Mayhem On The Mountain

by Bluecatcinema

An Ace In The Hole

Three months later...

It was a fine morning in the city of Canterlot, as captain of the Royal Guard and a member of the RDL (Royal Defense Legion) Fletcher Ulysses was busy at home. While not one to take days off, Fletcher decided to take this one in particular to help his wife Dove set up a nursery for their upcoming foal.

And as with everything, Fletcher was very meticulous in making sure everything was perfect.

“Hmm…” Fletcher looked over their bedroom, walking back and forth, eyeing the area from different angles, as he then suddenly pointed to a spot, “...We should put the crib right here.”

"Right next to our bed?" Dove asked.

“Of course.” Fletcher nodded, “It’ll make midnight feedings more efficient, and since the foal’s wails will wake us anyways, it will be less ground to cover when we have to soothe our child.”

“Well, that does make sense.” Dove admitted, “But-”

“Now we’ve established the crib’s location, we should consider where we to baby supplies.” Fletcher declared, as he then pulled out a tape measure, and began measuring the chest of drawers against the wall.

“Um, honey, you already measured that.” Dove frowned.

“I know, but it doesn’t hurt to check again.” Fletcher rebutted, as he glanced at the tape, and frowned. “Hmm, it seems big enough… but we might have to allocate a space for milk bottles, somewhere over…” He glanced around the room… and then pointed to the bedside dresser. ”Here.”

“Fletcher, love, I appreciate all the thought you’re putting into this.” Dove cringed, “But don’t you think you’re getting a little too into the details?”

“Well, I have to be, Dove.” Fletcher defended, “Even the slightest of details could make all the difference. This is going to be our first foal, and I want to ensure that we can care for it with the utmost efficiency and efficacy.”

“And that’s good and all, but it is not like the child is coming right now. We still have around six months.” Dove explained, “You’re going to wear yourself out sweating over the little things.”

“I realize that.” Fletcher grimaced, “I just…” He sighed, “I want just to make sure we’re ready for this, to be parents, I mean.”

“Oh, Fletchy.” Dove soothingly put a hoof on his cheek, “Nopony’s ever truly ready to be a parent. You can only prepare to raise a foal so much, and even then, it might not go to plan. When that little bundle of joy is here, we'll learn how to care of it just like everypony else does: one day at a time."

"You really think so?" Fletcher asked, still worried.

"I know so." Dove kissed him. "We'll do just fine... Even without the tape measure."

“Thanks, honey.” Fletcher kissed her back. As he pulled away, he frowned at the tape measure, “Well, I guess this is a bit of overkill.” He tossed it aside, as he hugged his wife, “How about we take a break? You must be craving something by now.”

“Well, since you mentioned it, honey does sound very good.” Dove smiled, “Oh, and maybe some peanut butter.”

“Coming right up.” Fletcher pledged, eager to attend to his wife's every need.

Dove rolled her eyes as her over-attentive husband raced to the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Fletcher's partner Caboose Napoleon (who also happened to be second-in-command of the Royal Guard) was giving his daughter, Hurricane (a junior guardspony in training), a training session in the courtyard of Canterlot Castle. Technically, he was supposed to be handling his partner's duties as acting Captain. But Canterlot had been so quiet lately that he barely had anything to do, so he decided to take the opportunity to help Hurricane with her own efforts.

"That's it, kiddo." Caboose declared, as he parried a forceful strike. "Give it your all."

"That's the plan." Hurricane nodded, throwing out another punch, which was also blocked.

"Good." Caboose nodded. "Again."

Hurricane repeated the strike, albeit a little harder this time.

"Ooh, my hoof almost went numb there." Caboose waved his appendage. "Nice one, Hurri."

"Thanks, dad." Hurricane grinned, hiding the fact that her own hoof had almost gone numb from the attack.

“Hi, Hurricane!”

Caboose and Nyx glanced up, and saw Nyx, the newest member of the royal family, waved from a balcony. The filly was the subject of a Forefather’s project, headed by Somnus Nabudis and Sacred Dysley (Secret Dysley’s father), a reincarnation of Nightmare Moon, and had recently been freed from the purpose planned for her. As of now, she was happily adopted by Princess Luna and her husband Gothic.

“Oh, hey, Nyxie!” Hurricane waved.

“How are you doing?” Nyx called out.

“Doing great, thanks for asking!” Hurricane shouted back.

"You wanna hang out after lunch?" Nyx asked.

"Sorry, can't." Hurricane shook her head. "Got more Junior Guardspony training!"

"That's okay." Nyx smiled. "We can always hang out tomorrow!"

"That's the spirit, kiddo!" Hurricane grinned.

"Later!" Nyx waved, before going back into the castle.

"...So, looks like Nyx is really doing well for herself after the whole 'almost made into a living fear gas machine by the Forefathers' thing." Caboose noted. "Not many ponies can say that, you know..."

"Yeah, she's doing great." Hurricane smiled. "You'd be surprised how much happy a filly can be when she's with a loving family, and not inciting horrific nightmares in everypony whenever she gets stressed..."

"Getting raised right does make a lot of difference." Caboose grinned. "Look at the great job my parents did with me."

"And you with me." Hurricane chuckled.

"Just a chuckle of regular, normal, well-adjusted ponies." Caboose agreed. "Right, readers?"

A passing Guard gave Caboose a funny look as he glanced straight up into the sky. But as Caboose was his superior, he wisely chose to say nothing.

"Okay, back to business." Caboose declared. "Give me your best shot."

"Okay, you asked for it!" Hurricane delivered a set of kicks, followed by a punch combo. Caboose managed to block all but the last strike, which he took advantage of to grab and restrain her. "Oh, come on? Really?" She protested.

"Sorry, kiddo." Caboose chuckled as he released her. "But I had to test your reaction to a sudden turnaround in battle. Guess this student ain't gonna surpass the teacher any time soon."

"Definitely not." Hurricane sighed as she rubbed her hoof.

"What's wrong, Hurri?" Caboose asked. "I didn't think it was that big a burn..."

"It's not that." Hurricane admitted. "It's just... what if I never get any better? What if this is the best I can do? If I can't even put up a decent fight against my old timer dad, how can I possibly defend Equestria from bad guys?"

"Ouch." Caboose said under his breath, stung by the 'old timer' comment. "Don't sell yourself short sweetie. You're still a young filly. You're not done growin' yet, remember?"

"Yeah, sure." Hurricane scoffed. "It'd be a real plot convenience if that were all there was to it."

"You're a Napoleon." Caboose reminded her. "And Napoleons are a cut above the rest. Always have been. Always will be. And don’t forget, your mom was a top notch explorer and flank kicker that makes Lyra Croft blush. This kinda thing is in your blood, kiddo! It's who you are!"

"I guess you have a point there..." Hurricane frowned. "But still..."

Caboose, his fatherly instincts spurred by his daughter's sudden downswing in coincidence, racked his brains, trying to think of a way to help her. In seconds, he hit upon an idea.

"Let me show you something new." Caboose grinned. "A move that's been passed down through the Napoleon family for generations, guaranteed to take down almost any opponent, and definitely not something I didn’t make up on the spot: The Napoleon Knockout!"

"Ooh, nice alliteration." Hurricane said appreciatively. "How does it go?"

"I'd be happy to show you." Caboose smiled. "First, let's get us some targets..."

They moved over to the training grounds, where Caboose set up some wooden dummies.

"Okay, here we go." He took a few steps back. "Watch closely, kiddo."

"Like a hawk." Hurricane nodded. "Or a peregrine falcon. Whichever is better at lookin' at stuff."

Caboose charged at the dummies, leapt into the air, and spun in mid-dive. He stuck out all his limbs at once, making himself like an oversized pinwheel. As ridiculous as it looked, the results couldn't be argued with; the dummies were all knocked down, and Caboose landed perfectly on his hooves.

"Ta-da!" Caboose whooped.

"Wow!" Hurricane clapped her hooves together. "Awesome!"

"Thanks." Caboose nodded, using his horn to put the dummies back in place. "Okay, your turn."

"Are you sure I'm ready?" Hurricane asked nervously.

"Sure you are." Caboose nodded. "You're not that much older than me when I learned the move that I totally did not make up. Just remember to go loose as you spin, and you should be fine."

"Okay, here goes..." Hurricane took a deep breath, then went for it.

The young Napoleon leapt into the air as her father did, and spun. But instead of taking down the dummies, she fell flat on the ground.

"Ow." She grunted.

"Okay, that could've been better." Caboose winced. "Give it another shot, champ."

Hurricane got up, dusted herself off, and tried again. Alas, the second time ended the same as the first.

"I knew it." Hurricane groaned. "I knew I wasn't any good."

"Don't sell yourself short." Caboose told her. "I didn't get it the first or second time either. Give it another shot. I know you can do it."

Hurricane tried a third time. She managed to stay on course, but crashed into them.

"You've almost got it, kid." Caboose encouraged her, resetting the dummies.

"That's not how I see it." Hurricane frowned. "I can't do it. Not like you can."

"Then don't do it like me." Caboose smiled. "Do it your own way."

"My own way..." Hurricane glanced at herself. "I think I know what you're getting at..."

Hurricane once again into the air. But this time, she used her wings to help her stay on course. This time, she managed to knock down all but one of the dummies, and stumbled as she landed, almost losing her balance.

"That's my girl!" Caboose grinned, racing over and giving her a hug. "You think just anypony could pull that off? Nuh-uh!"

"Thanks, dad." Hurricane beamed.

"You keep that up, and maybe one day, the RDL'll snap you up just like they did me." Caboose chuckled.

“Yeah, about that…” Hurricane mused, “What exactly do you do at the RDL?”

“...Um, whatever do you mean, Hurri?” Caboose grew nervous, “You know that me and the captain have been working as consultants in these past months.”

“I get that, but what exactly does being a consultant entail?” Hurricane frowned.

"Oh, you know... This and that." Caboose’s eyes shifted back and forth, not wanting his young daughter to know exactly what kind of dangerous and unseemly elements he had encountered while on the job… that, and he knew Fletcher, Elite, and the others would have his flank for divulging sensitive RDL material. "Nothing too memorable. Pretty much off-screen and out of focus."

“Really?” Hurricane said skeptically. "So you spend the last three stories doing nothing but ‘off-screen and out of focus’ stuff?"

"Yep." Caboose said, sweating profusely. "I wouldn't wanna bore ya with the full details."

“Uh-huh.” Hurricane murmured, before shrugging, “Well, I do hate being bored. Okay, let’s set up the dummies, so I can try again.”

"You got it, Hurri." Caboose grinned, convinced that he had successfully misled his daughter. "Practice makes perfect. You wouldn't believe how many times I messed up before I got it right."

“This trick you certainly did not make up on the spot?” Hurricane teased, “I dunno, I might have an idea…”

Caboose rolled his eyes at Hurricane's lighthearted jab.

'She's one spirited kid.' He acknowledged. 'Still, I really hope by the time she’s grown up, we will have taken care of the Forefathers and wrapped up that arc. I would hate for her to get wrapped up in her old man’s fight./

He then snorted to himself.

’What am I worried about? Me and the guys have already taken on a lot of big baddies. Nalik, Killsquad, Solomon, Broker… and we didn’t even have to worry about Black Thorn, Gridlock, and Harlhooves…’ Caboose frowned, ’Yikes, we’re kinda breezing through our villains, aren’t we? The writers are gonna have to write us a couple of new ones lest the readers get bored-’

“Um, dad? Are you doing an inner monologue right now?” Hurricane asked, having watched her father stand in place, a dummy in his magical grasp.

“Oh, sorry, sweetheart.” Caboose cringed, as he finished setting up the dummies, and stood aside as Hurricane prepared another go at the technique.

’Well, if there’s an upside to a shortage of villains, it just means there’s nothing the Forefathers could throw at us that we can’t handle.’ Caboose smirked proudly, ’I don’t wanna jinx it, but we really hit our stride. And absolutely, positively nothing is going to happen in this chapter to change all that…’ He then pondered, ’Speaking of, I wonder what the others are up to…’

Later that evening...

Just outside Applewood was an airship port situated on a cliffside, multiple docks littered with ships hanging over the edge.

A group of Forefathers agents were going about their business (the business in question being a clandestine weapon and chemical running operation). Most of their work had been done for the day, leaving cleanup and admin work to be done for a few, and a little downtime for the others.

In one corner of the open area, towards the entrance, two agents by the names of Runner and Gunner were drinking from tankards and having a discussion.

"You gonna check out that new Power Ponies movie?" Runner asked.

"I'm not sure yet." Gunner shrugged. "The setup doesn't sound like my cup of oats. It's taking place way in the future, with all these new characters."

"So?" Runner shrugged. "As long as it stays true to the spirit of the original stories, I got no problem with that."

"I wish I had your confidence." Gunner rolled his eyes.

As they talked, a number of carriages were speeding towards the docks.

"So how long do you think this gig is gonna last?" Runner inquired.

"Soon, I hope." Gunner groaned. "We've been loading and unloading crates for weeks now. I didn't join this outfit thinking it'd be a delivery company."

"I'm sure all this stuff we're sendin' out is gonna be important down the road." Runner declared. "Why else would the higher-ups have us bustin' our humps getting it all where it needs to go?"

"It's probably something to take down those RDL guys." Gunner surmised. "I hear they've really been messing up the bosses' plans lately."

"Lousy do-gooders." Runner snarled. "I wish they were here right now, so I could show 'em what's what!"

Suddenly, the gates to the docks were blown open, as a motorized steam carriage plowed through, with two like it following suit.

"What the buck?!" The supervisor yelped.

The carriages barreled through the opening area, sending workers and agents alike scattering, before screeching to a halt.

Almost immediately, the carriages opened up, as a group of RDL agents, armed with crossbows and other weaponry, disembarked.

“Oh, buck, it’s a raid!” Gunner yelped.

The workers and Forefather agents all began to panic, dashing about to either grab their weapons or simply to hide as the RDL agents started spreading out.

Two stood out amongst their rank, as a tan stallion in a leather jacket with an intricate sword and a big stallion in a unique suit of powered armor were leading the charge. They were Sterling Cross and Black Knight Paladin.

“Crap, it’s Cross and that tin pony!” Runner cursed.

“This is the RDL!” Black roared, his voice distorted by his visor via modulator, “You are all under arrest for affiliation with the Forefathers!”

“So drop your weapons, get on your knees and hooves or other appendages on your heads.” Sterling ordered, drawing and pointing his sword to the mass of shocked agents, “Do not make this any more painful than it has to be.”

“We ain’t goin’ down that easy!” Runner snarled, “Let’s get them!”

“Maximum pain it is, then.” Sterling shook his head, “Guess it was too much to ask for a quick and easy resolution.”

“Oh, this will be quick and easy.” Black said determinedly, “...For us at least.”

The two forces collided, exchanging punches, knives, swords and crossbow bolts. The RDL agents, possessed of keen military training, managed to take down more than a few Forefather flunkies. But it was Black and Sterling who were the real MVPs of the battle.

"Eat this, G-stallion!" Runner charged at Sterling, brandishing a butterfly knife.

"Try and make me, punk!" Sterling evaded the slashes, then kicked the knife out of his opponent's hoof.

Undeterred, Runner charged at Sterling, striking him in the face. He briefly smirked in triumph... Then gaped in horror as Sterling shrugged off the blow.

"My turn." Sterling growled.

"Give it your bes-Ugh!" Runner was cut off mid-taunt by Sterling, who punched him across the room.

At the same time, Gunner jumped Black from behind, wrapping his hooves around his neck.

"I'm gonna open you up like a can of succotash!" He threatened.

"I don't think so!" Black grabbed Gunner and threw him at a trio of advancing Forefather agents, leaving them as a pile of bruised ponies.

As the bout raged on, a new wave of Forefathers agents came onto the scene. In lieu of crossbows and other weapons, they brandished staves.

“Staves?” Sterling snorted, “Isn’t it usually a bad idea to send mages out onto the frontlines?”

The villains wordlessly aimed the points of their weapons at their attackers, emitting a reddish glow from the crystals near said points.

Black barely took a moment to glance at the newcomers before recognizing the kind of weapons they were.

“Oh, buck! Everypony, heads up!” Black yelled.

Bolts of magic fired outwards, as RDL agents scattered to evade the assault. Unfortunately, a few of them were unable to dodge in time, and were struck by the blasts head-on.

"Arrgh!"

"Urrgh!"

The two dropped to the ground, badly injured at best, and dead at worst.

“Oh crap, aren’t those like those gizmos that Grunt had back on the island?” Sterling gasped.

“More like the Sepulchre Sceptre Sacred used in our fight all those years ago.” Black growled, “Should have known they’d find a way to mass produce those things. But they’re going down ALL THE SAME!”

With a roar, Black charged forth, flicking his left hoof as a built-in crossbow popped out of the gauntlet. He opened fire on the crowd.

The agents, shocked by the armored pony’s sudden charge and open firing, scattered, but as with the RDL agents, a few agents were unlucky. One of the agents (one who had landed a hit earlier) got a bolt stuck in his leg.

"Gahh!" The agent screamed as he collapsed.

"Nice shot!" Sterling smiled. "Okay, guys, steer clear of those oversized butter knives!" He said as he charged the nearest agent. He stared the blast, getting in close enough to grab the stave, then used his free hoof to knock him out. "Nighty-night!"

Emboldened by their leaders' efforts, the RDL troops moved onwards, retaliating with crossbow shots, weapon swings, and punches.

"Okay, time to get serious..." Sterling drew his sword. As more agents attacked, his used his sword to block swings of the the staves, even slicing a couple of them in half. As one agent stared at his broken weapon in shock, Sterling his free hoof to knock him out.

At the same time, Runner and Gunner stared down Black, having obtained their own staves to join the fight.

"That tin can won't save you from these." Runner mockingly waved his stave.

"You're gonna fry inside that thing!" Gunner added.

"We'll see about that..." Black growled.

Runner and Gunner's staves unleashed magic blasts. Black charged at them, banking on his suit to protect him. He could feel the heat from each hit, and knew he couldn't risk too many hits. So he moved fast. Reaching Gunner first, he kicked the stave out of his hooves, and knocked him out with a headbutt.

"One down..." He smirked.

A blast of magic narrowly missed his head, and he found himself facing Runner, who was pointing his stave right at him.

"Game over." Runner snarled.

In the blink of an eye, Black brandished his "Homer" (a grappling dart pistol) and fired. The dart embedded itself in the wall directly behind Runner.

"You missed." Runner needed.

"Wrong." Black pulled, causing a chunk of wall to break off and hit Runner in the back of the head, knocking him out. "I was right on target."

Ultimately, all the Forefather agents were rounded up and caught. They were restrained and placed in a circle formation, sore and seething.

“Good work, guys.” Black declared, “Tend to the wounded and deceased. Me and Cross will handle interrogation.”

“Of course, Dreadnaught.” The head of the squad nodded, using his codename.

Black and Sterling shared a glance and stepped forward, intent on interrogating the captive agents.

“Well, I bet you guys are really regretting your latest decisions right about now, huh?” Sterling taunted.

“Go to hell, traitor!” One agent roared.

“You’re out of your damn mind if you think we’re gonna talk.” The supervisor grunted.

“Look, we already have you all for weapon and drug smuggling, on top of, you know, being a Forefather associate.” Black growled, “We’re not looking for confessions. We need information. Information about the ‘supply tunnels’.”

The captured agents shared confused looks.

“Supply tunnels?” The supervisor frowned, “What are you talking about?”

"Don't play dumb." Black glared.

“Dude, all we do is load stuff on airships.” One agent deadpanned, “Why would we be using tunnels if we have airships?”

"Yeah, why is that?" Gunner asked.

"Maybe pilot licenses aren't easy to come by?" Runner suggested.

"Or maybe they just wanna save fuel?" Another agent mused.

"Why would they want to save fuel?" A further agent asked.

"All those ancient buildings don't come cheap, y'know." Another agent shrugged.

Grimacing, Sterling and Black stepped back for a moment.

“Well, what do you think? They’re telling the truth?" Black asked.

“I’m not a psych major like Survival, but I think they know less than we do.” Sterling cringed, “Besides, I doubt they’d bother with an illegal airship transportation operation if they had access to a tunnel.”

“In that case, this is another dead end.” Black groaned, “How many operations does this make?”

“Lost count.” Sterling frowned, “We’ve been at this for three months now, doing raids and infiltrations on Forefather compounds and operations. Collared a lot of agents on the way.”

“And yet, they either knew nothing, or won’t say a damn thing.” Black sighed, as he turned to Sterling, “I don’t mean to doubt Elite or your old comrade, but are you sure Nabudis wasn’t mistaken about these ‘tunnels’, or Faust forbid, lying to us?”

“No.” Sterling shook his head, “Nabudis would have had nothing to gain from lying to us, especially after how he left things with them.” He then brought a hoof to his chin, his eyes closed in thought, “Although I can understand your doubts… all these years I’ve been a Forefather agent, an Ouroboros even, and not once have I ever heard of these ‘supply tunnels’ let alone seen one. I was shocked when Elite told me about it.”

He gave a small chuckle.

“Machine-made portals that connects Infinity to the rest of the world.” Sterling mused, “I swear, if it wasn’t for that mirror back at the Crystal Empire, these things would be right at home in a sci-fi movie.”

“Well, sci-fi or not, it’s currently our best shot at finding the Forefathers’ base and stopping them and Father once and for all.” Black grimaced, “The worst part is, if by some miracle we did find one, there’s that bullcrap with those ‘keys’.”

“Yeah, those pendants.” Sterling reminisced, referring to the pendants that were given to Forefather agents upon initiation, bearing the Forefathers emblem (an eagle with two slanted Fs), “Didn’t think they would actually be used to open one of these tunnels.”

“Only problem is, if what Nabudis said anything to go by, the moment an owner of a pendant gets caught, killed, or somewhere inbetween, the pendant, through some mystic mumbo-jumbo, becomes useless.” Black frowned.

“Hate the paranoia all you want, you gotta admire all the contingencies Father has thought up.” Sterling admitted.

“I rather not.” Black growled, “I can’t even begin to think of how we’re gonna get a working pendant.”

“Well, I can bet you by now, the pendants on these guys are worthless.” Sterling gestured to the prisoners.

"So we're back to square one." Black sighed. "Terrific."

"There's got to be something we can do." Sterling frowned. "Some angle we haven't considered yet..."

"Maybe..." Black mused.

As the two discussed matters further, Runner sidled over to Gunner.

“Psst, Gunner.” Runner whispered.

“Runner? What are you doing?” Gunner gaped, nervously glancing at Sterling and Black, still talking and paying them no mind.

“Look, there’s no time. In my back pocket, I still have my mirror.” Runner explained, “I need you to reach in and call him!”

“What?!” Gunner gaped, “No way!”

“Shh!” Runner hissed, before glaring, “What do you mean, no way?!”

“Look, I don’t think we should make things worse than they already are.” Gunner grimaced.

“We won’t have to worry about that, because he can get us outta this.” Runner rebutted.

“Well, I don’t wanna call him!” Gunner refused petulantly.

“Why not?!” Runner demanded, keeping his voice low as possible.

“Have you met the guy?!” Gunner quivered, “He’s a monster! And he scares the living daylight out of me!”

“Oh, and you think what the RDL gonna do to us isn’t going to be much scarier?” Runner glared, “Come on, man, he’s our only shot at avoiding whatever hole they’re gonna throw us in.”

"That's your opinion." Gunner said stubbornly.

"Call him!" Runner demanded.

"No!" Gunner retorted.

"Now!" Runner snarled.

"Never!" Gunner shook his head.

"Do it!" Another agent yelled.

"Come on!" One urged.

"Whattaya waitin' for?" A thuggish agent spat.

"Never!" Gunner refused to budge.

“Oh for the love of- just call him, you brainless plough horse!” Runner roared.

“Call who exactly?”

Runner cursed under his breath as Sterling and Black were eyeing them intently, the group’s argument finally catching their attention, Sterling being the one to ask the question.

“Way to go, asshole.” Runner glared darkly at Gunner, who looked like a deer in a headlight.

“Come on, fellas, don't leave us in suspense." Black said mockingly, “Who is it you wanted your friend to call?”

“Well, if you must know, we have an ace up our sleeves.” Runner sneered, putting a bravado, “You see, the Forefathers got a brand new bad boy in their corner, and this guy, hoo boy, he’s been cleaning house these past three months.”

“...Is that right?” Black’s mocking tone faded, turning to concern.

“That’s right. And I’m telling you now, if you don’t let us go right now, he’s gonna buck you both up!” Runner taunted.

“Oh, really?” Sterling scoffed, as he then approached Runner, and patting him down, pulled out his mirror… then holding it out to Runner, “Care to test that theory?”

“Sterling? What are you doing?” Black asked.

“If this guy is bad as they say, I say they should call him. I want to meet this so-called ‘housecleaner’.” Sterling declared.

“Seriously?” Gunner gaped, “Do you got a death-wish, man?” He was quickly elbowed by Runner.

“Hold on, Sterling, we shouldn’t be rash.” Black put a hoof on his shoulder. “We don’t know who this guy is.” He eyed Gunner, “And from the sounds of it, he doesn’t seem pleasant.”

"Please." Sterling brushed off Black's concern, as well as his hoof. "If I’m right, there's no one left at the Forefathers who's a major threat to us. You guys already handled the worst of the lot in Solomon and Gridlock. Besides, considering our track record, whoever shows up, we can take them and leave no agents uncaptured.”

"Okay, there is that." Black acknowledged. "But still..."

“Come on, Dread. We got this.” Sterling smirked, as he then turned to Runner, still holding out the mirror, “Go on. Call him. Call your big hero.”

“Okay, I will.” Runner glared suspiciously, as he took the mirror in his cuffed hooves. With a tap, he activated it.

After buzzing a few times, a shadowed figure appeared in the glass.

“...What?” An irritated, distorted voice growled.

"We have a problem." Runner announced. "Our supply operation over in Applewood has been attacked by RDL agents, and we are kinda in a bind. So, we need you to come in and do your thing."

The figure gave no indication of acknowledging his words, albeit a frustrated sigh.

“...Um, didn’t you hear me?” Runner frowned, “We need you to-”

The mirror suddenly went blank, as the figure hung up.

“...He hung up on me.” Runner gaped.

"Hmph, figures." Sterling smirked. "Looks like 'ace' just turned tail and ran." He turned to the other RDL agents. "Take these clowns to the carriages.”

"Yes, sir." The lead agent nodded.

The RDL agents began taking the Forefather agents.

"Get offa me!" One of villainous agents struggled.

"Yeah, ya lousy punks!" Runner said defiantly. "You're gonna pay for this!"

Black looked on as they moved the criminals, as a sense of unease overcame him.

“Hey, Black?” Sterling asked, noticing his silence, “What’s up? You’re being quiet...I think. I can’t really tell with that armor of yours.”

“...Something doesn’t feel right.” Black admitted, as he began looking around, “I feel like something is…”

As he surveyed the area, his eyes caught a glimpse of something atop a warehouse on the far end of the docks: a black figure of some kind.

“What the-” Black stepped forth a bit, squinting under his visor, “What is…”

Suddenly, the flash of light appeared above the black figure. Black’s blood froze.

“Everypony, away from the carriages now!” Black roared to the RDL agents.

Before the RDL and their prisoners could react to his outburst, a beam of magic instantly sliced through the parked carriages, blowing them up, and narrowly avoiding the soldiers and their captives.

“What the buck?!” The head of the squad gaped.

The beam of magic continued to slice a deep gash in the ground, even searing off an overhanging dock, sending the whole thing falling to the ground far below.

Everypony was stupefied by the swift destruction.

“Whoa!” Sterling gasped.

“What the hell was that?!” An agent screeched.

Suddenly, a purple fog began to envelop the area, shrouding the docks in a violet haze.

“Huh? That’s weird, there was nothing in the forecast to suggest fog.” Another agent grimaced.

“Hold on… oh buck!” One RDL agent panicked, “Isn’t this that miasma stuff that came from that kid? You know, that stuff that killed those ponies from months ago.”

"I think it is!" A second agent cringed.

"Oh, buck, we're all gonna die!" A third screamed.

“Hey, get a hold of yourself!” Sterling was about to slap him with his left hoof.

“Uh, strong hoof, strong hoof!” The third agent flinched.

“Oh, thanks.” Sterling nodded sheepishly… as he then slaps him with his right, “Get a hold of yourself!”

"Nopony's dying today." Black declared fiercely. "Remember protocol: everypony put on your gas masks and try to keep on your guard."

As the agents quickly donned gas masks, Black passed Sterling his. Sterling made to take it, only to realize something.

"Wait..." He noticed the captured Forefather agents were perfectly calm. "Why aren't they panicking?" He approached them. "You know something we don't?"

"Only that it's not the miasma you should be worried about." Runner smirked.

Before Sterling could ask more, an evil laugh filled the air.

"Ha-ha-ha-ha-hahhhh..."

Turning in the direction of the laughter, Black, Sterling and the other RDL agents stared in horror as, emerging through the flames of the wreckage... was Silas Necross, in his new form.

"What the buck is that horror show supposed to be?" Black gaped.

“I don’t know, but I think I’m getting that same bad feeling you did.” Sterling grimaced.

Silas slowly approached them. As he drew closer, he spotted Sterling, and greeted him with a wicked grin.

"Sterling." He said quietly. "So good to see you again."

“Huh? How do you know my-” Sterling frowned… before recognition developed, his confusion turning to shock, “Oh my Faust, Silas?!”

“Silas?” Black frowned, “As in Silas Necross?”

“Hmph, Silas…” Silas scoffed, “That was the name I had when I was merely a mortal, no different from the common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd-”

“Oh, yeah, that’s definitely Silas to a T.” Sterling deadpanned.

“SILENCE!” Silas boomed, causing everyone to flinch. Taking a deep breath, he began circling his foes menacingly, “I simply go by ‘Necross’ now. A new name to befit the new pony I have become, to mark my ascension from a mere pony to the force of nature unto myself!”

“New name? All you’re doing now is going by your surname.” Black frowned.

Silas' eye twitched, but he otherwise showed no sign that he had heard Black.

“What the hell happened to you?” Sterling asked, “Last time I saw you, you were pretty much dead!”

“Well, that is a story.” Silas… or as he prefers now, Necross began, “But to save you time, I was on the verge of death… but then came the miasma, the stuff that came from Dysley’s little pet project.” He gestured to himself, “As you see before you, it changed me. And thanks to this change, I was finally able to realize my dream of using dark magic to become the strongest being in all of Equestria! My power knows no rival!” He then chuckled, “Just look at what I did to your ride!”

“You did this?” Black gaped.

“Hold on… you’re the ace these guys were talking about?!” Sterling pointed to him in disbelief, “You?!”

“Why so surprised, Cross?” Silas sneered, “Shocked to see the pony you made a fool of becoming the Forefathers’ strongest asset? Your wretched organization’s reckoning?”

“Heh, ‘strongest’ is pushing it.” Gunner did a so-so gesture.

Necross glared at Gunner, who then instantly went quiet with fear.

“...Anyways.” Silas turned back to Sterling and Black, “Since I’m feeling merciful, I will gladly give you and your team a five minutes head-start. Though I doubt any of you will get very far.”

"Not a chance." Sterling snarled.

“Agreed.” Black grunted, “You’re still scum all the same. Now come along quietly, or we will use force.”

"Hmm, tempting... but allow me to make a counter-offer." Silas sneered.

Silas suddenly fired a bolt of magic, blasting a hole in one of the RDL agents' side.

"Urrrgh..." The agent gurgled as he collapsed, dead.

"Holy buck!" One of the other agents screamed.

"Sweet Faust!" Another yelped.

"He just..." A third trembled.

"Killed Fodder!" A fourth agent snarled.

"Let's make him pay!" The fifth spat.

“Guys, wait!” Black yelled.

The agents drew their crossbows, and opened fire on Silas... but the bolts went through him, like he was made of mist.

"What the-?" The second agent gaped.

"How did he?" The fifth cringed.

"My turn." Silas hissed.

Teleporting across the room, he appeared next to the fourth agent, and blasted him with a magical shockwave, right into the wall.

"Ugh!" The agent grunted.

Agents five and three charged at Silas. Agent #5 tackled Silas… only to fly through him, like the bolts did.

“The hell?!” The fifth agent gaped, as he turned to face Silas, “Are you a ghost or-”

He didn’t get a chance to finish, as Silas slammed a hoof into his jaw, breaking it effortlessly.

“Wait, hold on! How is it that we can’t hit you, yet you can hit us?” Agent #3 frowned, understandably confused, “That makes no sense!”

“That’s a good question.” Silas declared, “Here’s another one: what’s that on your chest?”

The third agent raised a brow.

“What’s what on my-”

“My hoof!” Silas slams another hoof, this time into his chest, breaking several ribs.

“Ow…” The agent whimpered, collapsing to the ground.

"Next." Silas grinned.

The first agent quivered as he raised his crossbow, barely holding back his fear. Instantly, without even a side glance, the miasma shedding off Silas flow across and envelop the agent, lifting him into the air like a tendril.

“AH! Let me go!” The first agent cried, terrified.

“What? You said ‘break your bones’?” Silas mockingly held up a hoof to his ear, “Okay!”

The miasma around the agent's rear left hoof tightened, with a horrific cracking sound filling the air.

"AHHH!" The agent screamed.

"Nice pitch." Silas sneered. "But I think we can do better..."

The miasma entwined the agent's entire body, slowly but surely breaking the bones in his limbs, one at a time.

"Gahhh! Yarrh!" The agent screamed.

"Now that's more like it!" Silas cackled. "Now we just to make sure the ponies in the back can hear."

Silas continued his twisted torture.

"Please..." The agent pleaded, tears in his eyes. "Please, just make it stop..."

"Ugh, whining." Silas scoffed, allowing the agent to drop to the ground. "You just ruined everything."

The first agent let out horrid sobs, being in unbearable pain.

“Feeling scared yet, gentlecolts?” Silas challenged the others.

“You son of a bitch.” Black snarled, as he turned to the head of the squad and the remaining soldiers, “You and the others fall back. Cross and I will take Necross on.”

“What?! We can’t leave you to fight this monster alone!” The head soldier growled.

“There’s no point in all of us getting hurt.” Sterling grunted, a hint of guilt in his voice, “Me and Dreadnaught will hold him back and try and find his weakpoints. Once we do, we’ll rush him.”

“But-”

“Go. That’s an order.” Black urged firmly.

“...Alright, kick his ass.” The head soldier growled in affirmation. He turned to the other standing soldiers, “You heard the stallions, fall back!”

As the soldiers made a tactical retreat, the shadowy stallion grinned wickedly.

“Oh, how noble of you.” Silas sneered, “...But at the very least, I do love a moving target!”

Instantly, he charged up another magical beam, intending to vaporize the retreating troops.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Black charged, attempting to clothesline Silas’s face.

However, as with the previous attempts, his hoof went through him. Silas’ charge faded, the sudden attack distracting him.

“Dammit!” Black cursed.

“Seriously?” Silas deadpanned, turning to face him, “Did you not just see everything that happened in the past five minutes? You can’t touch me! I’m pretty much MC Farmer, for Faust’s sake!”

" And yet, we'll be the one getting the hits today!" Sterling swung his sword at Silas, which once again passed through him.

"Yawn." Silas scoffed.

"Your new powers are nothing but a smokescreen." Black scowled. "Everypony, no matter how powerful, has their weakpoints, and we'll find yours!"

Black and Sterling attacked Silas from all sides, swinging at every possible angle, ultimately to no avail.

“It’s no good. His body is like a brooding black cloud.” Sterling groaned in frustration, “Everything just phases through him.”

“Yes, yes, I think that has been established by now.” Silas snarled, growing visibly annoyed, “Now that you two have taken time to let that sink in, are you ready to give up and die?”

“Never!” Black roared, refusing to show fear, “I don’t care what you say, you’re not invincible! We will defeat you like everyone else before you!”

“Wanna bet?” Silas scoffed, his horn glowing.

Black found himself being lifted off the ground, trapped in Silas' magic.

“Whoa, hey!” Black struggled, “Put me down and fight like a stallion!”

“Hmm, hmm, another tempting offer…” Silas fake-pondered, “How about no?”

With vicious speed, Silas swung his horn, in turn slamming the levitated armored stallion into the side of the nearby warehouse with enough force to make a dent in it, as well as Black’s armor.

"Guhh!" He grunted, spitting up a bit of blood in his visor. The armored stallion fell to the ground, his visor cracking a bit, bruised and dazed.

“Dreadnaught!” Sterling gasped.

“One down… one to go…” Silas turned to Sterling, eying him as a lion would a gazelle, “Oh ho, you know, ever since my transformation, I’ve been hoping, praying that I would see you again. So I could finish what I’ve started that night in the warehouse. And this time, no one is going to ruin this for me.”

’Crap, Sterling, think!’ Sterling gritted his teeth in panic, as he then eyed his sword, ’Hold on, if what Silas said was true, then this is the same kind of miasma Nyx had. And Nyx is Nightmare Moon. And Nightmare Moon was Luna’s darkness enhanced by Sombra’s dark magic. Ergo, the miasma itself must be dark magic. And I have just the thing for that.’

“You’re done, Sterling.” Silas approached him menacingly.

"You're the one who's gonna be done..." Sterling growled. Pulling a lever on his sword, the DAMP (Dark Anti-Magic Pulse) generator began to activate, a small purple orb glowing on it. “Thanks to someone close to me, I’m gonna level the playing field and put an end to your dark magic! Take this!”

Gripping the throttle, he revved the generator, till it roared to life, the purple orb bursting in a wave of purple light, spreading throughout the dock…

However, the wave passed through Silas, the shadowy stallion staring at him in confusion and annoyance.

“...Was something supposed to happen just now?” Silas growled, “Or did you just give me a light show just for fun?”

"No way..." Sterling stared, his face shot through with sheer horror, “This can’t be.”

“Oh, it can be. And it is.” Silas chuckled… before he swung his right hoof. Sterling’s sword was knocked out of his hoof, and sent flying, embedding itself into a side of a wooden post at the corner of the nearby dock.

Before Sterling could get another word in, Silas sucker punched him, sending him to the ground.

“Gah!” Sterling gasped, his snout bleeding as he tried to get up… only for Silas to slam a hoof down on his back, “Grr!”

“You cannot comprehend the sheer pleasure I’m experiencing right now.” Silas crooned, his eyes alight with madness, “After all this time, I’m finally going to put you in the ground for everything you have done to me!”

“Shut up!” Sterling snapped, as he rose to his hooves and swung his hooves at Silas… only to grab nothing but mist.

“I swear, goldfishes have better pattern recognitions than you two.” Silas grimaced, “Face it, dumbass, you’re outclassed!”

“Never!” Sterling spat.

Sterling lunged at Silas, but rather than letting him phase through, the villain dodged his strike. Silas struck him hard in the stomach, then the side of his head, and finally, slammed both hooves on top of his head.

"Urrgh..." Sterling dropped to his knees.

"Don't tucker out just yet." Silas sneered. "The fun's just gettin' started."

Silas kicked Sterling in the stomach once again.

"Urrk!" Sterling grunted. Reacting quickly, he grabbed Silas' hoof, trying to twist it and throw his opponent off-balance. But Silas didn't budge.

"Nice try!" Silas snarled, delivering a miasma-coated chop to Sterling's neck.

"Huhhh!" Sterling wheezed, one hoof, clutching his throat. With the other hoof, he tried to punch Silas, but was once again evaded. Silas responded with a flurry of punches to Sterling's face. "Guhhh!" Sterling groaned, the assault sending him to the ground once again.

Silas, unwilling to leave his battered foe, grabbed Sterling by the neck and lifted him up. His horn lit up, as he prepared for a point blank blast.

“Wanna know what death tastes like?” Silas taunted, Sterling too weak to struggle, “The answer might surprise you…”

Unbeknownst to both of them, Black struggled back to his hooves. Through his cracked visor, he saw his ally in danger.

“No…” Black groaned, “Gotta stop him…”

Looking around, he spotted one of the magic shooting staves used by the Forefather agents. Moving as fast as his wounded body would allow, he leapt over and grabbed it.

"Here goes nothing..." He aimed the weapon at Silas and pulled the trigger.

The bolt of magical energy flew from the weapon, right at Silas… and struck him in the side.

"Hnnn!" The villain flinched, his horn's magic dissipating in surprise. At the same time, he dropped Sterling.

“Ouch…” Sterling groaned.

The Forefather agents, currently working on breaking out of their cuffs, stared in shock. While there was no blood or other signs of damage, that stave had done what no other attack had accomplished so far: it was able to hit the shadowy pony.

"Impossible!" Runner stared, “He’s supposed to be invincible!”

"This can't be good." Gunner winced.

"Gotcha!" Black smirked.

Capitalizing on his newfound success, the armored warrior unleashed a veritable salvo of follow-up shots as he approached the shadowy stallion.

“Gah-oof-cut that out!” Silas snarled, trying to shield himself. While the shots itself did not hurt, it did not change the fact that each shot felt like he was being pelted by bean bags at super-fast speed, “Dugh! Ugh! Uggh! No! Stop it!” One blast hit him in the head, “STOP IT!”

But Black did not let up. The constant magical barrages tore at the shadowy miasma that covered his body, like a pick-axe to a rock. Eventually, one blast struck his hoof, blowing the miasma away, revealing a patch of pale black fur.

The miasma then quickly worked to cover it back up… but not before another blast came and hit the uncovered spot, scorching it.

“OW, BITCH!” Silas screeched, feeling pain for the first time in three months, as he clutched the hoof.

“Ha, eat it, you damn fog machine!” Black yelled, pointing the staff again to unleash another salvo…

Only for it to click. The staff’s glow faded, clearly signifying it was now out of juice.

“...Oh no.” Black murmured.

Silas let out small hisses of pain, seeing the burnt mark on his hoof being shrouded by miasma. The pain still persists, as Silas glared at Black, furious beyond words.

“You’re dead meat, tin pony!” Silas roared as he charged at him.

Thinking fast on his hooves, Black threw the staff at Silas. The shadowy stallion merely slapped it aside as he barreled towards the armored stallion.

It took mere seconds for Silas to reach Black, but before Silas could throw a punch, the stallion, at the last second, lunged at Silas.

As shown many times before, Black phased through his gaseous body.

“Huh?!” Silas gaped in surprise, “Why-”

He turned around, and saw Black, without breaking stride, scooped the battered Sterling up and onto his shoulder, and ran towards the end of the dock.

“Getoffthedock, getoffthedock, getoffthedock!” Black panicked, knowing full well he was running towards a dead end.

“RAAAARRGH!” Silas, about done with everything, charged up his horn, as his hooves became raveled in miasma. He then slammed his hooves into the ground.

The force of his magically charged hooves sent tremors throughout the dock, as the whole thing began to crack and crumble.

“OH, BUCK!” Black screamed, as the dock then collapsed in pieces, the two vanishing among the falling rubbles.

Everything fell to the lands far below, as Silas let out small pants. He gave a small smile, relishing the devastation, but it was short-lived, his burnt hoof still stinging with pain.

“Rot in Tartarus, you pieces of filth.” Silas hissed. He turned to face the Forefather agents, who had now managed to escape their bonds during the fight, “Okay, you clowns. I saved your flanks, so you best get lost while the getting’s good. I won’t put on a repeat performance.”

With that, Silas vanished in a cloud of miasma, leaving the destroyed port and the bewildered Forefather agents behind.

“Well, you heard the scary stallion." Runner declared. "Let's bounce!"

After the Forefather agents departed, the remaining RDL agents came out of hiding.

"Great." One said sourly. "Just great. We let them get away."

"What could we have done?" Another reasoned. "That freak made short work of two of the best we've got. He'd have crushed us without even breathin' hard."

"Nothing we can do about it now." A third sighed. "Except tend to the wounded."

The remaining agents went about checking on their injured comrades. The agent who had been tortured was in the worst state; he was still whimpering in pain as the others tried to help him.

"It hurts." He groaned. "It hurts so bad..."

"Easy, buddy." One of his comrades soothed him. "It'll be okay."

“Dammit… look at this place.” The head agent grimaced. “One stallion did all this by himself...”

“Sir, look!” One agent pointed to Sterling’s DAMP sword embedded in the post, “Isn’t this Cross’s sword?”

“More importantly, wasn’t there a dock here?” Another agent gaped at what was left of the collapsed dock.

“Oh no, you don’t think Black and Sterling was on this particular dock when that monster...”

“No, we can’t think that!” The head agent admonished him, “One of you get HQ on the line and call for backup and medical support. Half of you tend to the injured. Other half, spread out and search the port! They have to be here somewhere!”

The agents did as they were asked; as they scoured what was left of the place looking for their comrades, the head agent observed, fraught with worry.

"Black!"

"Sterling!"

"Where are you?!"

“Respond, please!”

Suddenly…

“Help! Someone help!”

The agents all perked up.

“That’s Black’s voice!” One agent gasped.

“Where did that come from?!” The head agent demanded.

“Down here!” Black’s voice answered, as if in response.

“Down… here?” The head agent turned around, as he and other agents ran to the edge of the remainder of the collapsed dock and found quite the sight:

Black was still alive and well, with a barely conscious Sterling on his shoulder. He was hanging by his left hoof, which was in turn hanging by rope dart of his Homer, the dart end was embedded in the bottom of what was left of the docks.

“Um… a little help?” Black said meekly.

“Come on, there’s gotta be some rope around here!” The head agent barked to the other agents, “Hop to it!” He then looked back down to Black. “We’ll have you up in a jiff!”

True to his word, a length of rope was lowered down, and in a group effort, the agents pulled Black and Sterling back up to safety.

“Hoi!” Black gasped, removing his helm and visor, visibly glad to be back on solid land, “...Remind me next time we raid an airship port, to bring some Pegasus agents. Lots of them.”

“Noted, sir. But are you alright?” The head agent fretted.

“I’m... I’m fine.” Black said curtly, as he gently laid Sterling onto the ground, “You guys should see to Sterling though. Silas really did a number on him.”

“Right away, Black.” Another agent nodded.

As one of the agents began to tend to Sterling, Black surveyed the carnage around him, instantly reminded of the one who caused it. Despite his claim, he was more shaken by the experience than he let on.

'I get the feeling fate just dealt us a real bad hoof...' He thought worriedly. ’...And we might not be able to stop it.'