Fairlight - The Fortress of the Four Winds

by Bluespectre

Chapter Seven - Death bringer

CHAPTER SEVEN

DEATH BRINGER

The rain was hammering down, turning the gutters into rivers and creating a low mist along the surface of the roadway. Manehattan was well noted for its rain and I’d never found out just why the weather ponies here allowed the seemingly incessant deluges. If I were cynical I’d say it was probably to wash away the evidence of the depravities of the scum and filth that lived below the iron grey skies… If I were cynical. I stood in the dark opening of an alleyway, partially hidden by the trunk of a wide tree opposite the Strawberry Cream nightclub on 22nd. The club itself had a short flight of steps leading from the pavement up to the main door which was protected from the elements by a large glass canopy with even larger glowing red letters above it proclaiming the name of the establishment. As if it needed any advertising in the first place. Strawberry Cream had been here for years, and was a simmering shithole of all the worst things that Manehattan could offer. On the surface it was a fun night out for youngsters who liked the sort of deafening tinnitus inducing noise that roughly passed as ‘music’ these days whilst getting themselves paralytic. Dig a little deeper and you found where Strawberry Cream really made its money – drugs, gambling, prostitution and only the goddesses knew what else. It was owned by one of the biggest scumbags the city sewers had thus far failed to carry away. I don’t how many times we’d been called out here, especially on a Friday and Saturday night. Fights, underage fillies, allegations of inappropriate touching – you name it. Of course, nopony who worked there had ‘ever seen anything’, and all our attempts at getting this dump shut down had fallen flat. The city authorities were reluctant to refuse their licence too, stating that they couldn’t shut a ‘legitimate’ business down on nothing more than hearsay. Personally I had to ask myself who the judges had been paid off by, but I think we all already knew the answer. Velvet Cream wasn’t beyond blackmail either, and there’d been a scandal some years earlier involving a local councillor who was a little too ‘outspoken’, shall we say, for his own good. Shortly after he’d put forward a bill to restrict licensing hours, photographs of him appeared in the papers donated by a ‘concerned citizen’ showing our illustrious councillor rolling around with some very young looking girls. His wife found him hanged in his loft the next day. Needless to say the proposed bill quietly vanished into the ether, and Strawberry Cream simply trotted along just the way it always had. I gave myself a shake to clear the water from my eyes, trying to make out details in the murky light. Two hulking door-stallions lurked beneath the canopy sheltering from the downpour. Before them a long line of ponies waited patiently to be allowed in despite the rain. One of them however had decided that standing outside in the driving rain wasn’t exactly the best start to his evening and was loudly arguing with the bouncers.

“What?! Let me in! I’ve been stood out her for bucking ages, and I’m pissing wet through!”

The first bouncer was surprisingly polite for the usual gorillas that worked here. Obviously he hadn’t received the memo. “You don’t have any ID, sir, so the answer is no. Now, please leave before you make a scene.”

Unfortunately the young fellow unhappy with standing in the rain with the rest of the soggy revellers, had other ideas. “Before I make a scene?” he neighed. “I’m obviously old enough you gormless twat, and you’re letting in underage fillies all the time! For bucks sake let me in!”

Oh, dear. I could see what was going to happen as clearly as if it were the plot of very bad movie. The young lad tried to dodge through a gap made by one of the mares, and the stage was set. Quick as a flash one of the bouncers lashed out with a forehoof, taking the younger one off his hooves and sending him tumbling down the stairs where he landed in a stunned and bloodied heap. The others queuing for their entry into shangri-la barely paid him any attention and simply continued to file in one at time, like good little sheep. I suppose what you don’t see can’t hurt you, right? Idiots. I’d seen it time and time again, the way ponies would pretend something wasn’t happening ring in front of their muzzles to avoid being drawn into anything ‘unpleasant’. No wonder crime was running rife in Manehattan these days – everypony had develop a remarkable capacity for becoming deaf and blind at just the right time. Meanwhile the ragged form on the pavement stood shakily to his hooves before stumbling drunkenly away into the night uttering a string of threats and expletives. He’d sleep it off.

As the evening drew on a steady stream of ponies went in and out of the nightclub. Mostly in, I noticed; the night was still young and it would be at least two or three in the morning by the time this lot were turfed out. Still no sign of the pony I was looking for though. Perhaps he was already inside? It was a distinct possibility. Some of the Velvet’s mob were known to reside here on the upper levels - the levels where the younger, more pliable and vulnerable members of society went for ‘special treatment’. It was special all right, sometimes they’d be found floating in the bay. Sexual abuse, drug abuse, extortion – it all happened here. Another of the ponies was let in and the queue moved one shuffle forward, keeping close together for mutual warmth. I didn’t recognise the goons covering the door tonight. There would be more inside no doubt, and that could very well be where my boy was hanging out. After all, who would want to be out on a night like this when you could stay inside with a cold drink and warm filly? In any case, I had all the time in the world. If tonight didn’t yield results there was always tomorrow. And the next day. And the next. Ah, yes, everything comes to he who waits. And I could be very patient indeed. I wiped my eyes again, wishing I had my old hat with me. I would have to rely on sight alone tonight. The music from inside was absolutely deafening; a deep, thumping, booming noise which must have all but deafened the ponies inside. When you considered the sensitivity of equine hearing, how anypony could listen to that level of volume was unimaginable. Oh, Fairlight, you’re getting old mate…

I shook the rain from my cloak and took a breath, letting it curl out from under my hood and vanish into the night. Something was coming, I could sense a change in the air. It wasn’t much, just a feeling more than anything, but if there was one thing I’d learned over the years it was to pay attention to that little voice in your head. And sure enough, as I watched a carriage came rumbling along the road. It was a big one too, much large than the normal two or four seater. It was a polished black affair, with garish gold filigree work and a team of four pulling the thing. Talk about ostentatious, this was either a hen night or some rich bucker who liked to show off. If it was the latter it’d be interesting to see which cankerous pustule emerged from its depths. A young mare, not much more than a filly, trotted up to the carriage door and opened it for the occupant, holding up an umbrella for them. Meanwhile one of the drivers rushed round to place a small step next to the carriage door. I waited with baited breath to see who it would be. The last time I’d seen anything like this had been a movie premier being hosted in at the Manehattan Palais Grande Cinema. Somehow I doubted we’d be seeing any of the big names at a dump like this, but stranger things had happened. As I watched, a long elegant white leg emerged from the unseen interior of the carriage, followed by the graceful lines of… my goddesses, was that… Celestia?! No… Damn this rain! I wiped my eyes again, holding my cloak’s hood up to try and help me focus. Standing beneath the umbrella, the mare bobbed her head pleasantly to the staring ponies in the queue who were all staring in amazement. To a pony they looked like their mother had just caught them stealing cookies from the kitchen. I couldn’t blame them either, but… hell fire, it couldn’t be! It was almost her double though… almost, but there were no wings beneath that white and gold dress. I focussed on the mare before me. She was truly an amazing creature, and goddess forgive me - that horn! Long, slim, elegant, and the perfect dimensions for the rest of her aquiline features. By the looks of lust and envy on the faces of the waiting patrons, they agreed with my sentiments exactly. There was a background nagging in my memory though, and one that broke through my haze of admiration like a knife. She was familiar… very familiar. My memory was running on overtime when the bit finally dropped. Dear sweet Luna, it was the mare from the warehouse! By the gods, she had some balls walking around the city after what she did. What was she doing here? I didn’t have long to wait to find out though, as the next passenger of the carriage emerged. He was a slightly taller than average male, wearing a deep red velvet overcoat with matching wide brimmed hat and, despite it being pitch black out, sunglasses. An exceptionally overt but vicious character who I knew from the files of the watch, it was Velvet Cream himself. Nightclub owner, gang lord and crime syndicate head, he was the one behind the drugs, gunrunning and kidnappings that had started to plague the nation. Well, I’ll say this for him though, he sure had good taste in mares, even if they were murdering criminal filth. Looks could certainly be deceiving; these two were both up to their necks in it, and to even think of all the horrific suffering, death, and pain these ponies had caused, laughing and smiling to their adoring patrons as they casually sauntered up the steps into the nightclub, made my blood howl. My muscles tensed. I was almost salivating at the thought of what I would do with him. As for the mare… well, we’d have to see.

The door closed on the carriage, and moments later was rattling away up the street into the darkness. Still no sign on the one I’d come for tonight, then. But no matter, I could wait; the menu had changed but what was on offer was just as good. The question though, was how to get in without the whole place going up? Fortunately the answer came in the form of a stallion staggering drunkenly out of the darkness. He was so far gone he didn’t care who was looking and, raising himself up on his hind legs, placed his forehooves on the wall of the alleyway, and unleashed a torrent that would have made the fire department jealous. Eventually though, the small river the fellow created ran dry, at which point he wandered back the way he came. Manehattan was a city full of dingy back alleys and the night club was no exception. Down along the side of the tall building where the secret urinator had emptied his bladder, was a narrow alley filled with steam pouring from various vents. Judging by the clatter of pans in the background the kitchen was in full swing, the high pitched sound a sharp staccato against the deep thumping of the club’s booming music. Laughter and loud conversations, no doubt a fruitless pursuit for those attempting such frivolities, echoed down the dark dank length of the alleyway. Yellow light spilled from steamed up windows into the darkness, but even so I kept clear of them. You never knew when- Damn! I quickly ducked behind a skip to avoid being seen by the beige pony emerging from the nightclub’s side door to throw a bucket load of scraps into a bin. A barrage of sound and light followed him. This could be tricky, the place was in full swing tonight. Still, considering the gang thought I was a dead stallion, it could work in my favour.

“Hey, Sam, you got Mel’s order yet?” a voice called from inside.

The beige pony adjusted his stained chef’s hat and spat on the ground, calling over his shoulder, “Nah, he’s busy wit’ dat filly, da fuckin’ prick.”

The voice from inside sounded amused, “Ha! He hears you say that and he’ll gut you with your own paring knife, buddy.”

Unfazed by his colleague’s taunts, the chef trotted back in and closed the door behind him. ‘Mel’? He was already here? A wave of anticipation rolled through me and I smiled to myself. My hunch had been right after all. It wouldn’t be long now… I’d waited more than long enough already. Closing my eyes I concentrated on the sounds flowing around me as carefully as I could, filtering the wendigo magic through my body, channelling the hunger, the need to find him - to find Melon Patch. The repetitive strains of the audible diarrhoea that passed as music was all pervasive, but hidden behind it was the faint background hum of voices, and beyond that… narrowing it down, slimming the magic to a thin gossamer thread…There! A scream, shouting, and what sounded like a hoof smacking heavily against a jaw. I looked up. It had come from the third floor. Since the ‘joining’ I’d developed more control of the spirit’s power, or rather my power as it now was. By restricting myself and channelling just a little, I could bend the magic to my will, rather than the full on energy burning which I had been using up until now. Something good had to have come out of that vile episode, as foul as it had been, and one of the architects of that self same misery inflicted upon me, my family and my loved ones was so near I could almost smell them. I owed them for what they had done. Tonight, it was time to begin paying my debts. My wings snapped open and with one hard push, I shot up like a cork from a bottle, straight up the side of the building, rolling and banking to land with the slightest of splashes on the flat roof of the club.

The building was fairly modern by Manehattan standards, and somepony had thoughtfully placed a number of skylights here which suited my purposes very well indeed. Keeping my face well hidden in the depths of my cloak’s hood I moved swiftly from skylight to skylight, observing the various scenes below. The multicoloured lighting flashed in time to the music, illuminating the club’s patrons who were no doubt having a wonderful and probably memorable evening. One ‘patron’ however, was having the sort of memorable evening that would haunt her dreams for the rest of her life. Below, a dark red stallion with a short matted green mane was pinning down a young mare on the bed. A mare, I noted, who was in reality not much more than a child. The stallion stood over her, hammering himself into her again and again, heedless of her cries and pleading. Spittle flew from the foul creature’s mouth, landing on the lemon coated filly’s face making her cough and retch. I remembered all too well the stink of that bastard, the way his cracked hooves had smashed down upon my ravaged body, the way he struck Meadow… the way he… For some reason, one I will probably never know, Melon Patch paused in his depraved act and looked up at the skylight. His blood red eyes narrowed and then went wide as saucers as they locked with mine, the young filly immediately discarded like so much chaff on the bed. In less than a heartbeat I was crashing down through the skylight and landed amidst a shower of glass, my knees absorbing the shock of impact as my cloak flared out around me. The stallion backed up towards the dressing table.

“What-? Who the buck are you?!” Melon Patch spluttered at me.

I released more of the spirit’s strength through my body, but not too much, I wanted him to see - to remember. I wanted to experience this moment to the fullest, savouring the taste of his fear. White mist poured from my muzzle, saliva dripping from between my teeth in anticipation whilst freezing fog billowed out from around my hind legs making the filly squeak in alarm and jump further back on the bed. Melon Patch likewise backed up from me until he collided with the dresser.

“Why, don’t you remember me, Mel?” I pulled back my hood, giving him a good view of my glowing blue eyes as I laughed wickedly. “We had some fun together, didn’t we? Ah, such good times. Good, good times.” I advanced on him humming the tune Meadow used to like so much, that repetitive, silly, innocent advert for stock cubes.

Mel glanced toward the bedroom door, breathing heavily. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but you’re bucking with the wrong guy, motherbucker!”

The crimson stallion desperately tried to pull out a pistol from the dresser drawer behind him, but he was just that little bit too slow. The problem with gorillas like Mel, was that he was so big and clumsy he telegraphed everything he was going to do before he did it. I suppose the only advantage he really had over ponies was his strength, brutality and size, picking on the weak and helpless. Old habits truly did die hard. He cried out as my hind legs bucked the draw shut on his foreleg. I felt, as well as heard, the accompanying hollow snap, and a wave of satisfaction passed through me making me smile wickedly - it wasn’t just wood breaking. Despite the pain, Mel snarled and swung a wild punch at me with his other hoof that I dodged effortlessly. My horn flared with magic and a bolt of ice shot out and right through his shoulder, pinning him to the wardrobe door. The male’s screams were like a warm shower on a cold winter’s day. I began to salivate. This was… simply delicious. Complacency however, can kill you no matter how much you think you have the upper hoof, and a trap even the most experienced of us can fall into. As dim as he was, Mel’s strength was truly something to behold. Bellowing, the stallion tore himself free and charged me, ignoring the broken bone in his foreleg. He didn’t get far. The hulking monster crashed to the floor in a heap, his rear legs frozen solid, curling white fog wreathing them and curling up around his nethers.

I tapped a hoof against my chin, “Hurts, does it Mel? Tut, tut… I thought you liked pain. After all, you’re so generous with it when it comes to others.”

He gasped, trying to crawl to the door. “You bastard! I… I don’t know even who you are! What do you want? What is this, some sort of twisted bucking revenge for something?”

I reached down and gave him a smile, “Bingo! Right on the money, Mel! You really are the clever pony, aren’t you!” Leaning back against the bed, I stroked the terrified filly’s mane. “Such a cute little thing isn’t she, Mel. Did she taste good? As good as the green mare with those big yellow eyes? Do try to remember, Mel. I wouldn’t want you to forget her… not now…”

I could see the strain of thoughts warring with pain and shock on the stallion’s face. The bastard had forgotten her, forgotten me too. It had been just another job, just another life to end at his masters behest. And then, suddenly, his expression changed. Realisation dawned on his face and his eyes widened in horror.

“It… It’s you!” he yelled. “It can’t be, we killed you! I saw Gates stab you right through the heart. We burned the cabin down! But… I know you’re him, but you don’t look anything like him!”

A deep rumble escaped my throat while I looked gently upon the filly who was squeezing her eyes shut with fright. “Right again, Mel! You’re good at this aren’t you?” I bared my teeth, mist dripped from between the lengthening fangs. “What was her name, Mel?”

“What…?”

I took a breath, trying to get through his thick skull. “What was the name of the green mare, the one you and your pal Gates raped?”

Mel’s red eyes stared at me. “I… I don’t know! I can’t remember! For bucks sake, let me go! I won’t say anything to anypony!”

Hatred rolled through me, my hooves trembling with barely restrained rage. “You can’t remember her name…” I moved over to one of the lanterns and blew it out, unscrewing the filler cap. Normally places like this had magically powered lamps, and it was nice to see something so traditional. Especially for what I had in mind. “Gets cold on a night here, Mel. You need to keep warm. It’s good for your health…” I poured the lamp oil over him from muzzle to tail, the thick paraffin soaking into his fur. Squirming, he tried to lash out at me with his hoof, but the biting cold was slowing him down.

“For Celestia’s sake, what do you want?!” he shrieked.

“Simple, Mel.” I leaned down, pouring the last of the oil on his face making him cough. “I want to know who ordered you to kill me, rape my wife, murder my foal and burn us along with the evidence. Come on now, you’ve done well so far, my friend. Third times the charm.”

He gagged and spat, slowly edging towards the door. “Okay! Bucking hell… okay! It was Velvet, the boss, he told us to do it to you. ‘A real special job’, he said. We were just doing what we were told. He’s the one who you should be going after, not me!”

I took another lantern from the wall and gave it shake. “Is that all, Mel? You wouldn’t lie to me now would you?”

“No!” he shrieked. “Oh goddesses, don’t do it!”

“Don’t do what Mel?” I lifted the shade on the lantern, letting the little flame dance before his eyes, his words from that terrible night branded into my memory. “I’ve got a little show planned for you, little piggy. You’re going to have your very own private cremation. Free of charge.”

“Buck you!” he screamed, and with a stumbling crash, managed to throw himself through the door which such force it splintered into fragments, his legs stumbling and faltering as he went. Full of adrenalin, nothing was going to stop this monster now. Well, almost nothing...

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes in concentration as I sent out the barest touch from my magic - the gentlest of caresses. A burst of yellow light from the hallway gave me pause, and I opened my eyes again, grinning to myself in satisfaction. Charging through the nightclub, the lumbering rapist was transformed into a screaming, burning mass of red fur and blistering flesh. As much as I would have loved to have stayed to witness his pell-mell charge through the masses of drunken revellers, I instead grabbed the terrified filly from the bed and blew out the window with a blast of magical energy. Holding her close, we dropped lightly down to the sodden alleyway below, my cloak billowing out like black smoke as I landed. Moments later, the back door to the club’s kitchen was flung open with a loud bang, quickly followed by a shouting, screaming stream of ponies charging out into the night. They barely noticed us, streaming past in a wild panicked stampede, desperate to avoid the burning mass of equine that following them out into the rain.

I pushed the filly behind the skip and passed her my cloak, taking out the folded scythe as I did so. Giving her a gentle pat on the head, I smiled down at her kindly. “Close your eyes sweetheart, I don’t want you to see this.”

One of the chef’s rushed out to throw a huge pan of water over the hulking form of Melon Patch, putting the flames out in a loud whoosh of steam. They shouldn’t have wasted the water. Now the once arrogant stallion stood with his back to me, gasping and whimpering like the filly had beneath him in the bedroom, like countless other victims of this sadistic vermin. Nopony would ever smile upon that ravaged face again. His clothes, fur and hide had been reduced to blackened rags, charred like the ruins of the cabin where he had left my family to burn, though I doubted he would have the intelligence to realise the irony of the situation. With a click and a hiss of air, the blade swung out and snapped into position, making the stallion raise his head. Slowly he turned to face me, his hind legs nothing more than shattered ruins, his foreleg hanging uselessly whilst whisps of steam rose slowly from his molten skin. How he had managed to run at all had been nothing short of a miracle, speaking volumes of the strength this wild animal had within him. All it had done was prolong the inevitable, and I wanted him to know it. There was no escape. No escape at all. I fixed him with a stare that could never have conveyed enough of the sheer contempt and hatred I felt for this filth. Melon Patch…. gang member, rapist… murderer… He tried to retreat but stumbled back onto his haunches, his nostrils flaring at the rush of pain. I advanced on him, mist dripping from my maw, salivating in anticipation. Behind me a silent mass of frightened ponies looked on, even as the ever rising flames licked at the windows from inside the club.

I hefted the scythe, my voice rumbling with barely restrained fury. “Look well piggy, look well. You’re gonna enjoy this…”

Mel’s scream was cut short by the separation of his head from the rest of his body. There was a dull, wet thud as it fell, and I quickly plucked it from the muddy ground, looking into the rapidly glazing eyes. “I’m going after your friend next,” I said, pitching the rotten creature’s head at the kitchen ponies. “Melon’s off the menu boys.”

One down.

Frightened beyond her wits, the young filly, the last of Mel’s victims, had already fled. At least she’d think twice about going out alone after tonight, but that was all for the better. The streets of this city were crawling with vermin like Melon Patch. Now at least, there was one less piece of scum to worry about. I lifted my head, looking up into the night sky. Letting out a pent up breath, I let the rain fall upon my muzzle.

It felt good.

********************

I’d decided to lay low for a while. Let them think that the attack on Mel was nothing more than retribution for one of his numerous sexual ‘liaisons’ - a jealous coltfriend, that sort of thing. It didn’t really matter, Velvet would continue his nefarious trade, his minions like the elusive Gates raping and murdering at their bosses whim. And behind it all was the one really pulling the strings - the puppet master… the Commissioner. She’d have her day of reckoning, and then… well, I’d have something very special in store for that one. First of all though, I had to do something about my rumbling stomach. Food was actually quite easy to come by, so long as you enjoyed dumpster-diving for leftovers. Goddesses knew what it was doing to my insides of course, but at least it kept me alive. I was desperately low on auntie’s preserves too, and rats didn’t quite have much in them to keep me going. Their tiny spirits were little more than a spoonful of what I required, but it was better than nothing. The night I killed Mel I could have taken his strength within me, though even the mere thought of absorbing that scumbags energy made me want to retch. I had done a good thing, I’d removed a little piece of corruption from the city that was still my home - as much as it ever had been. Buck Celestia and her damned banishment. Now I avoided the daylight. Wandering around in a cloak here in the city would bring more attention than I needed right now, and raiding shops for clothes would surely give me away to anypony looking for me. And they would be, of that I had no doubt. Celestia and the royal guard would have me high on their hit list, but I’d be damned if I’d make it easy for them. Still, at least the old gramophone I’d found went some way to making my subterranean existence tolerable. In some ways it was a link to my old life, one that had condemned me to wallow down here in the dank tunnels beneath the world of the living. Even so, playing music was a risk, but one I needed. The old time music hall numbers were so familiar to me now that I knew all the lyrics, every bar, every chord. I swung out with my scythe, cutting through the air, singing in concert with the scratchy music…

“…It must be time to say goodbye, to all the girls along the way. Our dreams may dim our lives grow old, but your kiss will stay and love will never lie…”

Sentimental. In my mind the lyrics felt like they were directed at me somehow, as though the story woven throughout the notes was a tiny reflection of all the joy and sadness that had constituted my life up to this very moment. I knew it wasn’t of course. It was all a dream… just a dream. Meadow, Shadow, Tingles, my little Sparrow… had they all been part of that dream? Perhaps in some way they were. They were all gone now anyway. Life, death, none of it made any damned difference to the horror of reality, no matter how much I wished it could be otherwise. I’d never be allowed into the eternal herd. Not now. Not because of my wendigo nature, but rather the deaths of numerous ponies I had etched indelibly upon my soul. Scum they may have been, but they were ponies nonetheless. And not even just ponies: thestrals, minotaurs, right down to that damned timberwolf in the Everfree. All of them, every single one, was a living, breathing creature. And I had slain them like they were nothing. Even if by some miracle, they allowed me in, I could never face Meadow again. How could I? Oh, how I’d been tricked! How they’d all made fools of me… you had to laugh! I allowed myself to indulge in the dance, swinging the scythe in a deadly ark.

“Shall we dance my darling?” I laughed, kissing the scythe shaft. “Why yes, I do believe I am a ‘cut above the rest’.” The scythe sliced through the air. “Oh darling! How droll!”

I whirled around and around, kicking up my hooves, sweeping through the dank air in time with the music. For a moment, just for a brief few minutes, I could forget everything. The music took me away on a tide of simple pleasure, that I never truly appreciated when… what? When I’d been a live? Before I became a wendigo? Ha! Maybe! But as with all good things, eventually the music came to a stop and I flopped into the chair. This was more like it, and just what a tired pony needs: a half eaten hayburger, stale fries - delicious! And the soda? Orange… still slightly carbonated too. It was like a gift from the goddesses - one of them anyway. If was from the white one it would probably be seasoned with a little strychnine. I have to say I was in a buoyant mood today. Today was the day I’d be meeting Gates, and after such a long time. He must have been missing me, his old playmate. I could certainly have done with a little more life energy, but what the hay…

“Need one of these?” the blue pony asked, tossing me a flask.

I caught it in my telekinesis and looked inside. “Nice!” I smiled. Since the ghost was being so generous I saw not harm in downing the stuff. It was the real deal too, the life energy coursing through me filling the emptiness and sating the wendigo part of my being far better than mere rats. “Hey, dead pony, come to have a laugh at me? Oh, Luna, I must be really bucking gone now, eh?” I sat back in my chair and stretched out, chuckling to myself.

“Never thought I’d see you reduced to this, Fairlight, but after what you’ve been through I suppose I should be more surprised you’re alive at all,” the apparition said gruffly.

“Pfff! Yeah, well, being dead’s a pain in the arse.” I waved a hoof at him. “I’ve tried it, mostly, but then you’d know all about that wouldn’t you. How is the afterlife then, Chief? Treating you well?”

The huge blue pony stepped toward me from the dim tunnel, silhouetted in the oily lamp light. “Don’t know, boy, you’re the one who looks like a ghost to me. I’m just a plain old pony who should have been put out to pasture years ago.”

Something in his voice, his mannerism, his... smell? My eyes went wide. “Ch… Chief? What…?”

“Hello, Fairlight. Been a long time.”

I reached out and touched him, feeling the rough blue fur, his eyes, ears, muzzle - it was all as I remembered. Quickly, I ran my hooves across his chest and… yes, there was a scar, a big one too, like a zip - a surgery scar.

“Mitre? How the hell-” I took a step back in amazement.

“-am I alive?” he finished, chuckling dryly. “Yeah, well, like you it looks like the herd wasn’t quite ready for me yet.”

“Oh goddesses! Chief!” I flung my forelegs around the gruff stallion and hugged him for all I was worth. My old friend and mentor… he still alive! For the first time in ages I felt tears sting my eyes and I moved away, brushing my face with a foreleg. “But, how, Chief?” I pulled him up a barrel, the best I could offer down here.

He took it warily, knocking some of the worst of the dirt away. “Could do with a few mod cons down here, boy, like chairs for example.” He harrumphed. “Never mind… So! Where to begin…” He rubbed a hoof along his stubbly chin and began. “Like you, I woke up in the agency facility. I don’t know how long I’d been there, they’d kept me in a medically induced coma so I must have been in a bit of a mess when they’d picked me up. I didn’t find out what had happened to you until some time later. As you know, the safe house was on fire when the agency turned up, but they managed pull you out of while there was something still there to save. Meadow was…” He closed his eyes and sighed. “She was already gone. I’m sorry, boy. I let you down, and her.”

I shook my head sadly. “There was nothing you could do, Chief. Those bastards had our number from the very start.”

“I know, but Fumbles of all ponies… Bastard had us all fooled.” He shook his head then slapped his hind leg. “Anyway, they took us both back to their facility, but not before magically altering two of the dead ponies we’d taken out and chucking them in the fire.” Mitre shrugged. “The rest you know – Watch turns up, all bodies accounted for, and as far as Equestria is concerned we’re dead and buried.”

“What about Shelly?”

The big stallion smiled wryly. “She’s good. Had a bit of fright though, and she let me have it alright when I rolled up out of the blue on the doorstep one day. After the funeral she retired from the watch and moved out into the country like we’d always planned. Believe me, I had to do a lot of convincing to get the agency to let me see her. They don’t like… ‘loose ends’, if you know what I mean.”

I leaned back and took a sip of the life energy from the flask. “I don’t know, Chief, this all sounds very convenient to me. For instance, how come the agency just happened to turn up when they did? I mean the watch were in communication with us and yet still managed to roll up after the dust had settled. The whole affair stinks like a week old hayburger.”

Mitre nodded towards the wrapper on my makeshift table. “I imagine you’d know, lad.” He waved a hoof, dismissing the comment. “But yes, you’re right, the agency knew what was going on.”

“What? You mean those bucking bastards, knew? And they let it happen?!” I was near incandescent with rage. “My wife’s dead, Mitre! And those scum sucking rats sat back on arses waiting until-”

Mitre raised a hoof, cutting me off. “They knew something was happening, Fairlight. Do you think they don’t monitor the watch’s communications? Of course they bloody well do! As for whether they knew about Fumbles and the attack on the safe house, I don’t think they did. I worked with Fumbles every day for Celestia’s sake. I knew his father, I was the lad’s godfather, and I would have trusted him with my life, Fairlight, my life!” He paused, taking a breath. “If I didn’t know he was going to betray us, then I doubt very much the agency would have known any better. No, the agency were waiting for something to happen and were simply better prepared. They took the opportunity to recruit two new agents and that was that. There’s enough conspiracies around without inventing more.”

I wasn’t convinced, but trying to drag any more information out of my old friend wasn’t going to achieve anything. “So, where’ve you been then? I think I would have noticed if you’d been wandering around the facility.”

Mitre raised an eyebrow, a wry smiled on his face. “Working for Luna. Equus business, lad. Nopony knew about me in the agency except a few: Luna, of course, and Brandy.”

“Warlock?”

The blue stallion shook his head. “No. I don’t think the princess ever really trusted him fully to begin with, even if they did have some… ‘personal’ involvement with each other. He’s become a real problem now, his hatred for you has poisoned his mind and he’s causing problems in the agency. He told Celestia everything about you and had a double agent planted to feed back information to him about your whereabouts as well as to monitor Equus’ actions. Luna thought the information was coming back to her. Little did she know that her sister already knew every damned move before we’d even made it.”

That made sense, I’d never trusted the thuggish unicorn either. “He attacked the convoy, the one taking me into exile.”

Mitre nodded. “I know. We found out too late to stop them attacking the guards, but we still got you out of there before we lost you for good.”

“Where is he now?” I asked.

“He’s still in the agency,” Mitre replied, “at the main hub. Celestia thinks the attack on the guards was conducted by ‘criminal elements’ working in league with you to ‘overthrow the legitimate government’.”

“Hell’s bells!” I nearly choked. “Has she lost the bucking plot completely?”

“She’s under a lot of strain at the moment,” Mitre explained. “What with the royal wedding coming up and all.”

I snorted loudly. “I don’t give a toss about bollocks like that, Chief, but to believe I’m a national threat? Great goddesses, no good deed goes unpunished eh?”

“True boy, true.”

“That doesn’t explain how he managed to grab a load of ponies to join him and attack me.” I slammed my hoof down angrily. “Tingles was with him, for bucks sake!”

Mitre sighed. “Truthfully? I don’t really know. Warlock is a very influential stallion in the agency, and who knows what he told them to follow him into that madness. An attack on the royal guard is a capital offence, and if he’s working for Celestia at the time?” He shook his head resignedly. “If she knew the truth she’d have him vanish in the blink of an eye, you can be certain of that. As for Tingles, she probably went along because she knew you’d be there. I can’t say for sure, you’d have to ask her yourself.”

I doubted I’d be doing that any time soon. “So, what brings you here to my humble abode?” I asked.

“This.” Mitre tossed a communicator to me. “Remember that?”

“Ah…”

“Yes, ‘ah’.” The blue stallions stared at me hard, leaving me in no doubt what his thoughts on the subject were. “We save your arse and you bugger off the first chance you get. Poor Bingo thought he’d let us all down and blamed himself. The old mare was beside herself too, hit him over the head with a frying pan when he came to collect you. Feisty old gal.”

“Old mare?”

He nodded.“Your Aunt?”

“Oh...” I closed my eyes. “Oh, shit...”

“Mmm… I wouldn’t go back there for a while if I were you. Not unless you have a good helmet with you at least.”

Mitre pulled out two cigars from his pack and hoofed one to me. Now this was what I was talking about! It was such a simple little thing, but one that was worth more to me than all the gold in Canterlot. With a flicker of magic from my horn a small flame appeared before the old watch chief which he used gratefully. Sitting there together it was just like old times, if you could overlook the disgusting surroundings. The cigar smoke taking the mouldy smell out of my nostrils was most welcome too. As much as they were bad for you, right now I didn’t give a damn.

“Good cigars and good company,” I sighed.

“I couldn’t agree more my young friend,” Mitre said quietly, taking a draw. “Anyway, aside from telling you off for your disappearing act, there’s another reason I’m here. I need you, Fairlight. I know you’ve been bucked about, and I won’t ask you again if you say no, but will you hear me out first?”

The cigar smoke swirled around my mouth and smiled happily. “Yeah… I’ll hear what you have to say, Chief.”

His reply came like a bolt out of the blue. “There’s an assassination plot to kill Celestia and Luna, and to take over the entire government.”

“What?! Gods almighty!” I nearly choked on the smoke. I wasn’t that bothered about the white crone, but Luna?

Mitre nodded. “We believe we know who’s behind it, but she’s well protected and just as well connected. Any attempt by us to move on her without watertight evidence backing us up would look like a coup by Princess Luna. Celestia’s already paranoid because of the wedding, and we don’t have that long to take care of it.”

I sat there dumbfounded. “Chief, I want to help you, but I have problems of my own,. Shadow is still trapped and-”

“-and your path of vengeance, Fairlight?” he cut in “I know all about that. How do you think I found you?”

“I don’t,” I replied simply.

“You’d think a decapitated bastard like Melon Patch wouldn’t cause that much of a stir, would you. Sooner or later his actions would have caught up with him, whether by you or an irate father doesn’t matter, what goes around comes around. But no, it was the little filly that gave you away.” He looked up at me, his mouth curling into a grin. “How many ‘grim reaper ponies’ with glowing blue eyes and swinging a scythe do you know? I mean, come on boy, a scythe? For bucks sake, Fairlight, how much more dramatic could you have been?”

I couldn’t help but smile myself. “Still doesn’t explain how you found me down here.”

“No,” Mitre admitted. “But then, when was the last time you washed your tail?”

“My tail…?”

I looked back at the filthy, matted mess that passed for my once proud black and white tail. I felt about with my hooves and found tucked in its little explored depths what looked like a small brass beetle… The lousy the sods had bugged me!

Mitre nodded at my expression of shock. “Sorry about that boy, but in case the agency grabbed you again, Equus needed to be able to find you.”

I sighed, leaning back and staring up at the dank ceiling. “Okay, Chief, you got me there. But that scum Gates is still out there. I need to get rid of him, and his boss, before I can do anything else. Princess or no princess.”

“Gates needs putting down, Fairlight, I agree.” Mitre tapped the ash from his cigar and leaned towards me. “But leave Velvet alone, we need him alive for now. Like it or not we need him to help us take down the commissioner. When the time comes, he’s yours.” I opened my mouth to protest, but Mitre held up a hoof to stall me. “There’s one other thing; I think you ought to know, that mare, Tingles? She was working for Celestia, but she didn’t willingly tell the royal guard or agency about your trip to fortress.”

“Bollocks!” I slammed my hoof down. “Sorry, Chief, but I can’t believe that. How else did they ‘magically’ appear after Tingles left? And what about her involvement with Warlock? He obviously knew about my being arrested, otherwise how else could he have planned to intercept the prison convoy? She was with him for goodness sake!”

“Two reasons,” Mitre said levelly. “Firstly, the trap you set off activated some archaic alarm at the palace. Nopony could work out what it was about until Celestia returned from her diplomatic mission abroad. Secondly, when she returned without you, Warlock got his hooves on her and made her tell him about what happened. He can be very… ‘persuasive’ that one. He threatened to reveal her condition to the princess which would have-”

“Condition?” I interrupted. “What condition?”

Mitre looked surprised. “Didn’t you know? Boy, Tingles is pregnant.”

Dear sweet Luna, was that my foal? Or was it the spirit’s? Maroc’s words rang through my head - I’d chased her away from me. I’d abandoned her. Oh goddesses, what was I going to do?

“She’s recovering in the hospital, boy, and if you have any foolish thoughts about barging in there I would strongly advise against it. I’m sure I don’t need to explain why, do I?” Mitre adjusted his hat. “Fairlight, if you’re going to chase after Gates, then do it soon. When you’re ready, if you want to, I’ll be waiting. You have the communicator.”

I nodded, dumbfounded… Tingles…

Mitre patted me on the shoulder and dumped his heavy saddle bags next to me. As he was leaving I heard him murmur, “Goddess bless you boy.” I felt a shiver run through me. So, this was how it was all going to pan out was it? I was going to play along with the agency, or more specifically with Equus, once again. Worse, it right under Celestia’s nose. Did Luna even know about this? She must do, but then her sister had revealed she knew all about Equus and would doubtless be watching her like a bloody hawk. Gods give me strength, this was making my head spin! There were moves going on here which I could never fathom in a million years, let alone do anything about. No, as always I was a mere pawn in a game played by invisible hooves. I let out a sigh and walked over to the saddle bags, listening to the fading sounds of my old friend walking away. In some respects what I did meant nothing anyway. In the great scheme of things I was just one guy - one guy railing against the injustice of the world that had stripped him of everything that had ever held any meaning. At least, I had believed that until Mitre found me. I’d think more on it later. First things first though, I had one last loose end to tie up – Gates. I heaved the bags onto my table, nearly jarring my back in the process. What did he have in here, bricks? Flipping open the flaps, rather than the aforementioned building materials, the saddle bags were packed with a wide assortment of gear that was a literal treasure trove of goodies. Much of it was- Oh, Mitre, you star! My dad’s pocket watch! And not just that - my coat, hat, short sword… it was all here, even the picture of Meadow and my family! One of the photographs from the frame was missing, but it was a small thing and not worth thinking about. Oh, Meadow! I… I closed my eyes, feeling tears stinging the corners. I wasn’t sure how to feel about looking at the smiling mare in the picture, not after what I’d done. I left it in the pack. I didn’t deserve her, and I’d pushed her away in any case… like I’d pushed away Tingles. A horrible thought flashed through my mind; was this all my fault? Had I been the real cause of all of this misery, blaming others instead of myself and taking my anger out on the ones who had shown me nothing but love? But, what I’d done to Tingles, the way Meadow had backed away from me in fear... I couldn’t get the soul wrenching images out of my mind, yet I’d never even spoken to either of them about it. I’d just... assumed.

Damn it all. Damn it all to bloody Hades!

I sat in the flickering lamp light worn down by my woes. What could I do? What the hell could a dead pony living in a bucking sewer do about anything? It wasn’t like I could get any lower, was it?! I opened my heart and my senses for the first time since I’d come here, letting the magic take me and bear my soul along in its bitter sweet caress as I surrendered to the icy cold of the wendigo. I thought of my daughter, Sparrow Song. How her little wings had buzzed! I wished I could hold her in my forelegs now and sing her a song to lull her to sleep. My dear, sweet, precious darling daughter. I took a deep breath and did my best to relax, opening my mind to the memories of my forebears, hoping it would provide some respite from the doubt and pain of my life. Down and down I swam, deep into the past, far past the barrier of the present into the uncharted waters of unknown recollection. Mum was there, her mother too. Grey pony after grey pony, stretching back, further and ever further, deep into the depths of time. They were all gone now, every one of them resting peacefully with the herd, until finally… Maroc. There he was, smiling at me next to another wendigo, a glistening white creature with a long flowing blue mane. It was Arathea, his wife. Beside them stood another wendigo, a muscular male I didn’t recognise.

“Hello Fairlight, you’ve come at long last I see. Are you well?” Maroc’s deep voice resounded with confidence, radiating the strong sense of self assurance I’d come to associate with my enigmatic ancestor.

I nodded to him respectfully. “I am, Maroc, thank you.” I looked around at the featureless expanse of white. “What is this place?”

“A memory,” he replied politely, “something we can tap into when we die to help our children through the trials in their lives.” He fixed me with his burning blue gaze. Here was a stallion who could command legions without batting an eyelid. I could easily imagine him leading ponies into battle without the benefit of memories.

A lilting feminine voice floated across to me – Arathea. “Maroc explained what happened in the chamber, my dear Fairlight. I am truly, truly sorry.” She looked across to her husband. “When we were alive the chamber was a place of happiness. It was a time for joyful bonding of those in love, to help bring that same love and life into the tribe with the strength of the Wither World spirit’s union. I do not know this marefriend of yours, but if she is strong, she will forgive you and love you all the more for the treasure she will bear.”

I gave her a little smile and she nodded. The third wendigo was a strong looking creature who gazed at me with timeless blue eyes. “Vela?” I asked quietly.

He grinned, showing me a lethal array of teeth. “Fairlight, I was never able to achieve the bonding in my life. Most of our people who survived fled to the wastelands of the frozen north. So many died at the hooves of the Celestians, but Herath saved me. At great risk to himself he hid us amongst our enemies, right under their very muzzles. Over time our family continued, but we were not the tribe we once were. We began to mingle more and more with the rest of Equestrian society as ponies came to accept us as simply that - ponies. And that is what we have remained, until now. You have rejoined the circle, making us whole once again. For that, I thank you, my descendant.”

“Vela,” I asked, “what of the rest of the tribe. Do you know if any still survive? As wendigo, I mean.”

He looked at me sadly. “I cannot say. Not many would have survived the journey north and there were very few to start with. Those who stayed with us drifted away over time to meld into the new world the Celestians had created. Without a way to bond with the spirits of the Wither World, they could not become any more than the ponies they are now. Perhaps, it is for the best. Our time has long since passed from this world.”

Maroc stepped forward. “Fairlight, you have a good heart and are a worthy successor to the wendigo tribe. Find your own path in life and stay true to who you are. We cannot tell you what you must do, it is not our way.”

I nodded gravely. “Thank you. All of you. I only hope I can be half the wendigo you were.”

Arathea smiled. “That, and more, my Fairlight. Go now, there is a little one who will need you soon.”

Little one? Did she mean Tingles, or... my foal? With a final bow, I released my grasp on the magic and the light of the waking world flooded my eyes. I was back in the sewer, and it was time to go to work. I strapped on my black suit, holstered the PDW, strapped on my sword and a selection of other items I’d found in the packs. Including, rather fortuitously, a bandoleer of flash bugs. Mitre must have raided the armoury for this little lot, there was even a set of hoof covers. Excellent, they would prove very useful for what I had planned.. My sword secured to my flank and the scythe over my back, I covered the whole ensemble with the old cloak, smiling to myself. It was going to be a good day.

**********************

Wind whipped and pulled at me, my wings beating a steady rhythm that helped to angle my body through the sporadic cloud cover. Carefully, I alight upon a particularly dense one overlooking the statue below. There were no visible lights on the island that I could see, with the exception of the magical fire flickering above the huge torch held in the statue’s outstretched hoof. My field glasses, another gift from Mitre, allowed me a good view of the island from my vantage point. J.J had said that Gates worked here, however the raid to rescue the kidnapped ponies may have inadvertently chased him away. Inwardly I cursed not having asked Melon Patch about him before I incinerated the sick bastard. But rats often returned their holes, and Gates was one of the biggest ones out there. Hopefully, not for much longer. The visitor centre, like the rest of the island, was in total darkness. There was no sign of any nearby river traffic either. Had I had come at the wrong time? He couldn’t be here all day everyday, even vermin needed to sleep from time to time. All that raping and murdering must take quite a toll on them. Taking a deep breath I let out a sigh to settle my nerves. I had managed to wait this long, and ‘all good things come to ponies who wait’, apparently. If you could believe that vacuous nonsense. Ruffling my wings, I settled in for a long night atop the cloud.

It was around 2:00am when I heard the faint chugging of a motor somewhere in the distance. I sat up immediately, keeping low and straining my eyes to see anything moving either on the water or above it. There was always the chance they may have brought pegasi with them to scout ahead, especially after last time. The enigmatic creatures had phenomenal eyesight, and there was no guarantee my cloudy perch would shield me completely from observant eyes. I avoided making any moves that could attract attention, remain still, watching… waiting. I couldn’t see any pegasi, but there was something coming this way alright – a shadow on the water, running without lights. It was too small to be a barge - a launch maybe? Small puffs of smoke drifted up into the sky from its steam engine, helping me to focus on it. Was it them? There was a possibility it was simply a private vessel of course, but at this time of the morning? And why no navigation lights? I took a chance and sidled forward for a better look. Leaning over my perch I watched the curious vessel drawing steadily nearer. There was no doubt about it now, it was heading for the island’s jetty. Fortunately a combination of my field glasses and wendigo eyes allowed for a relatively clear view of the occupants, if not necessarily their coat colour. Darkness played hell with identification as I knew all too well from the many ID parades I’d sat in on over the years. Regardless, I had to be absolutely sure before made my move. Focussing the binoculars I counted six of them. Two were earth types, but very tall for ponies which was strange. Foreigners, maybe? Another two were griffins by looks of them, and the last two were the one’s that were apparently hosting this little early morning river jaunt. One of the ponies piloted the launch whilst the other sat facing the passengers. I couldn’t hear anything from this distance, but there something about his mannerisms that jarred at my memory. He reached up, sweeping a hoof through his slick coal black mane as he talked. A few moments later, he did again. My heart jumped in my chest – the last time I’d seen Gates hed had that exact same habit. I hadn’t really thought about it until now, but… Dear gods, it was too much of a coincidence. It had to be him!

The small vessel pulled up alongside the jetty and the passengers disembarked, heading straight for the visitor centre lead by their rather animated host who was jumping about like a flea on a dog’s back. The other four filed up the winding path behind him, apparently more interested in their destination than listening to their ‘guide’s’ excited drivel. Watching them go I noticed the last pony on the craft had stayed behind to tie the vessel up to the mooring bollards. This was my chance. Finished with his tasks, the vessel’s pilot let out a long sigh into the cold night air and sat back, enjoying watching the lights of the city reflect upon the calm water’s surface. The wind was just starting to pick up now, though it was still pleasantly mild despite the hour. I think that was why he let his guard down and lit up a cigarette. He certainly should have been more vigilant, the remoteness of the location had doubtless given him a false sense of security. Perhaps nopony had told him about the last lot who’d used this island for their nefarious deeds? Whatever the reason, he never saw my blade until it was pressing against his throat. He choked on his cigarette, but stayed still as a statue.

“Make a sound,” I hissed. “Go on… I’ll slit your throat from ear to ear.”

The pony remained silent. I could hear his heart beating like a hammer in his chest.

I leaned forward, satisfied I had his full attention. “Now, where’s Gates, and what’s he doing here?”

He swallowed, “He… He’s in the visitor centre with the foreigners. He’s showing them the operation we’ve got here. They’re new c… customers.”

“What operation?”

The stallion hesitated. “I-”

I pulled the blade nearer, nicking his throat ever so slightly. He was panting heavily as he squeaked, “Drugs! Breeze and Ryetalin. Weapons too. They’re stored here ready for sale, then the barges take them down river and out to waiting ships. Please, that’s all I know!”

“Any guards here? Don’t lie to me friend…”

He closed his eyes. “Some, I’m not sure. Maybe four or five of them under the visitor centre. The entrance is inside the generator room.”

“Portal?”

“No.” He went to shake his head then thought better of it. “They’re made here on-site in the underground warehouse workshops.”

I patted him on the head, “Good boy! Now then… nighty-night.”

A quick spray of the old knock-out gas and he was out like a light. I tied him up and left him in the launch for the Equus clean-up crew to collect later. I Adjusted my gear, avoiding walking on the gravel path and instead walking on the grass. I’d also released my wendigo powers to take advantage of my dark colouration - wendigo were hardly inconspicuous creatures. A large white monster crunching along a noise gravel path in the dead of night would draw more attention than a tramp at a cocktail party. So much for this island being checked over though. The criminal organisation were still up to their old tricks, bouncing back in no time despite the raids both here and the human world. Since they were without a portal though, at least this time I didn’t have to worry about sex slaves being transported to only the gods knew where. What really worried me though was how come the agency and the watch hadn’t know about this place even after our raid? Despite the corruption in the watch, surely somepony would have done a thorough search of the island? The agency certainly should have. Did they only look at the statue? I wasn’t sure, but there was one thing for sure - this had the stink of commissioner all over it. Who else had the clout to leave a place untouched by the watch, or maybe even the agency? Who knew how far her insidious claws reached?

I trotted alongside the well worn path from the jetty up towards the main buildings. Every year untold thousands of visitors travelled here to see the island and its magnificent statue. Standing at over one hundred feet high it was supposed to be a symbol of freedom, which considering what had happened the last time I was here was likely the most sickeningly ironic thing I’d ever heard. I’d been here with Meadow once, and as strong willed a mare as she was, the height had terrified her. Half way up the stairs she’d frozen as stiff as the statue itself and I’d had to lead her back down for a very quiet, and embarrassed coffee and cake. Normally it was me who freaked out about heights, but there had been something about the inside of the statue that had scared her out of her wits. Exactly what, I’d never discovered. Claustrophobia perhaps? Or a premonition of what was going to happen here when the visitors went home? Whatever it was, we never came here again nor spoke of it even in jest. Yeah, they different days alright…

When I reached the visitor centre it was locked up solid and, as I’d confirmed earlier, not a single light to be seen. In fact the whole area was completely silent except for the background lapping of the waves and faint thrum of a magical generator. The deep resonation sound was more felt than heard, and was emanating from a small building adjacent to the main building. According to my compliant friend in the boat, this was the unexpected entrance to their operations here. Interesting – it looked like the kind of magical substation you found pretty much anywhere. Was that why it hadn’t been investigated? It made sense – would you investigate a post box? Of course not, such mundane day to day items were often overlooked, that was why they made the best hiding places. Approaching it cautiously, I kept to the shadows. There was no sense taking chances and potentially alerting anypony nearby when I was this close to my goal. Impatience was my enemy here as much as- My nose wrinkled suddenly as an acrid smell caught in my nose and I had to stop myself before I sneezed. Bloody hell fire, that stink! And one I remembered all too well. Breeze had a particular smell, at least during manufacture, and thanks to my misadventure in the human realm it was one I will never forget. My poor nose had taken days to recover following that little escapade. Not that living in a sewer had done it any favours.

The steel door to the generator room was apparently unlocked. A padlock and chain that would normally keep it secured sat wrapped around a piece of nearby fence railing. Some part of my wondered about locking them in here and calling the agency, but what would happen then? No… No, this had to be dealt with at source. The root of evil had to be cut out, and frankly, I had lost all faith in the ‘authorities’ to deal effectively with anything at all. If the commissioner could warp the watch I had loved so much, then who knew how far that corruption had spread? I took a deep breath, reaching out to pull the handle… and froze. From inside I heard the distinct sound of a cough from somepony clearing their throat. Damn it, they were right on the other side of the door. I‘d have to keep this nice and quiet. Thinking quickly, I backed away, hiding behind the shadow of a large rock. I looked about and levitated over a nice sized stone, took aim, and threw it at the door. Nothing, my angle must have been off slightly. Picking up another I tried again. This time I was right on the money, the metallic clang from the impact echoing like the toll of a bell.

“What the bucks that…?” an irritated sounding voice shouted from inside. Hooves on metal, the click of a latch, and the door began to open slowly.

A second, quieter voice from inside spoke this time. “It’s probably Polo messing about again. Give him a kick from me.”

“Ha! Sure…” the first one laughed.

The door was fully open now, pushed by a cerulean blue earth stallion, pistol in mouth. I threw a stone further down the path, and like an untrained puppy he followed the noise. Dropping onto his back, a quick twist was all it took. Beneath my hooves I felt his bones snap as his body went limp, exhaling his last breath. Quickly I searched his still warm corpse, fishing out a key, a few rounds of ammo and the fallen pistol. Mouth fired… blech!

The second pony appeared around the corner a lot quicker than I expected, “Hey, Rigg, you deal with Polo ye- Holy buck!”

The pegasus tried to pull out his pistol but was way too slow. My magic flared and the blast of blue-black energy took him full in the face before he could react. There wasn’t much left that was recognisable as a pony when his blackened remains hit the ground. Wasting no time I took out my PDW and quickly moved to the door, checking for any more ponies. Nothing. So far, so good. Inside the entrance was a small room that was little more than a short landing and a set of red painted metal steps which disappeared down into the bowels of the island. Well, there was no other direction to take, so down I went. Level after level, turn after turn. Gods almighty, I was starting to feel dizzy. I must have been way below sea level now surely. How far did this go? Were they using submarines or something? I’d actually seen one once. The emphasis on the word ‘once’. The poor bastard went down and never came back up. At least, not until the recovery divers managed to levitate the submarine out of the bay. By which time, the intrepid nautical adventurer had already found himself dripping wet at Aethel’s desk. I could see it now: ‘Cause of death? I’ll just put stupidity, shall I?’ There was a reason ponies had hooves and not bloody flippers. Or did they? Ha! Maybe somewhere out there in this madhouse of a world there really were. Poor sods.

My uneventful descent was finally brought to a halt by a set of heavy double doors. No guards this time, thank Luna. There were signs of life though, light spilled out from a gap at the bottom of the doors, but not much else – other than that ever present smell of Breeze. Pushing one of the doors open slightly, I listened carefully for anything that might indicate a nearby guard. There was no sound of any voices, only a… shuffling? Shit! Faster than I could blink a huge clawed paw swiped through the gap in the door, slashing my foreleg and sending a burning pain through me that was like molten metal. The painful gash wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but now the bloody thing on the other side of the door was trying to get at me and finish the job. It barged forward, growling menacingly as I tried to keep the metal barrier between me and a horrific death. The beast was a snarling face full of fangs and animal rage, desperate to get at the juicy stallion that had intruded upon its lair. Gods almighty, that was some guard dog! Thank Luna the thing was as thick as bricks though, and rather than trying to pull the door open to get at me, it simply kept ramming its head into the gap, trying to squeeze through. I didn’t have time to unleash all my wendigo magic, hang onto the door and fight back all at the same time. Instead, I had to improvise something of a more ‘direct’ nature. Concentrating my magic my PDW levitated into my line of sight, and I put a bolt of green energy right through the damned things open mouth. The blast blew the monstrous creature’s back end out and it flopped over, stone dead on the concrete floor. Dear Luna, what the hell was that thing? It looked like a giant winged cat with a barbed tail, and not the kind of grumpy old moggy that moped around Aunt Pewter’s cottage hunting the ever present mice either. This thing was… what… a manticore? I wasn’t sure, but if that scorpion-like tail was anything to go by it could well have been. It was probably another one of Equestria’s menagerie of ‘friendly magical creatures’; another skipped class that I probably should have taken. One day I’d have to get some night school lessons. I gave myself a good shake, now was not the time to get distracted. Whatever the bloody thing was, it was dead and I could only hope that the noise hadn’t alerted the others. Listening carefully however, all I could hear was the faint hum of the generators.

I managed to push the door open enough to let myself through, after first kicking the still warm corpse of the big cat thing out of the way. Buck me, I was glad I hadn’t been hit with that stinger thing. I’d have to be more careful from here on in. If there was one, there could be more, and the damned thing moved like fog on the water. The room the thing had been guarding was cavernous to say the least, and surprisingly well lit too, with magically powered lights stretching out in long rows across the concrete ceiling. How long had this been here? And we’d never known about it?! For a moment I stood there in shock, my jaw hanging open at the sheer scale of it all. Goddess almighty… it was wall to wall guns! Crate after crate, rack after endless rack of the death dealing things stacked from floor to ceiling, waiting for their new owners. I trotted down the aisles, wary of any movement. By the looks of it however, I was the only one in there. Where the hell was Gates and his party from the launch? The pilot of the small vessel had said there were more guards here too, but where? Up ahead was another door, beyond that another room. No manticores thank the gods, and no guns this time either. Instead it held long rows of smaller crates, each filled with tiny plastic wrapped packets of a white powder. Breeze. Just how many of the hapless creatures it had taken to produce this amount was unimaginable. Even if the substance had been cut with another to bulk it out, they must have needed thousands of them. Considering the relatively small population to begin with, this must have been akin to an extinction level event for them. I wasn’t exactly fond of the annoying little creatures, but ‘every living creatures deserves to live’, my mum used to say. I wonder what she’d say if she could see this now.

Sounds from the next room caught my attention. I ducked behind the crates, straining my hearing. I could hear several voices engaged in conversation, but one of them stood out from the rest. The swearing, the rough accent, the unmistakable sound of... him. That filth, Gates! My hatred for that scum was beyond anything you could imagine. A rapidly building fury began to rage inside me, screaming with a wrath that demanded release. I tried desperately but couldn’t… couldn’t control it… Fog began to form around my hind legs, the familiar feeling in my mouth as teeth sharpened, my eyesight taking on the slightly blue edged hue. My heart was beating like a war drum.

“Mister Gates, what is this… this mist? Is there a leak in here?” a heavily accented voice questioned, sounding slightly alarmed.

“Gentlecolts, griffins, please, everything is under control I assure you! This is just a minor malfunction in the cooling system, that’s all. You’re not in any danger whatsoever.” Gates didn’t sound convincing. He walked away from the other before hissing into a transmitter, “Nails, what the buck is going on down here? There’s a leak of some sort, get your raggedy arse in here and get it sorted before we lose the shipment!” He turned to his guests, his voice taking on a greasy, smarmy quality that made my skin crawl. “So, here are… you’ve seen the merchandise, you’ve seen the factory. Shall we discuss terms?”

The creatures began to chatter to one another in languages I’d never heard before. Whatever they were saying was meaningless anyway. He was here, the torturer, the rapist… murderer. I was alive with such white hot hatred my muscles felt like they were burning, my magic surging through me demanding release. It was time… I would wait no longer…

“What is that rumbling noise Mister Gates?” One of them asked. “Is there an animal in here?”

“It’s probably just one of our guard manticores, gentlecolts.” Gates tapped a box on his belt with a knowing smile. “All of them are fitted with control collars that we control with these. I’m sure you will appreciate that we have to maintain a high level of security here at all times, as well as discretion, of course.” He hissed into his transmitter once again. “Nails, where the hell are you?! I think one of those bloody manticores got out of its…” He froze, looking up slowly. “Oh my goddesses…”

I stepped out from behind the crates, flicking out the scythe, staring intently at the object of all my woes, all my suffering...

“Gates…” It was him alright. Any doubts I may have had were long gone.

The stinking piss yellow scum stared at me then took a step back, the colour draining from his face. “Oh shit… Oh shit! Somepony shoot it! Shoot that bucking thing!”

“I’m coming for you, Gates,” I said quietly, “I’M COMING FOR YOU!” I let out a howl that filled the cavernous room and charged him, ice and blue fire flaring out from my hooves, thick white mist billowing from my haunches and muzzle. It was time for the dance to begin…

The griffins were the first to react, drawing their curved swords and standing to meet my charge. Brave creature they may be, but misguided. Nothing could stop me now. My blade swung round and up, disembowelling the first of them. The creature dropped, coughing out blood. The second screeched as it thrust its blade at me which I deflected easily, a cloud of icy fog engulfing the creature which began to solidify almost instantly. With its dying breath the griffin made one last swing before its head separated from its neck, rolling across the floor to the hooves of the tall ponies - Saddle Arabians by the looks of them. They stood there, staring at me in abject horror. As one they turned to run for the door. They never made it, their bodies frozen forever in a permanent scream. Shouting began emanating from the room that lead to the stairwell. Poor Gates, he was trying to open the door but somepony had locked it. I wonder who…

He stopped dead, his ears twitching as I approached him. “Hello Gates,” I hissed. “Long time no see… Miss me while I’ve been gone?”

The stinking creature still had that terrible odour problem. My sensitive nose wrinkled up at the nasal assault.

“I don’t know who, or what the buck you are,” he spat at me, the gobbet of spittle freezing solid mid-flight and dropping to the floor, “but you made a fatal error coming here. Get him!”

Gates’ shout was immediately followed by an orchestra of metallic clicks as weapons were cocked and readied. At least I knew where the other guards were now, and best of all, they were all in one place. I flung myself aside as the expected hail of bullets flew from the room a heartbeat after Gates dove through it, narrowly avoiding being riddled himself. From what little I knew of this place, there was no escape from that room. It was one way in, and one way out.

I had an idea…

Bullets smashed through the door, sending lead, chipped concrete and wooden splinters flying past me in a cacophony of death. Magazines were changed, brass cases tinkled onto the concrete floor, then with a crash the tortured door finally succumbed to the onslaught and it fell from its hinges. It was what I’d been waiting for. Holding them in my telekinesis, I threw in two boxes of breeze.

“Hey! What the bucks he doing?” one of them shouted.

“Dunno,” another bellowed back. “Just keep firing, don’t let that damned thing in here!”

The flashbugs hidden inside the boxes went off seconds later, filling the room beyond with clouds of the foul drug. Coughing and shouting, the ponies inside began firing wildly, hitting each other and items of equipment around them. The sound of breaking glass and ricocheting bullets only ended when they finally ran out of ammunition. By that time those that were still alive were so high, it was almost cruel to have to put them down. I swept into the cloud of white like an avenging angel from the herd, my respirator keeping my body free from the poison that its makers were taking in by the lungful. I’d been introduced to breeze the hard way, and I sure as hell didn’t want to experience anything like that again. These wouldn’t. Steel flashed through the air, the scythe blade only stopping when it hit the floor as both sides of the first pony’s body fell neatly away. The second just sat there laughing until I decapitated him, kicking his lifeless corpse away from me effortlessly. One after the other they fell, as corn does to the reaper… until only one remained. Gibbering, laughing, and foaming at the mouth, the piss coloured earth pony had quite literally shit himself. The stink was so bad I smell even with the respirator. A swift buck to the face took the foul beast to the floor, knocking him cold. And then… silence fell, with only the pinking of cooling gun barrels and the endless background hum of generators to disturb the hellish scene. Blood, brass casings and gore stained the once pristine white concrete, glistening like demonic gems beneath the bright white lights. Here lay Gates, rolling in the still warm blood and guts of those whose lives had come to an end because of him. It was almost poetic. I stood over him at last - Gates, the vermin who had destroyed my world, my wife, my child, and finally my self. My heart was beating hard in my chest, its sound filling my ears like a bass drum. I had to get to work now, before he came round. There was so much to do, and so little time. Oh, so little time...

When I’d finished I took a moment to examine the breezy cages. As I’d feared, they were all empty. Every single one of them was gone, and up some pony’s nose too by the looks of Gates. He was covered in breeze, his yellow coat and greasy mane coated liberally with several thousand bits worth of dried and crushed endangered species. Did the goddesses have some strange sense of divine retribution after all? If so, they must have been having a riot with this one. I hoped they’d enjoy what was to happen next. I pulled up a chair and settled down to wait. Now that I was sat there next to him, I was able to see him up close. Occasionally I’d wondered how I would feel when I was able to catch up with the stallion. Would I still be filled with rage, or would time have mellowed my anger, my hatred for this sickening creature. The answer had been with me all along.

No.

All I could see in my mind’s eye was this monster dragging my beloved wife from the bedroom, and laughing as he beat her, raped her, then set fire to the so-called ‘safe house’. For what this bastard had done there could be no forgiveness. No forgiveness. And not just for my myself and my family either, but for all the others who had suffered at his hooves. Evil had to be expunged, immediately, and without delay. Still, a few minutes would help to make this moment all the sweeter, and I was in no hurry. Besides, by the looks of it that moment had come sooner than expected - Gates had begun to regain consciousness. His eyes blinked several times and he smacked his lips before gradually realising his predicament. Struggling against his bindings, he whipped his head from side to side until he caught sight of me watching him.

“What the- What the buck is this?!” he shrieked.

“‘The buck is this?’” I repeated quietly, leaning back in the chair I’d set up next to him. “Why, you remember don’t you, Gates? If I said the names, Watch Captain Fairlight and Nurse Meadow, would that ring any bells with you?”

“Who?” he smirked at me.

I clucked my tongue, taking a draw on the cigar lazily. “You disappoint me. Your friend Mel remembered… Quite sad what happened to him really, wasn’t it? Reminded me of that old song; you can sing along if you like.” I stood and held my forelegs in the air, “It’ll be a hot time in old Manehattan tonight….!” I laughed, white mist spilling from my muzzle.

“You did that?” Gates shouted, “You did that to Mel? What are you, some sort of demon, is that it?”

I sighed, “Maybe, Gates, maybe. But, oh! Silly me!” I released the power, my normal appearance returning. The grey coat, the blue eyes, damaged horn, scar… normal as I was ever going to be after what those two bastards had done to me. I stood up, flicking the ash from my cigar onto his face. “Remember me now?”

A light of recognition came on in his eyes. “Yeah… Yeah! I remember you! You’re that watch pony the boss ordered us to take care of. You and that bitch wife of yours! How the hell are you still alive?”

“That ‘bitch wife’ of mine?” My blood ran cold in my veins. “She had a name, filth. Her name was Meadow.” I stood over him and pressed my hooves to his chest. “Let me give you… a little ‘reminder’.” I pushed down slowly, firmly, harder and harder, putting all my strength, my anger and hate into that moment until, with a sickening crack, his ribs gave way.

Gates screamed, or rather, he tried to. One or more had of his ribs punctured a lung and he coughed foaming blood into the air.

“Sorry darling,” I hissed. “I don’t think I quite heard you. Could you try saying that again?”

“You… you bastard!” Gates coughed/ “You can’t… can’t do this! The boss will-”

“You mean Velvet Cream?” I puffed out a smoke ring. “I’m afraid, Gatesey old stick, ‘Mister’ Cream will be meeting a similar fate soon enough. If I were you, I’d focus on my own problems. They’re a little more ‘immediate’, wouldn’t you say?” I walked over to the control panel at the end of the breeze processing line. “But don’t worry, Gates, I’ll be making all your problems simply disappear – just like magic. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? No more worrying about who to rape, who to murder or torture. It must be a real headache having to carry out all the dirty work for your pal Velvet all the time. And so, I thought about this to give you some relief. To… ‘send you on your way’ so to speak. Observe…” I pressed the large green button on the control panel. With a click and a whine, the breeze grinder started up, the small sharp teeth on the rollers gradually picking up speed. It wasn’t meany for anything much larger than one of the diminutive breezies, but needs must when the devil drives as they say.

Gates began to struggle. “For bucks sake, what do you want?! Don’t do this!”

I held up the conveyor’s remote switch. “You know, Gates, I thought about killing you quickly. But then I thought… ‘no’. I mean, why deprive you of experiencing that which you so happily inflict on others? Ponies, Breezies, it doesn’t really matter to you who suffers, does it?”

“What are you doing?!” He shouted desperately. “Why can’t I feel my legs?!”

I pressed the conveyor’s start button, the machinery rumbling into life beneath him. “Well, that would be because they’re frozen, Gates,” I smiled. “That way you won’t miss a single second of what’s to come. Can’t have you missing out now, can we?” I lifted his head and gave him a good look of the rollers as they started chewing through his hooves, working up his hind legs and inexorably working their way towards his nethers. Gates cried out in horror, but I kept his head locked in my hooves. “Look well, piggy, look well. You’re gonna enjoy this. At least, I am anyways!” I started laughing. The sight was so horrific, so sickeningly macabre, and yet this was what I’d wanted - the end of the vermin who had taken the lives of my family. Here… here I would show him the same mercy he had shown them.

“Please! Oh Celestia, please… just kill me…kill me for the goddess’s sake!”

I watched as the grinders did their grisly work, watched how the bones splintered and shattered until his haunches and nethers were pulled in, steadily chewing and cracking their way up his body. I watched... everything. I would remember. I would always remember. Gates’ agonised screams were never ending. The terrible sound echoed around me, through me, a resonating song of suffering that even at its most intense would never come close to the pain he had caused me. Never. The brutal stallion who had brought unimaginable misery to so many innocents lay before me, helpless, howling and shrieking, until finally I drew my PDW and pressed it to the side of his head. I hesitated. What was I doing? He deserved no mercy. No mercy at all! He deserved nothing but an eternity of agony in the deepest pits of hell. But somewhere, somewhere deep inside me, there was that tiny voice, that solitary spark that lay within us all. It made us who we were. Even Gates.

I whispered softly into his ear. “I’m better than you,” and squeezed the trigger.

At some point during the gun battle, crates of explosives and ammunition had been broken open, spilling their content across the floor. I was damned lucky the whole place hadn’t gone up and taken me with it, but then, who would give the gods a good laugh then? The show had to go on after all. Gathering a good quantity of the ammunition and explosives in one place, I opened the generator room’s gas valves and trotted up the stairs from the scene of carnage below. Strangely the stairs seemed didn’t seem quite so long on the way out. The whole situation was so surreal, so unbelievably dream-like, I barely noticed I was outside until a cold wind off the bay ruffled my mane. I looked up at Luna’s moon and offered my thanks. Taking several deep cleansing breaths, I tried to remove the stench of death and the chemical reek of breeze from my nose, mouth and lungs. It was going to take ages to get my sense of smell back to normal after tonight, but it would be worth it. It had all been worth it. Flooding myself with the power once more, I flew up to the cloud layer and took out another of Mitre’s wonderful cigars. By the gods, what a night. Gates and Melon Patch were gone, now there was only the commissioner and Velvet to deal with. Eventually. The chief had said to leave them alone for now, and I would be true to my word. One day though, their end would come, and I would be there to look them in the eye as the reaper took them. I took a pull on the cigar and leaned back on the cloud, staring up at the stars high above. Truly, a fine cigar was one of life’s little pleasures, yet it was a pity I didn’t have any of Grimble’s delicious brandy to go with it. But this would do for now. I smiled to myself - I didn’t even feel hungry, I’d fed quite well down there tonight. All in all, a most satisfying evening all round. Finally finishing the cigar, I let it drop to the ground below, just by the open door to the visitor centre.

The flash, rumble, and subsequent explosion rent the still night air, sending debris flying for miles around. Fortunately, only smaller pieces hit the statue, the larger ones landing harmlessly out in the bay. I was lucky that I was quite adept at shield construction now or else I could have taken a nasty hit by the flying pieces too, and that would have really spoiled the mood. Mind you, who doesn’t enjoy a good fireworks display? Sadly all good things come to an end, and the saga of Mel and Gates was finally over. I would probably see them again in hell some time, but at least I had the satisfaction of sending them there first. After all, as the old saying says, ‘May as well hang for a bag of gold as for an apple’. I’d crossed that line long, long ago. There was no going back now. I had a good stretch and then set off back to my home from home - the dank sewer. It almost seemed inviting now. Soaring out over the bay, I revelled in the feeling of the cool air on my hide. I’d get back, get some water heated and have a wash. My skin tingled with anticipation of getting clean, even if it was only for a short time.

Something began buzzing in my pocket. It was Mitre’s encrypted transmitter. “Mister Fairlight? It’s Bingo. Get over to the roof of the Manehattan General Hospital as quick as you can. It’s that orange mare… I think she’s dying.”

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[Lord Legion]

Well things are slowly starting to fall into place for Fairlight. He needs but only to hide his time. That last bit should be interesting to find out about.