• Published 31st Aug 2018
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SAPR - Scipio Smith



Sunset, Jaune, Pyrrha and Ruby are Team SAPR, and together they fight to defeat the malice of Salem, uncover the truth about Ruby's past and fill the emptiness within their souls.

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The Wrong Chair, Part One (New)

The Wrong Chair, Part One

Ciel looked down at the box in front of her.

A collection of antique watches gleamed within. There were nine of them, all told, marking anniversaries in five year intervals from ten years of happy matrimony to fifty. Mrs. Peterson and her husband had never gotten to fifty-five years; according to Mrs. Peterson, her husband’s years in the mines had caught up with him before their years of marriage; he had died before their fifty-third anniversary.

“Me?” Ciel asked. “You … you want me to take them?”

Father Gregory had once been a muscular, athletic man; he had been a soldier, and one of his eyes was cybernetic, a very bright and unblinking blue that sat opposite his remaining natural hazel eye; there were scars running across his face surrounding said cybernetic eye as a sign of how he had come by it and lost his own; since leaving the military and devoting himself wholeheartedly to the Faith of the Lady, he had let a little of his muscle fall away and allowed his waist to expand somewhat, but he still filled out his robes very comfortably indeed. His head was bald, his jawline firm, and his nose was rather sharp. As he had just finished officiating Mrs. Peterson’s funeral, he was dressed in the full ceremonial regalia of his office: robes of midnight blue trimmed with silver at the sleeves and collar, a chain of gold around his neck, a ceremonial dagger at his waist. A shepherd’s crook, made of dark wood and rather stout-looking, leaned against the wall just behind him.

It gave Father Gregory both hands free to hold out the little box of varnished elm inside of which lay Mrs. Peterson’s prized watches.

Neon’s mother had booked a bar not too far from the church for Mrs. Peterson’s funeral reception, and in the common room, the congregation — the only people who had shown up for her funeral were those, like the Soleils and the Katts, who had known her through the church; none of her neighbours had bothered to show their faces — moved and talked and reminisced and gradually reduced the buffet down to nothing. On the other side of the room, Neon was telling the story about the time the two of them, and Florentin, had made her a feast for Winter’s Dawn.

“So what are we going to do?” Neon was saying. “I mean, I could have carried her down those stairs to the hall, but the doctor says that she’s not to be moved, and we didn’t want to make her worse, so, what are we going to do? Well, Ciel and I look at each other, and we agree that if we can’t bring her down to the feast, we’ll just have to bring a feast up to her—”

Ciel’s lips twitched upwards in a smile. That was … a happy memory. Yes, it had meant that she and Florentin had been unable to spend Winter’s Dawn with the rest of their family, and Neon had been unable to spend it with hers, but nevertheless, them cooking together, setting the table, cleaning up afterwards, staying up with Mrs. Peterson to witness the first dawn of winter’s turning … that was a happy memory. Cooking and preparation had ruined the dress that she had been wearing — she had gone there to see if Mrs. Peterson needed any help getting down to the congregation feast, not to prepare one herself — so for dinner, she had, with Mrs. Peterson’s encouragement, put on an old dress that had belonged to Mrs. Peterson herself, although it had been many years since she wore it last. Neon had dug out the old gramophone from the back of one of the cupboards, and they had listened to old songs on records so old that they kept sticking. It had become a bit of a game for the four of them, guessing where the record was going to stick next and then listening to the same words repeated over and over again with the loser being the person who broke first and admitted they couldn’t stand it any longer.

A great deal of fun had been had by all of them, and none moreso, she hoped, than Mrs. Peterson, which had made it all worthwhile, of course.

Ciel recalled her mind to the present, to Father Gregory, to where the two of them sat alone in a secluded corner of the bar … and to the box that he was holding in his hands, held out to her in offering.

“The investigation, such as it was, is over,” Father Gregory reminded her. “It isn’t needed as evidence—”

“That does not mean that it belongs to me, Father; I am no kin of hers,” Ciel declared. “Her son—”

“Moved to Vale some years ago, and passed away just a couple of years ago now,” Father Gregory said. “Cancer, I believe. Esmeralda met her grandchildren only on a few occasions, and her great-grandchildren never.”

“Nevertheless,” Ciel replied. “They are her heirs.”

“And Mrs. Peterson’s will leaves her estate, such as it is, to the church,” Father Gregory said.

Ciel’s eyebrows rose. “To the Church? Everything?”

Father Gregory chuckled. “I was as surprised as you were when she told me. She invited me to come over for a cup of tea; I assumed that she just wanted a chat and some company. She did, but … she also told me that she’d decided to change her will and leave everything to the Faith. She was at great pains to explain that it wasn’t much, of course, but … even the income from renting her apartment out will bring in a little lien which the Lady can find a use for. But as we talked, she asked me if I might remember a few small bequests, amongst which was to give her watch collection to you. She told me that you had admired them on several occasions, and she thought you might appreciate them.”

And so, here they were, looking up at her from out of their varnished wooden box: nine watches, all of them similar in style, all with rather thin and slender straps — although the fact that they were all metal made up for that in part — with small faces, much smaller than Ciel’s thumb; she wondered if one of the reasons why Mrs. Peterson had stopped wearing them was that her eyes gotten too bad to read them.

It was not a problem that Ciel’s eyes had yet; even at this distance, not wearing any of them, she could read the time on all of them.

One was silver, and one was gold, or at least, they both appeared to be so; one had a button that appeared to be made of pearl, while others seemed to have tiny rubies or sapphires set around the watch face; although Mrs. Peterson had confessed to Ciel that they were not real rubies or sapphires any more than it was real pearl. On one watch, the hands were made of crystal, and on another of coral, and those were real and probably made them the most valuable watches in the box.

Ironically, they were the two that Ciel liked the least.

She felt … she half wished that she had refused them more vehemently, not allowed Father Gregory to prevail upon her. It made her feel … it made her pursuit of Mrs. Peterson’s killer feel like she had done it to recover her own property.

She hoped that God and the Lady would understand that it was not so.

And it also made her feel … Mrs. Peterson had wanted her to have them, perhaps, but Ciel did not feel as though … she had not known her that well; they were not related; on what was this gift merited? A few kindnesses, some conversation, what was that to deserve this?

She almost felt as though she ought to sell them to raise money for Alain, but of course, there was no way that these would pay for all the treatment he required, and in any case … that had not been what Mrs. Peterson would have wanted; to have done so would have been to spit upon her wishes and her memory.

She had, for whatever reason, given these watches to Ciel; the least that Ciel could do was properly appreciate them.

She took the dainty silver watch out of the box and clasped it around her wrist above her glove.

It looked … rather nice there, if she did say so herself.

She left her room and was approaching the stairs when she heard a knock on the door.

In fact, it was too persistent to be a knock; it was more of a banging.

“I will get it,” Ciel called out as she walked briskly down the stairs, her skirt shaking around her somewhat as he did so, crossing the hall towards the door.

Whoever was on the other side of the door continued to bang upon it.

“Hold on!” Ciel cried out to them as she reached the door, scowling somewhat as she opened it, prepared to give whoever was on the other side a piece of her mind.

It turned out to be Neon, with a grin on her face as she said, “Can you come out and play?”

Ciel looked at her somewhat coldly. “Was there really any need for you to half break the door down?”

“I did not half break the door down,” Neon said. “Look, the door is right there; it’s fine.”

“You could have knocked once like a normal person,” Ciel pointed out.

“I wanted to get your attention,” said Neon. “I’ve got a great idea; step outside, and we can talk about it.”

“Is there any reason why you cannot step inside and we can talk about it?” asked Ciel.

“Because if your mother hears us talking about this, she’ll think it’s stupid,” Neon admitted cheerfully.

“That does not inspire a great deal of confidence,” Ciel murmured.

“I promise, this will be worth your while,” Neon insisted. “It’s not for us; it’s for Alain. Now come on.”

Ciel hesitated. The fact that Neon had admitted that people might not find this to be the great idea that she had proclaimed was not a great start, and she found it hard to imagine what idea Neon could have had that would get the money for Alain’s medical treatments — not least because Neon was basically a decent, honest person, and it would never occur to her to do anything criminal — and yet … and yet, Neon would never joke about something like this either; she wouldn’t pretend to have an idea without actually having one. And Ciel would welcome anything at this stage.

There was no harm in listening to what Neon had to say. No harm at all.

“Very well,” she said. “Hang on a moment.”

She walked briskly back up the stairs to grab her purse, hanging it off her shoulder by its chain, then — returning downstairs once more — she pulled on her cloak, clasping it around her neck.

“I am going out with Neon,” she declared.

“Have fun!” Mother called to her in reply.

That remains to be seen, Ciel thought, as she stepped out of the door, pulling the key out of her purse to lock it behind her.

The house was not too warm, but nevertheless, the chill air of Mantle’s streets struck her sharply.

“So,” Ciel said, as she turned to face Neon, “what are you wearing?”

“It’s a catsuit!” Neon declared gleefully. “Pretty cool, isn’t it?”

Ciel could not help but stare at it. Neon was wearing … well, she was wearing a catsuit, just as she had proclaimed, of which the only good thing that Ciel could find to say was that it was not so skintight around the crotch that Neon’s crotch was plainly visible. Upon her feet, she was wearing red high-heeled boots with a thick trim of white fur around the top; the legs of her catsuit were that same white until about the thighs, where they became pink up to the crotch area — this part of her legs also had zips up the front and black laces, although Ciel could not have said why. The torso, shoulders, and sleeves down to below the elbow were neon blue, with a white belt passing beneath her breasts, and the gap between what would have been a low sweetheart neckline on a dress and the collar around her neck was black, while her sleeves were white below the elbow.

She was wearing gloves, trimmed with white fur, with feline-looking claws at the fingertips and what were supposed to look like paw pads on the palms and fingers.

The whole thing — aside from the fur — appeared to be made of some kind of rubbery substance.

“You almost look as if you are on your way to a rather specific sort of club,” Ciel said dryly. “But then … the cat claws…”

“Nya!” Neon laughed, making a cat-paw motion at Ciel with one hand.

“One hesitates to think what Blake would say if she saw you wearing that,” Ciel observed.

“Blake would say something as humourless as she is, no doubt,” Neon replied. “The fact is, if I want to wear something stupid, then I can. Didn’t our ancestors fight a war for the right to wear dumb outfits?”

“No, they didn’t,” Ciel replied. “Our ancestors fought on the other side.”

“Speak for yourself, human,” Neon declared, mocking fondness about her tone of voice. “My ancestors died so that I could wear this.”

“And I am sure they are very proud to see that their sacrifice was not in vain,” Ciel said.

Neon sniggered. “How are you?”

“I am,” Ciel let out a sigh. “I am better than I was.”

“But are you good?” asked Neon.

Ciel hesitated for a moment. “No,” she admitted. “I am not sure that I am. But I am better.”

Neon nodded. With both hands, she reached out into the recesses of Ciel’s cloak to take her hands in turn, drawing them out and into the light. “Well, I — I hope — am about to make things even better,” she said. She glanced down at Ciel’s wrist. “That’s … one of Mrs. Peterson’s watches, isn’t it?”

Ciel drew her hands back, covering the watch with one hand.

“Hey, hey, I’m not judging,” Neon assured her. “I just asked.”

“Do you think that it may be too soon?” asked Ciel,

“I think she left them to you so that somebody would start wearing them again instead of sticking them in a box under the bed,” Neon replied.

“In truth, I am not certain they were meant to be worn,” Ciel said. “They were gifts, after all.”

“Gifts of a thing that were meant to be worn,” Neon pointed out. “Maybe not all the time, but not never; and then they were given to you, to be worn.” She paused for a moment. “It suits you.”

Ciel’s hand fell away, revealing the watch once more. “Do you think so?”

Neon nodded. “It goes with your old-fashioned style.”

“I will take that as a compliment.”

“It was intended as one,” Neon said.

“Then I thank you for it,” Ciel replied.

She hesitated, anxious to get on to the topic of Neon’s visit but at the same time fearing to be disappointed by whatever it was that Neon had come up with or thought that she had come up with.

She was not sure how much disappointment she could bear.

“You … you spoke of Alain?” she asked.

“Yeah, Alain, I know how we can get the money for Alain’s treatment!” Neon said eagerly. She pulled out her scroll from … somewhere Ciel found she did not even wish to speculate, opening it up and holding it up so that Ciel could see it.

Displayed upon the screen was a wanted notice for a certain Feathers Markinson, a chicken faunus with a bright red crest upon his head, the only thing upon his head, which was bald otherwise.

There was a reward attached, of three million lien.

“We’re going to catch this guy and use the reward to save Alain!” Neon proclaimed.

Ciel’s brow furrowed. “How?” she asked.

“Well, I don’t know yet; don’t leave me to think of everything!” Neon replied. “But you need three million lien, and this is a way that we can get three million lien, no?”

Neon’s logic was inarguable. The apprehension of this miscreant would be a way to obtain the required funds, if they could do it. Of course, that might be quite an if.

It might even be quite a dangerous ‘if.’

“What is this fellow wanted for?” asked Ciel. “Do you know?”

“I thought you might ask that,” replied Neon. “He’s a thief.”

“'A thief'?” Ciel repeated. “A substantial reward for a thief.”

“He hits high value targets,” Neon explained. “Apparently, he burgled the Marigold family up in Atlas, stole Mrs. Marigold’s jewellery box. Similar stuff in Argus too, and most recently, here in Mantle…” Neon trailed.

Ciel frowned. “Neon?”

“You know the new hotel, the place my mom works?” Neon asked.

Ciel nodded. “Yes, you explained that it was close to … Lady, Neon, he didn’t—”

“Break in and rob the safe, yeah,” Neon muttered. “Nobody can work out how he did it.”

“How can anyone be sure it was him?” asked Ciel.

“He let them see him on the security cameras for a second,” Neon growled. “Right before the cameras went dead. Arrogant little … I’m gonna kick his ass for that.”

“How’s your mother?” Ciel reached out for Neon’s hand. “She is not … I hope that she has not been blamed for this.”

Security was hardly the responsibility of the manager, but at the same time, some owners might find a faunus employee a convenient scapegoat.

“They’re having an internal inquiry into why none of the security systems worked,” Neon said. “But Mom’s not too worried about it. Everything worked the last time it was tested, and security doesn’t answer to her anyway.”

“All the same, I imagine that if he could be caught and all his stolen goods recovered, it would make things considerably easier,” Ciel said.

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt,” Neon admitted. “But mostly, it’s the money.”

“That is certainly a temptation,” Ciel allowed. “But … the police—”

“If the police could catch this guy, they would have done it after he robbed the Marigold house in Atlas,” Neon said.

“Then what chance do we have?” Ciel asked.

Neon was silent for a moment. “The Lady teaches us that valour and resolve are all, isn’t that right?”

Ciel hesitated for a moment. “That is so, yes.”

“'Say not that a thing cannot be done,'” Neon said. “'Say not that a battle cannot be won. Take heart, set yourself to the task, fight with the utmost courage and through—'”

“'And through thy faith it shall be done, and all victories shall fall to thee,'” Ciel finished the quotation. “'For with faith, all things are possible.'”

Neon nodded. “The Lady is waiting to send us a miracle. We just need to put the work in to earn it. And three million lien falling into our laps sounds pretty miraculous, don’t you think?”

Ciel snorted. “Yes. Yes, it does, rather.”

Neon smiled. “So, what do you say? Are you willing to give this a shot?”

What do I have to lose? What does Alain have to lose? Ciel nodded. “Where do we start?”

“You’re the clever one; you tell me.”

Ciel rolled her eyes. “I think … I think … I think that if we are to do this, it would be as well to have some assistance,” she declared. “Let me make a call.”


“Do you really think that you’ll need all your weapons?” Blake asked.

Rainbow glanced at her. “You brought all your weapons,” she pointed out, her eyes flickering from Blake’s face to Gambol Shroud worn across her back.

“True,” Blake allowed. “But I don’t have quite so many as you.”

“Look, Ciel didn’t say exactly why she needed our help,” Rainbow said, “but she said that she needed our help, mine and yours, Twilight’s, which means I’m fairly sure that there’s going to be trouble of some kind; so, yes, I’ve brought all my weapons. I’d rather have them and not need them than—”

“Need them and not have them, right,” Blake said softly.

“Mmm,” Rainbow murmured wordlessly.

She really didn’t know why Ciel had called; she’d just said that she needed Rainbow’s help with something, that it would be good if she could get down here to Mantle, and to bring Blake and Twilight with her. And so, here they were, Rainbow, Blake, Twilight … and Penny.

Penny was walking at Twilight’s side, her head turning this way and that, looking up at the dark sky that hovered over them like a shroud, looking at every part of Mantle that was visible to the eye as the four of them walked through the streets. She had been talking to her … to her Dad, to Doctor Pietro, for a little while now, but this was her first time down in Mantle itself, the place where he called home.

Rainbow had actually been about to fly her down here to visit him when she got the call from Ciel. Ciel hadn’t asked her to bring Penny, but with Penny being there … it would have been impossible to lie to her even if Rainbow had wanted to, impossible to pretend that Blake and Twilight were coming to Mantle just to escort Penny to say hi to her Dad. And so they had told her the truth, that something had come up and Ciel needed their help, and once she heard that … Penny insisted on coming with them.

Rainbow was … well, she wasn’t entirely sure just how she felt about that, but depending on what kind of trouble it was that Ciel needed help with, she wasn’t feeling great about it. Yes, Penny wanted to help, and that was nice, but the last time that Ciel had needed Rainbow’s help in this town, it was because an old woman had gotten her head bashed in by a burglar. Rainbow didn’t want Penny to see that side of life. It was bad enough that she was seeing Mantle.

Of course, Blake was seeing Mantle too, and that wasn’t something that Rainbow was thrilled about either. She wasn’t thrilled about the way that Blake’s eyes seemed to narrow as she looked about the city; she wasn’t thrilled about how much Blake was taking in; she wasn’t thrilled about the way her lips were pursed tightly together; she wasn’t thrilled about the fact that Blake was here, period.

Rainbow hadn’t wanted to show Blake this. Which she was aware made it sound as though she wanted to … what was the word, to do with museums, curate; it made it sound as though she wanted to curate Blake’s experiences of Atlas so that she only saw the good bits before she decided to commit. That was … not entirely wrong; the reason why she didn’t want Blake to be down here was because Mantle was a complete dump and a really terrible advertisement for Atlas, but at the same time, she had taken Blake down to Low Town; she had shown her that things in Atlas weren’t perfect; it wasn’t as though she was trying to uphold the lie that everything in Atlas was shiny and awesome and had no flaws at all.

That didn’t mean that she wanted to draw attention to all of the most glaring warts upon the skin of the kingdom. Especially since … look, you could show an outsider like Blake Low Town, and they would get it. The problems with Low Town were what the problems with Low Town looked like: a bunch of faunus were forced to live in a crater underneath the city with no light and bad housing, and it sucked, and something needed to help them out. Or help them up, maybe.

But Mantle was different; as an outsider, you could look at Mantle and think that its problems were the same as Low Town’s problems: neglect, abandonment, nasty Atlas leaving people behind. But they were not the same, not the same at all. Rainbow Dash had grown up in Low Town, and she could say for certain that it was full of go-getters — like her — who could rise as high as anyone in Atlas if only they were given the opportunity. Mantle, on the other hand … Mantle was the kind of dump where people would murder their neighbours for a quick payday, and you couldn’t fix that with opportunity.

Honestly, Rainbow Dash wasn’t sure that you could fix it at all; this was Ciel’s home and all, but maybe the best approach would be to ship all the people out to different cities — not the same city, but split them up to different places so that they could become accultured to the way that other people lived instead of bringing their culture with them — and then just bomb the whole place. Let the earth exhale.

Looking around, it was hard to see that anything of value would be lost.

Every time I visit here, I think that Rarity did the right thing by getting out. Every time she visited here, she marvelled anew at the fact that this place, this … this place with all its grime and dirt squalor and barbarity could produce someone so classy, elegant, and generous as Rarity.

It was pretty amazing that it had turned out someone like Ciel, to be honest, but the time spent on military bases probably helped.

But it was hard to explain all of that to someone like Blake.

Especially the whole ‘bomb the place’ thing; that was hard to get across without sounding like a psycho.

“I don’t know what Ciel’s trouble is,” Blake murmured, “but this city certainly is troubled.”

Rainbow sighed. “I mean … at least they’re not faunus, right?”

Blake glanced at her. “So it’s fine that the kingdom is neglecting its citizens so long as it's doing so on an equal opportunity basis?”

Rainbow shrugged. “You can’t call it racism.”

“No,” Blake allowed. “But there are other things that you could call it instead.”

“This … this isn’t the same as Low Town,” Rainbow said. “This isn’t Atlas’ fault.”

“Isn’t it?” Blake asked. “How is it not the same as Low Town?”

“Because the people in Low Town are all right,” Rainbow declared. “You’ve been there, you know that; the worst is … Grandpa Gruff can be a bit short and sharp, and there are a few idiots down there who listen to the White Fang too much, but honestly, can you blame them with the way they live? People here…” She glanced at Penny, and at Twilight who stood beside her. Rainbow beckoned to her. “Twilight, don’t fall behind, come closer.”

“Why?” Twilight asked.

“Because it’s not safe,” Rainbow said.

Twilight took a couple of steps closer to Rainbow Dash, looking anxiously to her left and right as she did so.

Bringing Twilight down here was another … Rainbow had done it, because Ciel had asked, and if it had turned out that Twilight was vital but Rainbow had left her behind, then she would have felt bad, but that didn’t mean that she liked the fact that Twilight was here. Someone like Twilight Sparkle didn’t belong in Mantle; a star like her shouldn’t have to fall to the ground; it couldn’t … it couldn’t sparkle properly in all this smog and soot and dirt. She was too precious to be dirtied by the roughness of this place. She wasn’t even wearing her armour. Rainbow hoped the fact that Ciel had asked for Twilight was a sign that it wasn’t another murder they were here for, but … she didn’t like Twilight being here, just out in Mantle where anything could happen; she could attacked or kidnapped by the Happy Huntresses or … or anything. She didn’t like it.

She didn’t like this. She didn’t like these three people being in Mantle, being able to see Mantle.

Some people thought that the only reason Rainbow Dash could love Atlas was because she hadn’t seen the seamier side of it; that was a load of nonsense; Rainbow had seen the worst of Atlas — she’d grown up there — she was just able to look past it all and love the greatness of Atlas anyway without getting all bitter like Gilda had.

Ciel, Rainbow assumed, could do the same; you had to have that ability to grow up here in Mantle and still be an upright Atlesian patriot like her.

She was … a little concerned that her three friends down here might not have the same ability.

“Why wouldn’t it be safe?” Penny asked. “I mean, this is an Atlesian city, isn’t it? Although it doesn’t look at all like Atlas.”

“It’s not at all like Atlas, Penny; that’s why,” Rainbow said.

Penny frowned. “Why … why does Dad want to live here? Did Father make him live here; did he exile him from Atlas, and this was the only place he could go?”

“I doubt it, Penny,” Twilight replied. “Doctor Polendina is influential, but he isn’t that influential, and besides, if he really wanted to, Doctor Pietro Polendina could move to a lot of places besides Mantle. Vale would be happy to have such a renowned scientist living and working there. Do— Your Dad’s presence must be by choice, because he wants to be there.”

“But why?” Penny asked again. “Why would he want to stay in a place like this? It’s … it’s so awful!”

“Perhaps that’s why he wants to stay here,” Blake suggested. “To help make it a little less awful.”

Penny was silent for a moment. “But Rainbow said it wasn’t safe down here? Is my Dad safe? Is he going to be okay?”

Rainbow didn’t respond. It was true that Doctor Pietro hadn’t come to any harm so far down here in Mantle, but Rainbow wasn’t sure exactly how long he’d been down here. Had he only come here since his brother had kicked him out of the lab, or had he been working here part time before that? Either way, he was an old man; an old man who couldn’t even walk by himself. What was to stop someone breaking into his clinic looking for … pills or parts or something and then killing the old man to cover it up? It wouldn’t be surprising in this town.

I’m so glad Rarity got out of here. I’m so glad that her parents and Sweetie Belle moved to Canterlot.

I wish Ciel was out of here.

I wish this place didn’t exist, and then I wouldn’t have to bring Blake or Twilight or Penny here.

“Rainbow Dash?” Penny asked again.

“I don’t know, Penny,” Rainbow admitted. “I … the last time Ciel asked me for help down here, it was because someone had died. An old woman, someone Ciel knew from her church. Someone had killed her in her own home, and we found out that the person who’d done it had done it because she had a few … a few little valuables, not worth very much, but… worth a fortune in this town. They’d killed her and stolen her stuff so that they could sell it for a few lien. That’s the kind of place Mantle is; that’s what makes it different from Low Town,” she said to Blake. “In Low Town, things were rough, but we never turned on our own … until I turned my back on my own by going to Atlas and looking back.” She shook her head. “But there’s none of that here; there’s no … no community spirit here; there’s just … rats, crawling all over one another to get ahead.”

“Get ahead?” Blake asked. “Or stay alive?”

“Does it matter?” Rainbow asked. “It doesn’t excuse—”

“If you create the conditions where survival is a struggle, you can’t act shocked when people struggle to survive,” Blake said. “It’s like high-born Mistralians complaining that the lower slopes are full of crime and disorder when the reason it’s like that is because all of the wealth of Mistral flows upwards and away from those same slopes.”

“This is not the fault of Atlas,” Rainbow insisted.

“Councillor Cadance seems to disagree,” Blake pointed out. “At least in part. You seemed to, in her office; you said that if the police had done their jobs and investigated that murder, then it would have helped to restore trust in Atlas amongst the people here.” She paused. “I think it’s going to take more than that.”

“I think so too,” Rainbow agreed, although only in a soft voice. “I’m just … not sure that it’s worth it.”

“What do you mean?” Blake asked.

“I … I don’t know what I mean,” admitted Rainbow Dash. “I just know that it’s easier to stand in Atlas and talk about how to help Mantle trust Atlas more than it is to stand down here and look around and realise … how much I really want to get back to Atlas and away from here.”

Blake didn’t smile.

“There will always be some places that are better off,” Rainbow said. “And some that are worse.”

“I know,” Blake said. “I’ve spent enough time in Mistral to know that.”

“Although Vale seems to have managed to not be so bad,” Twilight pointed out.

“Maybe they have something to teach … us,” Blake suggested quietly.

Rainbow’s eyebrows rose. “'Us'?”

Now Blake smiled, if only slightly, a faint turning upwards of her lips. “I’m not someone who changes her mind easily, in case you hadn’t noticed,” she said, “but you can’t just give up on a part of your kingdom. This place obviously needs help, and just because it’s hard is no reason not to try. Councillor Cadance understands that.”

“And you do, too,” Rainbow said.

“And you?” Blake asked.

“People who want to be helped deserve to be helped,” Rainbow replied.

Blake’s eyes narrowed.

“You are the one who has pushed me to think about our people,” Rainbow declared, feeling a slight surge of irritation towards Blake’s high-mindedness. “I was always aware that I had to work harder than some, be better than some, because of these ears on top of my head, and thanks to you, I understand that there are faunus who work even harder and barely make it off the starting line because of how the odds are stacked against them. Why shouldn’t that count for something? Why should we be no better off than these people who tear each other to pieces?”

Blake walked towards her. “I … I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t … it wasn’t my intent to make you feel judged, personally. But you … you have changed me, as well. I … I’m less angry than I used to be, and considering what I did with that anger, that’s probably a good thing. But you’ve also helped me see that the interests of humans and faunus are connected, bound together. We can’t just seek to protect our own or improve the lot of our people, whether the faunus or Atlesians or both. Think about Equestria, how they were able to produce a paradise, but only by recognising that paradise has to be for everyone, or it isn’t a paradise at all. Atlas can be that too, I think we both believe that, but … it’s clear to me that Atlas can never fulfil its promise while places like this are left behind.”

Rainbow nodded. “So … what’s the answer?”

“I don’t even know what the problem is yet,” Blake admitted. “You’ve got more of an idea on that front than I do.”

“What about my Dad?” Penny asked.

“It … would be better if he moved back to Atlas,” Rainbow said, “but at his age … that’s for him to decide, not us.” She turned to face Penny. “Are you sure that you wouldn’t rather go and visit him?”

Penny shook her head. “If Ciel needs help, then I … I want to help her.”

“She didn’t ask you to,” Rainbow pointed out.

“I know,” Penny said sharply, not without some sore sourness in her voice, “but I’ll help her anyway. Then, maybe we can see Dad afterwards.”

Twilight smiled. “Sure thing, Penny. I’d like to see him again myself.”

Rainbow considered reminding Penny that when she transferred to Beacon, she would have all the opportunities she could ever want to wander round cities getting in trouble as she liked, but she would find it much harder to see either of her fathers … but she didn’t, because if Penny wanted to help Ciel, then that was her choice, and if this was the kind of situation that required Rainbow, Blake, and Twilight’s help, then it might be that they would need all the help they could get.

“Okay,” she said. “I’m sure Ciel will be glad of the assistance once we get there. Speaking of which, we should probably keep going. We’re probably keeping her waiting as it is.”

Not being too familiar with Mantle, Rainbow had to get out her scroll every so often in order to check that they were going the right way to their destination — and also to check that they were only using the main roads, because she didn’t want to risk the Mantle side streets — or risk anyone seeing what the Mantle side streets and back alleys were like. The main roads were not great, but at least it was only garbage piled up in places instead of people.

Eventually, the four of them arrived at a diner, a place that didn’t look as dingy and miserable as Rainbow Dash might have expected, with the illuminated sign for the name of the place mostly working. The windows were clean enough to see Ciel and Neon sitting in a booth by the window, and for Neon — what was she wearing? — to see them too. She waved at them with a … was she wearing a glove like a cat paw? With claws?

Nevertheless, despite her surprise at the interesting choice of outfit, Rainbow waved back, and led the group inside the diner.


“Look, here they are!” Neon cried, as she waved out of the diner window with one hand clad in a ridiculous glove.

She hadn’t even taken them off inside.

Ciel looked up as the door into the diner opened, and in walked Rainbow Dash, Blake, Twilight, and—

“Penny?” Ciel asked.

“Hello, Ciel,” Penny said, waving her hand but only slightly.

Ciel’s eyes remained on Penny, and not on any of the others, even as they drew. “I … am surprised to see you here. I did not … I did not ask for you.”

“No,” Penny said. “You didn’t.”

I didn’t think you’d want to come, Ciel thought, but did not say; to say it would have sounded even worse than not sending for Penny in the first place.

And so a silence descended upon the group, even as the four who had arrived from Atlas — Penny included — squeezed onto the seats on the other side of the booth from Neon and Ciel.

“So,” said Rainbow, seated next to the window opposite Neon, with a good deal of forced jollity in her tone, “Neon, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“What are you talking about, Dashie? Of course I’d be here to help Ciel out,” Neon said, putting a clawed hand upon Ciel’s shoulder. “After all, Ciel and I are friends.”

“What are you wearing?” Blake asked.

Ciel sighed. You would have been better off not asking.

“It’s a catsuit,” Neon said, repeating the catpaw gesture from earlier. “Nya nya!”

“I don’t…” Blake trailed off for a moment, blinking rapidly, before she rallied to say, “How can you wear something like that?”

“I admit it’s a little uncomfortable around—”

“I’m not talking about that,” Blake declared. “I’m talking about turning yourself into a walking stereotype!”

“Says the person who loves tuna,” Rainbow muttered.

Blake tilted her chin, with the side-effect of sticking her nose in the air, as she declared with some asperity, “That … is completely different, and of a completely different order to … this.”

“What’s the matter with this? It’s an outfit,” Neon said. “No one is going to have their minds changed about the faunus by what they see me wearing. You, both of you, need to lighten up a little. You can’t change the world; all you can do is laugh at it.”

“I disagree,” Blake said. “We can change the world, but we have to try.”

Neon sighed. “So earnest. Such a drag.”

“But thank you for coming,” Ciel said, a touch of wryness entering her voice, despite the circumstances. Once more she looked at Penny. “All of you.”

“Of course,” Penny said, a smile upon her face.

Neon snorted. Nobody made an issue of it.

“If you need help, then we’re all willing to do whatever we can,” Twilight said. “Although I’m not sure … you don’t need me to hack into Mantle’s security cameras again, do you?”

Blake looked at her. “Hack into Mantle’s security cameras?”

“It was only very briefly,” Rainbow assured her.

“That doesn’t make it any less surprising,” Blake replied.

“That probably won’t be necessary this time around,” Neon said. “Not least because he turns the cameras off.”

Twilight frowned. “Who turns the cameras off?”

Neon put her scroll down on the table, open, with the picture of their quarry displayed upon the screen. “Feathers Markinson,” she said.

Rainbow stood up and leaned over the diner table. “I’ve seen his wanted poster around, last time I was down in Mantle.”

“Who is he?” asked Penny. “Is he dangerous?”

“He’s a jewel thief,” Neon said. “And no, he’s probably not dangerous; he doesn’t seem to have done anything violent in any of his heists.”

Blake placed her hands upon the white plastic table. “Why do you want to catch a jewel thief?”

“For the reward money,” Neon admitted. “We need it for…” She glanced at Ciel.

Ciel bowed her head, resting her elbows upon the table. “My brother is sick,” she said. “Alain, my youngest brother, he … he requires treatments costing three million lien, three million that we do not have. If we can apprehend this fugitive and claim this money, then … but without, then … then I fear that…”

He will die. She did not want to say it. She could not say it; the words stuck in her throat. Her whole body trembled, and trembled all the more as she closed her eyes, unable to look at anyone.

“I am sorry to ask you to involve yourself in something that is none of your concern,” she said, “but such is the seriousness of the situation, so much is at stake that I fear we are not adequate to the task, and so I ask you, I beg you—”

She stopped as she felt hands upon her, arms wrapping themselves around her, a forehead pressed against her own.

“You don’t need to beg,” Penny said gently. “You don’t even need to ask. Of course we’ll help you, Ciel.”

Ciel opened her eyes. It was Penny holding her, Penny embracing her, Penny whose eyes were so big and so close to her own.

“You will?” Ciel asked, in a voice that was almost a croak of surprise. “But I … but why?”

Penny blinked. “Because you need us,” she said, as though it was the easiest thing in the world to understand. She smiled. “Don’t worry, Ciel; everything is going to be alright.”

Ciel drew in a deep, if somewhat ragged, breath, and then let it out again. “Thank you, Penny,” she said. “I … I am glad that you are here.”

“Do you need us, though?” Rainbow asked. “Do you really? Why don’t you just ask General Ironwood for help?”

“My parents would not take such charity,” Ciel said as Penny’s arms fell away from her.

“They wouldn’t take it?” Rainbow repeated. “Their … their pride is more important than their son’s life?”

“You do not understand what it is like—”

“I understand what it’s like to be poor,” Rainbow said sharply. “I haven’t forgotten, but if I needed money for something that important, I’d get down on all fours and beg like a dog for it if I had to.”

“Well, Ciel’s folks won’t; it is what it is,” Neon said. “It may not be good or right or ideal, but it is. It’s what we have to work with. If we want to get this money, we have to come by it … semi-honestly, at least. So, are you going to help us catch this guy or what?”

“Yes, of course I’m going to help you,” Rainbow said. “I’m not going to walk away; I just think it’s a bit stupid that you have to go to these lengths. What’s the good of having friends in high places if you can’t ask them for favours when you really need one?”

Some people might call that corruption, Ciel thought, but she knew that if she voiced that thought out loud, then Rainbow would bristle at the implications, and rightly so. All she said was, “It is perhaps a pity that my parents do not feel the same way you do.”

“We’ll do everything we can to help you, obviously,” Blake said. “And I suppose it’s clear now why you wanted Twilight’s help.”

“For my computer skills,” Twilight said. She got out her scroll and placed it on the table next to Neon’s. “And I also brought Midnight too, just in case.”

“I have heard everything,” Midnight’s voice issued out of the scroll, “and although I concur with Rainbow Dash’s assessment of the situation, I stand ready to do my part.”

“But how?” Blake asked. “Where do we even start? It seems that we have an aim, but do we have a plan?”

“We know that he’s still here in Mantle, because he robbed somewhere here very recently,” Neon said. “I don’t think that he’ll have left that quickly.”

“Why stay, if he has what he came for?” asked Penny.

“To wait until the alarm dies down?” Neon suggested.

“Or because he isn’t done yet,” Rainbow said. “Where did he rob the last time?”

“A hotel safe,” Neon muttered.

Rainbow frowned. “Was there a lot in there?”

“Does it matter?” Neon asked.

“It matters if he thinks he’s done or not,” Rainbow replied.

“You said that he was a jewel thief,” Blake said. “Were there jewels in the safe, do you know?”

Neon shook her head. “Just lien.”

“Practice run,” Blake said softly.

Ciel’s brow furrowed. “Practicing a theft?”

Blake nodded. “Start off with a low priority target as a proof of concept and capability, before moving onto the real target. Stealing lien from the hotel is appreciated, I’m sure, but more importantly, it proves to them that they can hit their real goal.”

“Which we don’t know yet, but it would be good if we could figure it out, because I doubt a jewel thief with a three million lien bounty is going to trying to fence what he steals in low-end pawn shops,” Rainbow said.

“But what would a jewel thief be doing in Mantle in the first place?” asked Twilight. “I mean … no offence, but it isn’t exactly awash with glamorous socialites.”

Neon’s eyes widened. “The museum!” she cried.

Ciel looked at her. “The Mistralian exhibit!”

“Would one of you care to explain?” asked Blake.

“The crown jewels of Mistral, some of them at least, have been loaned to Atlas by Mistral,” Neon explained. “They’re been on tour all around Solitas and now they’re here in Mantle, at the museum.”

“Crown jewels, huh?” Rainbow said. “Well, they’d be a score for a jewel thief.”

“How would you sell anything so recognisable?” asked Blake.

Rainbow shrugged. “I suppose when you’re a master jewel thief, you get to know how this stuff works, contacts and such. The point is, it seems like a likely target.” She fell quiet for a few moments, tapping her fingers upon the tabletop. “Okay,” she said, at length, “here’s what we’re going to do.”

Author's Note:

I'm away on Friday, so the next chapter will be on Monday 31st October

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