1 The reporter
“I don't see why all this is necessary,” a tan earth pony stallion says in a annoyed tone to the gruff day guard. Over a hour of paper work, magical scans and a background check having somewhat soured his normally sunny dispossession.
“Emergency procedures in place after the invasion. Security is being tightened around Canterlot and across Equestria. I am surprised that Weighty Words of the Canterlot Herald is interviewing him twelve hours after the invasion ended. Most of you fellow pundits are pestering us for news about the changelings or hounding the castle about the wedding.” The guard finally showing some equenity, and answering with more than five words to any question.
A small smile creeping back to Weighty's mouth. “With out a doubt those stores are news but...they are well covered news. One of the most wanted if not the most wanted criminal in Equestria caught and nopony is interested I think not. Even with all that is going on.”
“One last thing, although Hellbent is not charged with any violent crimes but don't think he is not dangerous. Thestrals are tough, and he was found with a pare of eleven hoof long wing blades. If the rumors have any validity he took out at least a few changelings in the invasion. Don't give the prisoner any thing don't reach through the bars and nothing should happen.”
“Good advice,” I say with a smile,”although you have given it twice already. Ill be fine, I've done prisoner interviews before... eleven hoof long wing blades?” Weighty asks as the guard nods. ”I don't know much about weapons and less about wing blades, but I thought wing blades are typically more or less a hoof long.”
“Day guard standard is a hoof and a clip long secured near the end of the leading primary. Best guess anypony has is they are Neighponese style and attach at three points up near the coverts and extend a good two hoofs past the wing span. Longer slash and could stab with them I think,” pausing to gauge the reaction of the news pony the guard continues. ”I need you to understand this is serious this pony is dangerous and I don't want a member of the press core harmed on my watch.”
Bowed but unbroken the news pony stedly responds “I understand, thank you.”
“This way” says the guard falling back in to his stoney authoritarian manners.
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The holding cells of Canterlot's dungeon were bleak dingy stone as if when they built the city they with great purposes and care took every ugly rock pebble and bolder on the mountain and put it here. If one were so inclined you could say it was a master piece of oppressive atmosphere with a narrow grim palliate and vertical bar accents. All the cells of of the holding area of the Canterlot dungeon are empty save one
On the other side a a bared wall lying on his back in a small bunk, wings tightly bound to his barrel and back legs in a hobble a navy blue thestral stallion with a ash gray mane cut in a short guard crop contemplated his life. “Destiny, destiny is a foal of a nag,”he mused. His cutey mark of a thestral's wing claw grasping a coin told him that lasting happiness was not his destiny. Today at least it seemed his destiny was Coltsum prison.
The sound of hoof steps approaching drew his attention back to the hear and now. Rolling neatly off the cot on to the hard stone floor to have a look at his visitor. A tan earth pony stallion with a average length brown mane with a page for a cutey mark was trotting this way looking quite inquisitive yet concerned.
“Well you could not be more average if you tried,” said Hellbent with no small amount of mirth. ”What brings such a paragon of normalcy to my most depressing accommodations?”
“I,”the earth pony trying to keep his voice steady “am Weighty Words of the Canterlot Herald and if you would be willing I would like to interview you mister Hellbent.”
My first answer is a short bark of a laugh.“Truly. Changeling invasion, royal wedding not to mention what ever the well to do have done of late and you want to interview me... Well I’m flattered” I say with a small amount of sarcasm. I can't tell if it's shell shock from the invasion or me that's got the news colt so wound up but story time beats think about what the future holds so I indulge him. “What would you like to know exactly?”
“Well for starters the thing that has been bothering me since I fist heard about you three years ago when you robed house radiance. Would you tell me why you chose a life of crime? Was it an abusive family? Poverty? What in this time of peace and plenty would cause some one to chose a life of crime?”
The look on this reporter is just priceless he was expecting some tragic sob story about abuse and struggling to pay the rent oh did he walk up to the wrong cell. Laughter is the only answer for the better part of a minute. “First off,” wiping a tear from my eye “thanks, you just made my day. Second no my moms were great and I have enough bits to retire.”
“As to why well let me ask you a question, what is your special talent?”
Weighty looked some what confused by the question but began to answer in spite of this interview not conforming to his expectations. ”Writing is my talent in a general sense, but more than any thing its when I can show the world a different side of a story, some one else's perspective on a event or subject. It makes me fell alive to know that I have broadened the vision of others.”
“Good for you,” I say with genuine sincerity. “That far away look in your eyes when you describe your talent the passion in your voice you know your destiny. You know the joy of fulfilling it have you ever had a job busing tables or something like that something that did not involve writing?”
“No,” he says a look of confusion on his face.
“Take a sabbatical and don't wright for a month and see how you feel, its not pleasant but it will be a learning experience. Now I know my destiny. I know what my cutie mark means. I know what my special talent is and I will give you your story but first I have a question”
“How does one be a good pony when your talent, that thing that give you the greatest sense of fulfillment, the thing that makes you feel complete is...larceny?”
“I...I don't know”
“Neither do I...neither do I.“