Blackscale

by Leviathan

Trouble in Paradise

Seven Years Later

Ugh. I hated the sun. It just sat there, glowing brightly, probably to ruin my sleep. It thought it was so great, illuminating the clearing I sat in. I didn’t know how, but I was going to make that stupid orb regret having ever risen. Probably. Possibly. Maybe.

I was a few miles outside of Tall Tale, waiting for the blanket of night to drape itself over the large northern city. Some job had come in, requesting that a few documents be ‘acquired’ from a Saddle Arabian royal embassy. It was an easy enough job. I would slip into the edifice, undetected of course, and slip out with a few sensitive documents. Something I’ve done dozens of times.

It was a little bit far north for my tastes, but the payment for the task was excellent, so here I was hiding out in the forests near the Smokey Mountain. The money could probably be put towards something useful...or pretty. The reconnaissance I had been performing on the building itself had shown me that there were only about two dozen guards in the embassy. Foal’s play, really.

They all watched from street view, leaving the roof wide open. The embassy sat next to a apartment complex that was roughly the same size, give or take a few floors. I figured I could just take a flying leap from there and land on the embassy quietly and unscathed. My other options were to kill every single living creature in the building (yes, even the goldfish), talk my way into the building under the guise of an emissary or envoy, or manipulate the guards perspective with a little illusion.

Killing everyone had the drawback of attracting attention and messing up my cloak. If I managed to talk my way past the guardsmen (an easy enough task) they would still search me, and finding me with an assortment of weapons and devices would not look very envoy-ish. Manipulating the guards with a little illusion would prove effective, but if there were someone else watching who I didn’t happen to notice (not likely, but still possible) I would be in for a hassle.

So my best option was to take a flying leap from the adjacent apartment complex, land safely, get into the embassy, find the documents, and get out the way I came in. The dozen guards that roamed the halls wouldn’t prove troublesome. They would likely just patrol the first few floors while I would be staying on the uppermost ones.

Of course, that could all wait until dusk. For now I could just nap through the daytime, spiting that damnable sun. Seriously, why did it have to be so very, very bright? I would never sleep with it shining on me like it was...

I was out cold in eleven seconds flat.

---

It was rather peaceful atop that apartment complex, gazing upon the stars. They twinkled so brilliantly within the domain of night. There had been many a time where I was put on a solo mission and my only company had been that wondrous creation.

Unfortunately, I overestimated the size of the apartments. The roof of the complex was still four stories away from the the top of the embassy. Seeing as how there wasn’t a balcony I could safely land on, nor any open windows, it looked as if I would have to scale the wall. I hated climbing.

So what could I climb? I wasn’t capable of climbing drain pipes or the outer layers of the wall, not with hooves, nor had I brought any equipment to aid me in doing that. It was quite foolish of me not to have brought something along to help me into the building. In fact, I came woefully unequipped for this situation. All I had taken with me when leaving the sanctuary was my weaponry, a few smoke bombs, my cloak, and steel cuffs. None of those would be helpful in this situation.

Peering over the edge of the apartments I could see that there was some sort of ventilation system coiling around the outer wall of the building. It had looked to be my only way of getting inside from that height and angle. Which was annoying. I hated going through vents. Even more than I did climbing. They were dusty, cramped, and unpleasant. Half the time they were too small for a pony to fit through.

If I was lucky this would be an older model place that would allow me to slip through the ventilation without my eyes bugging out of my skull. Once I was in the building I would get out of the vent, even if it wasn’t tactically advantageous. I would much rather move about on all four hooves and be found than be subjected to the sweaty, stuffy torture of appliances.

Plus, ponies tended to hear someone rolling around in the vents. They carried sound quite well.

I took a few steps back in preparation for the leap. I just had to jump a few feet, but there was only one chance to latch onto the rungs of the of box. It wasn’t even intimidating knowing that if I failed I would plummet past five stories of apartments and offices, mainly due to the fact that I had been conditioned for moments like these. Still, aside from years of experience it was thrilling. Knowing that I would be making my way past armed guards (and unarmed ones) undetected, steal a random file, and take it to a buyer was simply...invigorating.

Brightwing, the Blackscale handler, had been insistent that this mission be done just like that, with no deviation. No one was supposed to know I had been in Tall Tale until the file was in the client’s hooves. Or paws. Or talons. Or other appendage. I wasn’t really clear on what they looked like.

I pushed my self forward, resting my wait evenly on each hoof until I came close to the ledge, where I braced the muscles in my hind-legs and propelled myself forward, off the edge.

The half second that I was actually airborne was, more than anything else, refreshing. The wind was rough and flowing, working its way over my body. The air tasted of the city, stale and rusted. In that moment the ground was a non-existent, fear having no place among the skies. Of course, all great things must end.

My end happened to involve colliding with an aluminum vent and the wall of a building. I had to stifle a groan, as my side scraped against the edifice. Luckily, I had worn my cloak and managed to avoid any cuts. So that was a plus. Almost.

I slipped into the vent unscathed and made my way through it. As expected, it was tight, dusty, and stuffy. Did I say I hate vents? Because I do. Especially when crawling through them after a fire. Then they’re basically an oven. But, at least I learned never to set a place on fire then crawl through the metal brackets that served to condition the building’s air supply.

I tried to move as quietly as I could, but every movement I made was met with sound of denting metal. I halted every time I thought I heard a noise, not really wishing to take the risk that one of the guards was competent. No problem occurred as I made my way into the building.

I found an auxiliary duct (large enough for a pony to fit through, oddly) that opened onto the seventh floor with a little bit of guided ‘encouragement’ from my dagger. I didn’t saw through it, however, I just loosened the screws that held it in place. I still wanted to be able to reattach the thing, otherwise someone might notice it missing (not likely, but it never hurt to be sure). Brightwing had been extremely* insistent that I be undetected.

I dropped out of the vent into a maintenance closet. It was cramped and empty. I refrained from casting an illumination spell to dispel the darkness. It would be better to let my eyes adjust to the lack of light. It took only a minute.

I opened the door of the closet, slowly, allowing myself to scan the exterior area. If I was lucky there would be a stairwell nearby. One that would take me where I needed to be. Stepping out of the room I could see that I was, in fact, lucky.

Directly on my right was an interior stairwell leading to the top of the building. It was a standard industrial staircase, each layer of steps stacked atop one another. Nobody bothered guarding it. Nor did anyone bother covering the floor I was on. The night watch for this place were all down on the first and second floors, oblivious to the thief only a few floors above them. Idiots.

I ascended the stairwell with absolutely no problem, reaching the eleventh floor in record time. My hooves did not make any noise as the rapped against the stone of the steps. Most wouldn’t even realize how much training I had put into moving stealthily and being surreptitious. Most wouldn’t even realize I was moving silently.

I stopped at the top of the stairwell, standing as still as I could. Even if there hadn’t been anyone further down, there had to be at least one guard on this floor. Or at least there should be if there was something worth stealing here. I leaned against the wooden door (odd for an industrialized building) leading onto the floor. I had my ear pressed against the frame to listen for any noise that indicated another presence.

I could not hear anyone. Pushing the wooden portal forwards I strode into the hall. The large door creaked as it moved, echoing the noise down the tall passage. I ducked into a corner and stood immobile. It was stupid of me not to use a sound barrier spell, I had just assumed the hinges wouldn’t be rusted. Hopefully I would get lucky again and no one would hear the noise. No one did.

As fortunate as that may have seemed it only made me nervous. This job was proving too be far too easy. There were no sentries patrolling the area. Which didn’t make much sense if there was to be valuable info stored here. There should have been two or three watchmen on this floor, constantly monitoring their areas.

The client had provided far too much information as well. They did not only provide an item to be retrieved, but also on how to retrieve it. They knew exactly where it would be located inside the building, that it was inside a safe, and had the combination. With that kind of information the client could have hired any two-bit thug to do this job. They could have done it themselves, even. Yet they chose to utilize a professional organization like ours. And to pay a rather handsome price. It was incredibly suspicious.

Still, it wasn’t enough to make me back off the job. Not when it meant such a major payday for my group.

Three doors aligned the hallway, one on the right, one on the left, and one straight ahead. I headed for the room on the left. The one who’s door was marked ‘CFO’s Office.’ I wasn’t going to bother checking if it was locked. I assumed it would be the files that were sealed, not the chamber itself. Often, the things hidden or locked away is not the space itself, but that which it contains.

I was preparing to pull open the frame with a blast of telekinetic energy when the unmistakable sound of voices reached my ears. Instinctually, I dropped to the ground, prepared to use my magic. I closed my eyes and reached outwards, feeling around for the latent energy I had come to know so well over the past few years.

I could feel the presence of two ponies, both standing idly. They were on the other end of the hallway, behind the door marked ‘Conference Room.’ Neither of them were on guard. The voices became a bit more coherent as I snaked my way closer to them. It was imprudent, but I never could deny myself curiosity.

“What are we doing here, again?” One voice, distinctly female, asked.

“We’re waiting for a thief.” Answered a gruff, male voice.

Wait. They knew I was coming? How?

“I know what we’re doing here.” Replied the female voice, irritated. “But why are we doing this if we’re not going to actually apprehend the thief?”

Were they talking about me? How could they possibly know I was coming? Who tipped them off? What was going on? They knew I was coming, but weren’t going to attempt to catch me? Seriously, what was happening?

“Because this thief also happens to be a dangerous assassin from some shady organization. And this assassin happens to be well armed, alert, and trained.” Answered the male voice, also irritated.

My blood froze at that. They not only knew I was coming, but knew who I was. Who were these ponies? How could they possibly know I was with an organization? Especially when we put so much effort into remaining under the radar.

“So we just wait for them to trip the magic sensor on the safe, alerting us that they’re here? Then all we do is send a signal to Captain Cerulean, Aureole, and Amethyst?”

“That’s right.”

“Why aren’t we with them, waiting for this assassin to come to us?” Asked the female. “It’s not like they know we’re their client.”

The male wasted no time in answering. “Because the captain wants to know when our target is coming, so that he can best sneak up on them. If they’re caught performing a heist it’s a lot more incriminating.” After a moment he added, “It’s better that we’re here, too. I’m not exactly thrilled by the idea of squaring off against a trained killer.”

“So two members of the Poena are on basic reconnaissance? Great.”

First off, I was trained to do a lot of things, not just kill. Why did they have to be so caught up on the whole ‘murder’ thing? Secondly, holy crap. My client, or clients I suppose, were a part of the Poena? They were the elite guardian corporation for Equestria, ranking higher than the guard. They handled the more serious crimes that came up in Equestria. The rare, more serious crime.

The Poena were similar to the Royal Guard in that sense, but they were far more dangerous. While the Royal Guard was weak and mostly ceremonial the Poena were strong and organized. Definitely not a force to take lightly.

And I was alone and up against them...or was I? They knew I was with an organization, so who’s to say they don’t know something about my family as well? This was obviously a set-up, a fraudulent job. What if I wasn’t the only one who received a bad job, though? What if the others who had gone out on a mission were also in danger?

Dammit! I needed more information! I needed to know what these ponies knew. There had to be a way to get some type of information out of these ponies without alarming them. I couldn’t assault the two agents in the conference room, as they would contact their superiors before I could stop them. Then I would just end up getting mobbed. Which would not prove beneficial to my family nor myself.

No, there was only one thing I could do in this situation. To get any information I would have to make it look like I was in a position of weakness. These ponies would have to think they beaten me, that I had no way of escaping their clutches. As silly as it sounds, ponies tended to monologue their plans when they came to fruition. It was like some sort of add-on inside their heads.

The only way I could appear weak in this situation where my opponent doesn’t underestimate me, is by playing along. I would trip the sensor on the safe, let these two scouts report to their superior, and head to the drop-off zone. There I would let myself be apprehended by the waiting agents. If the dialogue between the two Poena operatives was anything to go by, there would only be three agents awaiting me. Maybe one would be masquerading as a client.

After I got what information I could out of my unsuspecting captors, I would dispatch them. At that point I would make a mad dash for the Haysead Swamps (where the sanctuary happened to be located) and warn everyone.

Huh. It sounded so easy laid out like that. Hopefully the execution would prove that it was, in fact, easy.

I pulled away from the conference room door, snaking my way back to the other office. I was reaching out with my telekinesis to open the door when I realized something. Why should I even bother being stealthy? It wasn’t like anyone was going to come after me. They were setting up a trap.

So with a quick charge of magic I opted to blast the door off its hinges. Ignoring the explosion of dust, the cracked shards of the entranceway frame, and the quiet “Goddess Damn! What in the name of Tartarus was that!?” coming from the conference room, I strolled in. I saw the wall safe quite clearly. It sat just above the desk, barely embedded within the plaster.

I didn’t even bother checking for sensors, knowing there was one already. I entered the combination casually, sporting a bored and rather stupid look. I stood completely still, not even scanning my surroundings. I had to sell my act to the audience, after all. The more idiotic and ineffective I looked the better the payout at the end.

The safe was unsealed, swinging off the hinges as I carelessly threw it open. I grabbed whatever was inside, blasted the desk sitting before me, walked out of the room, and lit it on fire for good measure. Ponies love a good light show, after all.

I descended the stairwell until I was on the first floor. There was no way I was going back through that dust-filled, cramp-inducing, heat-trap of a vent. Not if I didn’t have to. I noticed two things when I got to the first floor: the front door was unlocked, and the night watchmen I had seen where all conveniently ‘asleep.’ All twelve of them.

I could’ve acted like a trained sneak, and open the door, but once again I thought it would be far better to simply blow it off its hinges. The night was young and I had energy to spare! Even better, I would bash in the glass lining the metal door with my steel hoof-cuff. Let’s see these morons pretend to sleep through that!

I almost left after the ear-piercing shatter of the glass, but decided that it would be appropriate to screw with these horrible actors a little more. I threw out a commonplace Universal Illusion spell. One that created a specialized light show, let loose a few bangs, even made the occasional whooshing sounds.

To the credit of those fake night watchmen, they didn’t break character once. I didn’t see a single eye blink open. Oh well, it was time to go meet my ‘client.’

Beautiful is the only way that night could be described. Perfect for a casual stroll through dark alleyways and dangerous neighborhoods. There was just something magical about the way the stars were burning. The lack of clouds allowed me to see the sky quite clearly. It was too bad I had to go con some government agent, I would have loved to have done some stargazing.

I skipped down the dark alleyways, whistling a jolly tune as I headed towards the fake drop zone. For the first time since acquiring the item, I looked at it. It was a thin manila folder, the edges of a few slices of paper visibly poking out(It’s not like they could be anything but visible in that position. I mean really, it was like amateur hour).

Curiosity once again gaining the better of me, I opened the folder. What was inside was...surprising. Instead of giving me a collection of blank sheets or some trivial information, the Poena had crafted quite a story. They had documents that, if I hadn’t known better, I would have assumed were classified business documents.

Fake names, numbers, addresses, stock info, and much more was listed. Past transaction information was recorded, as well as future transaction particulars. It was thorough to the point where it was unsettling. It was a clear indication that these ponies meant business. If they were willing to go to the trouble of crafting a fake business, as well as fraudulent high-profile documents, then they really, really wanted to capture me.

Or, worse, they wanted capture my family. The most confusing part about this, though, was how the Poena even managed to set this up. We tried to ensure an extremely high measure of privacy in our business. We never took jobs by direct means, always maintaining a fair distance from whomever employed us.

The way clients contacted us(or more accurately, the way we contacted them) was unique. It would start with establishing a contact in a town, someone who wasn’t directly involved with the Blackscale but was still able to be controlled or bargained with. These contacts were discreet, but still in a position where they could acquire new information.

At random periods of time someone from our family would visit these contacts and gather information on various happenings. Most of the time the contact wouldn’t even be aware we were actually communicating with them(again, we value our privacy). At that point we would reach out to whomever wanted assistance(or whomever needed it), and offer up our...unique services.

We, of course, never told these clients that we were a part of a shadowy organization bent on purifying the world in a river of blood. It proved much easier to claim to be a mercenary. It helps, but you still have to make a note to mention that you’re trained and without a moral code.

Never in our process is the word Blackscale mentioned. Not to our contact, not to our client, and certainly not to our victim. So that begs a single question; how had these guards found out who I represented? in turn, that questions brings another to mind. How did they even discover our existence?

Something was off about all of this, very off. Our measures of privacy are far too advanced for any group working inside* the law to learn of us.

Dear Tartarus, what if they knew more than just our name? What if they knew where we were? What if Poena had dispatched their troops to the Haysead Swamps already? I had to get back there. I had to make sure everyone was okay. I had to go. I had to go now!

No, calm down Lulamoon, just calm down. I couldn’t go yet.

Not because it would’ve been too difficult, but it because it would have been too easy. It would’ve been too easy to run back towards my surrogate family, checking upon their safety. No, it would serve no purpose to be uninformed. I would have to stick with my improvised plan and find out what this group knew.

For all I knew, these ponies knew nothing. And if they did in fact, know nothing, then it would be beneficial to know that they knew nothing. That way I might not incite an unnecessary panic within the Blackscale.

I’d still have to take these ponies seriously, though. I needed to assume they were just as good I was. I had to believe they were just as deceitful as I was. I couldn’t glide through this task like I had so many others. There was too much at stake. I had to keep calm. I had to play my part, deceive my opponents, and reach the sanctuary with any information I acquired. It was all I could do at that point.

-

Surprisingly, the drop zone(or the let’s-catch-us-a-assassin zone) was within city-limits. It was on a dock, squeezed between the Antlertic Ocean and several tall buildings. It was actually an excellent spot for a trap. If my attackers came at me from the precise angle I would be cornered, my only avenue of escape being to jump from a thirty-foot dock. If the surface tension didn’t kill me I would end up breaking a few bones.

I couldn’t see any ponies hanging near the docks. That didn’t bode well. Using a disguise would be extremely effective against me. It would allow them to remain close to me as I got closer to the drop zone, making the moment when they revealed themselves easier. The only reason they wouldn’t use disguises, unfortunately, was if they were wearing something distinctive. Something that would tip me off. Something like armor.

Crap. I would have to take on three armored ponies, one being a captain, while shackled and without my equipment. It might not have been the worst situation I ever had to worm my way out of but it was still pretty bad.

I trotted towards my destination calmly, taking note of my surroundings. It was likely that I would be fitted with a horn clasp so Perspective Illusions were out of the question. All of my equipment would be taken off of me, as well. I’d have to find some other tool in the immediate vicinity. There were a few trashcans scattered about, a couple of crabbing crates stacked on top of each other, and the overpowering stench of pelican urine.

Reaching out with my magic I felt out the agents. There were three, just like those other two had said. All three were hidden in an open alleyway just before the drop zone. It was an excellent hiding place had it not been for the fact that I could detect them magically.

That’s the problem with the way ponies think. They think that if they’re not using magic they can’t be detected by magic. In reality, that’s only half-true. If trained to sense latent energy(which doesn’t exist, according to most scholars) they’re quite easy to detect. But detection isn’t really magic when it falls under the field of Perspective Illusion, as it is not considered a legitimate field.

Even if I wanted to appear vulnerable, I did not want to be too vulnerable. Pulling my cloak further over my head, I began a spell. Latching onto the three agents latent magic I altered their vision just a tad.

If my spell worked(who am I kidding? When it worked) these fools would see me as a grey mare with a black mane and a small knife as a cutie-mark. I added in a few scars too. Basically, I made sure they would think I was a stereotypical thug. The illusion wouldn’t fade with a horn clasp as it would have already been cast. Well, that was my logic anyways, I had no idea if it would prove correct.

My trot was brisk but quiet as I tossed the manila folder into a crate. I could hear the fall of hoof-steps behind me, but I ignored them. I had to lull them into a sense of power. They had to think they were winning up until the very end. Then I could make my move.

The sound of hoof-steps turned into a loud galloping noise. I could hear the thick clanking of metal as it hit against skin. They really were wearing armor. I began turning, still acting oblivious to the threat that was posed.

Soon I felt the blunt side of cold blade pressed against my shoulder.

“Not another move.” The voice was light but powerful. It had a natural authority to it. The mare who commanded it was not dissimilar from it. She was tall, standing a good ten inches above me. Her shoulders were broad, proportional to her thick legs. They looked strong. I might want to avoid getting in front of them.

Her coat was deep blue, similar in shade to a clear sky. I took this to mean she was Captain Cerulean. She looked down on me with a deep-set contempt. I highly doubted she approved of what I did on a normal basis.

There were two other guards near her, both with weapons held firmly in a magical grip. All three of the Poena agents wore silver armor. Whether or not that was indicative of ranking I did not know.

Cerulean spoke again, this time addressing her compatriots. “Take note of her appearance: gray coat, black mane and tail, tilted stiletto dagger for a cutie-mark, and blue eyes.” Her eyes did not lose sight of me for a second as she spoke to her companions.

So my little spell worked after all. But, really, was there ever any doubt?

One of the others, a purple mare, stepped forwards with shackles and a horn clasp. She held the shackles aloft with magic but had the clasp on her wrist. Horn clasps tend to be just as resistant to magic directed at them from the outside as they are to magic directed from the inside. It was one of their many flaws.

As for the shackles, they were an excellent clue. If this mare planned on shackling me now that meant that whatever location I was being taken to was nearby. Shackles tend to slightly immobilize the legs, so they were only used when a pony was either moving a short distance, or staying put. That way the prisoner did not become a hindrance to their captor.

I tried to look as alarmed as possible had their sudden appearance. It wasn’t difficult as they were just a tad bit intimidating. Especially considering how small I was compared to them.

The purple one had a hard look on her face. I feigned a shiver as the shackles came near me.

This prompted to the purple idiot to hiss, “Hold still!” In the process of spouting the command at me she spit in my eye. I was going to kill her for that, I think. Or, at the very least, hit her over the head a few times with the lid of a trashcan. It would depend on what kind of information I got.

For now, though, I still had to act like a hapless perpetrator caught in the act. “What are you doing!?” I made sure my voice was shrill. Shrill was good. I would’ve squirmed for effect, but I didn’t really feel like being backhanded by this mare.

The shackles clasped onto my front legs smoothly. They weren’t tight, nor were they loose. They fit my pasterns perfectly. They could’ve been comfortable had they not been weighty iron clasps...so they couldn’t really be comfortable. Though they would make a good weapon. The horn clasp was unable to dispel the illusion I created as it was not properly attuned to Perspective Illusion. Though it did disable my horn, so I would not be able to create anymore illusions until it was removed.

Captain Cerulean was the one to address my question. “You’re under arrest.”

“For what!?” I asked indignantly. “I haven’t done anything!” Had to keep up the act. Make them think I was tight-lipped but stupid.

The other guard, a stallion who stood a meter behind Captain Cerulean scoffed. “Don’t be like that. You know whatcha’ done, lass.” The disgust on his face was disarming.

“I certainly don’t! And I think I have the right to know what I’m being accused of!”

That comment earned me another barrage of spittle from the purple one. She was unhooking my gear from my body as she spoke. “Rights? Rights are for ponies who don’t go around murdering for money.” They were really fixated on the whole murder aspect, huh? It would be nice if they would give me a little credit. Just because spreading lies, corporate espionage, thieving, and loitering didn’t end in blood doesn’t mean they aren’t valid crimes that I would want to be complimented for.

“You’re under arrest for robbery, and are under suspicion of a homicide.” The captain spoke very candidly, completely ignoring the comments of her compatriot. The purple mare shot her a narrowed glance, but did not do anything beyond that. She must have respected her leader’s authority. How silly.

My group had always been very anti-authority. Everyone was considered to be on the same level. Not to say that no one guided us, of course. Sicarius, Star, Aeria, and a few other members acted as a type of council. They would guide other members, and from time to time handle the larger jobs that came up. But they didn’t exercise any real control over the members. We were completely independent in the choices we made.

Brightwing was the one who was in charge of normal jobs. She found them, set them up, and distributed them. It was a very informal matter. The system was extremely lax. If we became too organized someone, somewhere, might get suspicious. Since crime wasn’t really organized we tried to maintain the appearance that we weren’t. It was surprisingly effective. Random acts are far harder to track then controlled ones.

Until now, apparently.

“I have done no such things!” Had to keep playing dumb until they inevitably held the stolen item over me.

The stallion who was standing next to Cerulean trotted over to the drop zone purposefully. His stride and upheld head revealed a certain pride about him. Like he was proud of the fact that he could walk five meters and pick up a manila folder telekinetically. That annoyed me. Not as much as being spat on, but it did irritate me.

He shoved the folder in front of my face. For my part I feigned an expression of mock stupidity. An average criminal would play dumb until the end.

“You know what this is, don’t you lass?” The stallion’s accent was a very thick with a slightly light timbre, suggesting he was Urslandic. He probably migrated here in an attempt to avoid all that nasty war business going on in his home country.

I kept my eyes downcast and licked my lips. Hopefully these ponies had been trained to spot tells(except fake ones, of course). “No, I don't.” I made sure not to ask what it was. Lack of curiosity was another sign guards usually looked for. Ponies are curious creatures by nature and a lack of that natural curiosity when answering a question is usually an indication that the pony already knew the answer.

The purple mare pushed her snout into my face. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

Ha. Good enough to fool you, apparently. “I’m not lying...”

“Tell me another lie and I’ll cave your skull in.” I really wish she would’ve gotten out of my face. Her breath was foul and she happened to be spitting in my eye. Repeatedly.

“I swear I don’t know anything!” I shrieked the words, acting out fear to the best of my ability.

She brought her hand over the side of my face. “That’s crap!”

It was official. I was going to kill her.

Cerulean shot a glare at the dead one. “Hold, Amethyst.” Her eyes were hard-set and unwavering. They had an immediate affect on the dead one.

She took a step back shrugging. “Sorry, Captain.” Her eyes were downcast. “I just can’t stand ponies like her. Not only is she guilty, but she won’t own up to it. But you’re right, I was out of line.”

Now she wasn’t even standing by her actions? What a wuss. “I didn’t do anything.” I repeated.

The other guard dangling the folder in front of my face continued. “Lass, I appreciate your ability to adamantly deny everything, but the evidence is overwhelming. All three of us saw you deliver stolen goods to a specified zone. That doesn’t look good.”

I kept my eyes downcast. I had to play the role until the bitter end.

After a brief period of silence he added, “Plus our man saw you enter the building.”

And he had just given me a golden opportunity. “There was no one on that floor-” I cut myself off short, and feigned a look of shock.

“And just how would you know that?” He eyed me with a prideful smile. Yes! As long as they thought they had me I had them.

I sat very still, letting my eyes grow wide. It’s quite interesting what can be interpreted from the eyes. Even more interesting is how much faith ponies put into these interpretations. “You tricked me...” I grumbled.

The dead one snorted. “It’s not hard to trick some pony as stupid as you. You were in that building earlier. You stole that folder. You brought it here. We’ve got you.” I hated her more and more as time went on. “And the only way your going to get any leniency is if you answer a few questions.”

They need me to answer questions, huh? Either they’re trying to establish whether I can be trusted or they need information. Maybe both. It didn’t really matter either way. I was going to lie. A lot.

Cerulean was staring at me intently. “What are the Blackscale?” Her eyes were harsh. It was almost slightly discomforting.

“We’re thieves.” Keep lies simple. They’re easier to track that way.

Her stare intensified. “How many of you are there?”

Sixty-two. “Hundreds.”

The dead one slapped me across the muzzle. “That’s a lie!” It was doubly-official now. I would kill her, then put her in a dumpster.

Cerulean did not interrupt her subordinate this time. Apparently I was trying her patience as well. “Where is your base?”

I really hope they don’t know the answer to this one. “Whitetail Woods.”

The silver cuff of Amethyst’s boot came down on my snout. “Lie again and I’ll use my pommel.”

The coppery taste of blood soon filled my mouth, overpowering every other sense as it dripped down the back of my throat. My lip was cut. I was leaning over the wooden planks of the pier, heaving up a disgusting mixture of sweat, hair, and blood. That was it. I was going to shove her in a dumpster, seal it, set it on fire, and dump it in the bay. Then set the bay on fire.

Cerulean bent over me, staring me down. “Enough. You obviously won't help. I gave you an opportunity to be helpful. But you squandered it.” Her eyes were cold. They weren’t hateful, just...disappointed. “We know there are only five dozen of you. We know you’re assassins. We know you’re at Haysead. There are agents there now.”

Crud, crud, crud! I had to get back there!

“Amethyst, Aureole, take her to the carriage and get her out of here.” She motioned the stallion towards me. “I’ll keep her equipment with me.” Just great.

Without a word the really dead one and stallion pulled me into a standing position, forcing me along.

_

We turned into an alley, the really dead one on my rear right and the stallion on my left. The alley was loud, located between a club and a restaurant. Trash bins surrounded me. The ambient sound emitted from the club drowned out any noise. We weren’t far from the pier, but that didn’t matter. Now was the best time to strike.

I stopped in my tracks. I dug my hooves into the cobblestone and stood completely still. I felt a slight bump as the purple one walked into me.

“Move it, Blackie.” She sounded irritated.

I stood firm.

“I said move it!” She snarled.

The stallion turned, taking note of the scene. “What seems to be the problem?” His thick drawl was barely heard over the harsh beat of the club.

“This foal won’t move.” My opportunity is coming.

The stallion looked to me. “C’mon, lass. Get moving.”

I stood firm.

“Move, Dammit!” The purple one raised her hoof to me, putting more weight on her left side. This was my chance.

Her strike was lazy, unfocused. I ducked under it, spun around on my rear hooves, and brought the shackles covering my fore-legs to face her. With just a slight amount of force I brought the metal circlets down on the knee of the purple one’s grounded leg. The effect was instant. Howling in pain the mare fell to her side clutching her leg. Iron beats bone.

I experienced a slight pain as the rough metal dug into my skin. That’s what I hate about hoof to hoof combat. It causes a decent amount of damage to the pony kicking, as well as the pony being being kicked. Still, it was an invaluable skill. Only a fool trusts his life to a weapon.

An exclamation of surprise could be heard behind me. The distinctive sound of metal grazing against metal was present, indicating the drawing of a sword. I didn’t have to look behind me to know the stallion was charging. This was all way too easy.

I grabbed a lid off one of the trash bins. I shoved the basket itself behind me, letting it roll into a position where it would be a hindrance. The overturned waste basket obviously wouldn’t hit the stallion, but it would stop him from charging and give me a chance to come up with a more substantial plan.

The stallion lost his momentum as the bin fell in his path, blocking his charge. This didn’t prevent him from attacking me with his sword as that was gripped magically. He threw the sword down at an angle, attempting to handicap me.

I lifted the trash lid, attempting to deflect the hurtling sword. Now, I am no fool. I am quite aware that an aluminum lid is not an adequate form of defense against sharpened steel. My hope was that I could dodge most of the attack and manage to catch the rest against the flat metal of the make-shift shield.

The saber crashed against me, cutting through a partial part of my defense. For a moment I held the metalloid circle, pressing it against the sharp edge of my opponent’s blade. This, like most of my battle tactics, was just a way to stall until I came up with a plan. Or an improvisation. Whatever you’d like to call it.

I dropped the shield in favor of charging at the stallion. By the look on his face I could see he didn’t expect this. He fell back a step as I leaped over the bin between us, completely oblivious to the fact he was twice my size.

As I ran at him I pointed my horn downwards, acting as if I was going to impale him on it. He braced himself, pulling his hooves close to his body in preparation for my assault. I feinted at the last second, however, instead opting to roll into him, forcing him to dig his hooves into the ground.

I landed at his feet, directly under his neck and head. My hooves shot upwards, striking him in his trachea. The blow wasn’t hard enough to kill him, but it was hard enough to incapacitate him for a moment. He doubled over as I rolled out from under him.

His grip on the sword disappeared. That was nice considering it had been a few feet away from decapitating me. I stood up quickly to position myself above my winded foe. I brought my shackles high above me, poised to strike. The circlets crashed down on my opponents skull, rendering my enemy unconscious. He might have a concussion when he woke up but would be fine for the most part.

Looking over I could see the purple mare was still gripping her knee, loosing a string of obscenities into the night. They were almost as loud as the club’s music. Her eyes were clouded with water. Wuss. She couldn’t fight the pain to help her partner.

I trotted to her form, shackles only hindering me slightly. Too much slack had been placed on them. The purple one barely saw me as I laid my hoof on her chest. I pressed her leg against the ground, prompting her to groan in pain. With the amount of pain that caused there was no way she would be able to retaliate.

Beginning the tedious task of finding the key to my shackles I asked, “Now where are your keys, urchin?” I placed a bit more of my weight on the cleft of her left leg. I probably should have made a note of where she put the keys to my shackles when she put them on me, but I didn’t. Alternatively I could have brought my lock picking set and hid them in my mane...why the hay didn’t I do that?

She winced as a silent scream of agony echoed off her lips. “Not...Telling.”

I feigned a pout as I looked down at her(even if she couldn’t see it the gesture comforted me), letting my eyes run over possible hiding places. She wasn’t wearing any saddlebags, so the keys had to be attached to a ring or chain.

“What’s that? More weight?” I leaned over more, pressuring the shattered knee cap. The dead mare bit down on her lip, drawing a meager amount of blood. As I lifted myself off of her I could hear a forced gasp. She rolled onto her back, eyes wide in panic. Her working limbs twitched a little.

Damn. She would be going into shock soon. I would have to get my information quickly. Very quickly. Ignoring her leg completely I patted her down, searching for a key. “Where is the key?”

Even in her anguished state she cracked a smile. There was a small red bubble on her lip, formed from the applied force of teeth on lips. It was a smug smile, one I couldn’t help but hate. “Wouldn’t you like to know, killer?” Her words were snarky but came out as ragged exclamations. Her voice almost sounded broken. There were so many things I wanted to do to her, yet so little time.

Ah, well...time to bring out the crazy. I drew her sword from its sheath and pressed the tip against her exposed belly. The bladed edge dug into her skin, but drew no blood. “Killer? Killer!? Let me tell you a little something about killing. It’s fun, it’s easy, and you’re gonna learn all about it.”

I brandished her short blade against the side of her cheek, making sure it never got too close or too far. “Before that though, I have to compliment you on this blade. It’s sharpened steel, obviously the craft of a great smithery- probably cuts through flesh like butter, right? Double-edged as well, making it doubly effective. With this in mind I see only two options...one, you could tell me where you hid those keys, or two, you could test the probability of me missing at this range. I’ll leave it up to you.”

I drew the blade against the curve of her silver chest-plate. There was an insignia on it of a silhouetted pony surrounded by fire. It kind of made my insignia of a quill and flower look silly. Even if it was a oleander flower meant to represent death and a quill meant to represent deceit.

My babbling had the wanted affect on my victim’s addled mind. Her eyes betrayed the fear she felt. In a low voice she spoke, “In my rear right boot...”

I smiled at her soothingly, letting a sense of peace settle over the scene. This was before brining the pommel of her sword down on her stupid face, of course. A sickening crack followed the blow...I may have hit her a little bit harder than intended. No use weeping over what’s been done, though.

Dropping the sword I pulled the boot off of the foolish agent. I could hear a faint jingle as the straps snapped apart. A keyring fell out of the boot before I even had a chance blink. The keys fell to the ground, chiming as they collided with the thick cobblestone.

There were three keys on the ring, one for my shackles, one for my horn cuff, and one mystery key. Removing my restraints was an easy task with new proper equipment. I tossed away the horn clasp and shackles but kept the keyring. It may come in handy in the future. Who knew what that mystery key would fit?

After that I ran through the alley, never looking back at the destruction I caused. Some pony, probably that Cerulean mare, would find the two in the morning. Or until the stallion woke up and found his partner. At that point I would be pursued again. So I had a good half-hour to get away. Less if I decided to be paranoid. Which I did.

I was heading towards what I presumed to be Whitetail Woods. I needed to get past the Smokey Mountain and towards Las Pegasus. From there I could catch a train to Dodge City and reach Haysead Swamps.

Hopefully I wouldn’t be too late.

Author's Note:

Oh, look, a time lapse.