanging the many piercings stuck through his face, and sped away backwards, dropping his bar - which the dove used to gorge the other’s throat in after he had been knocked on his back with a headbutt.

A griffon landed on the second floor by then, flying over from the tip of one of the tines of the crown, and immediately tore into the fleeing thug violently, pushing him down on the floor and turning most of his face into a brief shower of red over the duration of five seconds. That gave the mare enough time to crouch down and strain her legs. When the griffon squawked, hopping off the mutilated corpse and launching herself at her, the pegasus spun in place, smashing the heavy bag into the griffon, propelling her with a loud crack and a wisp of green vapor draining out of its crushed head. The body lost its plumage, belts and goggles halfway during flight, landing several meters behind the dove, who clung to a wall, as a twisted, black, jagged corpse with enlarged, bulging snake-like eyes. Leaving the bag where it lay, the mare used the time to get a grip on a large metal bar dropped by one of the thugs

Using both forelegs to hold the strapless weapon, she got on her hind legs, keeping balance with wings. Multiple groups of disheveled ponies in dirty dark grey hoodies, some of them copied over more than twice, were making their way up the stairs to her. They stood completely silent, swinging blunt weapons, chains and leg-strapped knives. Their formation was spread out, and they were all tensed up, their hind legs a step further back than usual. A dull green glow would occasionally flash in all of their eyes. After a single look, the dove swung into the air and moved, keeping herself vertical, with a grip on the bar, off the blockaded branch of the second floor, flying over the sunken in dance floors and gambling machines below.

Over a dozen green eyes followed her as she immediately maneuvered, a shriek alerting her to an airborne attack. One of the griffons on the first floor jetted upward, missing narrowly, after which she was joined by a clone, who attacked from another angle, missing as well, then another. By when there were four airborne combatants, several of the changelings from the formation jerked in place, quickly flashing to reveal their drone bodies, from the sides of which protruded their insectoid wings, with which they, changing back to their pony disguises, took into the air.

One of the thugs below aimed a stubby gun at the pegasus and fired, the sparkling bullet being instead successfully dodged by one of the griffons who had been continuously shifting in the air in rapid motions, chasing the mare. She was moving side to side in quick dashes, while the hawks were constantly in motion, trying to either come at her from the front or circle from behind, consistently being left a meter too short. The changelings that took off into the air tried to block off dodge paths, but instead were simply rammed into and rapidly bashed, falling down in a spill of green. The ones that weren’t fell as well, taken by more friendly fire.

The gunshot alerted more of the ranged hoodlums trashing the establishment, causing a much more sustained hail of fire, now including the sizzling green bolts fired by the unicorns, and it also drew away the griffon changeling that was nearly hit. When the gunner’s snout was mostly bone covered in jagged talon marks, and there was not a presence within ten meters of him on the floor, that griffon returned to air - where both of the remaining hawks had already been eliminated, sent downward, one with a cracked wing and a neck twisted on the top of a slot machine, another on a dancefloor with the stained piece of metal lodged in the chest. The impact of its body had turned on the disco lights and music, which were mostly overridden by the persistent hail of gunfire aimed at the dove, who remained dashing in the air.

The griffon hopped up on top of the rhombus of food stands and remained perched there, huffing in an echoed tone, glaring upward. The pegasus kept her eye on the hawk, continuing to shift in the air, evading constant gunfire. The changeling Tunnel Snakes had in the meantime spread all over the venue, two remaining on the side they had initially gathered at, three groups of three taking up points of the labyrinth of gambling machines on the first floor, and a team of five standing still on the other second floor branch. The dove turned her attention to them next as she leapt over to some distance away from them - in the meantime, the firing died down, one gun by one. Smacks, shouting, and eventual cracks were heard from the cluttering mass of gangsters, surrounded by piles of crystalline shell casings, and were overcast by a nearly ultrasonic shrill screech that came from the the entrance when another griffon walked in on the scene.

The screech caused the mare’s attack on the grouped up thugs to nearly fail, as her wings went stiff halfway through her ramming one of the unicorns. He kept his balance instead of toppling over, halting her advance as well, but giving her time to sweep back to avoid the remaining four who charged at her. The entire group of five soon began to advance, while the nine that were below started to line up anywhere that could have made for a landing zone, ignoring the fighting going on with the non-changeling contingent. One that came the closest to successfully swiping at her with a sleeve-bound switchblade was grabbed by the leg that was armed, and carried to the back of that branch of the floor with several flaps of the dove’s wings. He almost thrashed his leg out of the grip, evening himself, but was thrown to the floor and had his face stomped on half a dozen times, while the remaining four closed in steadily.

An inconspicuous pair of black doors near the end of the stairs that lead to that branch of the second floor clapped loudly, one of them covered in claw marks. A stream of Tunnel Snakes that had been thrashing the casino was now advancing to the second floor, avoiding multiple torn apart corpses, barely identifiable aside from the remnants of hoodies, chains and occasional multicolored mohawks, bangs and half-cuts.

As the dove’s hoof tore through the glowing cortex, a brief green flicker passed over every changeling in front of her, having them crouch momentarily. Just as their disguises came back on, they were scattered, as she torpedoed into their ranks, gutting two at once, crouching at her own knees to sink the wing knives deeper into their heads. A wooden bat carried by one of the remaining changelings nearly came down on her wing, missing narrowly, as the mare galloped toward the stairs that lead to the main floor. The backup from downstairs took up most of the stairs, and the three at the front already swung their heavy chains at the approaching mare - however, she skidded to a halt and threw herself down to the first floor just a few meters short of them. A moment later, flashing crystalline bullets hit the general area she used to be in, causing ruckus and screaming among the hooligan horde.

The nine changelings downstairs that had been tracking the dove’s movements formed up to surround her once she came down. The trio that had been standing the closest threw themselves to the side, causing the pegasus to land on hard tile. They quickly formed a ring, while the crowd at the stairs began to turn back. The ring began to close in, and the griffon that had been perched on the food stands leapt down, crouching on all fours, and squawked loudly, with an echo, her head twisting in several directions at once. As the killer looked over the gathering, she stayed in place for a moment.

In a swift, jolting move, she crouched and launched herself to the side, mere moments before a trio of green bolts blew a small crater where she stood. She rammed into one of the oncoming changelings, narrowly missing his crowbar, and she took down a pair from the backup descending nearby. Only the changeling was finished off with a rapid stab of a knife through its throat, the knife remaining stuck - the pegasus darted through the opened set of doors, disappearing down a narrow, dark corridor.

A cacophony of shouts and booming, breaking noises followed into the tight corridor, echoing off the walls as the mare cantered at high speed. A couple of thugs that managed their way into the doors, barely fitting in the tight space, nearly dropped their heavy melee weapons when the base of the establishment shook multiple times. The first quake saw a quickly disappearing green web speed over the walls, while the next five were all less powerful, but came in quick succession, and from the main hall. The music that came from the dance floor pads paused and then came back chewed up, slowed down, and distorted. Piling on each other from the tremors, the thugs were left behind - after a quick glance at them, and then a tilt of the head to the shaking main casino floor, the killer sped away down the corridors, while they tried their best to regain lost balance and follow her, mashing together between the narrow walls, no more than one and a half meters across.

The mare cantered down a long series of paths, all of them just as narrow, weak crystalline lights blinking from the disproportionately tall ceiling. Every now and again, there would be doors into rooms, but all of those rooms were emptied out, only plain office furniture left behind, bolted into the floor. She kept advancing through the labyrinth, ceasing to check every room at one point. The shuffling of thugs squeezing ended - it was exchanged for loud, wet, fleshy noises and brief yelps, after which there were more hoofsteps battering against the plain floor, further back behind the mare.

Her own pursuit halted shortly as well - she arrived to where the corridor lead to a single door, from behind which there was rapid talking. The door was open a crack, unveiling a spacious pool chamber, devoid of water, but illuminated brightly, with a large, horned shadow falling on the wall that could be seen through the door.

The dove’s beak butted the door open right when the shadow began to move, joined by another, which backed away and sped off. It was a unicorn mare in a cheap black suit, clumps of turquoise hair falling over a pair of taped-together glasses, from behind which two bloodshot eyes stared at the pegasus. The mare backed away and stumbled, falling on her rump. She dropped a notebook and her glasses, neither of which were picked up when her horn lit up brightly.

The bigger shape, however, was a bovine changeling that sat on its knees, shuddering in place, a syringe sticking out of one of its arms. Its hands were clenching its face, which flickered back and forth between asymmetrical chitin and a blurry visage of a minotaur. Before it rose and made a first uneven step toward the dove, she thrust her wing forward, dislodging a knife from its wingspace and sending it right into the minotaur’s chest. The chitin cracked and liquid synapse flowed, but the changeling continued to walk, getting quicker, more of the original visage’s features appearing.

She narrowly crouched under a fist, which had spiked knuckles form on top of it shortly afterward. Another knife flew into the changeling’s back, quickly getting thrown out as the bull spun in place even faster, rushing at her with a start. The mare ran to the side, sending another knife into the side of the changeling, then thrusting another wing in his direction, to no effect. Green ooze poured out of the changeling, whose appearance was barely like that of the original minotaur, only a subtle haze of granite grey and green covering the malformed chitin, under which more of the synapse flowed, pulsating and shining.

He moved swiftly, leading the dove on a chase around the pool, until another tremor shook the foundation. The mare, meters in front of him, spun to face away and flapped her wings forward, bucking her hind legs. A loud thud and a slight crack saw the carapace take the impact of one of the hooves, but the knife that had remained in the stomach from the start got pushed in much deeper. The changeling opened his mouth in silence, falling on one knee. He dropped to the floor as the masked mare bucked again, forcing most of her hind leg through an eye socket.

The unicorn, who had crept away to a corner, glared at the heaving shape of the postal mare, who twitched her leg, covered in sizzling liquid. The pony’s teeth chattered loudly, her breaths louder than the rasps that came from beneath the dove’s head. A small firearm dangled in front of her face, shaking in the dim telekinetic grip, the absent leg strap swinging in the air. Words tried to leave her mouth as the other mare approached, but all that came out was a squeak as the gun was swept aside with a wing, and the unicorn’s head was repeatedly bashed against the wall, untiil there were small pieces of glass stuck to the blue uniform, covered now in red more than green.

With more, heavier hoofsteps getting closer, the dove entered the next room through the only other door in the pool. As the door’s handle was pushed, it banged open, bashing the mare on the snout and forcing her backwards, a leg raising to shield her face. A powerful gust of wind emerged from the room, blowing out small folders, papers, pens, and other office equipment.

There was a long, narrow table in the room, on top of which stood a feminine synaptic, whose horn glowed brightly, forming a brightening green aura around her. The green magic wrapped over numerous bound folders and several canisters filled with a colorless liquid. The changeling was moving her mouth, shouting, but the voice was lost to the force of summoned wind. Wisps of green vapor were being sucked into the horn, each spreading the aura a little. The synaptic's partly singed mane swung in the wind, greenish strands beating against unevenly regenerated carapace on her face. Some of the many chairs in front of the table were sent flying, crashing into the banging door and causing the mare to roll.

The dove began to progress toward the door again, crouching and folding her wings, when another shape became visible in the dim, long room. The hawk that had ran down the labyrinth first stood closely behind the synaptic, also talking, spreading her arms and shuffling metal-clad talons. Her shadow covered up the large, blank presentation slider on the opposite side of the room. When the mare had to sink into the ground to avoid another chair, losing momentum to the wind, the griffon’s beak stayed open for a moment, goggled eyes giving the masked mare a look. The hawk stretched, swiping her tail, and shrieked loud enough to be audible behind the wind.

Her body collided with the synaptic's and she sunk her claws into her carapace, tearing out a whole chunk of the mid-section and leaving the head to hang limp off the side of the table.

The wind ceased, and Ditzy was thrown forward a few steps, having been making long, heavy steps toward the door. The green, vaporous aura disappeared, albeit with it went the cisterns and a small portion of the wood on the table. The griffon detached her claws from the dead body, wiping the steaming liquid synapse on her chest feathers.

Seeing the pegasus enter through the door, staring at her from behind the mask, she raised a hand, clattering the metal points put at the ends of her talons. An approaching sound of heavy hoofsteps had her tilt her head, after which the hawk’s curt beak contorted, and she sunk into the folders and papers that lay next to the dispatched changeling.

“Never liked you, Parallax,” she growled, scratching at her beak for a moment. “Shoulda just served my time instead of dealing with this shit. Changebugs... motherfucking dweebs.”

Ditzy stood and heaved, her good eye open wide and staring straight forward under the mask. The hawk breathed out, pulling out a select piece of paper, which she took in her hand and pushed against the beak of the dove mask. A raspy voice began to emerge from her own beak, but instead there was a loud bang. The door flew off the hinges. Ditzy grabbed the paper and rolled off to the side, while the hawk was downed onto her back, laying on the table. She propped herself upward with her large wings, and shouted:

“Alright, calm now! We’re—” The next moment, a pale blue flash spread through the room. When it was gone, the griffon was frozen in place, covered in thick ice.

Five figures had entered the room, all covered completely in armor. Two unicorns in sleek, rubbery purplish suits and long gas masks, one’s oculi glowing dark orange, another’s pale blue - his horn, wrapped around by wires, with a small light on top of it, was in afterglow. One earth pony in bulkier, segmented armor, with a quietly buzzing riot shield attached to one of his forelegs, one unicorn in a more crystalline set of white and red, also with a shield, a smaller one, which bore a red cross and had syringes and a green vial peeking from the bottom. Finally, a pegasus clad mostly in cloth, snout covered up by a balaclava, eyes shielded by pitch black weather-grade shades, was slowly approaching the mare, who remained on the floor, looking at the team. Each of them had the letters “ES/AS” on their breastplates, as well as the shields for the ones that bore them.

Her eye stared at the numerous razor-like attachments on both of the pegasus’ wings, which were quickly folded. They stopped several steps away from her, and a muffled, distorted, static-imbued voice spoke:

“It’s okay. We are not here to harm you.” After the pegasus said that, they slowly extended a hoof toward the mare. She lay still, staring.

“Shell shock?” came a similarly distorted voice from one of the remaining four.

“Not this one,” answered another voice, the red-and-white trooper’s glassy helmet turning.

“We won’t do anything to you. We know who you are.”

The mare began to get up, slowly. Her eye stuck to a dim corner, where a bulky, awkward, dark equine shape shook on unsteady legs, tilting its teeth at her. A file cabinet stood where the shape’s back side was meant to be.

“They do? Why not you?”

Head jerking, neck audibly cracking, Ditzy slowly turned to look at the pegasus with her bloodshot eye. Their hoof was still extended, covered entirely in thick cloth of random colors. The mare got up on her legs eventually, and continued to stare unevenly. The hoof drew away, and then waved in front of the dove’s beak. With a delay, the mare’s good eye followed.

“You’re not in trouble. Can you hear me?”

Ditzy nodded, huffing raspily. The dark shape in the corner fell over, its forelegs folding. Some of its head shifted into the wall, only the teeth facing the mare, the rest contorted and half submerged into the surroundings.

“Or yourself?”

“Okay... we just want your employers to know something.” the pegasus said. “If they think that you’re competition for us, or that you’re going to put an end to us, whatever they think - you aren’t. They took you, and like if you weren’t fucked in the head enough, they made you do this. Now that you did it… all you did was help us do our job.” He took a deep breath, voice buzzing slightly with radio static. He walked closer to the mare, the fabric on his snout touching the beak on her mask. “They should stop pretending. We all know exactly what we’re doing here. Look at what you can do - we have to work together. And we will. This whole country will. You’ll let them know that, okay?”

Slowly, the mare nodded. A distorted sigh came from the pegasus, who turned away and waved over the trooper in white and red.

“Lead her out of here.”

“Alright… after me, miss,” the pony in crystal gear told her. They moved to a set of doors that, upon opening, lead to a corridor similar to those in the labyrinth. Barely bending her legs, the mare followed them through the corridors.

They entered the main floor, emerging from the doors next to the stairs to the second floor opposite the ones where she entered the corridor system through. The casino had been completely destroyed, craters littering the floor, most of the machines having exploded, covering the floor with junk. Shreds of changeling carapace were left in some of the craters. The bodies that were left after the dove’s attack had been joined by those sliced in half, decapitated, or otherwise dismembered.

Some corpses were charred, others were bludgeoned and smoked. Bits of ice were spread all over. The food and drink rhombus in the middle had a huge dent in it, where a trooper in the same white and red crystal armor as the one Ditzy was following leaned over the bared foreleg of a gas-masked unicorn. Closer to the entrance, a group of five similar to the one that had arrived to the end of the labyrinth was gathered by the restroom doors. A pegasus trooper had his hoof on the shoulder of a shaking, pale Tunnel Snake, who knocked on the doors uneasily.

“C-come out. They’re— they got no beef with us,” the young pony said, his voice croaking.

She sidetracked for a few steps, going to where her discarded bag lay. A shieldbearer who stood there nodded as she approached, moving the bag closer to her with a hoof. The bricks had all been taken out.

Ditzy leaned forward and got the strap over her shoulder, and she continued after the trooper in red and white. The response from behind the restroom door was missed, as the mare was lead through to the entrance, going down a set of stairs, crossing a demolished face control area, and ascending up another set of stairs, through a blank space. She avoided the frozen bits of what used to be the thick armored door that covered the tile in front of the casino building.

“There you go,” said the trooper. They turned around and a section of their helmet lit up, a pouch on their flank opening up. Six curved knives were passed to her in a bunch. “This is yours. All we could find. You saved us a lot of time, so I guess we should save you the money. They'd rather pin this all on us, so your... discretion isn't under any threat.”

Ditzy’s forehoof rose and gently grasped the bundle of knives. They were dropped in the bag, and she turned around, making her way down the road she arrived on. The mare made her way past the police carriage, next to which stood two frozen police officers and a gasmask-wearing unicorn, whose oculi glowed orange. They were checking the watch on their hoof, tapping a hind leg.

The red-and-white trooper’s distorted voice sounded out again:

“We could get you help, you know. Your eye can’t be easy to deal with. And the—”

Ditzy’s walk turned into a canter. She disappeared around the block, taking her work clothes off and dumping them in the bag. On top of them, she gently placed the paper handed to her by the griffon. She sped through the darkness, head passing through the awkward blob and row of teeth that stood in front of her on the road, eventually getting into the neon lights of the next street.

***

...are everywhere, and there is no escaping that. What I am trying to say is… tensions have never really died down, especially not in Carol City. As part of our police department, I had access to sources for our monthly demographic relations graphs. To put it simply, the numbers are explicitly tweaked to end up somewhere in the harmonious zone.

- So the cover-up is that wide? What other offices could be indicted as part…

...some good, all over the country. But in here? I will have to be frank, once again - Carol has never been a particularly peaceful place. When Equestria was only first extending its borders two thousand years ago, this place would pass from faction to faction, until the Princesses cracked down and took control. Even then, ponies from all corners of the world would end up here, and for one reason or another, they would not always have a peaceful occupation.

Plainly speaking, Carol City has a history of crime, long before crime was a plague on Equestria. I am not just talking history and numbers - I was born here, I've seen it all upfront. The numbers, however, did not change after the Prejudice Rock Pact - in fact, they died down. That was mostly due to the lasting impact of the methods employed by the ES/AS troops. What changed was the nature of crime. While investigations into highly suspicious companies - fronts, I would presume - are obviously lacking…

...that grim? What about all the Pact-citizen businesses and services provided in the city?

- There are very few of them. The truth is, the number seems to have been inflated, as judging by personal, off-duty inspection, I have come to the conclusion that…

...while others, such as a casino on the southern side of the city, while widely considered to be pony-operated establishments, turn up changelings in various positions of the management hierarchy. Worse yet, those are not unintegrated, effectively rogue synaptics (Editor’s note: ES/AS slang for synapse-potent changelings) that many rabble-rousers are scaring ponies with. Those are first-wave changelings, many of which did not even actively partake in the Wedding War. I do value my safety enough to avoid disclosing names, but it's safe to say that anyone with authority knows about this. All of this is well-known to a lot of the city's officials, yet we're given…

...the ponies? How could such behavior be explained?

- Yes, I am sure that it is the ponies. It is our own citizens. There is no point denying that starting with the long, terrifying slog that was the Wedding War, ponykind has changed. It's an inarguable fact. Shortly after the Emergency Situation Assistance Squads went rogue in 1009, I began to work closely with the seaside regional police. I have seen several crime scenes, had access to reports, and assisted in multiple investigations. Now, only a few of these stories slipped into the media, with one in particular being blown up and sensationalized more than others - the Seashore Killer, a story from very shortly after the breakout of the Wedding War and the Tragedy at the Crystal Empire. The truth is, there were many, many more, before 1009 and after. Back then, a similar tactic was employed, with any information being snuffed, but I find it hard to deny that the riots...

...consequences?

- I don’t think there are any. Neither of the war, nor of the Princess’ efforts. I will be frank... The only benefit I have seen over the years was to the textile industry. Everyone’s already forgotten that just ten years ago, clothes were for fashion and for utility - now we continue to dress as cliques, even though we’re not trying to weed out changelings anymore. We think we’re back to how it used to be, or that we’re better, but we’re not. I fear I might sound like a homeless street-corner lunatic, but the Wedding War never ended, it stayed with us. I mean, we have homeless lunatics now, don't we? We continue to fight, to be afraid, despite all the activism and the propaganda. All of us. It's taking its tall on our people. But that is not all... Carol City in particular is becoming a centerpoint for this disorder. The ones that had cracked and warped, I have reason to believe they are being used by an external force to drive a campaign of terror across Equestria.

- So you do agree with the public stance on the ES/AS?

- Have you been listening?..

Crystal Square - 00:24 AM

Ditzy walked down by a wide plaza, passing under bright streetlights, crystalline carriages speeding past her. A row of palm trees that aligned with the path came to a stop when her hooves went from asphalt to tile, clopping several times against it. A flicker of the great light over one of the statues in the middle of the square caused her to turn her head. It came back on, illuminating the frazzled, heavily breathing mare. Her coat was a darker shade of grey from the sweat that was yet to dry away. A police siren blared close by.

Her good eye squinted, and she made a few steps in the direction of the statue. It sparkled in the light, devoid of stains or dust, shining with bright colors. Her eye stayed on the image of a pink alicorn mare and a white unicorn stallion, clad in a regal, pompous dress and suit, their forehooves wrapping around each other’s. A large necklace wrapped around both their necks, connecting in the middle with a large heart-shaped ruby hanging down. Below it lay twelve decayed, dessicated bodies, wearing greying pink palmtree shirts and baggy, dark street clothing. A small fountain bubbled behind the scene.

“You… you know… I get it now. All of this?”

Ditzy lowered her head and looked at the base of the statue. A vague griffon shape, covered in misshapen chitin, shook in a seizure. Drones in poor, baggy clothes, with beaten-in carapaces and dim eyes, lay shivering next to it. The big, wobbly foreleg made of darkness brushed against one of their backs, bending at the joint. It bared its teeth at the mare.

“Is not real… This just never happened. Look…” the avian said, clicking its talons. “Look… it’s over… it’s over… can I go now?..”

The mare stared at the pile of changelings cradling themselves, weeping in distorted tones, and left the plaza. A police carriage pulled up as she disappeared from view, officers rushing to the base of the statue.