Tainted Silver

by Bluecatcinema

Live By The Sword...

The next morning, Sterling's headache was finally gone, and he was back to feeling like his old self again. He spent most of the morning happily working around the homestead, and the afternoon bucking cherries.

'Another day, another bunch'a Bits...' Sterling thought as he went about his work.

Things seemed perfect for the moment, except for Cherry. To Sterling's bewilderment, Cherry continued her distant behavior toward him, barely even talking talking to him during breakfast.

'I don't know what's gotten into that mare.' Sterling thought as he returned to the homestead that afternoon after dropping off the cherries he had bucked in the barn. 'I mean, I thought things were going fine with her, but now she’s acting the same way when we first met. Whatever it is I did to make her angry, I've gotta make up for it. I only just managed to get her to like me. I'm not going back to square one now...'

Sterling made his way inside. He saw that Cherry was in the kitchen, cutting up potatoes for the stew she would make for the family that evening.

"Hey, Cherry." Sterling said tentatively.

"...Hello, Sterling." Cherry said flatly. "Done working for the day, I see?"

"Yep." Sterling nodded. "Workin' on dinner, huh?"

"My, aren't we perceptive?" Cherry deadpanned. "Yes, that's what I'm doing."

"Looks like hard work." Sterling declared. "I never thought about it before, but while we're all off in the orchards, kicking trees, you're in here, cooking, cleaning, and doing all the stuff that keeps this place together."

"It can be hard at times." Cherry admitted. "But I enjoy doing it. I enjoy caring for my family."

"Well, if you're looking for a break, I could slice those potatoes for you." Sterling offered.

"Oh, that's... very sweet of you." Cherry declared. "But that's okay."

"No, it's not." Sterling countered. "Caring for your family is one thing, but I'm a guest in this house, and I've barely done anything in these walls. So why don't you take a well-deserved rest, and let me handle the potatoes?"

"Well..." Cherry mused. "I suppose I could use a small break. Okay, Sterling. if you're really so eager, go for it." She pushed a tray with several more potatoes to be cut, and handed Sterling the knife. "Slice up all of these potatoes, then put them in the stew, and let it simmer on the stove. Simple as that."

"You just rest up" Sterling smiled, raising the knife. "I'll take care of this."

Cherry made to walk into the living room, but stopped as she heard rapid chopping sounds. She turned to see Sterling chopping up a potato with phenomenal speed. The potato was reduced to thin slices in seconds.

"Good gracious." Cherry gaped. "Where did you learn to do something like that?"

"Oh, uh..." Sterling cringed. "...Just a little trick I... picked up on my travels. Really comes in useful around the kitchen..."

"I suppose it does." Cherry mused. "Try not to go too fast, though. I won't have much time to relax at all at this rate."

"Sure thing." Sterling nodded. "I'll let you know when I'm done."

"...Yes, you do that." Cherry nodded.

After Cherry left the kitchen, Sterling returned to his work, cutting the potatoes at a slower rate.

'Okay, got a little too eager there.' Sterling admonished himself. 'It has been a while since I've had a blade in my hoof. Guess I got carried away. And why not? It feels good. Just like old times...'

Flashback...

A young Sterling, bereft of a Cutie Mark, stood alongside several other foals his age in a large room. They were all wearing quilted vests over their fronts and meshed masks over their heads.

'Still can't believe I'm doing this...' Sterling pouted. 'Lousy mom...'

Silver Cross had enrolled her son in fencing lessons, in the belief that it would teach him "some much-needed discipline". Sterling wasn't pleased at the thought of wasting three afternoons a week wearing a ridiculous outfit and waving a glorified stick around. But he knew it was pointless to argue with his mother.

So there he was, attending his second week of classes, with a bunch of other privileged kids, whose names he hadn't bothered to learn. The first week had comprised of practicing their moves against dummies, of which Sterling had only half-heartedly attempted.

'Another week of this lame sport.' Sterling scowled. 'I'd rather have all my teeth pulled out... but then again, I don’t think it would be as painful as what mom would do to me if I told her I wanted out...'

A middle-aged Unicorn stallion with a dull green coat, blue eyes, Cutie Mark of a rapier, and an orange mane and mustache stepped forward. He was their teacher, Mr Parry.

"Alright, class." He declared. "This time around, we're going to pair up and do a little sparring. So pick your partners."

The class began to pair up. Sterling wasn't keen to go with any of his fellow classmates, and they returned the feeling. All except one: Lunge, the oldest colt in the class. He was a Pegasus with a dark blue coat, a powder blue mane, orange eyes, and a Cutie Mark of a broadsword. Lunge had taken an immediate dislike to Sterling, chiefly due to the fact that he was the only member of the class without a Cutie Mark.

"Hey, blank flank." Lunge sneered. "Get over here. I'm in the mood for an easy match."

"Thanks, but no thanks." Sterling tried to avoid Lunge, masking his fear of the larger colt with sarcasm. "I'll take somepony else."

"Sorry, Sterling, but everypony is already paired up." Mr Parry declared.

"... Anypony wanna switch?" Sterling asked feebly.

None of Sterling's classmates saw fit to volunteer.

"Then it's settled." Mr Parry declared. "Line up and face your partners."

The students did as told. Though he didn't show it, Sterling was terrified of facing Lunge.

"Don't worry, runt." Lunge smirked. "I'll make it quick."

"Good." Sterling struggled to control the quake in his voice. "I'd hate to get bored."

"Masks down." Mr Parry declared.

The students lowered their masks over their faces.

"Raise your weapons." Mr Parry instructed.

The students raised their foils.

"And... begin!" Mr Parry declared.

"Eat this, blank flank!" Parry thrust his foil toward Sterling.

"Whoa!" Sterling dodged to the left.

"Stand still!" Lunge growled, springing forward again.

Sterling dodged each one of Lunge's attacks.

"No, no!" Mr Parry yelled. "Mr Cross, you must not simply evade! Fight back!"

"Yeah, wuss!" Lunge growled. "At least try to put up a fight!"

The other students had ceased their own sparring to witness Lunge and Sterling's "fight". Sterling was painfully aware that most of them were enjoying his desperate plight.

'So now I get humiliated twice over...' He cringed.

Lunge backed Sterling against a wall.

"I said 'fight'!" He roared, striking out again.

Out of pure reflex, Sterling blindly swung his foil, which, to everypony's surprise, blocked Lunge's.

"What the?" Lunge growled.

"Whoa." Sterling gaped. "Did I do that?"

"Lucky shot." Lunge spat. "Try doin' that again..."

Lunge attacked. Sterling's body seemed to act on its own accord, swinging its foil to block Lunge's.

"Hey!" Lunge snarled. "Knock it off!"

'I... I think I'm actually good at this.' Sterling realized.

"That's the spirit, Mr Cross!" Mr Parry nodded. "Now, go on the offensive!"

"With pleasure." Sterling smirked.

Bolstered by his newfound skill, Sterling jabbed his foil forward, forcing Lunge to step back to avoid. He swung twice more, causing his opponent to step further and further back.

"Hey, q-quit it!" Lunge yelped.

'Who's scared now?' Sterling grinned, enjoying their sudden reversal of fortunes.

As Lunge found himself being backed against the wall, he decided to try and regain the advantage.

"No lousy blank flank's gonna beat me!" He snarled.

Lunge threw his foil forward, but Sterling deflected it with his own. As Lunge was reeling from that, Sterling swung again, knocking the foil out of Lunge's hoof. He then pressed the edge of his foil against Lunge's chest, signifying his victory.

"I win." Sterling smirked.

"Well, now." Mr Parry smiled. "It would appear we have a natural in our midst."

"A natural, me?" Sterling mused.

At that moment, Sterling's flank started to glow. There was a flash of light, and a symbol of two crossed serrated blades (similar to knives) appeared on his flank.

"Whoa..." He gaped. "My Cutie Mark... My special talent must be swordplay! Awesome!"

Sterling's classmates politely applauded.

"My, my, my." Mr Parry also clapped. "It's not every day a student of mine gets their Cutie Mark in my class. I see a very promising future in this sport for you, Mr Cross. Very promising indeed."

'Maybe this class won't be so bad after all...' Sterling thought as he raised his foil, savouring the newfound joy that came from wielding the weapon.

The present...

Sterling gave a small smirk at that great moment in his childhood. It was one of the few times in his childhood that he would consider happy. As great as it was, it was short-lived. When he got home, and showed it off, his family was less than impressed.

"So you can wave a pointy stick around." Crystal had said indifferently. "Way to go, li'l bro..."

His mother, on the other hoof, was not amused, obviously wanting his talent to be something that could somehow play to her benefit.

‘What am I supposed to do with a pony whose best talent is to wave knives around?’ was her exact words.

What was worse was that his father seemed to have wanted to say something in his defense, but all it took was one glare for him to clam up. As it usually did.

The only one who actually really cared and congratulated him on his cutie mark was…

Sterling shook his head.

“It’s all in the past, Sterling… just let it go.” Sterling sighed.

Refocusing on his efforts, Sterling finished up slicing the potatoes and putting them in the stew. He then took the stew and put it on the stove, and left it to simmer. He then went into the living room, where Cherry was sitting in her chair, reading a magazine.

"Mission accomplished." Sterling saluted. "Hope it wasn't too quick."

"It was good enough." Cherry put down the magazine. "Thank you for the help, Sterling."

"My pleasure." Sterling smiled.

"Now go and get washed up for dinner, would you?" Cherry instructed. "The stew won't need to simmer for too long."

"Yes, ma'am." Sterling nodded.

As Sterling headed up to the bathroom, he was feeling quite pleased with himself.

'I think I just bought myself a couple of extra brownie points there.' He thought.

Unknown to Sterling unfortunately, his offer of help had only ended up increasing Cherry's suspicions.

'I've never seen knife work like that before.' Cherry thought to herself. 'And if Sterling can do that with a knife, who knows what he could do with a larger blade? More to the point, where could he have even picked that up that kind of skill? Who is Sterling, really? Is he a former Royal Guard gone AWOL? An ex-assassin? RDL? For all I know, he could be one of those Fore...’

Cherry shook her head, not wanting to humor the thought.

’You really are getting paranoid, Cherry.’ Cherry chided herself, ’I know I promised Red I give Sterling a chance… but what if Marshall is onto something? What if he is somepony not to be trusted?’ She glanced upstairs warily. ’There’s just no way of knowing for sure…’

Shortly after washing up, Sterling joined the family for dinner.

"Great stew, darlin'." Big Red told Cherry.

"Yeah, it's really terrific." Globe agreed.

"Thank you." Cherry smiled. "But I can't take all the credit. Sterling helped me out today."

"He did?" Eclipse snorted.

"Don't sound so surprised, kid." Sterling rolled his eyes.

"Oh, yes." Cherry nodded. "He chopped up the potatoes for me. And he did an excellent job of it, too."

"Seriously?" Huckleberry examined one of the potato slices. "What are ya, some kinda gourmet chef?"

“You flatter me.” Sterling chuckled lightly, “But no. I just know my way around a knife.”

"Either way, ya did good, Sterling." Big Red smiled. "Sure wuz nice a' ya to offer to help out like that."

"Well, it's like I told Cherry: I'm a guest in the house, so I really should pitch in more." Sterling grinned. "You're lettin' me here free of charge, so it's the least I can do in return."

"Now that's mighty courteous a' you." Big Red chuckled. "Ain't we lucky tah have such a generous houseguest, Cherry?"

"Yes, we are." Cherry half-smiled.

Sterling couldn't help but notice the half-smile.

'Oh, great…’ Sterling sighed, hiding his disappointment. ’Guess I'm gonna have to try harder to get back in her good books. I only just managed to get her to like me. And while I don’t have the best track record with moms, I really need her to like me enough so that I can get through this month without a hitch.’ He looked down at his plate, jabbing at his food with a fork. 'Cherry's a good mare, and the last pony who should be getting angry because of me. I can't risk another slip-up. After all, there was another time when my actions led to somepony else getting messed up...'

Many years ago...

It took some time for Sterling to get past his encounter with his mother. Though he had made peace with the fact that he could bring himself to kill her, seeing her again after all that time had not done his woes any favors.

But on the plus side, the encounter had brought him closer to Jetstream. Jetstream had become more supportive and encouraging during their training sessions, and while he still hit like a carriage and was as relentless as a bulldog, he felt him striving harder and harder to get better..

"That's good, kid." Jetstream smiled, after escaping from a hammer lock. "But you might to ease up a little. Put too much force into a hold, and you'll use up too much of your stamina."

"Got it." Sterling nodded, a little out of breath from the exertions. "Ready for another round?"

"I think that'll do for today." Jetstream smiled. "You go rest up. Have some fun with that dog of yours."

"Thanks, teach." Sterling smiled.

"Eh, you earned it." Jetstream smiled back. "You've really been on point lately, kid. Makes me proud to be your teacher."

"Just doin' my job." Sterling said modestly.

"All the more reason for you to get some relaxation time." Jetstream declared. "Don't want you gettin' worn out. Then your performance will go down the drain."

"Okay, point taken." Sterling rolled his eyes. "Catch ya later."

"You know it." Jetstream smirked.

Sterling made his way back to his quarters. As always, Ward was eagerly awaiting him.

"Yip! Yip!" Ward barked.

"Surprised to see me back so soon?" Sterling grinned. "You have Jetstream to thank for that."

"Yip!" Ward licked Sterling's face.

"Yeah, Jetstream's pretty great." Sterling nodded. "I used to think he was just a lousy mule-faced ass, but now I know what a good guy he really is. I'm lucky to have him as a teacher... and a friend." He smiled at Ward. "Speaking of friends... up for a little tug-o-war, pal?"

"Rrf!" Ward barked.

"Comin' right up..." Sterling dug out the rope. "Don't pull too hard though. I'm a little tired from training..."

A few days later, Sterling was called in for a new mission. He was glad to see Jetstream waiting for him.

"Great news, kid." Jetstream smiled. "You're with me again."

"Sweet." Sterling grinned. "So, what's the caper?"

"We've gotta head down to Brayzil." Jetstream explained. "One of our ongoing projects down there has stalled due to outside interference."

"That's putting it mildly." Loveless joined them. "A few months ago, a band of agents were sent into the depths of Brayzil on an expedition to locate a tome containing powerful dark magic."

“...Dark magic?” Sterling frowned. "Like the stuff Dysley & Doc were working on? With Nightmare Moon"

“Not exactly.” Jetstream declared, “How knowledgeable are you on the subject anyhow?”

“Well, all Dysley told me about was this pony named Sombra and how he was reason Nightmare Moon came to be. But other than that, I’m kinda foggy.” Stelring admitted, “What is dark magic like anyways? Is it like Unicorn Magic?”

“Far from it.” Loveless explained, “Dark magic is an archaic branch of magic that goes back way back to the age before the three tribes’ union. It is widely considered to be one of the most powerful forms of magic, matching even that of Alicorn magic.”

“Whoa, you mean like Princess Celestia and Luna powerful?” Sterling asked, a bit intrigued by the concept.

“Don’t get too interested, Sterling.” Jetstream huffed, “It’s powerful, but it’s also forbidden. For centuries, dark magic has been used to wreak havoc for centuries. Many of the spells’ are used solely to harm and torture ponies or perform unthinkable horrors.”

“Well, that’s a matter of opinion, Jetstream.” Loveless frowned, “And to correct your last statement, dark magic isn’t forbidden per se… just frowned upon. Not all dark magic users are bad… in fact, some of them are rather innocuous.”

“You seem to know a bit.” Sterling mused.

“Not really.” Loveless admitted humbly, “While I don’t think dark magic is bad, it’s not a subject I would read into as a hobby. I actually got all I told you from this expert we have in the organization. Everything and anything about dark magic, he knows about it.”

“And who is this expert?” Sterling asked, very curious.

“He goes by the name of Flatfoot.” Jetstream explained, “But forget about finding him. The guy works outside the Infinity. All we ever heard from the stallion are the research notes he sent us and requests for more fundings. All we really know for sure that he was an accomplished professor back in his days. Why he waste his smarts on dark magic, I’ll never know.”

"Guess it's just one of the great unsolved mysteries." Sterling shrugged. "Like why Parasprites can land without legs."

“Yeah.” Jetstream nodded, “After Dysley… y’know, Father has had us seeking out alternate venues in the area.”

"Southern Brayzil seemed to be just the right avenue." Loveless added. "However, our operatives were faced with resistance on two fronts. One came from the locals in the area. They have only been but a minor nuisance in the schemes of things, nothing the agents couldn’t handle. But then there’s the militia.”

“Militia?” Sterling asked.

“Oh, yes.” Loveless nodded glumly, “A group of surprisingly well-trained ponies took exception to our presence. While their numbers lack in comparison to the villagers, they are much more vicious. Unfortunately, the agents that were sent to Brayzil were not expecting to face such oppositions. We already lost about sixteen ponies, and if we don’t do something, the rest is sure to follow.”

“So, I guess we have to help them out, right?” Sterling smirked.

“That is correct.” Loveless declared, “You and Jetstream are to go down there and provide them with supplies and equipment as well as your assistance in repelling the militia, so that the agents can finish their expedition and find the tome in peace.”

"Well, you can count on us." Sterling saluted. "Right, Jetstream?"

"...Right." Jetstream nodded stiffly, having taken a moment to reply, "Let's get geared up."

As they gathered up their tools in the armory (along with several weapons to bring to their waiting comrades), Sterling noticed that Jetstream was a little more subdued than usual.

"You okay, teach?" Sterling asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Jetstream shrugged.

"You sure?" Sterling asked. "You seem a little... off right now."

"Don't worry about it." Jetstream smiled. "I've just been having a rough day so far..." Then, under his breath, “...And it is only going to get worse.”

“What was that?” Sterling frowned

“Nothing.” Jetstream said firmly, as he loaded and cocked a crossbow, “Okay, locked and loaded. The blimp takes off in ten, let’s get cracking.”

Sterling found himself unsatisfied (and a bit suspicious) with Jetstream’s answer, but he didn't want to push it.

'He's not usually this cagey.' He mused. 'Maybe he's just having an off day. No need to push it, then...'

Despite his own thoughts, Sterling's curiosity continued to grow. At one point, he and Jetstream, were on the observation deck, looking out into the skies. As the two stood there, Sterling felt it was the right time to try and sate his curiosity.

“...So…” Sterling began, as Jetstream tilted his head towards him “Have you ever been to Brayzil before?”

“Born and raised there, actually.” Jetstream admitted.

“Wait, really?” Sterling mused, “No kidding?”

“Yes… what, the Cartueguese accent didn’t tip you off?” Jetstream slightly joked.

“Well, if I recall, more than Brayzil speaks Cartuguese.” Sterling joked back.

"But we speak it in our own special way." Jetstream smirked.

"But if you're Brayzillan, then what's with the katana?" Sterling frowned. "Isn't that sword from Japony, or are they big here too?"

“Oh, that can be attributed to my bloodline.” Jetstream explained, “You see, the Ronins had descended from a long line of Japonese swordponies. Years upon years of teachings of the sword have been passed down from generation to generation. Eventually, the Ronins found their way to Brayzil, and that is where we remained.”

“Wow. I guess that does explain a bit.” Sterling admitted, “So… does that mean you know the lay of the land there?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Jetstream replied, “I lived back up in North Brayzil. I only went down south on a rafting trip, but that’s about it.”

“Oh…” Sterling murmured, “But at least it’ll be good to be back home, right?”

"Eh, I'm kind of up and down." Jetstream shrugged.

"How do you mean?" Sterling asked. "Did you have a rough childhood?"

"Again, up and down." Jetstream declared.

"Okay, this warrants an explanation." Sterling frowned.

“Well, way back when, as far as I could remember, it was always just me, my father, and my grandfather.” Jetstream began. “My father and mother got married at a young age, and conceived me soon after. But when I was born, there were complications, and my mother ended up passing away."

“I’m so sorry to hear that.” Sterling said sympathetically, despite his feelings towards his own mother.

“It’s fine, really. It’s hard to miss somepony you never knew.” Jetstream admitted, “After she died, my grandfather took me and my father in. He took care of my father in the months following my mother’s death, and he helped him take care of me.”

“He sounds like a great pony.” Sterling smiled.

“Yeah, good ol’ Legacy Ronin.” Jetstream smirked wistfully, “Or as I used to call him in my youth, ‘Papa Legs’. He was kind, caring, and always up for a laugh. He always believed in me, always encouraged me. In fact, it’s thanks to him that I took up the sword.”

“Really? So he taught you how to use a sword?” Sterling asked.

“He did more than that.” Jetstream boasted, “You see, my grandfather ran a dojo, where he passed on the teachings of the Ronin bloodline to those willing to learn. He taught me everything I knew about wielding a blade and using it, just as he taught my father when he was a child. Those training sessions were some of the best times of my life. If things had stayed that way, I probably would've taken over the dojo when he retired.”

“Then what happened?” Sterling frowned.

“I got caught up with a bad crowd.” Jetstream scowled, “You see, the town we lived in wasn’t a place you would call ‘tourist-friendly’. Everywhere you turned, you would see drug cartels, gang-bangers, and everything in between. Me, being a very impressionable teenager at the time, got involved with this group whose motto was, and pardon my Cartuguese, ‘Foda a polícia’.”

“‘Foda a polícia’?” Sterling repeated, confused, “What does that-”

“It’s best you don’t know.” Jetstream shook his head, “The ponies I got mixed up with were nothing more than a bunch of anarchists. They held no love for the government or the authority (who to be honest, weren’t any better), and they believed themselves to be the answer to all the crimes and chaos that ran rampant through the country. Being a young naive fool at the time, all I cared about was serving justice and doing good by the people.”

“Seriously?” Sterling frowned, “Where was your father?”

“My father?” Jetstream repeated, as his face darkened. “He… he left years before.”

“What? Why?!” Sterling gasped.

“I rather not talk about it.” Jetstream sighed, “All I'm willing to say is after he left, I was in a dark place, and that’s what led me to them. Grandpa tried to stop me several times, but I wouldn’t listen. I was so dead set on being an anarchist, that by the time I realized my mistake… it was too late.”

“What do you mean?” Sterling asked.

“Years later, I was in Reino de Janiero with the gang, hanging out at one of the local dives, when I got a telegram from a policepony back in my hometown… telling me that my grandpa was dead.” Jetstream declared.

“No…” Sterling whispered.

“They said that my grandfather was out sweeping the front steps of the dojo, when one of the local gangs came and opened fire on the place.” Jetstream frowned. “The authorities didn’t know why they chose the dojo, or how they got all the fancy crossbows and ammunition, but all they did know was my grandfather was able to get his sword and cut down a few of them before he was shot dead.”

“I… I don’t know what to say.” Sterling whispered.

“Well, when I first got the news, I was the same way.” Jetstream admitted, “I flew all the way back home nonstop, hoping… wishing that they had the wrong pony. But, after I saw how shot up the dojo was when I got there… the truth finally sank in… Grandpa was gone, a victim of random gang violence. A problem that I've been a part of for many years…”

Sterling remained silent, noting the pain in Jetstream’s eyes, as the swordspony grabbed his katana, looking at it forlornly.

“This katana…” Jetstream began, unsheathing the sword slightly, as the sunlight glinted off the red blade, “This katana belonged to him. It's the only piece left of him that I have left. After they buried my grandfather, they told me that it was his wish that this sword be passed down to me. I didn’t know why. I didn’t feel worthy, especially after all the crap I put him through.”

"Maybe he still believed in you." Sterling said supportively. "Maybe he thought you still had it in you to be a credit to the family name."

"I can only hope..." Jetstream sighed.

"So... what happened after that?" Sterling asked.

“I left the anarchists, and Brayzil altogether.” Jetstream declared, placing the katana sheath back at his hip, “For the next few years, I traveled place to place, trying to figure out what to do with my life. I did a little mercenary work at one point. That's what got the Forefathers' attention. After I assassinated some second-rate crime boss, Loveless tracked me down, and talked me into joining up. He told me working for the Forefathers would be a great honor.”

"I can see why that would appeal to you." Sterling declared. "And I'm glad you said 'yes'. Who knows where I'd be without you..."

“...Well, that’s enough of that.” Jetstream stopped leaning, “I’m here to do a job, not reminisce. No use living in the past.”

"Yeah, I guess so." Sterling agreed.

A few hours later, the blimp touched down on a field not far from a patch of jungle. Sterling and Jetstream disembarked, with cases of supplies and weapons in tow. Sterling was immediately hit by how warm it was.

"Buck, that heat." He cringed. "You'd think growing up in Haygypt would prepare me for this..."

"It's not the heat, it's the humidity." Jetstream remarked. "Now come on, our fellow operatives are just around the corner."

They made a left out of the field, and walked close to the edge of the jungle, finally stopping when they reached a half-destroyed village. There were shattered buildings scattered across the place, with some of the remaining buildings being half-destroyed.

"This is where the others are?" Sterling asked. "What a dump!"

"It didn't use to be." Jetstream said flatly.

"What do you mean, 'didn't use to be'?" Sterling frowned.

"That's a long story, kid." A red-coated, green maned Pegasus mare with blue eyes and a Cutie Mark of a palm tree emerged from one of the buildings. She addressed Jetstream. "Good to see you, sir. Agent Tropics, at your service."

Sterling noted that a quartet of other ponies were in the same building, tending to wounds, loading crossbows, and fashioning makeshift spears out of sticks.

“I’m just glad we got here when we did.” Jetstream declared, “I hear the ‘militia’ have been giving you trouble.”

"That's putting it mildly, sir." Tropics admitted. "They attack without mercy, or restraint. I mean, we were ready to take on villages, but these ponies were military-trained. It was a miracle we were able to fend them off… unfortunately, however, it wasn’t without casualties. Observe.”

Tropics led them into a small clearing, showing them three dead bodies, impaled on large wooden spikes.

“Ugh!” Sterling gasped, immediately sick to his stomach.

“Er… the militia’s handiwork, no doubt?” Jetstream grimaced.

“Yeah. These three went missing during the last raid.” Tropics explained, clearing her throat, unable to look at the bodies, “No doubt they have suffered torture much worse than death. Just a sneak peek of what they intend to do to us if we don’t leave.”

“Well, have you considered that?” Sterling frowned.

“...Excuse me.” Tropics glared at Sterling, “What did you just say?”

“Sterling-” Jetstream tried to speak up.

“I mean, surely a tome can’t be worth… this, right?” Sterling reasoned. “I know it’s your mission but…”

“But what? Throw away all our hard work, because a bunch of assholes came and tell us to get out?” Tropics growled, “What kind of coward do you take me for, boy?”

“Tropics, Sterling has a point.” Jetstream said firmly, as he gestured to the bodies, “I mean, look at this. Those ponies aren’t messing around.”

“Well, that’s why you’re here, right?” Tropics declared, “With the both of you and all that arsenal you packed with you, we are going to show those motherbuckers not to buck with Tropics!”

“What’s so special about this tome anyway?” Sterling asked.

“What’s so special?” Tropics repeated incredulously, “This tome we’ve been looking for contains dozens upon dozens of dark magic spells, many of which hadn’t been seen before. Some of them I hear can pack quite a wallop if used correctly.”

“So you intend to use these dark spells for war?” Jetstream frowned.

“Oh, save me the speech, Jetstream. Just because you can’t see the applications… the true applications of spells once used by the likes of the Umbrum.” Tropics sneered. “You can’t stop progress, you know.”

“Of course not…” Jetstream grunted, “...So now that we are here, why don’t you give the debriefing, so to know what we’re in for.”

"Of course, sir." Tropics nodded. "You better sit down, though, because the last couple of weeks have been utter Tartarus…”

While Jetstream spoke with Tropics, Sterling decided to take a look around. He took note of the colorful flowers and birds all around him, and the lush greenery.

'Heat aside, this place isn't too bad.' Sterling thought. 'A lot more colorful than Haygypt, at least...'

He then noticed a wrecked building that stood out from the others, being a shamble of a tower. He assumed it used to be a steeple of a church, or a clock tower… he couldn’t really tell.

"Huh." He said aloud. "Wonder what this place used to be?"

Taken by curiosity, Sterling entered the building. Inside, there were signs of some sort of battle; crossbow bolts were embedded in the walls, and blood and scorch marks littered the floor.

'Looks like whoever lived here wasn't keen to leave.' Sterling thought.

Near one particularly large scorch mark, Sterling found a broken longsword. It had several scratches along it’s silver-like body, with rust forming along the sharp side of the blade. It’s handle was long since gone, probably broken off in the heat of battle.

'Well, what have we here?' Sterling mused, picking up the blade, twisting around to get a better look.

Holding the broken sword in his hoof, Sterling recalled the bygone days of his youth; After discovering his special talent, he had thrown himself into everything to do with swords. From reading books from the library, to visiting the local blacksmith, he found himself intrigued. The subject he had researched was that of the Cairode Vanguard, his country's answer to the Royal Guard. The Vanguard were expert swordsponies, and valiant warriors. The more the young Sterling learned about them, the more he dreamt of being one. In the safe seclusion of his room, he would often pretend to be a noble Vanguard.

"Stop right there, foul villain!" A memory of Sterling in his room, wearing armor fashioned from cardboard and wielding a broom like a sword appeared in his head. "I am a Knight of the Cairode Vanguard, and I will bring you to justice!"

"Ah, memories..." Sterling muttered quietly as he held up the blade. "...Seems a shame to just leave this here..."

Sterling placed the broken sword in one of his saddlebags.

"A little souvenir." He told himself. "No harm in bringing this back, right?"

Sterling quickly exited the building, and returned to the others.

"There you are." Jetstream frowned. "Where have you been?"

"Just looking around." Sterling shrugged.

"Not smart." Jetstream admonished him. "That militia could have struck at any moment. If they caught you on their own, you would've been done for."

"Okay, I'm sorry." Sterling rolled his eyes. "Quit with the lecture.”

“Well, just refrain from that in the future.” Jetstream said sternly, “Especially when there’s ponies out there doing…” He flicked his head towards the dead bodies, “...that.”

“Again, sorry.” Sterling shook his head, as he turns to Tropics, “So, what’s the plan?”

"The militia have a camp not too far from here." Tropics revealed. "We have been avoiding them as best as we can till now, but with the weapons you supplied us, and your help, we will show those brutes the true might of the Forefathers. And then that tome is good as ours.”

“Exactly.” Jetstream nodded, “But right now, we’ll develop a plan of attack and get some rest. Then at first light tomorrow, we will launch our counterattack.”

"Sounds good to me." Tropics smirked.

That evening, Sterling lay in a bed in one of the semi-wrecked buildings. Due to the heat of the jungle, he didn't mind the lack of coverage. And thankfully, one of the Unicorn operatives had cast an insect-repellent spell to keep the bugs.

'Tomorrow comes the main event.' Sterling thought. 'I'll do you proud, Jetstream. You just wait and see...'

The next morning, they made their way over to the militia's camp as stealthily as possible. The camp itself was large, hidden behind wooden walls.

"Okay, here's the first strike." Jetstream held up a grenade.

Jetstream threw a grenade at the wall, blowing it to pieces.

"Attack!" He yelled.

The group charged in. The militia members, all brawny stallions wearing jungle camouflage, attempted to mount a defense. But the attackers had surprise on their side.

"Take this!" Tropics fired an explosive bolt at a group of the soldiers, sending them flying. "How's that for payback?"

Two other soldiers charged her.

"Not so fast!" Sterling took them out with a bolt each.

"Thanks, kid!" Tropics nodded.

As the battle continued, a stallion observed the clash from the window of the main building. His gaze fell on Jetstream.

"Well, now." The stallion smiled. "A real blast from the past..."

With Sterling, Jetstream and Tropics at the helm, the attack force steadily pushed back the militia.

"We've got these clowns right where we want 'em!" Jetstream smirked, as he cleaved a soldier in two. "Now, let's-

Suddenly, one of the agents next to him was felled by a bolt. This was followed by a shower of bolts, which brought down agents.

"Whoa!" Sterling yelped, narrowly avoiding one, which embedded itself at head level in the tree behind him.

"Yikes!" Tropics barely sidestepped a bolt, which clipped one of her feathers.

“What the-” Jetstream gasped.

“Well, well, well… look what the jungle cats dragged in.”

“...No… not now…” Jetstream whispered.

"Jetstream?" Sterling frowned.

Another group of soldiers approached. They looked much similar to their brothers, with the exception that they wore what appeared to be armbands on their shoulders. They were a dark gray, with a blood red tornado etched into its fabrics.

However, one stallion stood chief among them: a Clydesdale Earth Pony stallion in a trench coat, the back bearing the same red tornado. His brown coat and white snout contrasted greatly with his grey eyes and lack of a mane. He looked upon Jetstream with an unsettling smirk.

"Jetstream." He said softly. "It's been a long time."

“Too long.” Jetstream nodded solemnly, lowering his blade.

“Hold on, you know this guy?” Sterling frowned.

“Of course he does.” The bald stallion smiled, “Me and Jetty here go way back. We were in the same gang, actually.”

“Same gang…” Sterling repeated… before realizing what he meant, “Wait, you don’t mean…”

“Oh, where are my manners?” The stallion glanced at Sterling and the other soldiers, “The name’s Sundowner. The leader of the movement sweeping over Brayzil today, and the world tomorrow… ‘Os ventos destrutivos’.”

“Os ven-what?” Sterling grimaced in confusion.

“Os ventos destrutivos…” Jetstream repeated darkly, “‘The Destructive Winds’.”

“Why so glum, chum?” Sundowner smirked, “Shouldn’t you be happy to see me?”

“Hold on, what’s going on here?” Tropics growled, “Sir, do you know this crazed lunatic?”

“Who are you calling crazy?” Sundowner chided playfully, “I’m just having a chat with an old friend of mine. Good ol’ Jetty. One of the best damn enforcers the gang ever knew.”

“Enforcer?” Tropics repeated, as she glanced at Jetstream incredulously, “You mean to tell me that he was one of you?”

"That was a long time ago." Jetstream scowled, "I have put the past behind me.”

“Hmph, obviously.” Sundowner scowled back, “Why else would you be here, helping out these assholes.”

“We’re the assholes?!” Tropics snarled, “You’re the ones who've been murdering our boys!!”

“Oh, as if you are innocent.” Sundowner sneered, “You and your troops have been rampaging throughout the jungles of Southern Brayzil for months, destroying villages and murdering ponies that didn’t deserve it!”

"Wait, what?" Sterling looked at Tropics, “You said that they tried-”

“Oh, don’t look at me like that.” Tropics glared at Sterling, “We gave those savages a chance to leave. But they spouted the same excuses: 'This is our home!' 'We will not abandon our heritage!'. So we dealt with them the old-fashioned way. Nothing was going to get in our way of getting the tome!”

“What, you mean this tome?” Sundowner pulled out what was unmistakably an old, dusty tome.

“What?!” Sterling gasped.

Jetstream’s glare hardened.

“What the-” Tropics sputtered “How did you- where the buck did you find that?!”

“Oh, didn’t you know?” Sundowner mocked playfully, “The next village over had this pretty little number in their nearby ruins. When they heard about your little ‘expedition’, they called out for help. And guess who answered.”

“Give us the tome, Sundowner!” Jetstream demanded.

“And why would I do that?” Sundowner challenged, as he slipped the tome under his trenchcoat, “So you could appease your precious Forefathers?”

Jetstream’s grip on his katana tightened.

“That’s right, we all know about the Forefathers.” Sundowner smirked, “They’re pretty famous in the criminal underworld. Famous for all the wrong reasons…”

“Give us the tome, Sundowner!” Jetstream snarled, “There’s no reason we can’t walk away from this without anypony else getting impaled on something.”

“Wow, those Forefathers really got you whipped.” Sundowner scowled, “The Jetstream I knew wouldn’t lower himself to be somepony’s errand boy! What happened to you, Jetty? You were your own free stallion, just like the rest of us! A true anarchist, and proud of it!”

“I grew up, Sundowner.” Jetstream said solemnly, “And say what you will of me, it doesn’t change the fact that I have a job to do. And I am only asking this of you, because we were friends at one time… stand down and give us the tome, and you’ll never hear from us again.”

Sundowner glanced at Jetstream, his sadistic sneer giving way to what Sterling swore was a genuine sad frown.

“..Just like a mindless drone...” Sundowner murmured, before his frown turned to a scowl, “You’re not the only one with a job to do, Jetty. Somepony has to put a stop to all this destruction, and who better than the ‘Destructive Winds’?”

“...I guess that’s all there is to it, then, huh?” Jetstream sighed.

“I guess so.” Sundowner nodded.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but that’s perfectly fine with me!” Tropics roared, as she stepped forth. “I’m going to put a bolt into that thick bald skull of yours!”

“Oh, you think you can threaten me?” Sundowner smirked, “Well, think again…”

Sundowner took off his trenchcoat, revealing himself to be wearing a mechanised armored suit.

"What the..." Jetstream gaped.

"Whoa..." Sterling whispered.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Sundowner smiled.

"Nice suit." Jetstream recovered. "Who's your tailor?"

"Sorry, but that's gonna have to be my little secret." Sundowner smirked. "Suffice to say, your Forefather pals aren't the only ones with fancy tech."

Jetstream only glared at Sundowner.

“You shouldn’t have come back, Jetstream.” Sundowner growled, “Because now, we will have to kill you along with the rest of these peons. That is the only way all these poor ponies will have justice!”

“If murdering and torturing ponies is your sense of justice, I think ponies should do without it.” Jetstream taunted.

“Laugh while you can!” Sundowner taunted. “I’m going to make you rue the day you left the Destructive Winds, and abandoned your comrades! For all of that, you will pay!”

"He won't do it alone." Sterling stepped forward. despite being shaken by what he had just heard, he was still willing to stand with his comrade.

"Kid, stay back." Jetstream urged. "This is my fight. You and the others handle the stooges. I'll take care of Sundowner."

"But-" Sterling started.

"I'm your superior agent and trainer, and I say NO!" Jetstream roared. "This is personal. No need for you to get involved. Understand?"

Sterling nodded solemnly.

"The kid's already involved." Sundowner smirked. "Because of you, Jetstream. And once I'm done with you, I'll move on to him. Show him just a big mistake choosing the wrong side is."

"You won't get the chance." Jetstream raised his blade. "Because I'm gonna cut you right out of that thing!"

"Give it your best shot." Sundowner sneered. "Fair warning, though. You’re not the only one who has been keeping up his training..."

With a whinny, Sundowner reared up, standing on his hindlegs.

“You shouldn’t had grown up, Jetty.” Sundowner grinned wickedly, “Kids are cruel… and I am in touch…” He reached behind and pulled out two dark-gray machetes, “...with my INNER CHILD!”

“Ugh, you always did have to go overboard.” Jetstream shook his head.

“Hey, go big or go home.” Sundowner crossed his blades, “Except only one of us will be going home today, and my money's on me."

"Don't be so sure." Jetstream adopted a battle stance.

"Attack!" Sundowner roared.

The soldiers charged, going after Sterling and the others. Thanks to their newfound weapons, Tropics and her fellows were able to put up a much better fight.

"Payback." Tropics grinned as shot one down. "Gotta love it..."

One of the soldiers tackled Sterling, carrying them both into one of their huts.

"Get... off!" Sterling slammed his hoof onto the soldier's head. "Okay, who's next?"

"That's be me, kiddo." Another soldier entered through the hole. "I'm gonna do to you what you did to the wall."

"Bring it, big ugly." Sterling charged at the soldier.

The soldier grabbed Sterling and flung him through the other wall.

"Ugh!" Sterling groaned.

"And that's just for starters." The soldier sneered as he followed Sterling outside. "You're gonna be sorry you ever came to this country."

"Too late for that." Sterling spat out some dirt. He drew his crossbow, and fired.

The soldier dodged the bolt.

"You miss-ugh!" The soldier was interrupted mid-sentence by Sterling punching him out.

"And your point is?" Sterling smirked.

Meanwhile, Jetstream readied his sword.

"You really think that over-sized butter knife can so much as scratch my armour?" Sundowner cackled.

Sundowner swung one of his blades at Jetstream. Jetstream parried the attack, knocked away a strike from the other blade, and slashed at Sundowner. Sundowner raised an armored hoof to defend himself, which quickly cut a gouge into the metal.

"What the?" Sundowner gaped at the wound.

"You're not the only one with fancy weapons." Jetstream smirked. "Now, for my favorite game: can opener!"

Jetstream swung his blade again. This time, Sundowner managed to catch the blade between his hooves.

“Sorry, Jetty, but it’s going to take more than that to bring this stallion down.” Sundowner chuckled, as he flung Jetstream back.

“You may be good with machetes, Sundowner.” Jetstream sneered, as he got back up. “But they will always pale in comparison to the blade of a samurai!”

“On their own, maybe… but what if I do this?!” Sundowner smirked.

Sundowner raised his armored right hoof, as a clamp popped out of his wrist. With a flick of his left hoof, he slammed the machete handle into it, effectively joining the two machetes to form a singular weapon, one resembling a giant pair of scissors.

"I call this little combo "the bloodletter." Sundowner grinned. "Allow me to introduce you.."

Sundowner swung the Bloodletter at Jetstream. Jetstream dodged the attack, but the tree behind him wasn't so lucky, getting sliced in half.

“Come on, let’s have some fun!” Sundowner roared.

The two stallions charged at each other, swinging their blades wildly. Each one was skilled enough to dodge several swings. The attacks that missed sliced up trees, tents, and anything else in the path of the blades. But still, Jetstream and Sundowner continued to battle, ignorant of the destruction around them.

"Good to see you haven't gotten rusty, Jetty." Sundowner smirked. "You're as sharp as ever."

"Oh, I'm just getting started." Jetstream smirked.

Meanwhile, Tropics nailed another stallion in the chest.

"How do you like being impaled?" She taunted him.

Sterling was grappling with another brute.

"I'm gonna flatten ya, kid!" The brute spat.

"Not today!" Sterling headbutted the brute. As his foe reeled back, he delivered a quick uppercut, knocking him out.

Across the camp, Jetstream found himself being thrown back, his hooves digging into the ground. His snout was bleeding, and he has bruises and scratches all over his body. He glared angrily at Sundowner, whose only wounds amounted to an equally bloody snout and a few more gouges in his metal armor.

“There’s no point denying it, Jetty.” Sundowner grinned madly, “I’m buckin’ invincible!”

“Dammit, Sundowner.” Jetstream got back up, holding his blade defensively, “It’s not too late… just walk away, and no more ponies have to get hurt!”

“Walk away? Just like you did?!” Sundowner snarled, “You left us! You left the ‘Os ventos destrutivos’! We were your brother-in-hooves! Your friends! We looked out for you, and how do you repay us? By becoming one of them! These wretched Forefathers!”

“You don't know what you're talking about." Jetstream retorted, “The Forefathers are going to make this world a better place!”

“Really? Look at what your buddies have done to this country!” Sundowner growled, “All this carnage, all these lives lost. And for what?” He pulled out the tome, and with anger, slammed it onto the ground, “A musty old book?!”

“Be careful with that!” Jetstream barked.

“My Faust, they really broke you, didn’t they?” Sundowner shook his head in disgust, as he kicked the tome aside, “You care more about a book that could they use to hurt a lot of ponies, more than what they already done to this country? To your home?!”

“Look, you don’t understand!” Jetstream growled.

“Oh, I understand clearly!” Sundowner sneered, “You just don’t care, do you? You are nothing more than their yes-man! Doing anything for your boss, even if it means turning your back on everything that you are.”

“Shut up…” Jetstream seethed.

“What’s the matter? Can’t face the truth?” Sundowner taunted, “Sure, we may be anarchists, and our methods were extreme to say the least. But the things you and the Forefathers have done… it’s just evil!”

“I said shut up!” Jetstream snarled.

“You know what you are, Jetstream?” Sundowner growled, “A traitor. You betrayed me. You betrayed the gang. You betrayed this country… and worse of all… you betrayed yourself… Papa Legs would be so ashamed of you!”

"You filthy-!" Jetstream roared.

Galvanized by rage, Jetstream fought like never before. Sundowner was on the defensive, using his weapon like a shield, barely deflecting each blow.

"Raaar!" Jetstream slashed across Sundowner's chest, cutting a deep gouge into the armor, and grazing his skin.

"Ahh!" Sundowner gasped. "Why you..."

Sundowner tried to kick at Jetstream, but the attack was blocked, and Jetstream rammed into him, shoving him up against a tree.

"Don't you ever mention my grandfather ever again." Jetstream snarled, holding his katana against Sundowner's neck so forcefully, a thin trickle of blood ran down it. "It's because of ponies ponies like you that he's gone. It's because of you and your little gang that I wasn't there for him when it happened!" Tears started to flow from his eyes. "If I had been there, I could have protected him. Then he wouldn't have died in some stupid gangland scuffle!"

“...Is that what you've been told?” Sundowner frowned. “That your ol’ grandpappy died in some random turf war?”

“That is exactly what happened!” Jetstream growled.

Sundowner glanced at Jetstream… then let out a small chuckle, which soon escalated to complete laughter.

“What’s so damn funny?!” Jetstream demanded, loosening the katana's grip.

“Oh, aren’t you so clueless?” Sundowner sneered, “Those Forefathers really have you fooled.”

“Stop playing games, or I swear to Faust!” Jetstream pushed the blade back against his throat.

“Jetty… think for a moment. Did you ever wonder where those thugs got those fancy crossbows?” Sundowner smirked.

“What does it matter?!” Jetstream glared, “Ponies sell them on the streets illegally all the time!”

“Well, if you'd stuck around long enough, you'd know that I did a little digging into that particular incident." Sundowner revealed. "Those crossbows that were used in the fight? It turns out they got this stuff from bunch of guys in cloaks. A clearance sale, they said.”

“Guys in cloaks…” Jetstream murmured, feeling his blood chilling.

“And do you want to know what was on the cases those crossbows came in? A black bird…” Sundowner continued.

“No…” Jetstream’s eyes was widening.

“With two Fs on the front.” Sundowner finished.

“...No...no…” Jetstream stepped back, the grip on his katana slackening, as he glared at Sundowner. “You’re lying!”

“Nope. It’s the truth!” Sundowner nodded, rubbing the cut on his neck. “You don’t believe me? Do the digging yourself. But I think you'll find the same answer I did. Your grandpa is dead… because of the Forefathers!”

"SHUT UUUUUP!!" Jetstream screamed. Overcome with rage, he swung his katata at Sundowner, aiming to finish him. "YAAAARRRGH!!"

Sundowner held up his weapon, catching the katana between the two blades.

“Gah?!” Jetstream gasped.

"Whoops!" He cackled, flinging the sword out of Jetstream's hooves and across the camp. "Now the real fun begins!"

"Wanna bet?" Jetstream spat, raising his hooves.

"That's a sucker bet." Sundowner smirked.

Jetstream threw several blows at Sundowner. Most were parried, and others avoided entirely. As Jetstream made to strike again, Sundowner leapt over Jetstream's body, and as he landed, swung his weapon, slashing both his thighs.

"Ahh!" He screamed, dropping to the ground.

As Sterling took out another soldier, he heard the scream. He turned to see Jetstream on the ground, Sundowner moving in for the kill.

"No!" Sterling yelled.

“I’m really sorry it had to come to his, Jetty.” Sundowner gave a sad smile, “But you made your choice… and now you will have to pay for it.”

Sundowner raised his combined weapon above Jetstream.

“What are you waiting for then?” Jetstream growled defiantly, his eyes struggling to keep in tears, “Just do it already!”

“As you wish!” Sundowner lowered the twin blades toward Jetstream's neck.

Suddenly, Jetstream’s sword thrust in between the twin blades, blocking the shears.

“What?!” Sundowner gasped.

Jetstream glanced up, and to his shock, saw Sterling was on the other side of the blade.

“Get away from my teacher, you motherbucker!” Sterling snarled.

"You're welcome to make me, kid." Sundowner scowled, pushing the blade back.

"Then come get some!" Sterling snarled.

Sterling went on the offensive, swinging the katana with precision and force. Sundowner was caught off guard; He backed away, desperately trying to block his attacks.

"No kid's gonna beat me!" He growled.

"Wanna bet?" Sterling smirked.

As Sundowner thrust the bloodletter forward, Sterling held the katana straight up, catching it inbetween the blades.

"Gotcha now, kid." Sundowner spat.

"Wrong." Sterling glared.

Twisting the katana sharply, Sterling succeeding in snapping off one of the bloodletter's blades.

"Impossible..." Sundowner stared in shock at his broken weapon.

With Sundowner’s guard down, Sterling thrust the katana forward, stabbing him in his abdomen.

“Grrrk!” Sundowner wheezed.

Just as swiftly as it came in, Sterling pulled out the katana, leaving the stallion staggering backwards. Sundowner felt his body grow weak, as he wobbled, clutching his wounds.

“...Son… of a… bbbbbb…”

On that last syllable, Sundowner collapsed to the ground.

The other soldiers of the militia were quick to notice their leader has fallen.

"Holy crap! Sundowner is down!" A soldier yelled.

“We gotta get outta here!” Another screamed.

The soldiers fled the scene. Two were bold enough to rush over to Sundowner and carry him away. Sterling took no notice of them, instead focusing on helping Jetstream up.

“Sterling…” Jetstream whispered, gritting his teeth as the cut on his thigh burned.

“Here…” Sterlng held out his katana. “I figure you would like this back. Sorry for borrowing without asking.”

“Heh, I’ll allow it this time.” Jetstream gave a small smirk, as he awkwardly sheathed the katana.

“Let’s head back to camp and get you patched up.” Sterling declared.

“Yeah, I think that would be… great.” Jetstream cringed, causing him pain with each step.

As they made their way out of the militia’s encampment, they saw Tropics picked up the tome which Sundowner dropped earlier.

“Finally…” Tropics smirked, with an unsettling glint in her eyes, “It took some time, effort, and lots of bodies… but now I have it. I see nothing but clear skies from here on oout!”

Jetstream could not help but overhear those words, as he then glanced at all the damage they cause to the encampment with their battle, and what all of it was for…

“...All this carnage, just for a book, so that we could create more carnage…” Jetstream murmured, “...Is all this destruction really worth this?”

“Did you say something?” Sterling asked.

“...No…” Jetstream sighed.

A short time later, back at the camp, Sterling was in a large tent, used to keep the provisions and essential supplies, taking a look at the tome. He was then joined by Jetstream, whose leg was bandaged up.

"Hey, kid." Jetstream smiled.

“Hey, Jetstream.” Sterling greeted, setting the tome down, “How’s that leg doing?”

“Well, it still hurts like hell, but thanks for asking.” Jetstream shrugged, before he took note of the book, “Whatcha doin’ with the tome?”

“Oh, this?” Sterling held up the book, “Well, considering all that ponies that got killed over this, I wanted to see what all the fuss about. And honestly, it’s a good read. I mean, look at all these spells: magic absorption, creating slave beasts out of rocks...”

“I would be careful, kid.” Jetstream warned, “Dark magic is not a topic to be taken lightly. A lot of ponies went nuts over this stuff.”

"You don't say." Sterling frowned.

"I do say." Jetstream nodded. "So watch your step with that thing."

"Okay, okay." Sterling sighed. "I'm guessing you didn't come here just to lecture me, right? So what's up?"

“Well, kid…” Jetstream rubbed the back of his head, “I just wanted to apologize for earlier.”

“Hey, if anypony should apologize, it’s me.” Sterling declared, “I know you told me not to interfere with you and Sundowner, but I couldn’t let him kill you.”

“I know, and you’re right.” Jetstream admitted, as he sat on Sterling’s bed, “But I was the one who foolishly tried to take on him alone. I let my own pride get the better of me, and I almost paid the price for it.”

“How did you ever end up hanging out with that guy?” Sterling frowned.

“Like I told you before, I was in a dark place when I met the Destructive Winds.” Jetstream sighed, “Sundowner was actually a great guy once you got to know him… but if you cross him or the gang…”

“...Do you think he’s dead?” Sterling asked.

“Considering you ran my sword through him, not likely.” Jetstream scoffed, “He’s probably long gone by now.”

“And thank Faust for that.”

Sterling and Jetstream glanced up to see Tropics come in, sporting a few bandages from their skirmish.

“What do you want, Tropics?” Jetstream frowned.

“Well, the others told me that Mr. Nosey here came and took the book for a little read.” Tropics glared at Sterling, “I would like it back, please.”

“Okay, take it.” Sterling grunted, “I was just looking, that’s all.”

“Next time, ask.” Tropics growled, “I worked hard to find this tome, and the last thing I need is to have some moron rip a page or something.”

“Hey, lay off, will ya?” Jetstream seethed, “It is thanks to me and Sterling that we got the tome and ward off the militia.”

“And I thank you both for that.” Tropics nodded, “You were a lot of help out there. Well, one of you was...” He glanced coldly at Jetstream.

“You got something to say to me, agent?” Jetstream glared. “If so, say it to my face.”

“Okay, you want to know what I have to say?” Tropics sneered. “I find it a bit troublesome that you neglected to mention that you were a part of that psycho’s gang.”

“Was a part of the gang.” Jetstream huffed, “And I didn’t mention it because it was none of your business.”

“Tell that to all the guys those Brayzillian dogs killed.” Tropics snarled.

“Well, maybe if you hadn’t burn down all those innocent villages to find the stupid book, maybe they wouldn’t had reacted so violently!” Jetstream got in her face.

“Oh, said the stallion who went and blew up Saddlevale!” Tropics roared, “Don’t you dare try to take the high road with me, you filthy hypocrite!”

"Well, somepony around here should!" Jetstream roared.

“Stop it!” Sterling yelled, getting between the two, as he glared at Tropics. “Look, you got your book. What does it matter if Jetstream was one of them? It’s in the past! So let’s just leave it there, okay?”

“Whatever.” Tropics huffed, as she made to leave, “I will be putting this up in lock-up, and come tomorrow, we’ll be on our way home.” She cast one last glare at Jetstream, “Good night… ‘sir’”

Sterling turned to Jetstream, the stallion visibly upset.

“Look, Tropics doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” Sterling frowned, “She had no right to accuse you like that.”

"I'm gonna go get some fresh air." Jetstream sighed. "Clear my head."

"Yeah, and I should get to sleep." Sterling admitted. "It's been a long day..."

Sterling made his way back to the building he had slept in the night before, and quickly dropped to sleep, exhausted by the day's events. He fully expected to sleep until late into the next morning.

But, mere hours later, Sterling was jolted awake, the smell of smoke in his nostrils.

“What the…” Sterling sat up, smelling the air, “Is something… burning?”

"The tent's on fire!" A stallion's voice yelled.

Shocked, Sterling hopped out of bed and ran outside of the building he was sleeping in, only to be greeted to the sight of the tent being engulfed in flames. The other agents were running about, trying to put out the fire with the water they brought and throwing dirt onto it.

“What the hell…” Sterling gasped, as he then saw Jetstream running by, shovel in hoof, “Jetstream, what’s going on?!”

“I don’t know!” Jetstream frowned, “Somepony must have knocked over a lamp or something, and now the place is up in flames!”

“Wait… isn’t that where the tome-” Sterling realized.

“NO!” Tropics screamed, having rushed out of the building she was sleeping in, “The book! It’s still in there!” She made to rush into the burning tent, “We have to get it!”

“What, are you crazy?!” Sterling grabbed her, “You get killed!”

“Let me go!” Tropics roared, “There’s still time! I could-”

“No, there isn’t!” Jetstream growled, “The whole place is engulfed in flame…” He shook his head, “The book is good as gone.”

"No, no, no..." Tropics broke into tears. "Everything we worked for, all the agents who gave their lives for this mission... all for nothing..."

Sterling and Jetstream looked on indiscomfort as Tropics continued to weep over the inferno.

'She's right.' Sterling thought sadly. 'This was all for nothing. My first failed mission. So much for returning as the conquering heroes...'

It was a very quiet ride back. After a few hours of throwing water and dirt, the fire had been put out. However, as Jetstream said, it was too late. Everything in the tent, the tome included, were reduced to ashes. Feeling no reason to stick around anymore, the entire group decided to head back home. They buried the bodies of those who died by the militia’s hooves, and packed up their supplies, making their way back to the field where the airship awaited them.

Sterling could feel the depression looming in the air, as all of Tropics’ comrades were down in the dumps, obviously downtrodden by the loss of the object they had sought for months. Tropics took it the hardest, having confined herself to her private quarters, with her cries being barely audible through the door.

The odd part was that Jetstream himself was acting solemn, having barely spoken to him or anypony on the ship the whole trip. Sterling only assumed Jetstream was just as torn up about the loss of the tome as well… but somehow… he felt there was something else to it… but he couldn’t figure out what.

Nor did he had time to, as it wasn’t long before the airship arrived back at Infinity, and the two reported to Loveless.

“Unbelievable...” Loveless groaned, “After all that hard work, we lose the tome to some random accident?

“Trust me, we’re still trying to make heads or tails of it.” Jetstream admitted.

“How are Tropics and the others taking it?” Loveless frowned.

“Not well.” Sterling grimaced, “They spent all those months trying to find the tome, and now they have nothing to show for it.”

“Well, the important thing is that all of you are here safe and sound.” Loveless nodded, “I’ll go break the bad news to the others. I hope they understand…”

As Loveless wheeled away, Jetstream turned to Sterling.

“I’m really sorry, kid.” He declared. “Even though we stopped Sundowner and his men, we still failed in securing the tome. Your winning mission streak is pretty much bust.”

"Eh, it would have been broken sooner or later." Sterling shrugged. "Besides, it’s not your fault. What are the odds that the tent would catch fire?"

"High enough that it happened." Jetstream sighed. "And on my watch, too."

"Don't think like that." Sterling declared. "Even the best can't plan for everything. So don't blame yourself for one little accident."

"...You're one of the good ones, kid." Jetstream smiled.

"So are you, teach." Sterling nodded.

After Sterling departed the workshop, Jetstream's smile dropped, replaced by a guilty frown.

As usual, Ward happily greeted Sterling upon his return.

"Easy, boy." Sterling chuckled. "We'll get to playing in a second. Just one thing to take care of first..."

Sterling removed the broken blade from his saddlebag, and placed on his bedside drawers.

"Rrr?" Ward tilted his head quizzically.

"Just a little reminder of times gone by, Ward." Sterling smiled. "And a good one, for a change..."

As Sterling played with Ward a couple of days later, there was a knock at the door.

"Yo, Sterling!" Ricochet's voice called out.

"What's up, Ricochet?" Sterling asked.

"Loveless wants to see you in his workshop in five." Ricochet declared.

"I'll be right there." Sterling nodded.

Sterling entered the workshop, finding that the lights were off.

"Hello?" He called out. "Loveless? You wanted to see me?"

The lights suddenly flickered on. Not only was Loveless in the room, but Jetstream, Ricochet, Clay, Granite, Baritone, and several other agents Sterling had gone on missions with. The room was decorated with streamers, and a table on one side was packed with refreshments, a large cake with a candle shaped like the number 1 in the center.

"SURPRISE!!" They yelled in unison.

"...Uh, what's this?" Sterling frowned.

"Have you forgotten what day this is?" Loveless smiled.

"Um... Tuesday?" Sterling shrugged.

"Today marks the anniversary of the day you were officially sworn into our ranks." Jetstream reminded Sterling. "The day you became one of us."

"...Oh, yeah!" Sterling facehoofed. "Can't believe I didn't remember!"

"In your defense, you were quite busy this year." Baritone admitted.

"Yeah, busy acing mission after mission!" Granite chuckled.

"Not bad for a rookie." Clay smiled.

"Thanks, guys." Sterling beamed. "I really appreciate you going to all this trouble for me."

"Don't go getting sappy on us now, kid." Jetstream chuckled. "Seriously though, it has been an honor and a privilege training and working with you."

"Now that is a sentiment I can echo." Loveless smiled. "Recruiting you was the best decision I ever made."

"Aw, guys..." Sterling grinned.

"Hey, what's with all the talking?" Ricochet asked. "Ain't this a party? So let's party!"

"Just try and stop me!" Sterling cheered.

"YEAH!!" Granite, Clay and Ricochet whooped.

With that, the festivities were underway. The attendants enjoyed the food, drink and cake, all the while happily reminiscing about great moments they had shared with Sterling.

"Remember when we took on all those mafia hoods?" Granite asked.

"Oh, yeah." Sterling nodded, slugging some more cider. "Good times..."

"Look at you." Ricochet grinned. "Knockin' the drinks back like a champ. I knew we'd make a party guy out of you sooner or later."

"It's not the partying I mind." Sterling admitted. "It's the mornings after."

"Preachin' to the choir, pal." Ricochet chuckled. "By the way, Father himself sends his regards."

"Seriously?" Sterling gaped. "Wow. Didn't know he cared..."

"You'd be surprised." Granite grinned. "He sent regards to my first anniversary too."

"And mine." Loveless added. "Never let it be said that he doesn't appreciate his agents."

"Maybe I should return the favor." Sterling declared. "Anypony know his birthday? I could send him a card."

"I'll get right on that." Loveless chuckled. "But for now, let's enjoy your day, my friend."

"I'll drink to that!" Ricochet chuckled.

The celebration went on, Sterling never straying far from Loveless. He felt the celebration was as much Loveless's as his own.

'Loveless was the one who brought me in, so he deserves to enjoy this night too' He thought.

Some time later, an agent sidled up to Loveless.

"I'm afraid you're needed outside, sir." He declared. "It's urgent..."

"Very well then." Loveless nodded. "Sorry, Sterling. Duty calls."

"No worries." Sterling smiled. "Things are winding down anyway..."

As Sterling predicted, the festivities calmed down, due to the refreshments fading, and tiredness setting in.

"I just gotta say, thanks for this, everypony." Sterling told his guests. "It means the world to me. I couldn't ask for better co-workers than you."

"Same here, Sterling." Ricochet said, swaying on his hooves.

"You're the best, Sterling!" Clay smiled.

"You rock!" Granite added.

"Here's to many more years!" Baritone announced. "And to Sterling."

The guests all raised their glasses one last time.

"To Sterling!" They cheered.

After that, the guests started to file out of the workshop. Sterling made his way back to his quarters. As he did, he looked back on all that he had accomplished that year: Surviving three months in the woods, completing his first mission, meeting and working with the Ouroboros, surviving an encounter with Black Knight himself, standing up to his mother, and him finally earning Jetstream’s respect.

“What a crazy year…” Sterling mused, “I wonder what the next year will bring…”

As he rounded a corner, he heard a familiar voice.

“I don’t want to hear it, Tropics!” Loveless’s voice growled.

“I’m telling you, Loveless, he’s responsible!” Tropics snarled.

“What the…” Sterling stepped back as he peeked around the corner.

There, he saw Loveless and Tropics in what seemed to be a fierce argument.

“How many times do we have to say it?” Loveless sighed, “That fire was an accident. It happens!”

“Accident, my ass!” Tropics growled, “After we put out the fire, I smelt kerosene! The same stuff we used to fill up our lamps! Jetstream had open access to it!”

“So did Sterling and the others!” Loveless rebutted, “What, are you going to blame them too?!”

“Jetstream has always been against us using dark magic!” Tropics seethed, “And this happened after we met his old buddies, the frickin’ militia, something he neglected to mention!”

“Rest assured, Father and the others are well aware of Jetstream’s previous connections to ‘Os ventos destrutivos’. That was why he was chosen for this mission. He knew how they worked and how to handle their leader.”

“Well, if you ask me, maybe seeing those sons of draft horses have brought up old memories!” Tropics sneered, “Maybe Jetstream decided that he wanted to be-”

“Fair warning, Tropics.” Loveless growled, “I will not have you slander a fellow Ouroboros because you are worked up over a book!”

“A book I spent months in a crap-chute of a jungle for, only to have that bucking merda destroy it!” Tropics roared.

“Well, if you have any proof of that, we will look into it.” Loveless scoffed.“Until then, you will cease all this talk of Jetstream sabotaging the mission, or you will be punished! Now if you excuse me, I would like to get some sleep!”

Loveless then began to wheel off, as Tropics yelled after him.

“I swear, Loveless, this is not over!” Tropics declared angrily, “Jetstream has gone rogue, and I will prove it! Mark my words!”

With that, Tropics stormed off in the opposite direction.

Sterling felt his body weaken, as he slipped to the floor, trying to comprehend what he was hearing. At first, the blame sounded ludicrous. This was Jetstream they were talking about. He would never do something like this.

But then… he remembered how Jetstream was against the use of dark magic. And how he ‘left’ to get some fresh air before he went to sleep. And how Jetstream began acting so strange and confrontational after his fight with Sundowner.

'No...' Sterling told himself. 'It doesn't make any sense. Jetstream would never do anything like that. He's a loyal Ouroboros. A great teacher. A dependable, supportive comrade. There's no way he'd ever intentionally sabotage a mission... is there?'

Comments

[danick]

As a Brazilian myself i can say you manage to get somethings right here its still a good place to live even with our problems

Also the phrase 'Foda a policia' is wrong, the right is 'Foda-se a policia'