Alexandrite
Shortly before Leviathan's maintenance was finished...
Decades past, Manehattan became known in some circles of Equestria as "The City That Never Sleeps". Even in Canterlot, most of the city's activity would die down the closer one got to midnight. Not here. For better or for worse, there was always something going on at all hours of day.
There were some stores that were open all the time (aside from Hearth's Warming), rotating staff as needed. The owners of other facilities found that they were better suited for operating at night, deciding to keep their doors open only during that period. Certain residents would decide for themselves that nighttime was the best time to not just be active, but to fit their definition of 'alive'. In any event, Manehattan was a shining beacon that could be seen for miles in all directions at night. Years later, the Pillars of Equestria would discover that the magnitude of this brightness was such that it served to drive the Pony of Shadows away.
All of this also meant that regardless of the average pony's hopes and dreams, Manehattan was a city of opportunity. And for some, "opportunity" was synonymous with "crime". Ponies who found that they could get away with very little in places like Fillydelphia or Canterlot, particularly with Shining Armor instilling a newfound effectiveness in the latter's Guard regiment, would gravitate instead towards Equestria's most populous city. Manehattan's Royal Police--themselves an offshoot of the Guard--tried, they really did, but they couldn't be everywhere at once. It was only their insistence that they could handle it themselves, stated as such in a letter that went straight to the castle, that prevented Princess Celestia from intervening personally.
So it was that for all of the city's brightness, not everything was awash in radiance.
Hidden away from prying eyes deep within the city's commercial districts was the Lonely Heart Nightclub, a dimly lit establishment that catered to those looking for entertainment, love and drinks in all the wrong places. Rundown but nonetheless steadfast in its determination to keep going, the club was frequented by those who had secrets to hide and desires to fulfill. The drinks were fine, but the food was average at best and the entertainment left much to be desired; very rarely they were able to get somepony who was figurative magic with music, but most days clients were left with the dregs.
Still, for all of its faults, the nightclub's customers rated it higher than the Broken Heart Nightclub elsewhere in the district; that facility was so haphazardly run that it was a wonder it was still standing. Yes, the owner of the Lonely Heart was much better than the owner of the Broken Heart.
One of the club's few pluses was the amount of privacy it afforded its customers. There was a specific corner booth lit by the flickering dregs of an illumination crystal that hadn't been recharged in months. Seated below an autographed and framed poster of a singer who had once performed at the club were two earth ponies and a unicorn. The latter was clothed in a burgundy dress that had seen much better days, much like her face; only the well-crafted watch around one leg gave away her well-to-do status.
The other two were much more nondescript, the sort that nopony could pick out of a crowd based on their faces alone, and both wore dark uniforms with the intent of concealing their Cutie Marks; the differences between them was that the younger one was lithe and athletic, while the elder was well-muscled and inclined to take his time with everything. "...and imagine my surprise when I hear that somepony wanted to hire us," the older thief was saying to the mare, the halfway decent saxophonist on-stage and the crowd watching him making enough noise to overshadow their words. "Normally we just steal from whomever we want and be done with it. What do you want us for?"
The mare responded by levitating a year-old newspaper clipping from within her dress and placing it on the table for both hoodlums to see. A photograph of the Pyre of Fears greeted them, with an additional picture of its proprietor in full Salamandra regalia beneath it. The news article briefly talked about the theater, its owner's intentions, and when the then-new shows would be expected to begin. "You probably know of Drama Heart," the mare hissed with enough venom to put down a hydra. "Or Flaming Salamandra, case depending. I want you. To rob. Her. Blind."
"Whoa-ho," the younger thief murmured, amused. "Rags To Riches of all ponies wants us to pull a heist? I thought you didn't have a vindictive bone in your body."
The mare did not take kindly to this. "And my name is Alexandrite, weasel. If you're going to be wanting any bits from this, then shut your mouth, don't insult me, and let me explain."
"Please do so," the older thief politely requested. "I'm curious."
"Thank you, Bastion. At least one of you has some manners." Alexandrite contemplated the drink that was set before her, then pushed it aside without sipping from it. "There are several of us in the theater district that have been losing money this past year. The performances we host have gotten rave reviews, there has not been anypony embezzling funds, and yet our finances have been slowly dwindling. Measures have been taken multiple times to clean up the theater, straighten things out across the board, make everything more appealing, diversify our acts... nothing's working. Each month has seen an increasing number of empty seats. If nothing's done soon to fix that, we'll have to..." Her face soured. "...lower our prices if we want to fill the seats again."
"Celestia forbid that the rich get even richer," the younger thief cracked. "If you held up a mirror, would you see a unicorn or the pile of money behind her first? I'm asking for a friend."
"Iron Gates, shut it," Bastion warned, nudging him. He gestured at the increasingly incensed Alexandrite. "Continue."
This tempered the unicorn's mood just a little, and she resumed speaking. "We didn't pay too much attention to little Miss Heart at first. A performer based in a neighborhood away from the district, specializing in an alienating premise... what could she possibly do to threaten our standing? Within the past few weeks we've finally discovered the answer to that. Ponies that would normally be present at our shows are absent because little Miss Heart's own plays are put on at the same time, and at two-thirds the cost.
"Those I've directed to determine the root cause have provided proof. There are over eighty different ponies with very distinct manestyles, coat colors, Cutie Marks or builds that--prior to Drama Heart's arrival in Manehattan--I've come to easily recognize during my years in the business. Each new show that hits the stage, all of those individuals would turn up at least once, sometimes all in the same day, and often for repeat performances." Ironically, cold fury burned in Alexandrite's eyes. "Of those eighty, all but six have disappeared from our district and have started congregating at the Pyre. I have not seen any of those seventy-four at my theater in the past seven months, and my associates haven't been noticing them at any of their establishments either. Instead, they've found some new fun by deliberately shortening their lifespans each time Salamandra pulls their strings."
"If we carry off this heist, one small slip-up will mean that this will get traced back to you," Bastion told her. "We will not be able to sell the stolen goods, whether here or elsewhere in Equestria. There's always going to be at least one investigator who will be persistent enough to get to the bottom of this, and any intelligent being who reads the Minutes will put two and two together. Anything we steal will have to be destroyed to prevent the links between us from being discovered."
"Which means that at the end of the night, the sum total of it all's going to come straight from your purse," Iron Gates said with a smug smirk. "Stinks to be you, huh? Still want to hire us?"
"Beyond a shadow of a doubt, weasel."
Gates' left eyebrow raised. "Ooh. Didn't dawdle there, did you? You really must hate this mare."
The unicorn didn't take the obvious bait he was leaving. "Provided you're as good as you claim to be, then I'll win no matter what Drama does in the aftermath. If she tries to track down and rescue her props, she will have to waste precious time collaborating with the Royal Police and close her theater for the duration... and destroying them will guarantee that her actions will fail. If she decides that what's lost is lost and tries to move on, she will have to re-purchase all of the materials she'll need to replenish her supplies. And that will force her to raise her prices to compensate, either driving her down to equal footing with us or causing her customers to return to me. Any of these are fine with me, so long as I'm back on top. And who would believe that Lady Alexandrite, congenial socialite and patron of the arts, would stoop so low as to hire common thieves to do her dirty work?"
Alexandrite met the thieves' eyes squarely. "Weasel, honey badger, it doesn't matter to me how you do it. Teach Flaming Salamandra a lesson in humility that no amount of amnesia will let her forget. Take everything except her life and the roof over her head. I want her to live to see her burn in the flames of her own name."
"A tall order, but still doable," Bastion said agreeably. "Though if you want our gang to be finished by dawn, it'll cost you extra. Weight and mass reduction crystals aren't cheap to recharge."
Disgust bounced around the mare's face like a silver sphere in a pinball machine, but the desire for efficiency gave in. Sixty bits levitated themselves into the saddlebags the thief wore. "Done. Just do it. And remember that you'd better give me my money's worth, or I'll pretend we'd never met when I set the Police on your trail."
Iron Gates patted one of the mare's hooves, and a wave of revulsion washed over her at the contact. "Just relax. It's us," he purred, climbing down out of his seat to leave.
"What my insensitive partner's trying to say is that we'll get the job done," Bastion said, shaking his head slowly in a way that indicated that this was the closest Alexandrite would get to an apology for the stallion's behavior. "Our eyes are on the target. Until dawn." He got up and followed his partner out of the nightclub.
The mare waited until the both of them were gone before burying her face in her hooves. "Uggggh," she grumbled, her voice muffled. "The sooner I can put this disgusting business behind me, the---"
Her mouth abruptly shut. Agonizingly slowly, she shifted her gaze down towards her left foreleg... and the empty space where her watch had rested. She recalled the thief patting her hoof just before he left, and she snarled. Forget the Police. If those lowlifes can't put words to actions and drive Salamandra out of business, I will take the cost of my new watch out of their hides.
"I'm guessing you're not even going to try to tally up how much Salamandra's inventory costs," Bastion deadpanned near-inaudibly to Gates as they slipped through the encroaching darkness back to their base of operations.
"How long have you known me?" Gates spoke, rolling his eyes. "We'll just give her a random number and call it good. She won't know the difference. Seriously, do I look like the kind of stallion who can do complex math in my head?"
Bastion said nothing, letting his unimpressed glare do the talking for him.
"Okay, fine. I'm just feeling lazy today," Gates acquiesced. "But don't lie to me and say that you feel like running the numbers. And you know, what I don't understand is why we don't just destroy everything right there on site. We'll be using the good stuff to put her out for the duration, so what's the harm?"
"The 'harm' involves waking up everypony and everything on the block. That theater isn't the only building on the block that serves as a home," Bastion stated, his tone of voice brooking no argument.
Which didn't stop Gates from arguing anyway. "So we keep the windows closed. Simplest solution."
"That's not going to keep others from hearing us," Bastion retorted, irritated. "Any sort of loud noise done loudly and/or consistently enough in the middle of the night will drive others to investigate, even if it means just telling whoever's in there to be quiet. No one with half a brain is going to believe that Salamandra made that racket just by tripping down the stairs. And even without any of this, we're supposed to stay stealthy. I don't trust Alexandrite to give us a break in the event of us going against the deal."
Gates scoffed, glaring sideways at nothing. "You're no fun sometimes, boss."
"Being 'no fun' is what's keeping us out of prison," was Bastion's reply. "Now be quiet and keep going. We have work to do."
The two of them continued on their way in silence. Reluctantly, in Gates' case, seeing as how he couldn't think of a way to get the last word in their argument.
Hours later...
Bliss. There is no other word to describe how I'm feeling right now. Just pure, unadulterated bliss.
The chorus and gentle melody that lulled me to sleep ended... how long ago? I don't really know. It feels like one's sense of time just melts away here. I wish I had found this place sooner. Hundreds, thousands of miles of nothing but ocean, with who-knows-how-many tiny white dots visible from my position in the galaxy, with many a school of fish and other sea life as my only company... for an amphibious Reploid like myself, it's the equivalent of paradise.
Have I ever taken the time to just stare up at the night sky, watching the endless array of stars crawl across the endless expanse? Was I really too busy working, cleaning, fighting to appreciate their power, their light reaching the world from that far away? It's staggering. I feel sorry for the humans who have to live sealed away from sights like these. At the very least I had the chance to see them in light of my jobs taking me away from Neo Arcadia proper. Humanity doesn't have that luxury.
...Except for Dr. Ciel, now that I think about it. Does she ever go outside at night to see the stars, or does she stay sequestered in the Resistance Base 24/7 to keep herself safe? I sort of wonder.
The ocean's surface beneath me is the greatest bed I've ever slept on. No matter how comfortable they design capsules to be, there's just no comparison. It feels like I've been enveloped in the embrace of a close friend that I've never had. Like I was reunited with a part of myself that I'd forgotten existed, making myself whole again. As I'm thinking this, a gentle breeze blows around me and shifts the waves a little.
A fish jumps over me just to see if it can. It's not of a type I recognize, and I wonder if this is one of those that went extinct in the wake of the old wars. All of that fighting, and all of that damage done to the world... if only those that were fighting were capable of appreciating the beauty of nature, the tranquility of life just living like it is supposed to, the things I'm seeing now. If they had stopped for just a few minutes to meditate on these things, maybe the world would be a different place today...?
There have been questions asked as to whether or not Reploids can dream, given how different our "brains" are from those of humans. If you are viewing my memories, there's your answer right there.
...
An anomaly is disturbing my rest. There's something about the situation that's not right. With some effort I shift positions, and my surroundings fade away, taking all of my enjoyment with them...
...
I open my eyes, and my vision comes into focus. I'm staring... right at the back of a couch? ...Oh. Alright, I understand what happened. Drama Heart must have believed I looked uncomfortable sitting on the floor and decided to move me. Unnecessary, but I suppose it's the thought that counts.
Nice to know that she covered me up, too. It wouldn't have been anywhere near as bad as it had been earlier, true, but I still don't like the idea of more dust getting through my damaged frame. It makes me wonder if finding a cloak or coat I can wear over my armor is feasible, just in case I have to move about in public in the next few days. I'd prefer not to, but then again I've had to do a lot of things I don't like this past day. What's one more?
I'm staying where I am for the moment. I like the idea of sleeping some more and getting my power output as high as is allowable, but I was disturbed from my rest for a reason. I'm not moving until I can determine from my position exactly what it is.
Power Output: 19% of capacity. Cannot exceed 37.7% at the present time.
Good. Auto-repair's working as expected. Part of what takes so long to fix the generators is that they're fairly sensitive equipment compared to the rest of my body, and they're required to keep running at all times. Shutting down the generators outside of a capsule would mean that my auto-repair would stop working, Energen or no Energen, so I have no choice in the ma---
I stop my ruminations, listening carefully. There are faint scratching noises somewhere beneath where I'm laying. Sounds of something or other being moved are reaching me. I doubt mice would make that much noise, so unless Drama decided to go downstairs and just didn't switch on the lights...
Carefully and quietly I push the blankets off myself, roll sideways and get to my feet. Silently I rue a certain decision I'd made a few years prior to Zero's revival: back then Phantom had offered to give the other Guardians, myself included, some stealth training on the side. "Just in case," he'd said. However we'd each turned him down for our own reasons: Fefnir's preferred battle style was loud and flashy, Harpuia didn't see the need in light of his aerial expertise, and I didn't feel that my aquatic leanings and battle attire--read: high-heeled boots--lent themselves well to covert operations. I'm starting to regret that a little bit now, so I'm hoping as I progress through the hallway that I don't make so much noise that it tips off those down below.
Locating Drama's quarters wasn't hard, as her door was left open. The unicorn was still there, sound asleep in what for humans would be a twin-sized bed, but is apparently full-sized from her species' perspective. I know that Gray made it look easy, but I don't think ponies' skeletal structures should allow enough flexibility for them to sleep like this, should they? "Drama?" I call gently. "Drama Heart?"
I'm not getting any response other than a quiet snoring. I don't want to have to raise my voice, so I get up close to the bed before trying again. "Drama Heart. Salamandra? I'm hearing something downstairs."
There's still no indication that she heard me. I reach down and tap one of her hooves a few times, which accomplishes nothing. I huff a little, a hand on my chin. Either she's a heavy sleeper, or...
...!
The curtains on her window are shifting some, and a warm breeze is circulating through the room. Frowning, I turn to investigate. Between the breeze and the noises downstairs, that adds up to...
Called it. As soon as I opened the curtain, I noticed the circular hole--about the same size as a pony's hoof--that had been perfectly cut into the window at about the same height Drama was resting at. There's really no reason why she should have this here, and taking into account everything I've detected in the minute or two since I woke up, the implications are looking increasingly less hopeful.
Please tell me this isn't what I think it will be...
I pull Drama's blanket off of her and stoop down to her level, activating my Deep Sea vision mode. This was meant to help me navigate in the ocean's darkest depths, and as such the light entering the room through the curtain is almost blinding... but if my fears are true, I'd rather not tip anyone off by switching on the lights. I shade my eyes from Manehattan's luminescence as I search for anything out of the ordinary, anything that wasn't there when we last interacted face-to-face...
I abruptly deactivate Deep Sea and pull the blanket back up to Drama's chin, muttering something that I would not have said in Copy X's presence. Right there on the side of her neck, perfectly in line with the hole in the window, is a tiny speck of dried blood. I'm not seeing any evidence in the room that it happened other than the damaged window, but my instincts are still telling me that she was injected with some kind of sedative. How I don't know, but it's the only reason I can think of for why Drama isn't responding to my inquiries.
It's what I thought it would be. Blast it.
I sigh softly. It was my hope that I could rest through the night and work on my power generators some more, get them somewhere close to 50% by sunrise. I hate having my hopes dashed.
My eyes close for a moment. When they open again, my Frost Javelin is in my right hand.
Well, if I can't sleep, I'm just going to have to wile away the hours. Playing 'hero' must be a fun way to pass the time...
The music link in this chapter goes to Everette Harp and Brian Bromberg's "Rock With You". I don't have too many jazz songs in my personal playlists that could've fit the circumstances, so I used what I had.
All of y'all are crazy, but you're the good kind of crazy. To those who have read the story and supported it so far, thank you. All of you. 
Huh... well, circumstances cooperated to allow me to get a chapter out by the end of the work week, but I don't see that happening next week. My fanfic laptop's kept at work, and I have off of Monday for Columbus Day (no idea why, but whatever). I figure I'll probably have the next one out by the 18th, but just to be safe...
Estimated Chapter Deadline: October 23rd
P.S. - Yes, the music-based pun in the first scene was intentional. I regret nothing. >^_^<
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Welp we know a few theives who will be going directly to jail, not passing go, and most certainly NOT collecting 200 bits
They are about to have a BAD TIME!
Okay. The premise is far enough out there to grab my attention.
Mission Start
There's a joke I could make about Leviathan being filled with Determination but that jokes far from under told I imagine.
Still really really nice 9/10 Excellent story.
I almost fell sorry for our would be thieves. Almost.
There’re just lucky Leviathan is not at 100% right now.
Oh also I’m having a blast reading this story. It’s really well written IMO.
11008539
Thanks. >^_^< I hope it continues to meet your expectations.
Levi's 'bout to kick some ass!
Mission start!
Wonder if this urgent action was triggered by the overheard rumors or something more nefarious...
I can't believe you've done this.
The next chapter better have horror elements otherwise I might drop this.
I liked the music joke.
Sixty bits seems a small surcharge to be nickel and diming about compared to "the price of everything in this business"? Maybe making it 600 or something?
I like that you covered this point!
Also, I suspect our main character's morals will keep her to non-lethal... until she is attacked with intent to harm or her host is put in danger... then it could go either way, especially in the second case.
Also, this is the point where I wonder if insurance against theft doesn't exist in Equestria, the client is not thinking straight or if the lost time for replacements to get built would be enough to accomplish the client's desire, or if she knows that the target can't afford such insurance with how.narrow her profit margins are?
Also, given the location and the main character's mobility and sensory abilities this has a chance to turn into a "mook horror show"(1) with hit and run tactics rather than a straight brawl.
(1)Look it up on TVTropes if you can spare the time getting sucked into that site costs and don't know.
In either case, Gray Ghost is going to have ample reason to recommend the police hire her (or figure out how to get her set up as a vigilante if the local police are corrupt?).
Seed of a disguise as a "Random biped... Probably an Abyssinian (sp?)" In the eyes of most who see her. The Cat people were mentioned before...
Ah, probably no "mook horror show" then, even with speed and parkour.
While_this might be the word you want, you might also have typoed for "might"?
11825946
I've never really understood the value of bits in MLP.
I was trying to reach a middle-of-the-road amount for the recharge costs. Too little, and the thieves would've complained. Too much, and the feasibility of being loaded down with money while talking to disreputable characters would've been called into question.
I've been on TV Tropes for around 15 years, and the story has a page there. Trust me, I'm familiar with the term.
No, that's a direct quotation. It's from the Mega Man Zero Official Complete Works, per Leviathan's page on the Megaman Knowledge Base.