The Rejects

by Argonaut44

07: No Loose Ends

Trouble in electric blue, lucid curtains and a heavy crown sorely stained by its crystal glow; Twilight Sparkle lay atop her bed of disheveled sheets and turned to the shadows of her moonlit bedchamber.

A shadow with the face of Starlight Glimmer made itself known many a time, and it kept Twilight restless; she had not slept for days.

She recalled being told there is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for a friend. What then was she, she wondered, who meant to stab her own friend in the back.

She had ordered the death of her own pupil. The pony she willingly took in, sheltered, and raised in the teachings she herself was raised on. She committed this treachery, and without even the bare courtesy of performing the grave task herself.

Coward.

She wanted to scream, she wanted to tear those voices right out of her head. But they would not leave her.

Something had to be done.

Dawn broke, and Twilight was already clad in her flowing regal gown of pure velvet silk. She came to the throne room with Spike, hovering at her side.

“We won’t be gone too long, will we?” Spike wondered.

“I hope not,” Twilight replied.

The doors swung open, and inside her sunstruck throne she found only one pony, waiting idly by as he had been instructed to.

“Captain,” Twilight said, motioning for Spike to wait by the door.

“Your grace,” answered Wedge Ward, whose burnt brown mane fell around his horn, whose stubbly face was heavy with exhaustion. He loathed morning shifts.

"Terrible news about Mayor Mare, your grace," Wedge said, after a prolonged yawn.

Twilight glanced at the floor.

"She may yet live," Twilight said, "...The dragons' wrath will be satiated for now. But Cinder will not be content until I give her Starlight and Sunset."

"Snowfall will get it done, I know she will," Wedge said.

Twilight sighed. Wedge had overseen Snowfall's career since her first day at boot camp. He had a soft spot for her, though Twilight was less sympathetic for the lieutenant's lack of progress. Or perhaps she was just too impatient.

"I hope you're right. I'll be sure to send her your regards, once I arrive at the Crystal Empire.” Twilight said.

“You're going yourself?" Wedge asked, "Is that wise?"

“Starlight Glimmer and her little band of inmates have evaded Snowfall twice now, and each time a collection of corpses is left in their wake. This has gotten out of hoof. I need to put a stop to it, myself.”

Wedge nodded, understandingly.

“And you will be the interim Lord Protector while I am away.”

Wedge swore he had not heard her clearly.

"Your grace, I-" he began.

“I won't be long," Twilight interrupted, "Don’t burn the city down while I’m away."

“Your grace…” Wedge began, “I am grateful for the offer, truly, but I hardly think I’m fit for such a role. I ought to be in the streets with the city guard.”

Twilight glared at him.

“It’s not an offer. It’s a command. Nopony more qualified is at my disposal. I’m putting my trust in you, Captain. Do not disappoint me.”

"I understand."

"I don't need you to understand. Just to obey," Twilight said.

Wedge knew better than to press his protests any further.

“Of course, your grace. Safe travels.”

Twilight nodded and spun back to rejoin Spike by the doors.

She marched out of her throne, head held high.

She would have to do this herself.

---

“Do you think we'll ever see them again?"

Wallflower had been sitting on the windowside chair of their Icehearth hotel room since they arrived. She wasn’t particularly hungry, and it was simply too cold to fall asleep.

Sunset, meanwhile, had taken the bedsheets of both beds, wrapped herself up, and was very much on the verge of getting some much needed rest.

“I'm trying to sleep.” Sunset muttered.

“Lightning shouldn't be flying, she's still hurt!" Wallflower exclaimed, "And Starlight and Trixie, they're going to get themselves in trouble with Twilight, I just know it! We should've gone with them..."

Sunset grumbled to herself under the covers.

“...Maybe they’ll live. Maybe they won’t. We probably won’t ever know,” Sunset said.

Wallflower glared at Sunset, who had her back turned towards her.

“...Why did you stay for me?” Wallflower asked.

Sunset twisted and turned beneath the covers of her bed, still facing the wall.

“You didn’t have to. You could have made one of the others take me. Or you could have waited until they were gone and left me in a ditch somewhere. But you didn’t.”

"The ditch is still an option," Sunset muttered.

“I heard what that red pony said to you," Wallflower said, "She wanted you to turn Starlight in.”

Sunset’s breathing quickened. What else had she heard?

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Wallflower said.

Sunset was holding her breath.

“...I know what it’s like to think everyone and everything is against you,” Wallflower said, "To be angry all the time. To want to take it out on everypony."

Sunset said nothing, glaring at the ground.

Wallflower’s instinct was to shut her mouth, though for some odd reason she found she could not.

“Nopony ever asked me why I was locked up," Wallflower said.

Sunset tried to recall, though found Wallflower may have been right.

“...I was never like you or Starlight. I was never off saving Equestria, or battling monsters with magic spells. My father was in the royal guard. I lost him when I was little, before I had even learned to speak. My mother left me in Hollow Shades, alone. I never saw her again. I lived in a foster home, and took up work as a gardener when I was old enough, and that was how I spent most of my time,” Wallflower recalled, and she was swept away with sentimental regret, “But I wasn’t happy. Not really. I was jealous. Jealous of everypony around me. They all got to have a family. They all got to have friends. It all seemed to come so easy to everypony else. I was trying to figure out what it was about me that made such a....such a loser. My foster parents kept me out of sight, always. I didn't talk a lot when I was small, I'd get lost all the time, and ponies would forget to even look for me. They thought I was simple. They were embarrassed of me. So they tucked me away upstairs when the guests came. The other kids could play outside, but not me. They didn't want me corrupting the other kids, they'd say. The older I got, the more sick of everything I became. I got sick of being invisible, of having nopony to talk to, nothing to do with myself, nowhere to go.”

Wallflower was red in the face, and Sunset could feel the contempt in her voice.

“Then one day, I found the stone. It was buried right next to my patagonias. And when I held it, I felt different. I stopped worrying, I wasn’t afraid. So I kept it, I had it with me all the time. And then I found out what it did. Erase ponies’ memories. Irreversibly,” Wallflower said, as if she was still in awe of its power, “I was meant to find it. That's what I thought. So I tried it out. First on my foster parents. It was small stuff, first, like their anniversary, birthdays, extended family members. They'd get into fights about it all, and I'd watch them get more and more sick of each other. Then I used it on the other foster kids, and the ponies who were supposed to be my friends, and I stopped holding back. The worst part of it was how happy it made me. That I got to watch the ponies who never gave me a second glance, all of them forget who they were. Forget each other. Forget their parents’ faces, forget their friends’ names.”

Sunset did not want to admit she was disturbed, keeping her back turned to Wallflower, who had tears swelling up in her eyes.

“They caught me, eventually. They were able to reverse the stone's effects, but that wouldn't save me. They told me what I did was such a horrible crime, that I was to serve fifty years in Hellhatch as punishment. And I deserved it, I thought. Unlike all of you, I actually deserved to be there. I tried to ruin ponies' lives, forever. All because I was angry.”

“Everypony does things they regret,” Sunset said, flatly, "Don't beat yourself up about it, they fixed it."

Wallflower kept her eyes locked on Sunset, who would not give her the same courtesy.

“All I ever did was blame everypony else for my problems, for never giving me a chance. But I never gave myself a chance. It was me who barely spoke to anypony, who barely made any effort to really get to know anypony. I did it all to myself. I've always been afraid. All that stupid stone did was give me the confidence to make the worst mistake I've ever made. I thought I would die in that prison. And I was ready to do just that. I thought I had finished my story for good. But Starlight changed my mind. Maybe even the worst of the worst can still do some good."

Sunset finally rose from beneath her blanket, narrowing her eyes at Wallflower.

“You got a second chance," Sunset agreed, "Not everypony does."

"What did they get you for anyway? How bad could it be?"

Sunset sighed, and may have meant to answer, until something out the window caught Sunset's eye.

Her horn burst into a flaming fist of blue magic, and, in a flash of light, a pony came dropping out into the hotel room. Wallflower shrieked in surprise.

“Somepony wants to eavesdrop on us, it looks,” Sunset said.

Sunset jumped out of bed, her horn glowing, her eyes burning bright.

“Easy,” said the eavesdropper, a stout earth pony with a gray coat and a brown mane. His hooves were raised up, defenseless.

Sunset glanced at Wallflower, and dimmed her horn.

“Who are you?” Sunset demanded.

“I’ve come a long way to find you. Sunset Shimmer. Wallflower Blush,” the pony answered.

While Wallflower’s mouth hung agape in shock, Sunset noticed something move in the pony’s eyes. A bluish-green swirl, a twitch almost. Sunset suddenly let out a snicker, amused.

“You must think yourself very clever.”

“What?” the pony asked, baffled.

“I know a changeling when I see one.”

There was silence, before the pony too broke down into laughter.

“They weren’t kidding about you.”

The pony was thrown into a twirling mess of green fire, and left in the smoke was a greenish-yellow changeling, with reddish horns and deep purple eyes.

“A changeling!” Wallflower said, shocked.

“If the Northerners find out there’s a changeling running around, they’ll have your head on a spike,” Sunset said.

“You don’t need to tell me twice,” the changeling replied, rising to his hooves.

“I didn’t mean to be caught spying on you…I only wanted to be sure it was really you.”

“Somehow I have a hard time believing that.”

“I’m Callidus. We’ve never met.”

“Cut to the chase, before I make you wish you stayed underground," Sunset warned.

“...All over Equestria, you and your friends are all anyone talks about. Some even believe that you’re the ones who murdered those poor fellows in Ponyville. My own King among them.”

“That would have been hard for us to do, both of us were locked up in Hellhatch when it happened,” Wallflower said.

“Make no mistake. I’m not here because I think you’re guilty. On the contrary, I want to help,” Callidus grinned.

“Thanks, but we really don’t need any help,” Sunset said, flatly.

Callidus snickered.

“...You’ve been freezing to death up north for months. The world’s changed since you last saw it. You’re going to need help," he said.

“From a changeling? The Northerners won’t have to know who we are to try and kill us, when they see us running around with you," Sunset said.

“Not everyone has as sharp an eye as you," Callidus pointed out, "Especially the Northerners. Dull beasts, they are.”

“What do you want from us?” Wallflower asked.

“Why is it that I must want something?"

Sunset and Wallflower glanced at each other, unconvinced.

Callidus had a feeling that would not be enough.

“The Crystal Princess visited my home a few days ago. I watched her climb the steps to the Great Spire, I listened to her speak with the King’s brother, that cantankerous creature, him.”

“And?” Sunset said.

“She seems to be convinced that Twilight Sparkle is the true culprit behind the king’s death.”

“Huh, Starlight will be glad to know she’s not alone after all,” Sunset said, mildly relieved.

“I want vengeance. My king lies dead in the Catacomb Crypts because of her. That witch, that tyrant, that murderer,” Callidus said, and he was practically seething.

Sunset was hesitant, nonetheless.

“...Wallflower and I are lying low for now, anyway. Starlight’s left south,” Sunset said.

“It was trouble enough finding you. The report was that you were lost in the blizzard. But there was a small chance you made it here. You’re as lucky as they say.”

“If we were lucky, we wouldn’t be in this mess," Sunset remarked.

“So, what do you say? Let me fight beside you.”

Sunset glanced at Wallflower. She was apprehensive, perhaps out of habit. But it was better to be pragmatic.

“We need all the help we can get.”

---

Silhouettes in pink and blue came stretching along the shadowy corners of backalley jaws and sharp cobblestone streets.

“They’re going to see us,” Trixie muttered.

Starlight continued farther ahead, keeping her head down and her horn at the ready.

They arrived at Canterlot that night, having held onto the roof of the southbound train for miles and miles into the night. It had been a relaxing ride, Trixie recalled, when they weren’t sliding backwards towards their doom.

Both were wearing obnoxiously eccentric sunglasses. Starlight had conjured a thick brimmed hat to hide her curls under, and a thick purple long coat to hide the rest of her.

Trixie was wrapped in a black shawl, and was stuffed in a tan trenchcoat tied taut with a belt around her waist.

"Deputy," Trixie said, putting on a deep voice, "These perps have crossed another line. Add a charge of criminally stunning."

"Shut up," Starlight laughed, shaking her head.

They continued down the city block, successfully dodging the eyes of passing pedestrians. They seemed to blend right in. Starlight had anticipated as much. Equestria thought they were still in the north; they would never be suspected roaming these streets.

“It's long past time you told where we're going,” Trixie muttered.

Starlight ignored her. Trixie raised an eyebrow. Nopony ignores the Great and Powerful Trixie.

“Starlight,” Trixie snapped, jerkily grabbing Starlight’s hoof, reeling her to a halt.

Starlight nearly tripped; Trixie was stronger than she looked.

“Take it easy! What’s gotten into you?” Starlight whispered.

Trixie pulled her into a nearby alley, passerbys trotting carelessly past them, oblivious that the two most wanted ponies in Equestria were but a hair away.

“What’s gotten into me? We're supposed to be partners!” Trixie exclaimed.

"We are!" Starlight said, softly.

"Then tell me what your plan is! We can't just wander the streets until somepony finally recognizes us," Trixie said.

"I have a plan," Starlight declared.

"Really?" Trixie asked, skeptical, "A fully-realized plan?"

"A partially-realized plan with considerable prospects!" Starlight said.

"I say you turn yourself invisible, sneak into the palace and put one right between that pampered, arrogant little bitch's eyes," Trixie insisted.

"Twilight would see me coming from a mile away," Starlight remarked, "I need to know more about what she's doing, before we can confront her. And I know exactly where to start."

“Where? Why can’t you just tell me?”

Starlight smirked and turned back towards the street.

“Because you’re really not gonna like it.”

Trixie did not recognize the lustrous storefront Starlight was dragging her towards.

Until it was too late.

Canterlot Carousel

“Oh no,” Trixie muttered, “Starlight, this is a bad idea.”

“We’ll be hiding in plain sight," Starlight pointed out, "And Rarity might be willing to help us."

"Some help she'd be. Of all Twilight's friends. You're the only one with any brains. Have I ever told you that?" Trixie asked.

"Almost daily," Starlight said. "If she's not friendly...Well, it's good to keep your enemies close, y'know."

“Whoever said that must not have a lot of enemies," Trixie retorted.

They neared the front doors of the boutique, and Starlight made sure that the lights were off.

“Still closed. Luck’s on our side after all,” Starlight said.

Her horn sparkled blue, and the both of them disappeared not a second later.

In a flash of light, they found themselves inside the boutique, beside its proud marble columns and rows of artisan seamstry.

“We'll be safe here,” Starlight assured.

“Yeah. Until Rarity shows up. She’ll turn us in without a second thought," Trixie said.

Starlight meant to reply, until a pair of voices came chattering from outside the door.

“She’s here!” Trixie whispered, frantically.

Starlight’s heart sank, and her horn glowed once again.

Rarity gently opened the door to her beloved Canterlot boutique after fiddling with the keys in the lock, and beside her was Sassy Saddles, yapping away.

Rarity was exhausted, and perhaps she was seeing things, but the faint shimmering specks of magic were still gliding to the ground when she entered the store. She nervously glanced around the boutique, though nothing appeared to be out of place.

She shrugged it off and proceeded inside.

From the second story, Starlight and Trixie were hidden behind a rack of pink petticoats, watching on from behind the railing bars as Rarity and her companion made herself at home.

“Coco won’t stop phoning me, Rarity, she's terrified,” Sassy Saddles moaned.

“I saw she'd left some messages. I was out all last night looking for the new rose-essence fabric, from that salesgirl we met at the market. What was the matter?”

“Her consultant's disappeared. She thinks he’s gotten into some trouble.”

“Goodness,” Rarity said, "What kind of trouble?"

“It’s a mess in Manehattan, that's for sure. She said something about some threats she was receiving.”

Rarity spun around from restocking her fabric supply, perturbed.

“Threats? What kind of threats?”

“Serious threats. I think it’s best if you handle this. I’ll be alright here. She trusts you.”

Rarity turned back to her bin of rolled fabrics.

“I’m not one to muddle in nefarious business…But I’ll go. She’s my friend.”

Sassy Saddles nodded, approvingly.

“I’ve got to head back. My daughter’s forgotten her lunch again.”

“Second time this week?”

“Third,” Sassy Saddles laughed, “Let me know what’s happening, when you can.”

“I will. Be safe.”

Sassy Saddles ran back out the doors to the boutique, leaving Rarity alone in the dark.

Rarity sighed and continued restocking the supply.

She had not seen her friends in weeks, nor her own parents. Not even Twilight, who had once promised to stay in close touch with her from right down the road in her palace, had cared to visit her.

She had done it to herself, she knew, and she could not assign the blame to anyone else. Still, she wondered if she had made a mistake, leaving Ponyville behind.

“Hey Rarity. Long time no see.”

Rarity froze in her tracks. She knew that voice.

“Starlight?” Rarity whispered, petrified. Starlight was right behind her; she could feel her breath on her neck.

“And Trixie,” Trixie added, joining Starlight.

“And Trixie!” Rarity repeated. She felt like fainting.

“Rarity...? It's alright, everything's alright. Take it easy," Starlight said, raising a hoof gently.

Rarity had trouble believing that. Still, she loosened her guard, and slowly turned around. She gasped at the sight.

“Good heavens! The two of you look like you've come through a warzone!” Rarity exclaimed.

“It’s good to see you, Rarity. How are you?” Starlight asked, weakly.

Rarity was thrown for a loop.

“Trying to be better, I suppose. But you! You’ve been gone for months! Have you heard what they’ve accused you of! Tell me it’s all lies!”

“Yes, none of it's true," Starlight said, "We didn’t murder anypony. But we did see what happened."

“You did? Is that why you disappeared? What’s happened?” Rarity demanded. She had no idea who to trust.

Trixie expected Starlight to indulge Rarity with a detailed explanation, though Starlight saw no point in trying. She knew Rarity better.

"Rarity, have you been in contact with Twilight at all, these past months?" Starlight asked.

"Rarely, I'm afraid," Rarity answered. She seemed glad to confess her frustration, "She's cooped up in her tower, day and night, and it's been weeks without a visit."

"The times you saw her, has she been acting odd? What are ponies saying?" Starlight asked.

"Odd, yes, I suppose. Though these are odd times, it's true. I can't very well blame her, she must be under so much pressure, having to catch this phantom killer, and keep all these creatures happy," Rarity said, "Of course there's still foul gossip. But much of it lately has been sent the way of our own Mayor Mare. A dreadful thing, truly."

Starlight and Trixie shared a look.

"She's alive?" Starlight asked, unsure.

"Apparently she was played a role in the murders. Madness! I refused to believe any of it, until the photos came in the gazette. She's a prisoner of the dragons now," Rarity said.

Starlight shook her head in disbelief. Twilight's trust in Mayor Mare must have been less concrete than the mayor had thought. Starlight hated to think she took delight in the thought of Mayor Mare rotting in a dragon dungeon.

"...Twilight will be able to tell you much more about everything than I can," Rarity said, "Whatever you saw, she’ll need to know. She must miss you terribly. We should all go together, I think, and visit her.”

“No,” Starlight said, suddenly.

Rarity could hear the front doors lock with a click, courtesy of Starlight’s magic.

“What do you mean, no?” Rarity said, confused.

Starlight glanced at Trixie.

“...Twilight can’t know we’re here," Trixie said, bluntly.

“Twilight-....Why ever not?”

Starlight looked into her eyes, and Rarity suddenly came to a grave realization.

"No....No, you-.....Starlight, this is madness! You mean to say-....That's unthinkable! It's absurd! Whatever you thought you saw, you were mistaken! I won't be a part of this," Rarity said, backing up towards the door.

Starlight made the first move, her horn igniting blue. Rarity attempted to defend herself from whatever was coming, but it was too late.

Rarity crumpled to the ground, out cold.

"Sorry," Starlight said, softly, while grinding her teeth in regret.

Trixie was out of breath, while Starlight quickly moved to drag Rarity away from the windows.

“You really think she’ll help us?” Trixie asked, “After this?”

“I don’t know. But we’ll be safe here for a while. She might come around,” Starlight proposed, while heaving Rarity up the winding stairs to the second story of the boutique, "And as long as we have her, Twilight will have to play by our rules."

“Starlight," Trixie warned, "You can’t defeat Twilight by yourself.”

“I’m not by myself, am I?” Starlight grinned, glancing at Trixie.

Trixie gulped. She had come to blows with Twilight more than once.

And it was never pretty.

---

Blondie felt the sweat drip down his neck, as the black sack over his head suddenly came free.

He squinted against the light, though the subdued cackling of a particular yellow unicorn made it clear who was sitting across from him. He was tied down to a stool, facing the desk Crozer sat behind. A lamp hung low from the ceiling, swinging with each puff of the drafty basement breeze.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

Crozer huffed at his cigar, surrounded by twenty or thirty of his Black Hoof goons in a cramped hotel basement room.

"Sorry about the lack of ceremony. I hadn't planned on you and your rat friend blowing down my workplace," Crozer croaked. His voice was more rasped than the last time Blondie had encountered him, likely as a result of smoke inhalation.

"Now don't get tongue tied too soon, Blondie, I'm not angry. Really, I'm not," he laughed, glancing around the room.
A door behind the crowd of ponies swung open, and in came two more stallions, dragging Rainbow Dash between them.

"Blondie," Rainbow managed, struggling against her captors.

"Relax, no one's laid a hoof on your Wonderbolt bitch," Crozer said, waiting for the stallions to dump her in another chair beside Blondie.

"It took guts to do what you did. That or, you really are as thick as I thought. Doesn't matter much to me. You just wanted to get out, I understand. But our friend Salt, he's a different story," Crozer said, "He stole from me, Blondie. He stole my briefcase. He stole half of my crew. That, I cannot forgive."

"I don't know where he's gone," Blondie said.

"Don't worry about it, because I do," Crozer said, before glancing at Rainbow Dash, "Where'd you find this broad?"

"Leave her out of this."

"A Wonderbolt is a lucky find, is all. She know who you are? Or, who you were, rather?"

Blondie kept his mouth shut, while Rainbow glanced at him, confused.

"No, didn't think so," Crozer smiled, "I looked you up, Blondie, and I know what you're capable of. So let me ask you, what is it you want most?"

Blondie hesitated.

"She goes free," Blondie said, gesturing towards Rainbow Dash, "And you're gonna stop coming after me."

Crozer's grin grew, and he twirled his hoof over the tabletop.

"Ponies like you and I, Blondie, we never really get out. But I can get you close. I just need one last favor, one last job."

"You really have gotten desperate," Blondie said.

"This bidding war with the Underground over that case...I see now I may have misplaced my priorities. None of this is worth losing anymore of my ponies' lives," Crozer said, "Your lives, however, those will do."

"What are you after? You've already lost. Salt's got the case. You've lost all your leverage," Blondie said.

"Old Salt's not wasting any time settling his bid. He's meeting with Trench and the rest of those Underground bastards, tonight. He's giving them the case, that double-crossing shit, in exchange for a smaller cut of the sale."

"Who are they selling it to?" Rainbow asked.

"Doesn't matter," Crozer said, "Because the trade isn't going to happen. You two are gonna crash their little party, take back that case, and Brandy, too, while you're at it. You're to bring them back here, intact."

"And what if we say no?" came Blondie.

Crozer's eyes shifted over to Rainbow Dash.

"Rainbow Dash the Wonderbolt, close friend of...what were their names? Ah, yes. Pinkie Pie...Fluttershy...Good Celestia, why not add every one of her teammates to that list, too. That's a lot of ponies to lose."

"You wouldn't!" Rainbow roared, horrified.

"I guess I am getting desperate," Crozer admitted, laughing to himself, "If I'm losing the war, then so are the two of you."

"What about Brandy?" Blondie asked.

"Trench will kill her without a second thought. But if you do this for me, I'll make sure she goes free. I'll even throw in a small cut of the profits we make, if we get that far."

Crozer's eyes darted between them.

"Have we got a deal?"

Blondie sighed, and glanced back at Rainbow, who had already made up her mind.

"Deal."

---

Starlit silence carried her to the city of clouds, to the place she once called home.

Lightning Dust’s barely-healed wings had narrowly managed to keep her in the air for the flight south from the Icehearth to Cloudsdale. She finished her non-stop, day-long journey a sweaty mess, crashing into a crowd of garbage cans. Exhaustion swept her away, and she fell asleep right there, lying face down in filth, half-buried in black trash bags, filled to the brim with odorous waste.

She was home, she kept telling herself. She was home, though oddly enough, she felt not a bit safer than when she was freezing to death in the Frozen North.

She crawled out of the filth and tried her best to clean herself off.

She kept out of sight, terrified of being recognized and thrown into a prison cell again. As much as she hated to admit it, she wished she had Starlight or Sunset nearby. She missed them. No, she thought, snap out of it. They're not my friends. You don't need friends.

She had returned home, she had left them all behind. This was what she wanted, she thought. She didn’t belong with Starlight and Sunset on their quest of revenge. She belonged in Cloudsdale.

Scampers the rat tailed behind her everywhere she went, darting from one alleyway to the next while the morning rush to work calmed itself.

She found her own apartment, a dilapidated, rusty hovel that appeared to be due for demolition.

She climbed the steps, and dragged her hooves up to her door on the second floor.

Evicted, read the slip taped to her door.

She read it over four more times, before angrily ripping it off her door, crumpling it to pieces, and throwing it to the ground.

She stormed through the door with ease; the lock had long been broken. She recalled four separate break-ins; on the last two nothing was stolen, since she had so little of value to spare.

Her home appeared more or less the same as when she had left it.

There was her kitchen, where the fridge was still empty and her pantry barren, save for some rotten fruit she once stole from a marketpony’s crate.

“Sorry about that,” she muttered, regretfully. She hated to think she was a thief.

She scoured her home for any discarded bottles that may have yet had some drops of liquor left over. But it had all long dried up.

She sighed, disgusted with the state of her home, and more so in herself.

Scampers was busy exploring underneath her bed, an air mattress set up in the left corner away from the window.

She recalled having to perform illicit favors for her foul, ravenous landlord on that bed, and her entire body shuddered, humiliation swelled through her.

Her wallet had been stolen, as had her telephone.

Then she saw the photographs of her as a foal she had framed and hung up on the wall, cracked and ruined, and fallen to the ground. She saw her parents behind her. There was still love in their eyes, in those photographs. But now those memories were lost to the dust.

Horrified, she wanted to burst into tears, or scream or surrender or throw herself from her window. Or all at once.

But she could only collapse to the ground, stricken by anguish, face-to-face with what the world had given her.

How did it come to this, she wondered. Was she ever so wicked that she deserved to be living in squalor, to be despised and spat on, to be cast aside and forgotten.

She dragged herself to the shower, which could only cough up ice-cold water.

She did not own much clothing, though she knew she would need something to cover herself, something to make her less recognizable.

She threw on her bright pink leather jacket that she had only worn once, along with a solid black hoofball hat her father had once given her.

The hat was one of a few rare gifts given to her by her father, not counting the especially rare smile or nod of approval. She wondered what they thought of her now.

Convict.
Traitor.
Murderer.
All it took was her falling short of her dreams for them to cast her out from their lives; now there was truly no going back.

Lightning slipped into her jacket, picked up Scampers, and stormed towards the door, wiping away dried tears and turning her back on her freezing-cold apartment. He fit surprisingly well in her jacket pocket, gnawing at the zipper.

She may have not had many friends, though she was not completely alone.

She found his house, a quiet suburban residence tucked away in the wealthier corners of the city.

She was smiling again, though weakly.

Until, she heard some mare’s cries and ecstatic moans spilling out from the front door.

Lightning’s eyes flashed red in shock, and she threw open the door, which luckily enough was unlocked.

Thunderlane was there, fallen over his leather couch, and there was Misty Fly, his Wonderbolt squadmate, half on top of him, resting her head on his shoulder. They were both a mess, and the furniture of the living room was in utter disarray.

Thunderlane raised his head to see who had arrived, and then froze, horrified.

“Lightning?!” he said, shoving Misty Fly off of him to the floor.

Lightning’s mouth was hanging open, she could not bring herself to speak.

“Hey, Lightning, hold on, ow, hold on! I can explain, give me a-, Lightning, wait,” he sputtered, trying to pick himself up from the couch, though his legs were trembling and he was covered in sweat.

Lightning spun around and shut the door, and immediately broke down into tears.

Scampers ran to her side, though Lightning could do little more than ball her eyes out.

She took flight and escaped, right as Thunderlane came stumbling out the door.

“Lightning! Wait!” she heard him say, behind on his own soiled welcome mat.

---

High Winds had just finished making her coffee that morning, when a weak knock on her front door took her surprise.

She had not been expecting visitors; she had sworn she had told everypony that she was sick with a cold.

She opened the door, and promptly dropped her coffee to the ground, shattering it into a hundred shards of porcelain.

“Dust?” she whispered, shocked.

Lightning wiped away whatever tears were left on her face.

“Hey, Windy, can I come in?”

High Winds practically leaped out of the way, ushering Lightning inside. She scanned outside her stoop to see if anypony was nearby, before shutting the door.

“Lightning, what the hell is going on? They’re talking about you on the news! They think you’re some kind of mass-murderer!”

Lightning fell atop High Wind’s living room chair, exhausted.

“Lightning. Seriously. The cops came here the other day. They know we’re friends, they thought I was helping you. They’ve probably got eyes on this house. You’re not safe here,” High Winds said, sporadically.

Lightning glanced at her with bloodshot eyes.

“Did you know about Thunderlane?”

High Winds was astounded.

That was what she wanted to talk about?

“....Uh, what about him?”

“Him and Misty,” Lightning said, spitefully.

High Winds gave a questionable look.

“...You mean him and Fleetfoot?”

Lightning groaned.

“My life is a joke,” Lightning muttered, burying her face in her hooves.

High Winds scoffed.

“He was always a jerk, I told you so,” High Winds said, leaning in for a warm embrace. Lightning did not want to pull away, too afraid to be lost on her own again, "Now would you please tell me what's going on?"

“Is Rainbow Dash in town?” Lightning asked.

“Crash? No. Not sure where she's been. Everything’s been crazy lately.”

“...I’m sorry I popped up here out of nowhere. I didn’t know where to go.”

“It’s OK, I’m just happy to see you’re not hurt or anything.”

Lightning shot her a look.

“Not hurt too bad, I meant.”

High Winds hesitated.

“Dust…I want to help, I really do, but…”

Lightning shifted her glance up at her friend. She knew what would come next.

High Winds sighed, settling on her decision.

“You can’t stay here.”

“Windy,” Lightning said, on the verge of tears once again, “Please.”

“They told me they were going to arrest me if they found out I helped you in any way! They'd send me to Tartarus, they'd have me tortured and executed! And you, it'd probably be worse! You won’t be safe hiding in my attic, and neither will I.”

Lightning was wound up in disbelief.

“I’m a Wonderbolt, Lightning," High Winds said, firmly, "Princess Twilight’s charged us with bringing you and your friends in if we spot you…”

Lightning rose to her hooves.

“You wouldn’t.”

High Winds bit her lip, and her eyes were darting back and forth, restlessly.

”I can’t betray them, Dust…”

“Windy. Please. I didn’t do any of the stuff they’re-”

“I know, I know…I wish I could help you, but I-I can’t.”

Lightning’s head fell back down, forlorn.

“I’ll give you five minutes, before I make the call.”

Lightning glanced at her one last time, with heartbroken, pleading eyes, though eventually understood that she had no choice.

“Don’t get caught,” High Winds said, as if she was already mourning a dead friend. “I’m sorry.”

Lightning made her way towards the door.

“I’m sorry too.”

---

Misty pillars and powdery tufts of vapor whispered into his ears, songs of forgotten faces and long lost memories. Above the clouds, above the madness and toil that reeked from the earth below, pegasi flocked along the busy billowing streets of Cloudsdale in every which way, over past the Rainbow Falls and the Great Mausoleum.

Kickstart was overcome by its glory; no such sight could astound a pegasus better than the city clouds.

He sat beside Scootaloo in the backseat of a yellow taxi, whose driver carried a thick accent and a thicker mustache.

“Whatever happened in your town really has everypony spooked, huh,” Kickstart muttered, glancing out the window; there was a staggering number of royal guards patrolling the streets.

“It’s like that everywhere,” Scootaloo said, while fiddling with her seatbelt, “I thought things were getting normal again. Then you showed up.”

Scootaloo’s fidgeting gradually grew to be a nuisance, and Kickstart could only take it to a point.

“Either buckle that or leave it be.”

Scootaloo glared at him.

“That’s it? Shouldn’t you be scolding me about seatbelt safety?”

“I’m not your babysitter.”

Scootaloo scoffed. She threw the buckle to the side and curled up, poutingly.

Not a second later, the cab came to a jolting halt, and Scootaloo found herself plummeting face-first into the front seat headrest.

Kickstart rolled his eyes.

“You don’t happen to know anypony in this city, do you?” Kickstart asked.

“Yeah!” Scootaloo replied, before her enthusiasm short-circuited. “I mean, well, sort of.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kickstart asked, bewildered.

“I mean, well, the Wonderbolts are here. We could-”

“The Wonderbolts! You’re friends with the Wonderbolts!” Kickstart said, incredulously.

“...Kind of. But if Rainbow Dash is there, I’m sure she’ll help you. She’s like, the nicest, coolest, awesomest pony in all Equestria - and my bestest best friend, like ever. She’s saved the world, like, a hundred thousand times.”

“OK, OK…Look, we’re gonna have to keep a low profile in the meantime, got it? There’s a lot of soldiers out there.”

“The soldiers are after you too?” Scootaloo wondered.

Kickstart had not heard her at first, while he scanned the streets passing by the window.

“Is there anypony who isn’t after you?”

“Blackcoats take the face of anypony they want. They have no identity, no names. They want to blend in with the crowd. They could be anypony. Even a royal guard.”

“...How do you know I’m not one of them?” Scootaloo smirked.

Kickstart glared at her.

“Central plaza,” the cab driver said, once the car came to a halt in a wide-open area of the city.

Kickstart glanced at Scootaloo, who promptly dropped all the bits she had into the driver’s tray. The driver, whose tag read Mr. Berger, gave them a bitter look; they were two bits short.

“Pull around here in an hour, and I'll pay double,” Kickstart said, though he hardly meant, darting out of the car, dragging Scootaloo behind him.

“Don’t draw attention to yourself,” Kickstart muttered, pulling Scootaloo closer beside him.

“You’re the one acting suspicious,” Scootaloo laughed.

Kickstart let go of her hoof and gave her a red-hot glare.

He found a bench by a bus stop, and Scootaloo had to jump up to sit beside him.

“So, how’s it feel?” Scootaloo asked.

“How’s what feel?”

“This place could be your home. You don’t have to keep running anymore.”

Kickstart shook his head.

“...I would imagine this place, when I was afraid, when the doctors would…” he began, wavering over unpleasant memories, “This was one of the only places I could remember. I would picture myself here, flying high up in the clouds. Under the warmth of the sun. That was my dream. Now here I am. And I don’t feel any of it.”

“...You’re in your head too much,” Scootaloo said, jumping back down off the bench, “This could be your home! This is better than a dream, this is real life!”

Kickstart’s eyes softened, and he almost wanted to smile.

That was, until he caught sight of two strange faces marching towards him through the crowd of pedestrians, hidden behind pairs of sunglasses, barreling forth at full speed.

Scootaloo noticed his change in expression, and spun around.

“Blackcoats,” Kickstart muttered. He sprang up to his hooves and pulled Scootaloo along with him, breaking into a sprint.

“We’ve got him, sir.”

Eight Ball grinned into the speaker of his radio. He had a wad of gum stuck in his mouth, seated alone in the communications room of the Erased’ subterranean Canterlot control center.

“Well done,” he replied, “Don’t let it escape.”

For weeks, he had been waiting for good news, waiting for something resembling a victory, when they only seemed to ever be a step behind.

In Cloudsdale, Bright Eyes tucked his radio into his belt.

Beneath a short mane of deep blue, he was a tall, broad-shouldered electric-blue pegasus, with grime in his stubble and hard lines that stained his face. He glanced at his companion, as they watched the red pegasus with the spiky mahogany hair and his filly accomplice make a break for it into the plaza. He gave a subtle nod, and then took off after them; they were right where he wanted.

---

Cadance kept pace with Alias, who moved remarkably quick, given his age.

“How is it Celestia never spoke to me of your operations?” Cadance asked, boarding an elevator headed deep below the earth.

They had entered Canterlot covertly under cover of darkness, entering the Erased’s headquarters early in the morning, before the sun had even risen. Its streetside front was a bakery, and, to all agents’ delight, the bread was out of this world.

“Celestia kept many things to herself. Often at risk to the whole nation. You may call it withdrawn, I call it arrogant.”

“Is that anyway to speak of a princess?”

“She’s not quite the saint you think she is. She had first assembled us specifically to do her dirty work, the kind of things Equestria was better off not hearing about.”

“I had heard rumors of you. Monster hunters.”

“Monsters big and small. The Senate wanted us dissolved after that Bugbear came loose. Celestia still had use for us, of course.”

“Why trouble yourself with what Twilight’s done? Aren’t there some boogeyponies you need to be battling?” Cadance asked.

The elevator doors sprung open.

“Monsters can take the shape of ponies. More often than not, I’m afraid.”

Cadance followed him out from the elevator, entering the sunken bottom floor of the facility, the busy circle-shaped control room, with office rooms carved into its edges.

Alias led her to one room in particular, seating several agents working control panels, glaring up at a large screen shedding an image of a Cloudsdale street.

“Sir, #67’s been located. Cloudsdale. The Ponyville girl is now its companion" Eight Ball reported, catching Alias at the door.

"Subdue it, waste no time. The longer it roams outside of containment, the more unstable it becomes," Alias reminded.

"We're on it sir. And you'll be pleased, we've also just identified one of Glimmer's group, Lightning Dust, also in Cloudsdale.” Eight Ball reported, catching Alias at the door.

“Lightning Dust?” Alias asked, shocked, “Where were the others?”

“We haven’t spotted any of the targets in Cloudsdale except for the pegasus. She visited her old apartment, and two friends’ houses. We believe the group has split up, sir, gone their separate ways.”

“Keep eyes on her,” Alias said, gruffly, "And locate the other five. Some of them may very well be here in the city, and if that's the case I need to know."

“Sir,” Eight Ball said, stepping aside.

“Chief,” came Pink Mist, who had been waiting patiently for her moment with Alias.

“What now?”

“Lieutenant Bandolier, he says they’ve apprehended an assassin who made an attempt on Lady Lavender’s life, just days ago. We believe the assassin is another accomplice of Twilight's, much like Mayor Mare, sir. She will need to be questioned.”

“Look at that!" Alias smiled, proudly, "Let me know when Bandolier’s back this way. We need him.”

“Right away,” Pink Mist smiled.

“You’ve got your hooves full down here,” Cadance said, impressed.

Alias nodded, smiling like a proud father.

“The ponies in this room know everything about everyone,” he said.

“And Twilight? What do you know about her?” Cadance wondered.

Alias leaned against the railing that oversaw the control panel table filling the room.

“Little. Gore only got so far as to point his crusty talon at the correct culprit.”

“Pity. Maybe if you had let him live he would have been able to do what you can’t.”

Alias scoffed, and spun to face her.

“Your highness. Spare me. It’s your involvement I wanted to avoid. He’s gotten the last laugh alright, the bastard.”

“And what’s so dangerous about me?”

“You’re Twilight’s sister-in-law. You care about her. You won’t do anything that would put her in harm’s way. We both know it. Maybe the next creature she murders will be enough to convince you otherwise.”

“Violence is a disease. You don’t cure a disease by passing it on to others.”

Alias glared at her.

“More ponies are going to die before this is over. More ponies you care about. I don’t know what she’s after. Maybe nothing at all. But what I do know, is that a power of that scale, unchecked, unbridled, unhindered…It will be the death of us all. Gore was brash. He would have told every creature if he had been able to. We need to step lightly. We have no idea what we’re getting ourselves into.”

Cadance glanced back at the screen, and watched the shifting images of soldiers, civilians, faces young and old. Who else was at risk, she wondered. Who would be next on Twilight’s warpath?

"I had been meaning to ask you - Ember, and Thorax, Novo and Posh and all those creatures...When was the last time you had spoken with any of them?" Alias asked.

Cadance hesitated, having to think hard on the question.

"It must've been Rutherford. Just before the coronation."

"The coronation, of which you chose to skip. It's good you had, or you might have had the misfortune of making the guestlist."

"Don't make jokes like that," Cadance scolded, "Posh's circle had wanted me to come, in fact. Rutherford stopped by the palace on the way south, begging me to join him."

"What did he have to say? Anything strange?"

"Everything he says is strange. Exactly what, I'm not sure, it's been so long, it's hard to remember," Cadance admitted, "He talked about Posh, and Filibuster, how he wanted me to hear what they had to say. He said it over and over, he was excited. Like a kid in line for a rollercoaster."

"Hear what they had to say?" Alias repeated, intrigued.

"They're politicians. Of course they'd have something to say," Cadance said, flatly.

"A select group of creatures is brought together at a specific time and place, to be murdered. Posh and Filibuster among them. Maybe they weren't the only ones with something to say."

"You think Twilight wanted to keep them quiet?" Cadance asked.

"Twilight would have made sure to take out every single creature who knew whatever they knew. So we won't be finding out this secret anytime soon."

"What kind of secret could be so serious that it warrants murdering eight creatures?"

"Ah," Alias said, smiling, gracious for Cadance's question, "To answer that, we need to study Twilight better. What could take her to such lengths?"

Cadance shook her head, unsure how to answer such a question.

"I don't know how much of my Twilight is still in there, but...." Cadance said, her voice shaking slightly, "...It would have to be for Equestria's sake. She might have thought they were a threat. But what could they have wanted to do? They were our friends, they would never do anything to hurt any creature."

"How often does Twilight act on anything but concrete judgments?"

Cadance narrowed her eyes.

"It's been hard enough to accept what Twilight's turned into. Don't try to tell me that all those creatures really had it coming."

"I'm not saying that," Alias corrected, "But Twilight might have thought so."

"This is all baseless," Cadance said, "You can't prove anything!"

"No, I can't. Because the only creatures who could offer any real insight on the matter are dead."

"Celestia knows Twilight better than anypony," Cadance said, "She might know something."

Alias laughed.

"Celestia's been missing for months. We don't think she's another victim, though. Not even Twilight would be capable of that kind of treachery."

"How do you know that?" Cadance asked, disgusted with herself for questioning him.

Alias smiled, glancing back at her.

"You're still alive."

---

Aleheart had struggled to crawl out of the tent that morning.

The blizzard had subsided for now, and he could enjoy a breath of fresh air in the frozen wasteland of the far North. He stuck himself in his Crystal armor, and climbed out of the tent, yawning the whole way.

“There he is. We’ve got stew on the stove,” came Ferris, whose helmet was buried in the snow.

“It had better be an improvement over last night,” said Aleheart.

“Did you wake Sugar Rush? He said he fell ill last night,” Ferris said.

“Did I wake him? He was already gone,” Aleheart mumbled.

Ferris laughed.

“He was in your tent. And I took the last shift in the night. I saw him go in. I never saw him go out.”

“Then you’re a shit night watch,” Aleheart spat.

“By the grace of her majesty! If he’s not in there, then I’ve gone mad!”

“There was nopony in there. See for yourself,” Aleheart muttered, pouring himself a bowl of stew.

Ferris eagerly rose to his hooves and marched over to Aleheart’s tent.

He stuck his head inside, and, to his shock, there was nopony inside.

“Alright. I’ve gone mad. Feel free to-” Ferris began, sticking his head back out and turning around.

But Aleheart had been knocked face first into the snow, stars spinning about his head. And there was Sugar Rush, held down beneath the hoof of a mare dressed in a warm raspberry coat, with a large pair of black goggles stuck over her eyes and a black helmet strapped over her head. Her face was hidden by a black scarf, though tufts of her blue/pink mane still spilled out.

“Who the hell are you!?” Ferris said. He reached back for his knife, and Bon Bon's reply was to draw a knife of her own, lowering it against Sugar Rush’s neck.

“Don’t!” Sugar Rush squealed.

“Hey, take it easy, birdie,” Ferris said, raising his hooves up.

“You're Snowfall's ponies? Sent to find Starlight Glimmer?” Bon Bon asked.

Ferris was thrown for a loop.

“...Yes.”

“You’re to confirm if they’re where Snowfall thinks they are, is that right?”

“...Y-Yes.”

“And where’s that?”

“I’m not to be telli-”

Bon Bon again lowered the knife towards Sugar Rush.

“Icehearth! She thinks they’ve gone to the Icehearth!” he said, begrudgingly.

“The Icehearth,” Bon Bon repeated. She drew back her knife, and gently raised Sugar Rush back to his hooves.

Without a word, Bon Bon made her way back towards her snowmobile, hidden behind some nearby fern bushes.

Ferris and Sugar Rush watched as she drove off, a gust of wind blowing over the fire raging inside her. Twilight’s command was still ringing in her ears. Thoughts of losing Lyra forever made her sick to her stomach, but she still had a chance to save her. It was just a job, she thought.

And she always saw the job through.

---

It took a good few hours for Blondie to find the street Crozer had once spoken of, the alleged hideaway of Manehattan’s famed Underground.

While he had become familiar with the Black Hoof’s system during his time in their employ, the Underground still eluded him.

They lived up to their name, he thought.

But through sewer-stained soggy street puddles and over moss-crack-ran sidewalks, he and Rainbow Dash found the street sign he had been in search of, though its white print was faded and it was spun the wrong direction.

Halifax Way

Blondie looked both ways before crossing the street, spit up a glob of phlegm that was stuck in his throat, and walked along the shadowy edges of the rust-rode street. Rainbow trotted after him, ignoring her nerves.

"You alright?" Blondie asked.

"I shouldn't have come here," Rainbow muttered, "They're gonna murder my friends."

"Don't think about that," Blondie advised, "You're gonna get out of this. Now let's finish it."

Rainbow nodded her head, and shook off her doubts, following after him down the street.

On either side were apartments that appeared to be one loose brick away from collapsing into rubble. Empty clotheslines and snapped electrical wires ran from one side to the other, and there were more potholes than smooth pavement, as far as Blondie could tell.

He had been warned as a child not to run around this side of town.

Looks about right.

“Have you seen that new guy?”

Blondie’s ears perked up. Two stallions were taking a stroll on the opposite side of the street, heading in the same direction.

“Who, the big fella?” the other replied.

Now Blondie was interested.

Salt Shaker.

“He talks like he was raised in a castle. Puts me off.”

Now Blondie was sure.

“Boss wants to trade. He’s getting antsy about this whole thing. And that girl’s about spent, I think.”

“She was spent some weeks ago. I even pitied the thing after a while.”

“Boss don’t. He’s bored of her, is what I meant.”

The two stallions chuckled to one another, while Blondie’s nose flared in disgust.

Blondie and Rainbow crossed the street, while the two ponies remained oblivious.

He watched them round a corner into some alley, and, keeping his distance, he kept pace.

Blondie cautiously crept around the corner.

"Hey!" cried out one of the stallions, before Blondie could swing his hoof square into the stallion's teeth, spinning him around backwards. The stallion landed right on his face, out cold.

Rainbow flew straight into the other, slamming her hoof across his skull, sending him toppling down over his partner.

"W-Wait, don't," the stallion sputtered.

Blondie glanced at Rainbow, who allowed him to take over.

Blondie bent down beside him, grabbing him by the throat.

"Where're your friends?" Blondie demanded.

"I...Shit, I-"

Blondie's hoof swept against the stallion's face, hard, dislodging two molers and leaving a patchy purple bruise on his cheek.

"Where?" Blondie growled.

"312! The warehouse!" the pony managed, before Blondie dropped him to the ground.

Rainbow planted a kick to the stallion's head, knocking him unconscious.

"You ready?" Blondie asked.

Rainbow cracked her neck, and nodded her head.

"Let's do this."

---

Rarity awoke strapped to a stool, in the dressing room of her own Canterlot Boutique.

“You rotten fiends! How dare you!” she cried, to wherever Starlight and Trixie were in the spiraling spills of her shop.

“We can’t stay here forever. This is the first place somepony will come looking,” Trixie muttered.

They were right outside the dressing room, biting time and nervously glancing over at the storefront windows at regular intervals.

“Tomorrow, we’ll be gone. Wherever we go, we’re bringing her with us,” Starlight said.

Trixie stared at her, flatly.

“She can’t help us, Starlight,” Trixie insisted, right before Starlight turned to make her way into the dressing room.

Rarity, who was already in a fluster, flew into rage at the sight.

“Starlight. If you dare lay a hoof on me, I’ll make sure you never-”

“Rarity,” Starlight snapped, “We're not gonna hurt you. I mean it.”

“When Twilight finds out about this, you’re going to be in quite a heap of trouble, you know!”

Starlight sighed.

“Rarity…The times you got to speak with Twilight, what did you talk about?” Starlight asked.

Rarity had not expected to be subjected to an interrogation.

“...Rainbow Dash had wanted to go on a silly quest to Manehattan to catch the ponies responsible for what happened in Ponyville. Twilight tried to talk her out of it, but, well, you know Rainbow.”

“Did she talk about what happened? To Thorax, and everyone else?” Starlight asked.

“I was there with her at the funeral a few weeks ago. She gave the eulogy. I couldn’t stop crying for hours, it felt.”

Starlight's eyes widened; she had not known it was Twilight reading out the final send-off to her own victims.

“Are you quite finished? This is mad! Dare I say, criminal!” Rarity whined.

“We’re going to need to hide out here for a little while. I’m sure you won’t mind,” Starlight said.

“Oh please, make yourselves at home,” Rarity snarled, fidgeting in her restraints.

“Starlight,” Trixie said under her breath, as Starlight turned to leave, “This is a risk we don’t need to take. We can’t keep her with us.”

"If Twilight finds out she's seen us, she won't be safe. We have to protect her."

Rarity had not expected to hear Starlight come to her aid, though kept herself out of the confrontation.

Starlight stormed out from the dressing room, leaving Trixie with an indignant Rarity.

“Trixie, you don’t have to do this,” Rarity pleaded, “You could just let me go. I wouldn’t tell anypony. You know it won’t be pleasant, once Twilight catches you. I could convince her to be merciful. I could help you!”

Trixie scoffed and turned to leave, following after Starlight.

“Fine, run away,” Rarity spat, switching tactics, “Just like you’ve always done.”

Trixie stopped in the doorframe, glancing back at her captive. But she appeared distressed, and bitterly trotted out from the dressing room, shutting the door behind her.

Rarity was left alone in the dark, helpless and terrified of what Starlight had in store for her. For all she knew, Equestria’s most wanted had her completely at their mercy.

---

Toppling down mist-muddled steps and dodging the odd cloudy pillar, Kickstart and Scootaloo had no idea if they were still being followed. Kickstart counted two at first glance, though by now there had to be more closing in from all over the city. Blackcoats never knew when to quit.

“In here!” Scootaloo said, pulling Kickstart alongside her through the door of a stray clothing shop on one cluttered city street.

Kickstart was out of breath, and crouched down behind a pillar behind the storefront window, while Scootaloo glanced out at the street.

She saw five ponies in black coats sprint past the storefront, and she gave a sigh of relief.

“What do we do?” she asked, frantically.

“I don’t know,” Kickstart muttered.

There was no place left to run.

---

Lightning had taken to wander the streets of the city. She had considered bringing Rainbow Dash to Starlight; she knew her long-time rival must know something about Twilight’s alleged nefarious activities.

Like she'd ever help me.

She had once enjoyed the thrill, the competition between them, the lengths she had to push herself. But now those dreams seemed hollow, as though she had missed the point of the chase altogether, the point that Rainbow seemed to have never needed. Humiliation boiled inside her, at the mere thought to admitting any wrongs, or worse, asking Rainbow for help. But then again, Starlight needed help if she was ever to take down Twilight, and Rainbow Dash would certainly suffice.

A part of her wanted to prove herself to Starlight, and to the others.

They’re right about me, she thought. She might as well do it. She might as well march up to Twilight Sparkle and tell her where Starlight and everypony are. Maybe then she could have her reward. Maybe then she could have her dignity back.

She kept her head down as she went, hiding both her face and her tears from prying eyes. This was her home, yet it was wholly unfamiliar. There had to be something here that she needed. A second chance, she considered. But perhaps that second chance had already come, and perhaps she had decided to fly away from it for hopes that she had long lost.

I don’t belong here.

Her face was red, and her eyes heavy. She would never be the superstar she had once dreamed of becoming. She had her chance, and she ruined it. Now she was only aimless and alone, in her own home that felt nothing like home.

“There she is.”

Lightning froze.

She spun around, with wide eyes that were doused in fear.

“...The pegasus whore I’ve been told so much about,” said the royal guard standing in front of the fifteen-pony royal patrol stretching the span of the street behind her. Pedestrians flocked out of the way, terrified.

“Hawkbit,” the pegasus introduced. He had a handsome face, pale brown fur and a head of oak brown thin hairs, “Snowfall thought you might have tried tucking tail and running back home. And here I thought it would get boring down here.”

He took a step closer, and, almost in sync, Lightning took a step backwards.

“Poor thing. You look like you’ve been through a lot today. I don’t want this to be any trouble. Just take a breath. Nopony’s gonna hurt you.”

His words made Lightning long for some imagined peace to dawn down upon her. But she knew better than to trust anything that spilled out of his mouth.

“You don’t believe me. I get it. But we both know who Twilight really wants,” Hawkbit grinned, “Where’s Starlight Glimmer?”

Lightning could hardly feign any act of resilience or hard exterior; she felt like crumbling down to pieces, she wanted to give in, and give up; what did she have left?

But Lightning held her tongue, to Hawkbit’s frustration.

She could not do it, she realized. No matter how badly she wanted to, she could not do it.

“Nothing to say? That’s fine. I have a knack for getting poor little birds like you to sing. How about it? Let’s try it my way.”

Hawkbit gave a subtle nod with his head, and the patrol of guards all lowered their spears.

“I know that pony.”

Kickstart stood behind a stone pillar sitting behind the storefront window. The store was busy that morning, they had gone unnoticed thus far.

He stuck his head out from behind the pillar, peering through the window at the street. There he saw the blonde pegasus in the pink jacket, surrounded by a patrol of royal guards. Pedestrians were fleeing in every which way.

“Get back,” Kickstart muttered, pulling Scootaloo back with him behind the pillar.

“Blackcoats are still out there,” he said, keeping her still at his side. She wriggled free of his grip, eager to steal a glance outside again.

“She your friend? Rainbow Dash?” Kickstart asked.

“No,” Scootaloo said, disgusted, “That’s Lightning Dust.”

Kickstart glanced back around the pillar. The girl’s wings appeared to be damaged slightly, and her eyes were red and runny, she must have been crying.

“...Whoever she is, we could use her help. You stay here. I’ll go find our friend Mr. Berger.”

Scootaloo managed to hold him back, using all her force to keep him from leaving her side.

“What happened to staying out of sight!”

“She’s in trouble,” Kickstart said, defensively.

“You want the royal guards after you too? Like you don’t already have enough enemies?” Scootaloo demanded.

“You said I couldn’t beat the blackcoats alone.”

Scootaloo glared at him.

“She’s trouble.”

Kickstart grinned.

“I kept you around, didn’t I?”

Kickstart forced his way past her towards the back exit. Scootaloo sighed in frustration, and glanced back out from behind the pillar.

A chorus of shrieks gave way in the street, though Lightning did not budge.

She did not intend to go down without a fight.

The wall of guards began their march towards her, spears drawn and ready.

Lightning gritted her teeth, enraged.

But her chance never came, when a small hoof grabbed a hold of hers.

Lightning glanced down, and turned as pale white; it was Scootaloo, pulling her along inside a taxi car that had suddenly parked itself right beside her. There was another pony in the backseat, a stallion, bright red in color with spiky mahogany hair.

"Go on, get her!" Kickstart exclaimed.

Scootaloo dragged Lightning into the car, which promptly took off down the street, away from the patrol of guards.

“Don’t just stand there! After her!” Hawkbit barked, ballistically.

“Scootaloo?” Lightning asked, as if she had seen a ghost. The girl looked slightly older than when they had last seen each other. Scootaloo sat in the middle, glaring at Kickstart. She glanced back at the rear window, watching as the royal guards broke off after them down the street.

“This is a big mistake,” Scootaloo said, ignoring Lightning.

“They were going to kill her,” Kickstart pointed out.

“Can somepony tell me what’s going on?” Lightning asked.

“Mr. Berger, extra to go past the city limit,” Kickstart said.

“You shouldn’t have helped me. The whole city wants me dead,” Lightning said.

“'Thanks for the rescue,' would be nice,” Kickstart said.

“I didn’t need to be rescued,” Lightning snarled, insulted.

Kickstart had no mind to argue, glancing at the rearview mirror to catch sight of the patrol of pegasus guards still in pursuit.

“Berger, step on it.”

“I go speed limit,” Berger replied.

“At least try to lose them, they’re on top of us!”

“I go speed limit,” he growled.

Kickstart mumbled some curses under his breath.

“Scoots,” Lightning said, glancing down at Scootaloo.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Scootaloo…” Lightning said, though she was not sure what she wanted to say. Lightning knew that look in the girl’s eyes.. It was all she had known, for months, it felt. It sounded like a joke, in retrospect. She nearly killed that poor girl, all for the sake of proving a point. A point that, after years of desperation, had never amounted to anything. She was never going to be a star. She was never going to fly into stadiums, and be welcomed by thunderous cheers. She had brought it all upon herself, and there, sitting beside her, was the consequence of her actions.

“Look, uh, Scootaloo, thanks for the help. And I know you're just a kid, but, you've got guts, yeah, and..." Lightning said, while the car bumped up and down along the road, masking the shakiness in her voice, "I...I'm sorry for what I did to you."

Scootaloo was caught by surprise, loosening her bitter exterior. Was this some kind of joke?

Lightning lowered her head, sheepishly.

"You two can bury the hatchet later," Kickstart said, panicked, "Right now we need a place to lay low."

"Up north," Lightning said, after a deep breath, "I've got to get back to my friends."

She felt like smiling, enjoying a strange sense of relief.

Kickstart glanced down at a disgruntled Scootaloo.

“We need all the help we can get,” Kickstart said.

“Let me make it up to you. Let me help you,” Lightning said, facing Scootaloo with pleading eyes, “Give me this.”

Scootaloo wavered, and Kickstart held off from interrupting.

She sighed, and gave a slight nod of her head.

“Don’t let me down again,” Scootaloo said, cautiously.

Lightning smiled.

“I won’t.”

---

Sunset and Wallflower both kept their distance from their hotel room guest, the red-eyed changeling with the pearly grin.

Callidus had not come empty-hoofed; in his pack he had brought bushels of fruit to share with his new allies, though Sunset thought allies to be a loose term.

The mares were both starving, after days of strenuous activity and malnourishment. Callidus sat by and watched.

“If it’s not too bold to say, I don’t think it’s wise to stay up north,” Callidus said.

“We told the others we would stay here,” Sunset explained.

“You said Snowfall Glitter’s after you? She’s as much a Northerner as she is Twilight’s lapdog. She knows the land, she knows its ponies. It won’t take her long to realize you’re here.”

“She’ll find us no matter where we go. Why’re you so eager to see us south?” Sunset asked, suspiciously.

“The longer you and your friends elude Snowfall, the more likely Twilight’ll settle on hunting you all down herself. And whether it’s Snowfall or Twilight who finds you first, I hardly think the Icehearth is the best place to greet them.”

“Is there such a thing as a good place to greet them?” Wallflower wondered.

“I would suggest the Crystal Empire. Right under their noses. They think you’re frolicking about the Frozen Wastes, anyway,” Callidus said.

“You’re awfully insistent,” Sunset said.

“And persuasive, I’m told,” Callidus grinned.

“Suri and Lightning expect to find us here when they come back,” Wallflower said.

“If they come back,” Sunset corrected.

“I came to help you so we could take down Twilight together. Not to sit idly by while all of your enemies close in around you.”

“We’ve gotten on alright so far, haven’t we?” Sunset said, rising from her chair.

Broken glass from the shattering window came spraying through the room, falling around the object that had been thrown through it: a dark metal gray sphere, blinking and spinning madly.

“Shit!” Sunset exclaimed, tossing the table up towards the window, while casting a spell to contain the bomb.

But she was not quick enough, and her spell only partially absorbed the fiery blast that escaped from the blinking sphere. All three of them were thrown backwards, Sunset knocking her head on the corner edge of the nightdresser. She muttered something before slipping unconscious, blood spilling out from her scalp.

“Sunset!” Wallflower cried, rushing through the cloud of smoke.

Callidus’s horn ignited, lifting the table to block the broken window.

The door came rattling, and Callidus glanced at Wallflower, terrified.

“She’s out cold!” Wallflower said, uncertain who was after them this time.

The door flew open with a blast of smoking sparks.

A mare stepped through the cloud of smoke into the doorframe: she wore a raspberry jacket, obscured black goggles, and a solid black helmet.

She took a quick glance around the room. She did not recognize the changeling, nor the green earth pony, who she reasoned had to be the sixth accomplice, who nopony knew the name of. But she did recognize Sunset Shimmer, lying against the nightdresser with her eyes half-open.

She supposed they would do, drawing a knife from her belt.

“Get her outside,” Callidus said to Wallflower, blocking Bon Bon’s path.

Wallflower was way ahead of him, dragging Sunset’s limp body towards the boarded window. With all her might, she shoved the table out of the way, a gust of frozen night-dark air stealing the breath from her lips.

Bon Bon’s knife skimmed Wallflower’s curly locks, and grazed over Sunset’s shoulder, before it was stuck in the window frame.

Callidus, realizing their attacker required time to draw another weapon, rushed towards her, flipping on the mechanical magical enhancer stuck on his horn, and sending a beam of fire towards Bon Bon.

Bon Bon dodged the blast, and already had a second knife drawn in her hoof.

Callidus was relentless, however, sending her darting back and forth across the floor to avoid being eviscerated by his air-splitting beams of purple-red fire.

Wallflower managed to shove Sunset out into the snow, and climbed out herself. Inside, Callidus, who was mildly out of breath, spread his wings and turned to dart off outside.

Or he meant to, until Bon Bon’s knife came twisting through the air, puncturing his wing and stapling it to the wooden wall of the hotel room.

He grunted in pain as his wings tore at the bloody mark, as he was hanged up a few feet from the ground, squirming and writhing in agony. The cartilage in his wing was partially ripped, as his weight tore it from the seam.

Bon Bon marched right past him, ignoring his plight. Despite her nearly being killed at his hooves, he was not who she was here for.

Bon Bon climbed through the window out in the snow, and immediately spotted Wallflower and Sunset’s trail.

“Hey! Stop!” yelled two ponies rushing towards her, wearing thick coats with fleece trims and golden badges pinned to their chests.

Bon Bon waited until they were nearly on top of her, before sliding out of the way, tripping one over and decking the other up beneath his jaw. She railed the downed policepony over the back of his head, and kicked the other square in the chest.

Wallflower was right around the corner of the hotel building, desperately trying to resuscitate Sunset.

But Bon Bon was already there, staring down at Wallflower with merciless arctic blue eyes.

“Whatever Twilight promised, she’s not going to give you,” Wallflower said, aggressively.

Bon Bon hesitated. She had been dreading that possibility. Whoever she had thought Twilight was, she was a different pony now. She could no longer be predicted, and with Lyra’s life on the line, she had little choice but to comply.

“Where’s Starlight?” Bon Bon asked, coldly.

Wallflower glared at her.

Bon Bon sighed. She had hoped she would not have to take more than one life in the name of love, though she did not wish to leave Twilight disappointed.

Bon Bon drew yet another knife from her belt, though she never got the chance to use it, when a magical blast of purple fire ran right through her, throwing her into a mound of snow a quarter mile in the distance.

Callidus rounded the corner, his horn smoking from the tip.

“I’ve got a ride out of here. Time to go.”

“But-” Wallflower began.

“You’re going to have to trust me,” Callidus said, grabbing Wallflower by the hoof, “Come on.”

Carrying Sunset between them, Callidus and Wallflower trudged over to a snow-covered lot, where a host of snow sleds sat unattended. Wallflower glanced at the sign.

Sled Rentals.

“Isn’t this stealing?” Wallflower asked.

Callidus ignored her and unstrapped one of the sleds from the post.

The roar of an engine down the street sent both of them alert.

“Load her on. You too,” Callidus said, strapping the reins of the sled around his chest.

The engine’s screech grew louder, in sync with Wallflower’s fear doubling over and over.

“Hurry!” Wallflower yelled, holding Sunset’s unconscious body beside her on the sled.

Callidus spread his wings and made his leading sprint, struggling to gain traction in the slippery snow.

He took off, his wings flapping at an unrecognizable speed. Drops of blood sprayed onto the snow, as he ignored his open wound.

They made their course through the main gate of the town, barreling over uneven snowbanks and jutting rocks.

Wallflower glanced back behind them; there was Bon Bon, singed and covered in ash as a result of Callidus’ blast, piloting her jet black snowmobile. She was in hot pursuit, tumbling over the snow towards them.

“Must go faster,” Wallflower muttered, though Callidus could not hear her over the piercing winds.

Callidus was making good speed, all things considered, though Bon Bon was quickly gaining on them.

She had a trigger-activated pistol drawn now, capable of hurling magical pellets at cataclysmic speeds. Sunset Shimmer might be enough, she hoped, enough to quench Twilight’s bloodlust, at least.

She fired three shots, each one only narrowly missing Wallflower, who had to dart back and forth to avoid having her face caved in.

“Sunset,” Wallflower said, shaking the unicorn back and forth, “Sunset!”

Callidus was gritting his teeth, as the snow grew denser the farther they fled past the Icehearth into the Frozen Wastes.

“In the bag!” Callidus yelled, struggling to be heard over the wind, “Use it!”

Wallflower assumed he meant the bag he had brought with him. It did not only contain fruit, she discovered, when she found the barrel of a flare gun resting at the bottom of the bag.

“No, I can’t,” Wallflower said, shaking her head.

Callidus’ silence told her everything she needed to hear. This time, it was do or die. Sunset wasn’t there to save her skin, and neither was Starlight.

Wallflower drew the flare gun from the bag, and cocked it with a shaky hoof.

She raised it up, biting her lip, and aimed it straight at the helm of Bon Bon’s snowmobile.

Wallflower shut her eyes as tight as they could go, and squeezed the trigger.

The sound of metal parts bursting into the air in the ensuing explosion caught both Wallflower and Callidus by surprise.

Bon Bon’s snowmobile had flipped over forwards in flames, with Bon Bon herself being flung into a snowy heap. The ruinous wreck littered the snow, and the withering flames were snuffed out by the wind.

“Well done,” muttered Sunset, who had managed to catch Wallflower right before that fateful press of the trigger.

Wallflower was out of breath, though terribly relieved. They wouldn’t be done away. Not today, at least.

Bon Bon pulled herself free from the snow, and watched as the sled grew smaller the farther it slid towards the daylight.

She had lost.

---

Shadow sweltered about him, as Blondie crept behind a shipping crate twice his size. Rainbow Dash was close behind, listening in on the rupturing voices echoing throughout the warehouse.

The warehouse was stuffed at the edges with crates and boxes, stacked low and kept in the shadows.

"Here, hold on," Blondie whispered, coming to a halt to peer over the edge of the crates.

In the center of the warehouse, an open space had been carved out, where a crowd of ponies had gathered, divided into two halves.

Blondie narrowed his eyes, at the sight of Salt Shaker, whose hoof was wrapped around the briefcase, tightly as though he was welded to it.

"Trench?" Rainbow whispered, nodding towards a pony standing with the other half of the crowd.

He was dark grey in color, with jet black hair combed all the way back. In the dark of the warehouse, the cigarette in his mouth bobbed up and down in his mouth like a firefly.

The two crowds stirred, restlessly. Blondie was amazed that the two clusters hadn't broke down into an all-out brawl already, considering their histories. Blondie watched Trench take the cigarette out of his mouth, and crept closer against the crate to better hear. All of them were armed, and all wore heavy glares and hard faces.

"Pity about my old clients," he said, "But these new cats are paying triple. Rich freaks with a stake in the game down south."

"Ponyville was a happy accident," Salt Shaker replied.

Rainbow's ears perked up.

"Yes, it was," Trench laughed, amused, "Shame Crozer couldn't settle. I would have very much liked to put the past behind us."

"Tonight could be the start," Salt said.

Trench nodded, and glanced back at one of his cronies, signaling him with a flick of his hoof.

In no time at all, one of the Undergrounders produced a case, which was promptly opened by Trench himself, revealing a neatly stacked collection of bits.

"Only a fraction of what you'll get, when we've sold the damn thing," Trench said, "A show of good faith. Consider it a professional courtesy."

"We might as well see what's inside, while we're all here," Salt Shaker said, and for a moment Trench had to question the giant's intentions.

But he seemed to change his mind, with a sly grin and another flick of his hoof.

Blondie twitched, when he caught sight of Brandy being dragged out beside Trench. She was

She looked pale as death, her curls bouncing with every step, her cerulean dress torn and her legs trembling.

Blondie could not help but stare; there she was, the girl who had dragged him into this mess, the girl who compelled him still to fight, and fight to win. She was alive. Those eyes of deep blue kept him tethered.

"Now, the briefcase," Trench asked, extending his hoof, smirking the whole while.

Salt Shaker tilted his head, hesitant to part ways with the case so soon.

Trench's smile faded.

"You're new to this, I get it. But I'm not the stallion to be playing tricks with."

"You, me, and the girl, alone. That's how we'll open it. You've got forty ponies there to my twenty. I'd rather not indulge that prospect."

Trench snickered, glancing at the ponies behind him.

"You're an eloquent pony. I don't trust eloquent ponies."

"An eloquent pony is just as trustworthy as a fool."

"The only fool is the one who came less prepared."

In unison, the Underground troops raised their weapons, and, subsequently, the Black Hoof soldiers did the same.

“The arrangement still stands," Trench said, "I had hope you'd make a smarter gamble than Crozer might've. But if you think you can stand against us, we'll rip you all apart, root and stem.”

Salt Shaker’s gentle smile faded, and Trench became unnerved, the giant was showing a side had yet to show prior.

Salt Shaker raised his hoof up towards Trench, and squeezed the trigger of a magic-pellet firing pistol, inciting a firefight that lit up the room in red, blue, and green light.

Blondie glanced at Rainbow, and sprang out from behind the crate.

Rainbow flew straight for Brandy, who was busy screaming while bullets and magic blasts whizzed over her head.

"What the-" came one of the Undergrounders, before Rainbow had taken flight once again, carrying Brandy Bow along with her.

"They took her!" yelled one of the Undergrounders, who were fleeing for cover as bodies began to collect in heaps.

Blondie flew in towards Salt Shaker, slamming his hoof across the giant's face.

Salt Shaker was barely phased, and more so surprised to see Blondie alive.

“Get out of here, before they kill you,” Salt Shaker said.

“You left me for dead,” Blondie said, before glancing down at the briefcase in the giant's other hoof.

Salt Shaker laughed as Blondie dove in to swipe the case, enduring a punch to the neck that took the wind out of him for a moment.

“Now I’m leaving you alive. Go,” Salt Shaker spat, shoving Blondie out of the way before a stray axe could lodge itself in his skull.

Blondie took flight, springing towards Salt. He dodged a sloppy swing by the giant, who moved with remarkable speed for his size. He slammed his hoof into the giant's ribs, and punched up against his jaw, knocking him off balance.

He lost his chance at another strike, however, when a Black Hoof soldier came running towards him with a knife in hoof.

Blondie dodged the pony's blade and stuck him in the chest with his hoof, smacking him to the ground.

"Blondie!" cried out Rainbow, who was hiding behind a crate near the open warehouse doors, clinging to an unconscious Brandy.

"She went under!" Rainbow explained, to Blondie's relief, "Forget the case! Let's get out of here!"

The soldiers’ scramble shifted to the swinging of swords, axes, knives, and maces.

Blondie glanced back at Salt Shaker and the briefcase, ignoring the approaching pack of Underground ponies out for blood.

Salt eyed him a final time, before slipping away towards another exit with a handful of his compatriots.

"Blondie, c'mon!" Rainbow hollered, inching towards the doors.

Blondie at last gave in, darting back around to rejoin Rainbow.

He glanced down at Brandy, and was horrified to take a closer look at her assortment of grizzly wounds.

Out of breath, they rushed through the doors, and kept on running, past Halifax Way and back into Newtown.

Blondie collapsed in the shade of an alleyway, right by a dumpster, wheezing and inspecting the burnmarks on his coat.

“You really need to work on your cardio," Rainbow laughed, tugging on the back of his neck.

“That was close,” he said, collapsing back down against the alley wall, "And only half the boon."

“Better than nothing,” Rainbow said, seating herself on the wall opposite to him, "We've got to get her back to your boss, before he...."

Blondie eyed her, and took one last deep breath, before regaining his composure.

"Your friends will be fine, I promise," he said, "....I take it they wised up and quit town."

"Yeah," Rainbow nodded, "Thing about me is, I never wise up."

Blondie almost smiled, the first she had seen.

"I owe you," Blondie said, firmly, "So does she."

They both glanced at Brandy, whose mouth hung agape, having fainted during the madness.

"Let's deliver her, and see what we can do about the case," Rainbow said, "You're still with me, right?"

"Wouldn't be anywhere else," Blondie replied.

She smiled, rising to her hooves, pulling him up beside her.

---

The red dusk came cool and clear, and Bandolier could taste the changing winds stripping the trees barren. Over those wooded hills were the great Smoky Mountains, reared by the sun’s firelight, painting feathered sketches of oiled clouds. The blackbirds had flown down from their nests, and they flocked in pairs or triplets, blown back against the cool winds.

“A good omen,” Bandolier observed, waiting patiently on the white stone edge of the gate to Lady Lavender’s fair palace of velvet.

Amity Stiletto was beside him, though made no reply. She did not believe in such things.

“There they are,” she exclaimed, nudging Bandolier to turn to his back.

There was the palace envoy they were expecting, a frowning Flamberge among them.

Too there was Lady Lavender herself, and a host of her guards, and, of course, the prisoner assassin, still draped in her canary yellow dress. They came down the stone bridge leading over the lake, stained orange, pink, and purple by the setting sun. The bridge stretched back from the keep to the gate, where Bandolier and Amity had been waiting.

“Her name’s Clover,” Bandolier said, recalling their meeting.

“Was Lavender’s fancy not enough?” Amity wondered, scowling.

Bandolier glanced down at her, disconcerted.

“There’s no time for that,” he said, dismissively, “We had our orders. We’ve fulfilled them. Equestria can be at peace, finally. And I don’t plan on returning here.”

“You must want to settle down somewhere. Sometime," Amity asked, flying off into her own wistful fantasy.

“I only know a few Erased ponies who managed to live long enough to retire. Chief always said I wouldn’t be one of them.”

“He’s hard on you because he knows you’re fit to take over for him, someday. He wants the best for you," Amity said, and she was jealous of it, in fact.

Bandolier scoffed.

“All I ever wanted was to do my duty. But nothing I did could ever be enough for him. I ought to die sooner than later, for both our peace of mind.”

“Bandolier,” said Lavender, whose envoy had finally arrived.

“My lady,” Bandolier said, courteously bowing his head.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” she said.

“The Bureau will want their hooves on our assassin. Equestria will have the justice it demands. And so will you,” Bandolier promised.

“I only fear there will be others who mean to harm me. Won’t you stay longer?” Lavender fretted.

“If there’s cause for alarm, we’ll be back, trust me. We need to make sure this pony is kept secure in Canterlot.”

“Couldn’t I come with you?”

Bandolier hesitated. That was what Alias had commanded to begin with.

To hell with him.

“It’s my own thinking you’ll be safer here than anywhere else, my lady. Especially Canterlot. Nowhere could be more dangerous.”

“I hope you’re right. I wish to see you again someday. Be safe.”

“You have my word.”

Bandolier nodded to Flamberge, who shoved a chained-up Clover along up ahead.

Lavender gave one last somber wave goodbye, before Bandolier, Amity, Flamberge, and their captive made for the untamed forests yet again. Their provisions were well-accounted for, and morale had never been higher. Nothing could slow him down now, Bandolier thought.

The quartet journeyed through the forests while the sun continued to set.

Daylight was waning.

“Chief wanted us to bring Lavender with us, back to Canterlot,” Amity pointed out.

“He did,” Bandolier replied, yanking on Clover’s chain leash. She had been silent as the grave the whole trek thus far, her dress crumpled and smudged with dirt and grime from her stay in Lavender’s dungeon.

"Contempt for authority, reckless lack of judgment, defying direct orders. Every day you find new ways to give me a headache," Flamberge grunted.

“I failed him once. What will he do to me when I fail him again?” Amity wondered.

“If he’ll have anyone’s head, I’ll make sure it’s mine, not yours. It was my decision,” Bandolier said, “He’ll probably be distracted, anyway. We’ve gotten a step closer to finding the Ponyville murderer.”

Flamberge glared at him.

“Who's this then?" he asked, skeptically.

“An accomplice of some kind. Our friend here told me she was working for somepony,” Bandolier explained.

“Sounds like a lie, to me,” Flamberge dismissed.

“You’re talking like I’m not right here,” Clover pointed out.

“I first assumed the same, that she’s a liar. But she had this with her,” Bandolier said, revealing Clover’s knife.

Flamberge glanced at it, and then held it in his hooves, like some priceless artifact.

“Dragonsteel,” he realized.

“Too fine a thing for a gutter-rat assassin. Whoever hired her, must have given her that.”

Flamberge glanced at him again, overcome by shock.

“The Dragons? If that’s true, they would have murdered their own empress,” Flamberge said.

“That, or, Ember very well could have been the murderer all along, only she died in the battle herself, leaving no survivors. That was a possibility from the start,” Bandolier said, "Or perhaps the killer gave her the knife to frame the dragons. Then again, Lavender herself implied the dragons may have been planning on stirring up some trouble."

Clover smirked her twisted little smile, catching the other three’s attention.

“Sure. Go on. Start a war with the dragons, I’m sure they’ll love to hear your little accusation,” Clover laughed.

Bandolier meant to retort, until a rustling in the brush caught all of them by surprise.

“None of you move!” bellowed a voice from behind the trees.

First came one, then two, then three and four and soon there was an entire platoon’s worth of royal guards storming out from the brush, surrounding the quartet in the middle of a room-sized clearing. The sky had darkened, though what light remained reflected off of the soldiers’ armors like spotlights.

“Flamberge,” Bandolier muttered, hoping his sultry companion had not betrayed him.

“They’re not mine,” Flamberge said, equally confused. Though, he did recognize the royal guard holding the front of the pack.

“Styles,” Flamberge said, and he was lost to the moment.

Styles wore two sets of warm brown leather faulds that rode along his hind legs, a shimmering bronze gorget above his runged cuirass. His pauldrons were of spotless bronze metal, and his vambraces were of thick brown leather. His belt was black, and it held the sheath to his sword, taut by the hip. His helmet was bronze, and had a larger crest than his companions, and its feathers were mahogany. The stallion himself was a unicorn, hard tan in color, and he was not nearly as large or broad as Flamberge. Styles was one of the Nine, the most elite warriors in Twilight's royal army.

Styles recognized the large pale-blue stallion with a head of fiery hair, though he could not say the same for the others.

“Lieutenant," Flamberge said.

"Black suits you, Flamberge," Styles smirked, eyeing Flamberge from bottom to top.

"You've missed the excitement already. Lady Lavender is still in her castle. She's safe,” Flamberge said.

“This one would’ve had her neck cut open,” Bandolier elaborated, nodding at Clover.

“We’re not here for Lady Lavender,” Styles said.

Flamberge’s cordial smile dropped. He took a quick glance at the soldiers. They were nervous. His eyes flickered back to Styles.

Styles, with an amused grin, glanced at the host of soldiers waiting idly by behind him.

Their spears were drawn with the subtlest of nods.

“Her highness sends her regards,” Styles said. His horn ignited, and he drew his sword in a flash of steel.

“What’s going on?” Amity muttered, taking a step closer to Bandolier.

“Run!” Bandolier yelled, moving Amity past him.

Bandolier glanced at Flamberge, though neither could produce an explanation.

Bandolier kept a hold of Clover’s leash, and followed after Flamberge, who was already making a rush towards the thinnest line of soldiers.

He smashed through one’s shield and decked the other across the jaw.

Clover screamed in pain, when a soldier’s crossbow bolt came flying straight through the feathers of her folded wing. Bandolier swung at the pony with the crossbow, and threw his own head into the face of another, knocking him off his hooves.

Amity Stiletto had her knives drawn, stepping precisely in delicate patterns, dodging the odd spear-poke or slash of sword.

Flamberge growled something hideous, when a soldier’s spear punctured up through his thigh. He dropped the dragonsteel knife to the dirt, reeling in pain as the blood came matting down his coat.

Flamberge reached over to grab his assailant by the head, and, in one swift motion, swung the poor stallion’s skull into a nearby tree, cracking it open like an egg.

Ignoring the bloody trail left on the bark, Flamberge continued rushing towards the woods, tackling over three more guards that stood in his way.

Amity had managed to slip through after him, but Bandolier found himself closed off.

Clover yanked on the chain leash, grabbing his attention.

“This way,” she said, frantically.

Bandolier had no intention to argue, darting after her while she leaped off towards the ridge’s edge.

“Are you out of your mi-!” Bandolier began, until the leash pulled him off after Clover, who had already flung herself over the ridge.

Styles marched to the edge of the ridge, watching as Bandolier and Clover fell against the rocky slope, tumbling down hard into the brush.

"Styles," came Venger, a thin earth-pony mane with a pale white coat and a wavy raven-dark mane.

Styles glanced at her, and saw the knife she had picked up from the ground.

Styles eyed her, and snatched the knife from her hooves. His hoof glided against the edge, and then stopped suddenly.

He laughed.

"Brilliant," Styles said, "Twilight will love this."

"Why would she arm her own cutthroat with a dragonsteel blade?" Venger asked.

Styles sighed, as if he expected her to have known better.

"Not Twilight. Somepony else," he said, "And I'm sure she'd have a grand time finding out who and why. Take this back to Canterlot. Leave the cutthroat to me."

Several soldiers were already in hot pursuit of Flamberge and Amity, the former of which was leaving a wet trail of blood in his wake.

Down below in the brush, Bandolier was dusting off his bruises; the rocky slope had torn up his coat and rattled his bones. His horn shedded some sparks, and for a moment he had thought he snapped it off during the fall.

“If you wanted to kill us both, there were faster ways,” he muttered, glancing up at Clover, whose canary yellow dress was torn.

“They’ll be down here soon enough. Untie me! I’ll slow you down if I’m tied up,” Clover whispered, despair echoing through her voice.

“Don’t bet on it. You’ll fly off,” he dismissed, glancing at her folded wings.

“I wouldn’t make it far,” Clover said, glancing at her bloodied wing, which stung like mad. She tried not to wince too much. She had always thought of herself to have a high tolerance for pain, though she was struggling to stay composed.

Bandolier glared at her.

The soldiers’ hoofsteps barreled down from nearby. Their armor screeched with every step, and their breathing was like that of a wild animal.

“They’re going to kill us. We need to help each other,” Clover said, staring into his eyes. She did not want to resort to begging.

Bandolier exhaled, bitterly. His horn glowed, and, in an instant, Clover felt the chains go slack around her hoofs.

Bandolier hesitated, expecting her to attempt to swing at his face and run off to freedom.

But she only rose to her hooves, and glanced backwards, for the both of them to escape.

Bandolier joined her, after igniting his horn one last time, and spraying a field of fire to cover their escape.

The soldiers, Styles up front, arrived at the wall of flames just in time to watch Bandolier and Clover disappear into the dark woods, evading certain death.

Styles glared at one of his sergeants.

“Send a message to Princess Twilight,” he muttered, “We may be here longer than expected.”

Author's Note:

[Thanks for reading! Hoping to get another one out before the end of the month 🤞
Feedback always welcomed!

Comments

[DefiantPosition]

Awesome chapter! I really like seeing all the different characters starting to come together.

[RainbowDashVegetaFan123]

Just read all the recent chapters, awesome story so far, wonder what the hell has gotten into Twilight......, anyway, can’t wait for the next chapter

[SisterHorseteeth]

“Then one day, I found the stone. It was buried right next to my patagonias.

Granted, it's got the Alt. Universe tag, but I feel like it would have been better to set up something in the description of the work explaining what we can expect to be changed in this AU, such as the stone being apparently in ponyside, instead of being in humanside and also destroyed as it canonically is. I had frankly assumed this Wallflower was either human Wally, dragged back to Equestria with Sunset, or that it was pony Wally having carried out some crime without use of the Stone. It was not made clear that the EqG-canon non-compliant option of pony Wally using the Stone was the case.

I'm not saying "don't pick and choose which canon to accept"; I'm just saying if you do, you really gotta set that up in the out-of-story description or the early text of the work.