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The Muscle1,175 words
The Runner1,147 words
The Fence1,305 words
The Bookie1,053 words
The Spook1,128 words
The Cleaner1,071 words
The Brains1,671 words

The Spook

Winona kicked up dirt and grass as she dug into the yard behind the barn. Several other holes littered the yard, all spread out in a seemingly random pattern. The dog had done her best to make the place look like an absolute warzone.

At that moment, Applejack was pulling in a cart of freshly-bucked apples towards the barn. She heard the sounds of Winona's vandalism and went around back to check.

"Winona? You better not be diggin' in the—"

Applejack rounded the corner to see the yard practically turned upside down, with dirt still being kicked out of one of the holes.

"Winona!"

Applejack's dog peeked her head out of the hole and barked before she jumped out and took off towards Ponyville.

That little distraction probably cost her a few nights of sleeping on the porch, but it was worth the fun. It also served the secondary purpose of keeping Applejack away from the market, since she would be the only one to pay attention to Winona running through the stalls.

It didn't take long for the border collie to meet the outer reaches of the marketplace. She slowed down and perked her ears up as she passed the pear stand. She was always amazed by what secrets ponies could let loose in the open just because it was noisy. It was there she had learned that Pinkie was the one who had eaten the wedding cake whole, that Derpy was the one who caved in that condemned house by accident, and that Spike was the one who used a book from the rare book section as an emergency hankie.

Gossip was always a good gauge to determine whether or not it was worth spending the effort to expand her listening area. The juicy bits she had heard thus far were a good sign and she left the market for one of the fields outside of Ponyville. She came to a stop next to a plain old stump, long since dead and otherwise completely unremarkable.

"Bark!"

The stump said nothing in reply.

"Bark! Bark! Grrrr!"

Nothing but the background noises of a summer day filled the air. She barked once more and the stump suddenly flew open on a hinge, revealing the metal frame and handle on the underside. She jumped in, making sure she closed the trapdoor above her.

She slid down the earthy tunnel she had dug herself until she was thrown into a rather cramped oval room at least a hundred feet below the ground. The entire area was dominated by a machine that Winona had reverse-engineered from a certain contraption of Twilight’s used to detect brain waves. It wasn’t easy sneaking into the library to steal the blueprints, but the end result was worth the effort. It looked almost exactly like the original, save for a menacing black coat of paint and a few extra blinking lights. What really made the improved machine shine was the addition of a small funnel-like object that stuck out of it.

It was Winona's bread and butter. It was difficult without any thumbs or magic, but she managed to fit the funnel into one of her ears and began to play with a small dial on the machine, slowly going over the frequencies.

When it came to actual worthwhile information, Ponyville was pretty useless. She turned the dial farther right and soon Manehattan started to come in.

"—'em all! We've gotta get this cargo moving by tomorrow!"

Winona recognized that voice. It was Black Olive, one of the big bosses of the Ponbino crime family. They were mostly small-time, but their operations did have a nasty habit of cutting into Syndicate profit. She fine-tuned the dial.

"That Joke ain't gonna move itself, you babbeo! If this stuff isn't on its way to Las Pegasus in the next hour I'm gonna make you sleep with the seaponies!

Winona's ears twitched. Poison Joke? The Syndicate controlled approximately two-thirds of the Poison Joke fields in the country! Where did the Ponbinos get a shipment? She growled at the possibility they had discovered one of their fields and stolen their cargo.

No matter. She took off the listening device and began to toy with a number pad on the machine. When the sequence was completed, she hovered a paw over a large, green button that read "Translate" and pressed it. The dial tone began to sound, and she waited.

Black Olive was in the middle of rehearsing a speech to his father about how he outsmarted The Syndicate when the phone at the warehouse started to ring. That was not supposed to happen, since Black Olive had used his connections to make sure that the number was taken off the phone book. It was probably one of his idiot cousins, asking for money.

He stomped over to the phone and yanked it to his ear. "Yeah?"

"Mr. Olive?"

Black Olive cocked an eyebrow. He didn't recognize the lady's voice. "Yeah?"

"We at The Syndicate are committed to supplying Equestria with the finest exotic goods and unconventional services. I think we both know that your competition is nothing more than an annoyance. If you stop your little shipment now, The Syndicate is willing to pretend this whole thing never happened."

"How did you get this number!?"

The voice chuckled. "The Syndicate knows many things, Black Christopher Olive."

Black Olive gritted his teeth. "How in Tartarus do you know my—"

"The choice is yours, Mr. Olive. If you refuse, well, I'm sure The Cleaner would be delighted to pay you a visit."

"No! No, that's fine. I'll call it off."

Black Olive stayed on the line, expecting some kind of reply. All he heard in response was a strange breathing noise.

"Are you panting?"

"Uh, no. Good day, Mr. Olive."

The mysterious caller hung up. Black Olive slowly turned away from the phone with a defeated slouch and walked over to his subordinates to break the bad news to them. As he opened his mouth, his resolve faltered. Who was he, taking orders from a phone? He was part of the Ponbino family! Even The Syndicate couldn't take that away from him!

"Alright boys!" he shouted, "We're movin' out!"

Even from hundreds of miles away and under a hundred feet of soil, Winona heard the pony’s defiant order. So he wanted to play hardball? Fine. The Cleaner was about overdue for an assignment anyway.

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