Interlude (Spi, Sha, Mal)
Interlude
Sitting half hidden behind a pair of stacked barels in the warehousing district, Spike gave yet another quick scan of his surroundings before returning to the latest edition of Power Ponies.
If he had known that stake out were so boring, he'd have brought more reading material, a mistake he would only make once. He'd read the comic six times now, and his shift was another hour from ending. A unicorn stallion by the name of Vigilant Sentinel would give him the pass word and allow Spike off home to get some well deserved sleep. That's the thing you never hear about with police or protection work, the long, boring periods where absolutely nothing happens and the guard or officer suffers an almost tear educing boredom.
Alas, this was all he could do to help protect the town of Ponyville from the slowly creeping grip of the Black Talon.
With the black market protectors now gone, it fell onto the small task force of ponies -and single dragon- who were willing to work outside the law for the greater good.
This frustrated Spike to no end, mainly because this should have been the problem of Ponyville's entire police force! Yet, due to Ponyville's small population, the funds and interest for protection of this sort just wasn't viable. According to Inquiry, the chief of police wouldn't give his concerns the time of day, saying that Ponyville was a peaceful and quite little village and that, despite the evidence, didn't warrant the extra security.
Which made no sense to Spike. Inquiry had told him about the bodies found in Warehouse 7 that were burned and mutilated by the black market forces. To him, that alone would call for a more methodical approach to crime, but the chief thought differently. Citing the lack of criminal statics in the town, which, thanks to the combined efforts of Inquiry to turn the other cheek on reports and arrests and the underworld leaders to keep their work secret and untraceable, was stunningly low.
Spike never thought statistics would work against him, but such is the way, especially considering the mutilated bodies was never followed up by the press and all but swept under the rug. He'd thought about approaching the mayor about the issue, but with all the drama going on with city council, Mayor Mare was a disheveled mess all her own, fretting over if her position was under threat as well.
And so, here he was. A drake on the look out for potential red market criminals bringing in foals for sex sales. At least he wasn't alone, supposedly there was another troop standing guard at the pathway to the Everfree to watch for incoming sex traffickers and Black Talon thugs. Spike hoped that their night was just as boring as his.
Like Inquiry said: No news is good news, and the only news to get was news of violence and pain.
Putting down the comic book, Spike took a drink coffee and checked the time. With a sigh, the drake stood up, stretched out and prepped himself for another patrol walk. If nothing else, walking about did help to stave off the boredom.
Screams of horror and fright echoed through the flickering, hellish landschame around him. Star Shade sat atop one of the few tents he hadn't lit on fire yet, basking in the carnage and destruction of the circus as it burned around him.
For days he'd been subject to their horror, hours upon hours he'd been strapped to the chair, forced to endure clowns, pies to the face, three ring acts flirting the line between boring and deranged... It didn't do much for his volatile sense of newly found sanity... but watching the terror and fear below sure did.
"Burn." He whispered, eye twitching sparatically as he saw a clown fail to escape after returning for his precious red nose, "burn mother plucker."
He felt the urge to laugh overtake him, but the bat pony maintained his reserve. He knew that's what he was supposed to do, that he was compelled to chuckle for a reason.
Shade wouldn't do it though, he'd maintain this small window of sanity for as long as he could. He had to, he felt the compulsion tugging against it, but he could also feel a slight ease and acceptance. Rationality and reason could go buck itself, consequences for his lack of adherence would come anyways.
Steeling himself with a calming breath, Shade spread his wings and took to the west, leaving the small, demented fair to suffer and gleam in the night.
He couldn't stop the small smile that slowly crept onto his face, a mix of both pride and anticipation. The night stallion had resisted and perserviered the torture meant to break him, and now he was on his way to inform a pair of griffons where their charge was going to be in a few weeks time.
It was a patience game, but Shade's will and newly found appreciation for longer term gains and planning was resolute. Knowing that, in the end, it would all be worth it.
And before everything was said and done... that bucking Triple M. bitch who beat him down would choke on her own teeth for what she did.
Frowning in thought, Malich blankly looked at the closed elevator doors before him as the lift slowly descended the lowest bowls of the medical research facility.
His mind was heavy and conflicted. So much was going on now that it almost put the vice executives brain on overload. Conno's team had returned from Equestria, but the team lead himself was no where to be found. When questioned, the agents just said he'd stayed behind to take care of a few things.
Malich didn't care for that kind of insubordination, though, it wasn't like Conno to disobey direct orders, he must have had a reason to stay behind, but for what? During the debrief, it was revealed that he didn't take well to his station being relieved, but company policy dictates that six months is the longest any agent could be out in the field, eight being the law. Of course he could wiggle the numbers around if need be, not like it was even an issue, but it was more on the psychological effect. Being too close to a case was never a good thing, emotional investment and involvement became almost inevitable if exposure lasted too long. Malich wouldn't let most handle a case for over a month due to this fear, but due to Conno's track record as a field commander, he trusted the griffon to handle himself on a professional level beyond most others...
Apparently that trust was misplaced.
Not that he had time to dwell on that, what with the fact over three fourths of the international agents of Triple M. were suddenly being pulled off of their respective assignments to begin searching for the Dark One who threatened to bring death and destruction across the globe.
That, and his father now knew about Project Mortality and partially about Project New Wave... He'd thought well enough on his hooves how to explain away both of these issues, but Malich knew it was only a matter of time before Gemini called him to task on both of these issues and their benefit to the company, though, he could at least take solace in the fact such a call wouldn't come until after Tirek was found and returned to Tartarus... or killed.
Centaurs were funny creatures... many believed the half breeds were unkillable, immortals as it were, but a small sliver of knowledge contradicted this. One... one centaur was killed before, during the Running of the Centaur that happened to begin and end the Reformative Strife all of those years ago. The skeleton was hidden by a group of diamond dogs, the remains kept secret from the public for reasons unknown, but served as evidence to counter the notion that the high born were as strong as they affronted themselves to be. Had Malich not seen the bones for himself during an interrupted mining expedition, he would not have believed it.
Yet, who the body belonged to, allegedly, was what had shaken the volatile country to the core. According to the documents found buried with the centaur, the bones belonged to none other than the sitting chair of the Federation: Arbiter Sparhawk.
How? How was that possible? Unless it was a lie, of course, but why would they lie about the identity of the body? Or that they'd killed a Centaur only to hide the evidence? And if it was true, if Sparhawk was killed in the small battles that took place before the country was officially reformed, than how was he alive now?
Speculation, of course, likely it was probably a case of mistaken identity, the important thing was that a single centaur had been killed. They were not immortal beings like many thought, trouble was nobody knew how the dogs had killed the high born. The bones were in pristine condition, despite the passing of time, giving way to know that blunt force trauma wasn't...
Shaking his head, Malich pushed the thoughts from his mind, looking on the bright side.
It wasn't all bad... Project New Wave had made some excellent progress. Thanks to Imperatrix's cooperation, they'd finally found the wave length in which the queen had controlled her brood. According to the documents, from what the ashen earth pony could discern, the supersonic sounds, while similar, was little more than a side effect. A kind of... opening channel opening, if you will.
The real communication came through a psychic link through the queen's horn, acting as an output and input antenna. Which explained why every single changling drone had one along with wings. Both for receiving orders, sending feedback and casting magic. Taping into this psychic feed was going to be difficult, even with the queen's cooperation, but Malich was hopeful.
Some more good news was that a heafty supply of Zeboricans had arrived to help feed the Changelings fear needs as well as a method to regularly cut off communication between the queen and the drones... Unfortunately, neither one appreciated this. The drones, when cut off from Imperatrix, would go crazy in thier cell, slamming themselves against walls and acting as enraged and farrel beasts!
One had even slammed itself so hard against the wall that it had destroyed its own exoskeleton skull. This knowledge disturbed Malich a great deal, if the psychic link to the drones was ever lost or cut off, who knew what kind of havoc they'd unleash? Not to mention how uncomfortable Imperatrix became. She was almost born down to tears when her "babies" were torn away from her.
Sighing, the stallion bit his lip. He was getting emotionally attached to her, there was no point in lying to himself about it. Part of him told the pony to drop all interaction with the queen and set up a process to filter out the more weak minded scientists to prevent the same. Though, if he did leave, there was no one to assure Imperatrix's cooperation in the matter. She would only talk to the scientists when he was present to encourage her, the poor thing was a terrified and isolated wreck without him.
'Or so she'd have you believe.'
Or so she'd have him believe.
Another bit of good news was that a perfect spot was found for farming, an abandoned diamond dog mine none too far from the research facility. It would take some time to get the cavern ready, see to the structural integrity, see to the power and what not, but it was a fitting start to the final stages of the stallion's plan for the Better World.
The doors opened and Malich gasped at who he saw.
"Mr. Islander." Elsa said, her blackened face holding absolutely no emotion to it. "A word if you would."
How did she know he was coming?
Seeing no reason to deny, the stallion nodded and began walking with her, checking around the steril white halls to make sure nobody would eaves drop on the conversation. He knew this was coming.
"I've done everything you've asked of me." Elsa declared neutrally, a wry eye cast sidelong to the stallion. "I've discected the changelings, figured out their biology and discerned the glands of the brain that controls the psionic link between the two, and I want what you promised me."
Of course... Fuck.
Malich cleared his throat and opened with the typical shpeal that one would expect of him. "Of course, you have preformed admirably Elsa, and your efforts are appreciated-"
With unbelievable, almost imperceptible speed, Malich found a pair of razor sharp scalpels levitating mere inches from his throat, both held in a black magical aura and aimed directly at his major arteries, injuries that would bleed him out in a matter of a minute with Elsa's skills.
"I've been around here long enough to know the 'but' is coming, Mr. Islander. And for your sake-" She pushed the scalpels a closer, allowing the blades to make contact with the tender flesh of his neck, "- I hope you don't intend to give me the run around."
Malich gulped but kept his stone face. Elsa was an unstable psychopath, an excellent discretionary artist, but a psychopath. It was actually a wonder he'd had her for as long as he had with only a limited number of complaints, of course she mainly kept to herself from what he'd gathered, and it wasn't hard to see why the other staff didn't interact with her much.
"But." The stallion continued. "Getting you your queen will take time."
"Not that much time." Elsa countered. "I know you have a means to sever the connection from primary queen, and the hypothisis is that if a queen is undetectable to a parasite, than the parasite itself will become a queen rather than a drone. If an infected pony is severed and doesn't register the primary, it can hypothetically be used to grow a new queen. I also know that the facility has recently gotten an import of Zeboricans, many likely infected, so here's what's going to happen: You are going to construct a room in which one of the parasites cannot detect the primary and you're going to grow me a secondary queen."
Malich was surprised, and his face must have showed it, because Elsa was now smirking.
"Do this, and you get to keep the 6.8 litters of blood in your body and spare a janitor a messy cleaning job. Are we clear?" She asked, punctuating her sentence with sligh press of her scalple into his flesh. It must have been the broad side of the object, as Malich felt it's push on his throat, rather than it slicing cleanly into him.
The stallion, his pride and honor now threatened, contemplated having the mare killed for her threat, but he knew what she was capable of. She would fall if he gave the word, but how many subordinates would he lose? Even with the dragon scales to counter her magic, Elsa's precision with weapons of medicine could easily kill a dozen of his subordinates before she was finally subdued.
Besides, a secondary queen could proove useful to him somehow... Along with insightful.
"Alright," the stallion said with a smirk. "Since you seem so knowledgeable about the matter, I'll give you authority on the project."
Elsa's smile faded and a rare look of shock took her face. "Authority?"
Malich nodded, happy to feel the sting of metal absent his neck now. He couldn't garentee that a changeling queen would be created from her experiment, but it was an interesting proposition. Of course, since she'd be using his facility for her endevors, she'd be expected to report any and all findings to him, keeping all else confidential for the time being.
The blackened unicorn agreed, but raised her scalples once more in threat. "If you betray me on this, Malich, you will not live to regret it."
The stallion's smirk redoubled itself. This bitch was testing his patience, but her abilities were well worth a little threat. "Of course."
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... *rereads last chapter*
Was Conno... Sin's old partner?
I'm not sure if I'd like Triple M's escapades... A corporation who intentionally hires and crafts merciless killers? I'm not sure who I'd root for...
(Not that that's impossible to finagle.)
7149702 you catch on to quick. And idk, I feel better when quitting foe triple m, the whole changling thing just flows, I guess.
7162927 you have been missed
So Spike has taken it upon himself to stake out the underground criminals. This should be fun.
So we got some recognized vigilantes. Sweet.
Logistical bureaucracy, yay.
Probably.
I guess that's true in the line of police work.
It appears that Shade is escaping.
Why do I feel like this song just came about?
Griffins? What business does he have with them?
Considering that she violated the NAP, she does deserve a beat down.
7164371 if it's not your cup of tea, it's not your cup of tea.
7170581 hmmm. This helps to put some things in perspective......much obliged.