CRISIS: Equestria - Divergence

by GanonFLCL

Chapter Nineteen: Collusion

It was nearly midnight when Dawn rode the elevator up the side of Pandora Tower all the way up to the top floor, where her father's office was located. The elevator's speakers played a classical tune that Dawn very much enjoyed—she found that she shared her father's tastes in music—though she couldn't remember hearing it before now. She was certain that she'd heard all sorts of music like this, but not where or when she had; it was like having a word on the tip of her tongue but being unable to think of it, which was an utterly alien feeling.

As the elevator doors opened, she came to the long hallway that led to Silvertongue's private facilities. His office was closest, just down the hall to the left; further down the hall on the right was the door to his bedroom; the next door down was his private washroom. She'd only ever been in his office before over the past week, mostly to discuss the parameters of her and her sisters' assignment, but couldn't remember ever visiting any of the other rooms over the years even though she knew where they were.

She knocked on his office door three times, if only to be polite; only herself, her sisters, and her father's secretary had permission to come up here freely, and she'd been told that she—and she alone—needn't worry about disturbing him at this late hour.

"Come in," he called from the other side of the door.

She opened it up and walked into his office, where she found him currently seated in his large chair overlooking something on his computer. She never knew what he was working on and never dared to ask; if it was something she was supposed to know about, he'd certainly tell her. She was actually surprised that he was even awake, considering how late it was.

"Good evening, Father," she said with a polite nod. "I apologize for disturbing you at this late hour, but urgent matters have arisen and I require your beneficence regarding recent concerns related to the assignments my sisters and I are engaged upon."

"Dawn, my dear, I believed we were perfectly clear that issues regarding your assignments were entirely under your own authority," he said, not taking his attention away from his computer screen. "Whatever issues are troubling you, I'm certain that you're perfectly capable of handling it."

Dawn smiled a little at that; her father's confidence and faith in her always sent waves of joy through her heart, more than anything else in the world. "I am grateful for the accolades, Father, and I assure you that were this anything else, I would categorically resolve the issue at hoof with consummate success. However, this situation is… unique. I require guidance."

Silvertongue paused a moment, then nodded and turned his attention fully upon her. "Of course. You know that I am always here for you whenever you need help, no matter what it is. What seems to be the trouble with your assignment that you've come to me?"

"There were a few… incidents, earlier this evening," Dawn explained, taking care with her wording. "Initially, a pony impersonating a WPD inspector visited the apartment belonging to our friends… er, targets, and endeavored to abscond with Fluttershy; Gray was present during the attempt and can provide additional details if you require them, but suffice to say, she stymied the perpetrator's efforts and subdued him."

Her father's expression remained rather blank after hearing this, and his tone was calm and collected. "Were any injuries sustained?"

"Fluttershy and Gray were unharmed, but the assailant inflicted minor injuries upon Lockwood. I have been led to believe he will recover without requiring professional medical aid."

"The fact that an individual attempted this upon Fluttershy is, by itself, not worthy of my attention," Silvertongue said flatly. "Any random mugger or burglar would be a simple matter to handle. I assume that there's more to this tale?"

"Yes, Father. Gray interrogated the assailant and uncovered a plot to attempt similar acts upon Applejack as well as Pinkie Pie. It is abundantly clear that the attacks were coordinated and well-organized; the perpetrators seemed informed of their targets' schedules and locations, as much or more so than ourselves in fact."

"I see. Are they unharmed?"

"Applejack, yes. Pinkie, no; Velvet has informed me that these assailants attacked her, under the impression that she was Pinkie, and attempted to inflict fatal injuries, unlike what Fluttershy's would-be assailant was attempting, or Applejack's for that matter. Pinkie was injured in the ensuing scuffle, but I have been informed that she will make a full recovery in two days' time."

Silvertongue raised an eyebrow slightly. "These individuals attempted to murder Pinkie Pie?"

"Yes, Father."

"And how did Velvet handle the situation?"

"Velvet managed to eliminate the individuals and was quite clear with me that there were no witnesses to the event, at least none that survived."

"And these injuries that Pinkie sustained, they were minor in nature?"

Dawn paused, then shook her head. "I was informed by Havoc and Velvet that her injury was the result of a discharged firearm, but that an associate of Lockwood's managed to repair the damage via magic and alchemy."

"Truly?" he asked, a glimmer of curiosity on his face. "My my… quite an archaic art to use in this day and age. I may press Havoc and Velvet for more on the subject." He went silent for a moment, tapping his hoof on his desk. "What are your thoughts on the situation as you see it, Dawn?"

"At present, Father, I am both suspicious and concerned," she admitted. "These individuals were, as I stated, well-coordinated and well-informed. The assailants who attacked Fluttershy and Applejack can be reasonably explained as having done research prior to their attempted assaults.

"However, the assailants that pursued Pinkie seemed aware that she would be in attendance at the Promenade, and Velvet has assured me that they only spoke about their planned excursion betwixt themselves the night before. Pinkie's friends were unaware of her whereabouts, and neither Gray nor Insipid knew of Velvet's.

"In addition, the assailant after Fluttershy divulged a location to which he was to deliver her. I personally investigated the site and found nothing of importance, though the edifice was astonishingly derelict. I uncovered no further evidence, nor any justification for utilizing that particular location for their purposes, nor what their purposes were."

Silvertongue paused for a long moment. "All in all, Dawn, I agree that these circumstances are quite suspicious, and I wish I had any aid to offer you at the moment. How is the current situation regarding Fluttershy and Pinkie?"

"It is my understanding that Fluttershy is secure and was more concerned with the well-being of her comrades; Pinkie will require bed rest for the remainder of her recovery, and Velvet has described her as… numb."

"I see." He tapped his table again, then nodded in understanding. "I will look into these attacks further, if that would alleviate your concerns. I trust that will suffice?"

Dawn nodded appreciatively. "Knowing that you are evaluating the situation would indeed mitigate my anxieties, and those of my sisters. What further course of action should we take in the interim?"

"I would advise that you and your sisters remain alert for any further attempts to bring harm to your charges. For those of you assigned to a specific target, ensure that they are not left alone for any significant length of time, if you can reasonably manage it. Use your best judgement in that regard."

"And what of Applejack? None of us are assigned to her specifically."

"I will potentially consult with Curaçao on that, as she has not been given an assigned target. I do not wish to distract her from her own tasks at present, but the situation might require it. We shall see." He leaned back into his chair. "If any new information comes to light regarding these individuals, inform me immediately. Understood?"

"Yes, Father."

He smiled. "Good. Then run along, my dear, and get some sleep. I promise you, I'll take care of everything."

She returned the smile. "Thank you, Father. Good night."

"And good night to you as well. Pleasant dreams."

With that, she left his office, closing the door behind her and making for the elevator, the huge weight on her shoulders feeling much lighter than before. She knew it had been the right idea to come to her father for assistance. If anypony could help get to the bottom of this mystery, it was him; he would do anything for her, for her sisters, she knew that in her heart.

*****

Silvertongue stewed for a long moment after Dawn left, allowing his face to show the absolute distaste he had for the entire situation. He was glad that Dawn felt the need to inform him of what had happened over the course of the evening, but he'd certainly noticed a few holes in the report here and there. However, it was irrelevant whether she herself had obscured information or one of her sisters did.

He waited until he was completely certain that he would be alone and undisturbed before he reached out with his mind and essence to contact Nihila. When she did not respond immediately, he allowed more of himself through the bridge so that she would be aware of the urgency in which he needed her attention. The fact that she was ignoring him if even for an instant did not bode well.

When she finally did respond, her essence wrapped around him like a warm blanket. "You called for me, my Warden? What troubles you at this late hour?"

"I fear that there may be a complication in our plan, my lady," he said, keeping his voice calm and collected, despite the aggravation he was feeling.

"Oh? Pray tell, what—"

"My lady, if you would, you needn't feign ignorance with me. You surely know of what complications I speak of."

She sent an icy chill down his spine, sharp enough that he felt as though he'd been paralyzed and submerged in frigid waters. "You dare interrupt me? Do I detect a hint of insolence in your tone, my Warden? You had best rethink your words, lest I become displeased."

"I meant no disrespect, my Lady," he carefully replied, pushing down his agitation as hard as he could. "I only wished to make it apparent that we may speak plainly on the issues at hoof. I understand that it is in your nature to deceive and manipulate, but this is hardly the time or the place."

"Then speak. You say there are complications? Pray tell, of what complications do you speak?"

"It would seem as though some aggressors made attempts to attack three of our hopeful charges, specifically Fluttershy, Applejack, and Pinkie Pie. Though the attempts were ultimately unsuccessful, it has put these otherworldly mares on alert, and could potentially cause a snag in the grand design that we have devised."

"I see. And why do you consider this information worthy of my time?"

"Because I did not assign these would-be assailants to attack anypony," he said, keeping his tone even despite wanting to express his frustration with her as he would with any subordinate who committed some error. "You did."

She chuckled through their connection, a wholly unpleasant sensation that felt like having his stomach tickled from the inside. "I ask again, my Warden: why do you consider this information worthy of my time? I never took you to enjoy stating the obvious."

"My lady, far be it from me to question your judgement, but these attacks threaten the success of the carefully-laid plan that I have devised with your blessings. If these otherworldly mares suspect that they are in danger, especially from myself or from you, they will not hesitate to refuse our offer."

"Their world's survival depends on me, my Warden," she hissed; he felt like a spike had just driven into the back of his neck. "They would be fools to deny me! They will accept my aid regardless of their fears or trepidations; it is too late for them now to venture south to seek Harmonia's aid instead."

"I would not be so sure," he replied, fighting back the hot sensation in his gut that her anger was causing him. "They have made allies in their short time here, resourceful ones, and I would not risk the assumption that they cannot procure means with which to travel south far quicker than expected, if pushed hard enough to do so."

"Then I would place trust in you to stymie such efforts. It is within your power."

"Maybe so, but there are risks involved. If given cause to flee the city swiftly—perhaps because they fear they are being monitored—they may also do so discreetly enough that I cannot stop it in time, especially if they believe that they will be prevented from leaving."

Her essence became hotter and worked its way up into his chest, like a bad case of heartburn. "You say that you do not question my judgement, and yet here I believe that you do. I do not tolerate insolence, my Warden, least of all from you."

"My lady, I only inquire as to why the decision was made, and why I was not informed," he said, finding himself having to focus on his breathing. "I have never given you reason to doubt me, so why do you withhold information from me? Have I done something to displease you?"

"Hmph… no, you have not, but you are no fool. You know that I must have other avenues to carry out my will, ones that are familiar only to me. It is my nature to deceive, as you are fond of reminding me."

He fought back a sneer. "I have always been aware of your cult's existence, but have never seen the need to hide their identities from me. Surely, as your Warden, I should be a primary leader of such worshippers."

"That is how that wretch Harmonia chooses to rule! Her cult may practice and preach their sickening tenets of love and peace in the open, but that is not my way. I am Darkness incarnate, and those who worship me do so from the shadows." She chuckled; the room suddenly smelled of mint. "If it soothes your wounded ego, they are unaware of your identity as well."

"That still does not explain why—"

"I have told you once already, my Warden: this scheme of yours progresses too slowly. I entrusted you with speeding these 'Elements' into my grasp, and yet they still dawdle, they work and play while they seek out answers that you could provide at any moment. They needed… a push. Through conflict, camaraderie is bred. Or do you not remember?"

Her smug tone hurt his ears despite being entirely in his head. "This 'push' of yours may very well be off of a metaphorical cliff, my lady," he replied; it was growing harder to maintain his level-headedness as she pushed and pushed at him; a lesser pony would have snapped.

"Is it? Tell me, my Warden, do these 'Elements' not now trust my pawns more deeply than before? Have they not begun to form further 'bonds' amongst themselves that you seem so fond of? My machinations have pushed matters along far quicker than yours have."

"Your machinations also potentially could have resulted in the death of one of our targets. Your misguided worshippers attempted to murder her. That is exactly the opposite of what we desire, is it not?"

She paused, caught in her mistake. "It was a calculated risk. That one's essence, this… 'Laughter', it was potentially the greatest threat to our scheme, for it was the most counterintuitive to my own. With this effort of mine, her confidence and joy have been neutralized; she will not trouble me further."

"If she had perished, my lady, our entire plan would be for naught."

She gave a dark chuckle that made his stomach turn. "Do you not have confidence in the pawn that you assigned to her?"

"I have the utmost confidence in all of my daughters—"

"Ha! Your 'daughters'… what a pathetic, sentimental term. Your attempts to ingratiate yourself to these tools is a waste of effort. Once they have served their purpose, they have no reason to exist. I want them destroyed once we have dealt with Harmonia."

"There will be time to discuss that later—"

"No. I think not. You grow too attached to them, and I fear you may argue with me at a later date. No, I will have your word now." She sent a jolt of pain through his body, only briefly, but enough to get her point across. "You will destroy them once we are done with them. Say it, my Warden. Say the words."

Silvertongue clenched his teeth for a moment, then nodded. "I will destroy them once we no longer have use for them, my lady."

"Good. Now, as for your miserable concerns over the welfare of your plan, fear not. I believe my cult has already served to advance things along at a pace that I find satisfactory. Should I become dissatisfied with your progress, however, I will not hesitate to provide another 'push'. Perhaps I shall encourage more subtlety next time, hmm?"

"Your restraint is a welcome blessing, my lady," he said with a bow. "Thank you."

Silvertongue felt her essence filter out of him, leaving him alone in the room and with his thoughts again. Nihila's restlessness in the face of victory was dangerous; she was threatening to unravel every aspect of this plan of his with these forced threats, and he knew that if she continued to be disappointed with his results, she might just jump the gun and reveal herself too quickly, far before he was ready with the final stages of things.

All he knew was that his own patience was wearing just as thin.

He pressed the button on his intercom. "Shroud."

The reply took a moment, since she had likely been asleep. "Yes, sir?"

"I want a progress report on Project Four-One-C-N. Now, if you would."

"Yes sir, one moment." He heard her moving about as she got out of bed and moved into her office, then went to work on her station. "I couldn't find anything pertaining to this Four-One-C-N in our database, so I started looking through the older archives. Everything in there is heavily encrypted with some really archaic code, so progress is going… well, slowly, sir."

"Any particular reason why?"

"Well, sir, my sorting algorithm doesn't work on the older, outdated documents, so I've been going through them one at a time by hoof. That, and I've been assisting Mademoiselle Curaçao with her own assignments, as requested."

He grunted, both upset that she was delayed but understanding that there was little choice in the matter. He knew that Curaçao's role in his future plans more than the present ones was crucial, and that any assistance she received would greatly accelerate her success; unfortunately, his current needs outweighed hers.

"Inform me when you've found what I'm looking for, but continue to assist Curaçao with whatever she needs when you can; however, explain to her that my own assignment for you takes absolute priority. She will not question it if told as much."

"Yes, sir. Shall I work overtime until I get results?"

"That won't be necessary for now. I will seek what I can in the archives myself when time permits."

"Very well, sir. Anything else that I can do for you?"

"No, that will be all, Shroud."

"Good night, sir."

As the intercom shut off, Silvertongue leaned back in his chair and contemplated the day's events. It was late and he knew he should be getting himself ready to retire for the evening, but too many things had happened today, too many things to consider and too many factors that had suddenly gotten out of his own control. He knew that he needed to make an adjustment somewhere to ensure that the rest of his plan proceeded as intended, but now things were dangerously close to unraveling.

He was going to have to be very, very careful moving forward.

Everything depended on it.

*****

It was early the following morning when Curaçao made her way to Shroud's office, where she found the bespeckled secretary wide awake and already busy on her computer doing whatever work she had ahead of her for the day. During the day's normal hours, when Shroud could reasonably expect a visitor—as opposed to the middle of the night—she wore a crisp dress suit and tight-fitting skirt.

Curaçao smiled and entered the office without needing to knock; she and Shroud had become so accustomed to one another's company by now that the latter wasn't bothered by these surprise visits in the least.

"Bonjour, Shroud. How are you this lovely morning?" she asked as she walked into the room, carefully balancing a serving tray on her back that she'd carried up from the kitchen level of the Tower.

"Oh, hello Curaçao. You're here early," Shroud said with a small smile. "I'm very busy, actually. Lord Silvertongue has me on a special assignment for him and I'm trying to work through it as best I can." She tilted her head when she noticed the tray on Curaçao's back. "What's that you've got there?"

Curaçao set the tray down onto the edge of Shroud's desk with a practiced, smooth grace. "I brought you some breakfast. It is the most important meal of the day after all, oui? I know you have said that you sometimes skip it when you are busy, so it seems I made a good decision to bring some."

Shroud smiled and looked at the few plates and cups on the tray, which contained enough food and drink for two ponies to share: two large waffles with syrup and topped with strawberries and cream; two large glasses of orange juice; two cups of coffee, black; two bowls of sliced oranges.

"Wow, this is a lot just for me. Why is there so much?"

"If you don't mind, I was hoping we could have breakfast together," Curaçao said as she pulled over a chair—she'd brought it into the office days ago so that she could do some of her work in here if need be. "I have some business of my own to attend to this morning," she added, pulling a portable datapad from her saddlebag.

"That sounds nice, actually," Shroud said, taking her own servings off of the tray and moving it in front of her. "What brings this on, though? I thought you usually worked during the day?"

Curaçao grumbled. "It is a rather complicated story, but suffice to say, my original plans for the day have been… suspended."

What Curaçao didn't mention was that the situation at hoof was related to her shapeshifting powers. She wasn't sure if Shroud knew about her abilities or if she was allowed to reveal them just yet—as much as she wanted to—so she didn't want to go into too much detail about it.

"So, I figured that I would continue with my work here over the early day so that I could try to figure out a new plan for moving forward, and potentially solve a few issues."

"Well, you know you're always welcome in my office," Shroud said with a nod as she started eating her breakfast. "Just so you know, though, Silvertongue said that the assignment I'm working on takes priority over anything of yours unless it's absolutely critical. I hope you understand?"

Curaçao frowned, but nodded. "Oui, je comprends. Mon père has many things that are much more important than what I am taking care of. Ce n'est pas un problème, I can handle this myself. I have more time now, considering the circumstances, oui?"

"So, what've you got to work on?"

"Well, the first thing is this," Curaçao said, tapping her datapad screen several times.

She brought up a file that had taken her some time to successfully download onto a drive without being noticed, a video file to be exact. It showed security camera footage from outside the front entrance of the NPPD Central Station in the Mid-South District. There was quite a crowd present walking back and forth along the street.

Curaçao pointed specifically at one individual in said crowd, a blue pegasus stallion with a darker blue mane—it was hard to tell specific shades—in a crisp suit and tie, wearing a pair of sunglasses. The footage showed him walking along with the crowd, then turning into the entryway of the building. The footage then suddenly jumped just slightly, so slightly that it was easy to miss, and the stallion seemed to just disappear with it.

"Looks like you've got yourself an agent of the CIA heading into the precinct there," Shroud noted, taking a sip of coffee. "And that little blip in the footage indicates that it was tampered with."

"Oui, that is the problem," Curaçao said, taking a bite of waffle; it was crispy on the outside and soft on the inside, just perfect. "This is the only evidence that I have of this agent entering the building: a split-second turn. Otherwise, he looks like he is just part of the crowd and is rather difficult to notice, non?"

"What's this all about, then?"

"Well, as I said, this is the only physical evidence I have of this agent; all of the security footage from inside the building has also been doctored, and there is no footage of him leaving the building. C'est très déroutant."

"Sounds like typical CIA spooky business to me," Shroud said with a shrug. "They do that kind of stuff all the time."

"Oui, but they also keep evidence of all of their agents' deployments."

Curaçao tapped on another file, which displayed the most recent status of every single CIA Agent on record; this document wasn't publicly available, and she had gotten it from Shroud just a couple of days ago as part of her investigation.

"I have inspected this entire list, and not one of these agents was assigned to NPPD Central at the time this footage was taken, nor do any of them match the pony in the footage."

Shroud took another sip of coffee. "That's definitely not normal. Sounds like you've got yourself an impersonator, and a talented one if they doctored out all evidence of their being there. You've got less than a half-second of footage that even suggests they exist." She set down her cup. "So, how can I help?"

Curaçao arched an eyebrow. "Quoi?"

"This is obviously a big deal, right? Part of your assignment I'm guessing?"

"Ah… oui. But I cannot ask you for help, though. Mon père has told you that his assignment for you is more important, non?"

"Yeah, he has." Shroud smiled and took a bite of her waffle. "However, I'm currently on breakfast break, right? So if I wanted to help you out while I'm technically 'off the clock', well, that's my prerogative, isn't it?"

Curaçao's mouth curled in a tiny grin. "Oui, I suppose it is. Merci."

Shroud took the datapad from Curaçao and connected it to her computer via a thin cable, then rapidly started tapping on it whilst her eyes darted across the screen, all the while taking a sip of orange juice and a bite of waffle in between. Curaçao watched with rapt attention as the secretary worked, and, within a couple of minutes, she seemed to produce results. Even if they weren't good results.

Shroud leaned back in her seat a bit and shook her head. "Yeah, whoever your guy is, he's an expert, I'll tell you that much. I ran this file through my decryption software so that I could try to find where the adjustments were made, but it's corrupted somewhere that prevents my software from working, yet not anywhere that keeps it from playing."

"And you are certain he was not with the CIA? Perhaps they are hiding his identity?"

"No, the dossier on the agents wasn't tampered with at all, so you've definitely got an imposter, not a rogue former agent or something like that. I even ran his face through some facial recognition software and got nothing, so either your guy's a total ghost in the system or he hacked into that, too."

"Merde," Curaçao swore. She took another bite of waffle to calm her nerves, shaking her head. "This is not good. That means that all of the other security files were also tampered with, non?"

"Oh, definitely. I mean, I could pull them up and try to sort through them all, but that'll take a lot of time and probably won't give you any more answers." Shroud sipped on her orange juice again, looking at Curaçao with concern. "What's this about, if I might ask? I've always been a little curious what you're getting up to during the day."

Curaçao paused, then let out a breath. "Mon père has given me the assignment of better understanding the two stallions that I asked about on the day when you and I first met. They are key parts of the assignment that mes soeurs are working on, and it is my job to help however I can.

"I chose to focus first on Captain Flathoof, as he is a civil servant and was easier to research and interact with… at least until today," she said with a sigh, still a little bitter about recent events. "He has been concerned about a fellow officer of his who went missing, and a witness account suggests that an agent of the CIA was the last one seen with her."

Shroud nodded. "And that's where this imposter comes in. You think he's the one that talked to her, maybe did something more?"

"Oui, but I have no evidence of him other than this apparently useless footage, and an unreliable account from a witness." Curaçao hung her head. "I was hoping to break this open and leak my findings to Flathoof. I am certain that it would give him peace of mind, oui? He would be a valuable ally in the course of our assignments, more so than he already has been.

"But, with all this tampering, I am beginning to think that we might never learn what happened to her," she added. "After what I have learned about her, and what she meant to the captain and his family, I fear that they may never get peace of mind, oui? Truly tragic."

"I wish I could've been of more help," Shroud said, patting Curaçao's hoof. "Whoever's covering this up and why, they certainly didn't pull out any stops."

Curaçao glanced at Shroud's hoof on hers for a moment, then set her other hoof on top of Shroud's and gave the unicorn a genuine smile, which was returned. She liked it when Shroud smiled; the other mare had the cutest dimples that Curaçao had ever seen, and they complimented her glasses so well that it just made her… pop.

Curaçao just barely caught herself staring, and cleared her throat, removing her hoof in the process. "Merci. It is alright. I will have to put that project aside for now and move on to others. Maybe you can help while you are still on 'break', hmm?"

Shroud nodded. "Sure, let's see what you've got."

Curaçao took her datapad back from Shroud's computer, then tapped the screen a few more times. The next file was a dossier on the "repairpony" that had attempted to take Fluttershy the night before. This time it was more complete, including the pony's name—Power Flux—and his physical attributes such as weight and height, and other publicly-available data.

Everything about the stallion indicated that he was an upstanding member of society. He'd worked for the WPD for eight years, had been promoted from a standard service technician to an inspector technician, had never missed a day of work in his life, even had an ex-wife—ex because she was having an affair last year—and a five-year-old daughter that had died in a freak sports accident shortly before the divorce. He'd gone into a downward spiral after that and lost his job.

Sure, those last bits of information gave every indication of a stallion that should have been angry at society and might very well have taken it out on somepony else, and that would've been fine if it was just some isolated incident and that by happenstance he targeted Fluttershy. It was the fact that he was working with others and coordinating with them that made the entire thing seem completely out of place.

"Who's that?" Shroud asked, taking the last sip of her coffee.

"A suspect in an assault case last night," Curaçao explained, finishing off her own coffee. "He was supposed to have important information for me… but I could not get it from him directly, so I was hoping to find something in his records."

Shroud's eyes darted across the screen in less than a few seconds. "Oh, hey, is this connected with Captain Flathoof, too? He's on the arresting officer tag, along with this… Cadet Gumshoe. Maybe one of them knows more?"

Curaçao shook her head. "Captain Flathoof was not present for all of the arrest procedure, so he would not know more than what is on this dossier."

"Well then, maybe this Gumshoe does?"

"No. He doesn't. Cadet Gumshoe was suspended last night because this suspect falsely claimed that the cadet assaulted him, and physical evidence corroborated his claims." Curaçao sighed and leaned back in her chair. "This pony's lawyer was quick to get him out of questioning. And without a new address, I cannot find him."

"Oh. Well… that's a shame. How do you know the claims were false, though?"

"Trust me. I know."

She was still rather peeved about the whole thing. She'd tried asking the stallion more questions en route to the precinct, but he refused to answer and she couldn't properly threaten him while in her guise as Gumshoe. All that would do is start directing attention her way that she didn't want.

She decided instead to take him in and start working on a transfer to a different facility; with her connections it wouldn't be hard to get paperwork circled around to make it look like he had other arrest warrants in a different district. The process would only take a day or so at longest, and then the stallion would conveniently disappear en route.

But shifting his blame for his injuries at Gray's hooves onto Gumshoe to get out of trouble long enough to go off the grid? That took some real quick-thinking, and implied more coordination amongst these assailants so that he could disappear so quickly. Whoever this group was, they were far better organized than originally believed.

And yet he gave up information about the impending attack on Applejack with relatively little fuss, and that attack had been, in Gray's words, "amatuer-hour bullshit". Even the attack on Lockwood made little sense in the long run; why strangle him with the wrench when he could just clobber him over the head?

Contradictory situations and motivations. It was all quite… troubling.

Shroud frowned. "Well, this looks like a pretty complete record of everything. I could try to see if it was doctored, if you'd like?"

"Non, that is alright, it would not matter. Dawn has already investigated his old home and found it empty, as if he just… disappeared. This entire situation has left a bitter taste on my tongue, oui? I will investigate further if I can get more evidence."

Curaçao had hoped for more assistance from Shroud, but at this point it mattered little and she didn't hold it against her; by the time any information could be discovered anyway, there was no doubt that this stallion would be completely off the grid.

She didn't mention the fact that the only other ponies that had been involved in his plot had either fled the scene before Gray could identify any of them, or had been discovered dead in an alleyway, their bodies ripped apart in a fashion that proved that Velvet had used her powers to kill them, and hopefully not in full view of Pinkie. Curaçao hoped whatever officers got assigned to that case got sick, unable to stomach the carnage Velvet surely left behind.

Looking through what other information connected to the attacks provided more questions than answers, really. Velvet had been shot too, and had retrieved the bullet; as noted in Velvet's report, the weapon hadn't been a professional-grade firearm—most likely homemade—and so it couldn't be traced to a manufacturer. Still acquiring the materials and parts needed to make one's own gun wasn't exactly easy, so while it was a troublesome lead, that, too, went nowhere.

The building that Dawn investigated was also particularly mysterious, as despite Dawn's insistence that the building was there, that it was real, there was no evidence in public records about it whatsoever. Nothing on what kind of building it had been at any point in the past, nothing on when it was abandoned, nor about who owned it or who had leased the land, and certainly no details on what had happened there to make it so dilapidated.

At any rate, with her only living lead missing, there was nothing more that could be done. Curaçao filed away these dead ends into a folder in her datapad for later review; she hoped that eventually, evidence might crop up that would help her put more pieces of this puzzle together.

By this point, she noticed that Shroud had finished up her breakfast. "Well, I do appreciate the help, at least. I will let you go back to your own work, oui?"

"I've still got some orange juice left," Shroud said with a little grin, shaking the nearly-empty glass of juice. "So, if you've got something else, I mean… I'll take my time drinking it. Whatever it is you need, I know it couldn't possibly take very long for me to figure out."

Curaçao blinked, unsure what to make of the offer. "But, what about your other assignment? I do not want you to get in trouble."

"I won't. Look, you've been… the only friend I have in this whole place," Shroud said, hanging her head. "Like I said, nopony comes to visit me in person, even Silvertongue. I'm just a voice on an intercom to most ponies here in the Tower. My meals get left outside my door, for goodness sake.

"So, what I'm saying is… I want to help you. I like having you here. I know it's my job to help Silvertongue, and that he wants me to work on this other assignment full-time now, but… just let me help you with this, whatever it is, okay? Please?"

Curaçao gave Shroud a little smile. "D'accord."

"Great! So, what've you got for me?"

Curaçao pulled up the folder she had that contained all of the information she had on Lockwood, the same one that had made friends with all of her sisters' targets. "I have determined that this 'Lockwood' fellow is the best avenue to pursue to ensure the success of my assignment."

"This is the younger one, right? I remember giving you two Lockwoods."

"Oui, the younger one. The older one is… not worth pursuing," Curaçao said with a sour expression.

She didn't mention why, but the general gist of things was that the guy seemed like a total scumbag, with a decent-sized rap sheet—mostly on charges for extortion, blackmail, fraud, and sexual harassment—but otherwise totally unremarkable.

"I have been given the impression that he is something of a, how do you say, social butterfly? He has valuable contacts and connections in all areas of the city. By himself, he is a relatively unremarkable pony: he is not very strong or fast, he does not have a substantial income or an impactful career, he has no higher education, and he was not born into a powerful family."

"And despite all that, he knows a bunch of important ponies?" Shroud asked.

"Oui, so I have heard." She shook her head. "But I do not know how to connect all of the dots with him. There are so many files to search, and so many of them seem to have nothing to offer, no leads to pursue. At least not without lots of time—"

Shroud smirked. "Or somepony that knows how to analyze data efficiently. Let me take a crack at it."

Curaçao passed over her datapad, which Shroud plugged into her computer before setting to work. As always, her hooves were a flurry on the touchscreen, her eyes darting back and forth faster than Curaçao could follow. Curaçao knew she could do the same thing that Shroud was doing now, but it would take her significantly more time and effort, time which she did not want to waste.

She also noticed that Shroud didn't touch her orange juice, not until after she was done, which took about ten minutes of silence; how she worked so fast was a total mystery to Curaçao, and she wondered how this mare had developed such a talent, and furthermore if it applied to any other fields. She was honestly just content to watch the unicorn focus on her work.

"There we go," Shroud said, passing the datapad back to Curaçao. "I streamlined the data into a simple spreadsheet which includes names for every pony that could be a potential contact, sorted by the likelihood they're connected based on how often I saw their names. Some could just be coincidences, though, but that's up to you to determine."

Curaçao stared blankly at her datapad, opening up the spreadsheet and seeing that there were indeed names of ponies on it, which were indeed sorted by the frequency with which they appeared in Lockwood's files. She was surprised that Shroud had done this so fast, but mostly because the list was so long.

"These are… a lot of ponies," Curaçao said, scrolling through the list. It was just names here, nothing more, but that was enough to work with. "Is there any way you can get me some data on these individuals?"

"Already way ahead of you," Shroud said with a grin. "Their data is downloading onto your datapad as we speak, and should be done in about thirty minutes. I can continue working on my own stuff while you wait for it to finish."

Curaçao did indeed wait for the download to finish, and once it did, she sat there at Shroud's desk with her datapad in hoof and began her research; Shroud seemed to enjoy the company, and Curaçao had nothing else to do today but try and devise a plan to move forward, and that required a starting point. It required a new identity to work on, one that could ingratiate herself to this Lockwood fellow and forge a path forward.

Now that she had data to go with the names on Shroud's spreadsheet, Curaçao found herself bewildered not just by the number of contacts Lockwood seemed to have, but by their standings within the city's hierarchy. She reminded herself again that Lockwood was a pony of meager income with no formal education and who hadn't been born into an influential family, because his potential social circle said anything but.

Lockwood had contacts spread across every possible aspect of city life: newspaper editors, talent scouts, fashion designers, caterers, nurses, doctors, athletes, architects, photographers, computer technicians, registrar clerks, police officers, firefighters, transportation managers, restaurateurs; the list went on and on, and most of the ponies in question were of vastly different social classes on top of it.

One of the more interesting tidbits was that Lockwood was on the lists of founding members for over two dozen charities, all of which contained several other members on the list of contacts, sometimes multiple times. One such charity routinely held events in the Inner Districts and managed to actually succeed in gathering a reasonable amount of donations; in fact, they were scheduled to hold one such event, a masquerade ball, within the coming week.

The document on the charity included several details about past events as well, including photographs. Lockwood had attended each of these events, and she was able to find a picture of him in each and every one, typically in the crowd somewhere chatting it up with other attendees or at least in group pictures taken of the charity members. He was typically speaking with other ponies that appeared on the spreadsheet; these events were likely where he met them.

One in particular caught Curaçao's eye, though, a photograph from a ball that had been held some five years back—give or take a few months—in which Lockwood had of course been in attendance. Not just that, but this particular photo was from the dance floor at a ritzy ballroom, and Lockwood was actually out on the floor dancing; well, not on the floor, but in the air, engaged in a dance with another pegasus, a mare. It was hard to tell from a still picture, but the dance and the look the two shared looked somewhat intimate.

She'd often thought about dancing with somepony like that, preferably somepony special. She glanced briefly at Shroud, who was busy working away on her computer with diligence and efficiency, then shook her head and forced those thoughts down; this was no time to get distracted.

The mare in the photo was identified as one "Thunderbolt", and a quick check on the spreadsheet confirmed that this was no happenstance one-off meeting between the two; they had attended several dozen charities over two or so years, and he was legally involved in their company, Crown Spectrum, which from what Curaçao was now reading had become a tech powerhouse practically overnight and developed one of the most advanced innovations seen in the city in over fifty years: a technomagic device that could simulate unicorn telekinetic control.

Thunderbolt herself, though, hadn't been seen for years, and by all accounts her company was essentially running itself thanks to some intrepid business dealings that had Lockwood's hoofprints all over them. Funds were shipped overseas to the southern continent, so it was clear she'd moved back there—her file indicated she had moved there as a filly and then come back to the city to start a business when she was of age. Even that seemed a little suspicious.

One thing was for sure, this Lockwood fellow was definitely a pony that everypony should know, including Curaçao herself. Everything else on her mind—the Snapshot investigation, the investigation into the missing assailant—was to be put on the backburner. They were currently dead-ends as far as Curaçao was concerned; attempting to get anything more out of them now was just wasting time and effort better spent elsewhere.

This wasn't about her sisters' assignments anymore, not by a longshot. When their mission was done, their family would need to look towards the future, and something told her that the future depended on expanding beyond this shadowy scope that her father worked in, which meant operating openly.

Her next assignment was clear: she needed to arrange a meeting with this Lockwood.

Comments

[RoboRed]

Nihila. Nihila plz. Wat r u doin'. Stahp.

"You will destroy them once we are done with them. Say it, my Warden. Say the words."

Silvertongue clenched his teeth for a moment, then nodded. "I will destroy them once we no longer have use for them, my lady."

Something tells me the turnaround will be a lot sooner in this timeline.

Man, Shroud is really good at what she does.

[DDDDDDDDD23]

Hopefully this story keeps more towards just the journey through the world as opposed to the confusing bits on the multiverse theory that had all the worlds being rewritten once the show changes.

[DDDDDDDDD23]

10547567
That brought a great story down to an okay one.

[Victor07]

The mare in the photo was identified as one "Thunderbolt", and a quick check on the spreadsheet confirmed that this was no happenstance one-off meeting between the two; they had attended several dozen charities over two or so years, and he was legally involved in their company, Crown Spectrum, which from what Curaçao was now reading had become a tech powerhouse practically overnight and developed one of the most advanced innovations seen in the city in over fifty years: a technomagic device that could simulate unicorn telekinetic control.

Now i going to continue my Royal affair reading

[My name is R]

She was certain that she'd heard all sorts of music like this, but not where or when she had; it was like having a word on the tip of her tongue but being unable to think of it, which was an utterly alien feeling.

Little hints, wriggling and squirming. Pieces of a puzzle you aren't looking for.

but urgent matters have arisen and I require your beneficence regarding recent concerns related to the assignments my sisters and I are engaged upon.

Beneficence: the quality or state of doing or producing good.
That is an odd word to use there.

She knew it had been the right idea to come to her father for assistance. If anypony could help get to the bottom of this mystery, it was him; he would do anything for her, for her sisters, she knew that in her heart.

Half right, half wrong. Your father's a genius, but he's not a trustworthy sort, and he's got things he cares about more than you.

I entrusted you with speeding these 'Elements' into my grasp, and yet they still dawdle, they work and play while they seek out answers that you could provide at any moment. They needed… a push. Through conflict, camaraderie is bred.

Hmm. So I was right that the attacks were aimed to help tha clones impress the Elements, but wrong about who sent them. Alright.

"Oui, but they also keep evidence of all of their agents' deployments."

Is Curie lookin' fer Shadowstep? Why would she be doin' that?

Oohhh. She doesn't know that is Shadow, does she?

But shifting his blame for his injuries at Gray's hooves onto Gumshoe to get out of trouble long enough to go off the grid? That took some real quick-thinking, and implied more coordination amongst these assailants so that he could disappear so quickly. Whoever this group was, they were far better organized than originally believed.
And yet he gave up information about the impending attack on Applejack with relatively little fuss, and that attack had been, in Gray's words, "amatuer-hour bullshit". Even the attack on Lockwood made little sense in the long run; why strangle him with the wrench when he could just clobber him over the head?

Ah yes, it all makes sense from up here at tha lookout post. They were super adept at staying hidden, but easily thwarted because, aside from Pinkie, they were meant ta be!

She didn't mention why, but the general gist of things was that the guy seemed like a total scumbag, with a decent-sized rap sheet—mostly on charges for extortion, blackmail, fraud, and sexual harassment—but otherwise totally unremarkable.

I ain't surprised. Sounds just like em.

This wasn't about her sisters' assignments anymore, not by a longshot. When their mission was done, their family would need to look towards the future, and something told her that the future depended on expanding beyond this shadowy scope that her father worked in, which meant operating openly.
Her next assignment was clear: she needed to arrange a meeting with this Lockwood.

'Astonished wonder noises.'

11525836
Yeah, this one makes a lot of nods ta Royal Affair. Comes with having been made right on its heels, no doubt. I felt a similar feeling when Royal Affair's epilogue talked about things halfway through the original Crisis.