Blackscale

by Leviathan

First published 1st of February, 2013

A story filling in the blanks of Trixie's past. There is an eventual revenge plot.

When I was young, I had nothing. Family, friends, kindness...they all eluded me. That was, until I met them. They took me in, gave me shelter, purpose, even love. For a while it was paradise. I was happy, content with my life. It was great, if a bit odd at times. I couldn't have asked for anything better. But like most good things in my world, it came to an abrupt end. An awful, bloody abrupt end. That's not how I plan on leaving it. I want whatever, or whomever caused my world to fall apart to end too. I want my tormenter to suffer...and I'll do anything to make sure it happens.

My name is Trixie Lulamoon. This is my story.

(Hooray for unoriginal Trixie ideas.)

Beginnings

I was, at one point, just a practitioner of orphanhood. I was something nothing wanted. I was left at an orphanarium in a large, industrialized city when I was still too young to even form a coherent thought. My parents had been incapable of caring for me, for whatever reason. I never learned much about them, nor did I make an effort to. It matters not why one is placed into adversity, but rather how they survive it. Or so I thought.

The home itself was in disrepair. It had stains and cracks along the walls, bearing the burden of time poorly. The entire building reeked of urine and blood, and had sights that supported the stenches. The building had two floors, first floor consisting of a small reception, a tattered nursery, and an understocked cafeteria. The second housed the living quarters of the foals inhabiting the impoverished institute.

The adults who tended to the orphanage were lazy, simply staying there to earn a bit of money and leave. They didn’t truly care about any of the colts and fillies who filled their halls. So, for the most part, we were unsupervised. It was not always a pleasant arrangement, as you can imagine. Placing damaged children of varying ages in one frail environment created a good amount of chaos.

Nobody there really had friends. Some formed ‘gangs’ of sorts, and other things along those lines, but with the way our orphanage ran it was better not to get attached to others. It was practically a rule.

There were a few adults who cared, actually, but they tended to care a little too much. There were a few caretakers that walked off with a foal or two sometimes. Those who left the premises we these adults weren’t usually seen again.

We all knew better than to think that they had been saved. We had lived in that Tartarus-forsaken pit long enough to know we weren’t that fortunate. In fact, one of the games we had invented involved us guessing what happened to those who were taken. Most theories involved a decent amount of impropriety.

The orphan base mostly consisted of pegasi and earth-ponies. The part of town I resided in didn’t house many unicorns. It was a seedy part of the city, and unicorns were, generally, reviled. They were seen as pompous and arrogant, too proud for their own good. It was rare to see a unicorn here, and even rarer still to see them breathing.

Being a unicorn was basically the equivalent of being branded a heretic. I grew up ostracized by my peers, but I survived. That was all I did there, really. I wasn’t a survivor, but a drifter, floating along a murky path.

That was the true atrocity. It wasn’t that we all lived without family and friends, but that we had no drive, no real purpose to subsist. Worse yet, none of us even realized it. We were so caught up in trying to live we forgot why we were even bothering to the attempt.

I lived in that place for thirteen years before I fled. I had been trying to escape something I did there, something disgusting done in the name of “survival.” I don’t regret what I did, but neither can I change it. Still, I won’t forget it anytime soon.

It started off like any other day, I rose at dawn, along with the rest of that hopeless rabble, dreading what life was going to do to me next. Someone had overturned my knapsack during the night, pouring out everything I had claim to in the world. Everything I owned consisted of a dusty old spell tome I had scavenged, an apple that looked rather suspicious, and a tattered blanket. It wasn’t much, but it was all I had.

The act itself wasn’t new; I experienced much worse in the past. I was lucky that the perpetrators hadn’t gotten physical; violence escalated quickly around here. I didn’t seek out revenge, or even try to find out who did it. I just collected my stuff and shoved it under my shared bunk.

I quickly made for the ground floor. Breakfast was being served at this point and, unless I arrived there swiftly, the meager store of food would be depleted. Some of the newer additions were resting on their cots, too lost in their dreams to worry about starving. With time, they would learn how things operated around here.

By the time I made it to the mess hall all the food was gone. I had been too slow. Hunger gnawed at me upon seeing the few who had managed to get the precious edibles. I had not found much to eat the previous two days, so it would be fair to assume that I was bit dazed.

I wasn’t willing to go another day without food, though. I let my gaze fall over the room, scanning for an easy mark. It had to be somepony who wouldn’t notice if something went missing off their tray. I spotted it in the form of a large, clumsy earth-pony. One who went by the name of Ginger Snap.

She was one of the older foals at the orphanage, about two years older than me. She survived by bullying some of the younger fillies and taking their stuff. Her most prominent traits were her size, lack of intelligence, and cruelty. Bound for success, she was. It was likely that if she survived this place she would end up a thug or highwaymare.

There was food piled high on her tray. I’m sure a lot of it came from other ponies. There was no way that the cafeteria would give that much food out otherwise. Or maybe they would. It wasn’t like they cared. One delicacy made itself very well known to me. An average, completely intact pear. Good fruit was a rare find.

I crept up beside Ginger Snap, who was too busy heckling the some poor fool who stepped on her tail. I was always a relatively good sneak- I had to be. I wasn’t big like some of the other foals, nor was I particularly skilled at scavenging. I mainly had to rely on stealing to survive in this place. My demure size contributed to that.

I reached a hoof out, grabbed the pear in the cuff of my knee, and made a quick retreat, leaving Ginger Snap and her hapless victim. I thought I was in the clear, seeing as how Ginger Snap hadn’t noticed me make off with her food. I didn’t account for the colt she was bullying, though.

“Hey! That blue unicorn took your food!” The colt’s voice was nervous and scared, but loud. His hoof was pointing towards me. He managed to slip away as Ginger turned her head. I had forgotten that others here actually wanted to survive as well.

Ginger Snap pivoted on her back hoof to face the general direction he had pointed towards. I tried to blend in with the rest of the ponies around me, but the bright azure of my coat made it difficult. Insanely difficult. It took no time at all for Ginger Snap to notice me.

“Hey, unicorn! Get over here!” Ginger Snap screamed. I quickened my pace and broke out into a gallop, rushing towards the stairwell that led to the dormitory. If I could reach it I could find someplace to hide.

I didn’t have to turn around to know that Ginger Snap was chasing me, I could hear her heavy footsteps pounding against the ground. She was not quite as quiet as me. The other orphans backed out of her way; the last thing they wanted to do was get involved.

Ginger Snap was much bigger than me, and being an earth-pony, much quicker. So I rushed up the stairwell as fast I could. I was frightened, and due to that became clumsy. It was inevitable that I would slip up.

I ended up tumbling down the the stairs after a slip of the hoof, landing at the feet of my pursuer. All I could do was look up into her angry green eyes and hope I got off easy. Sadly, today was not destined to be my day. She picked me up by throat and pressed me against a wall, keeping me pinned under her massive weight.

I tried to breathe, but her leg was firm against my throat. Her arm was a rod of steel due to years of practice with her victims. She leaned in close to me, putrid breath burning my eyes. The look she gave me was sadistic and venomous. I could see I wouldn’t be getting off easily. I would be punished. And quite severely if the look that graced her pupils was any indication.

“Dirty little mutt! You took my food! I’m gonna make you pay for that you little twerp.” Ginger Snap’s features were contorted into pure rage.

A faint glare blinded me for a moment. I moved my eyes downwards trying to locate the source of the light. That’s when I saw it. Right under her right hoof was a small knife. It was thin, rusty, and bent, but it was still a weapon.

I struggled in vain against her much larger form. I was small for my age, and she was big for hers, brute force just wouldn’t cut it. That didn’t stop me from kicking out and struggling, though. I was scared, more frightened then I had ever been in the entirety of my pathetic little life.

There I was, backed into a corner by somebody who I believed would, no doubt, kill me without a second thought. She raised the small razor, lifting it closer towards my face. she brought it up to my cheek and pressed down softly, applying a bit a pressure. She was probably trying to draw blood, maybe to scare me a little before she killed me. It was difficult considering the rust accumulated on the blade.

“I’m gettin’ real sick of unicorns like you.” She had a malicious look in her eyes, one that didn’t bode well for me. “You think you’re so much better than us, don’t you? Just because you have fancy magic you think that allows you to do anything?” The corners of her mouth were twisted down in a deep frown. “Well, guess what?”

Her rancorous demeanor and gruesome expression were enough to decide that I didn’t want to guess. I struggled harder, kicking against the larger mare’s stomach with all my might. I didn’t really expect anything, nor did anything happen. I just ended up annoying her. I appeared to be very good at that.

She glared at me, hate practically seeping out as drool. “I’m not gonna deal with anymore.” She flicked the razor across my cheek, leaving a jagged trail of blood in her wake. It flowed over my face, the coppery smell quickly invading my nostrils and overpowering my brain.

I tried to back up, but I was already pressed up against a wall and only managed to give my torturer more room to throttle me. She leaned in even closer, mouth pressed to my ear. Her breath burned. “I think I’ll start with your pretty little horn. I bet it would bring a nice price.” As she spoke she let the razor glide towards the crown of my head.

I panicked. I thrashed around, harder than I had before. I tried to cry out, but all I could choke out was throaty groan. Even if I had managed to call out, nopony would have come. The others in this place have long since given up on morality.

I felt the blade against my horn now, being prepared to saw through it. I could just imagine how agonizing and tortuous it would be with such a raw blade slowly scraping across the resdential artery. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see what would happen next. I thought back on my short life, on what I had done, what I had not done. I found the results of my contemplation brought me an empty feeling.

Not the empty feeling that accompanied hunger, or the empty feeling that accompanied depression. No, this was a new torture to me. I felt as if I was nothing, just a useless wretch surviving the world. I was living for no reason. I was living for no reason. What I saw wasn’t anything to take pride in, just something to laugh at.

I had just realized I had no goal, no drive, no purpose, no anything. And I felt horrible. My entire life had been wasted, a pointless time-slot. I had never done, nor tried to do, anything. I had been fine just surviving without reason, without motive. It was revolting to think about.

And here was this mare standing over me, somepony just like me. A mare just as useless as me, who’s only goal was to cause pain and live. She was trash, something that should be thrown out. So was I, so was every single foal in that desolate orphanage.

I could change that about myself, though. I could find something to cling to, a reason to survive. Philosophy, art, magic, love, friendship... they had no survival value; rather they gave value to survival. I could find conviction within one of those things, perhaps. Right then I craved a reason to live, not because living was enjoyable to me, but because it would be something that I owned. Nothing would ever be able to take my purpose from me. My hypothetical purpose.

A jolt of energy ran through me. It warmed my body, sending a pleasant heat from my core to my extremities. A force began to build up in my horn before it was released. The pressure on my throat released and I sunk to the ground. I heard an anguished cry, and it hadn’t come from me. That was nice. I opened my eyes quickly, trying to find the source of the shout.

They instantly locked onto Ginger Snap, who was laying a few feet away, sprawled against the floor in a splay of limbs. The knife she had threatened me with was stuck in her chest, handle pointing out at an odd angle. Her eyes were glazed over, empty like the void.

I stared at the corpse for a moment, terror and confusion holding me in a tight embrace. It was obvious that it had been something I had done that killed her. I was paralyzed as I realized the implications of that. I had killed her. I could be arrested.

So, I did the first thing that came to mind. I did what anyone who lived on instinct would’ve done. I ran.

Author's Notes:

It does get better. I have an outline I am actually quite proud of.

Racing without a Finish Line

Nobody tried to stop me as I fled from the scene. The other foals stepped aside, probably fearing I would hurt them if they got in my way. That or they were to dumbfounded by the scene. They didn’t know it had been an accident, how could they? Ginger had a knife stuck in her chest, I would’ve had no chance. And with the prejudice against unicorns they probably wouldn’t believe me if I claimed my magic just went off.

I ran past the oncoming adults. They probably heard Ginger Snap scream, and knew they couldn’t get away with ignoring the noise. I just kept running, though. I ran past the small cafeteria and to the reception area. Nobody was tending the counter and I managed to go through the front doors without anything opposing me.

I ran through the streets of lower Baltimare, ducking under the other ponies trotting by. I headed southwest. I remembered hearing that there was a forest somewhere out there. It would be an appropriate place to lay low. It would give me a chance to decide what I wanted to do next. I had no clue as to whether or not I was being pursued, but I did not want to take any unnecessary chances.

I passed through the streets, sticking close to the alleyways just to reassure myself. Having been raised on the streets of Baltimare I navigated my way through its many dark passages easily. I ran for hours, horrified and perturbed by the predicament I found myself in.

I reached the city limits around dark. Even though I had been running I had mostly stuck to back alleyways and such, so I had not made the best time. I could see the outline of some trees, obviously the beginnings of a forest.

I walked towards the tree line, too tired to continue running. Hopefully the forest would provide shelter from any outside elements and allow me enough to think. It did not take long for me to reach the border of the forest and I remember looking back on the fading Baltimare and feeling...satisfied. It wasn’t contentment, or even hope, but...it was something.

I knew I could never go back there, lest I be apprehended for my crime (unlikely) or killed by one of Ginger Snap’s ‘friends.’ I was glad to be away from the home. When I was there I had not really been living. It only held bad memories and empty feelings. Now that I was away from it I could start anew. Maybe I could find a reason to live. Perhaps that was little too hopeful, though...

I fled deeper into the woods until I couldn’t see the outline of the city against the fading twilight. I was somewhere deep within the forest, without food, without water, and without supplies. Hopefully the same rules for scavenging in the city applied to the forest. Otherwise, I would die. And it probably wouldn’t be pleasant.

I sat against the trunk of a colossal oak. Massive roots twisted out of the ground, but they did not impede upon my ability to rest. I closed my eyes, preparing to let the comfort of sleep overtake me in the darkness.

It was almost nice to have a moment of solitude. A moment where I didn’t have to concern myself with the others who might strike out at me. I could rest, maybe even be relaxed for the first time in such a long time. Sweet, sweet solitude...always eluding me...

“You performed quite splendidly.” A voice broke out as I was drifting away, breaking me out of my stupor. “I must say that your retreat was nothing short of professional.” There was a momentary pause. “In an amateurish sort of way.”

“What!? Who’s there!” I was startled, frightened even. I lived in the city long enough to know that there was usually a reason when someone hid away. “Show yourself, now!” I stood up quickly, too quickly. I became a bit woozy in my haste and my head spun for a moment. Running the length of a marathon without warning can be slightly grueling. I shook away the dizzy feeling, willing my body to wake along with me.

I turned around trying to make out the source of the voice. The forest was a Stygian and untenanted. This served to push me farther towards the brink. A known enemy is preferable to an unknown variable. Could I have just imagined the voice? Was it just the product of my stressed mind? No, I had been a survivor long enough to know to trust my instincts, and right now there was some primal warning flaring within me.

A few minutes passed with nothing happening, but still I stood, prepared for anything. I had my head pointed downwards showing off my horn. I wasn’t actually privilege to any spells, but it never hurt to have a bluff ready.

“You trust your senses. That is excellent. And I use the term excellence to refer to something formed by habit, not by luck. Habitual excellence is exactly what I require.” The voice came out again, though this time I was prepared to pinpoint its location. It was deep, but not jagged or sharp. It had a certain serenity to it, a cool affect that soothed my tired soul, yet put it on edge.

“Where are you!?” The pitch of my voice was uncontrolled, evidence of the terror that was passing through me.

“It’s my turn to ask a question. Are you afraid, little one?” There was a slow wind passing through, making its way up my spine and breathing on my neck. It was cold, so cold. It was cold and I was so, so weak. I couldn’t resist shivering.

“N-No!” My body was physically shaking, unmasking my lie before it even had a chance to leave my lips.

“Then why, my dear, are you here, running?” The voice came from every angle, low as a whisper but loud enough for me to hear clearly.

“...”

“You’ve come to trust your senses, haven’t you? They’re all you have had to rely on in your life, aren’t they? Every touch and smell, sight and sound, means something to you. So then, I have to ask, what are those telling you right now?”

A barrage of sensory spells struck me. A dim fog began to pass over the trees, obscuring items previously mere feet away from my view. A foul stench emanated from some unknown source, reeking of rotting corpses and stale bread. I could hear a faint moaning, distant but close, wailing in pain as it was subjected to torture. The torture itself was unseen and therefore left to my imagination. The imagination is not thing meant to run free.

A shadow passed over the fog, outlining a figure. The tall, lanky silhouette of a pony struck against the fog, barring the assaulting smog. It dissipated slowly, allowing me to view the mysterious shade as it passed. I could see it, trotting towards me in a comfortable stride. Drawing closer to me as I backed against the tree I sat in front of. Its approach brought something with it.

The smell of death died away, as did the screeches of pain that emanated from the thick haze. The fog was completely gone now, the only thing remaining being the contour of the shadow, drawing ever so near. I could see its real form now, their true physique, not just an outline on a Hadean cloud.

They were clothed in a cloak black as midnight, hood raised over their visage, eyes hidden away from me. The figure stood tall, knees straight and hooves firmly placed against the ground. They were only a few feet from me. A few feet stood between me and my fate.

I was paralyzed. I sat against the bark of the tree, breaths shallow and fast, waiting for my inevitable end to come down on me. The cool wind blew against my face, causing my eyes to water, my lips to chap, and my body to shiver against the force of it. My eyes were locked onto the cloaked one, staring deeply into the dark hood, trying to discern who, or what, I was to succumb to in the end.

He leaned down slowly, neck craning against the fabric of the cloak to edge closer to me. I could hear his respirations now, deep and calm, oblivious to my perturbation. His breath was not warm. It froze against my skin like ice, slowly working its way down my spine, fueling my terror.

There was a deep inhalation followed by a small pop. A snout appeared from behind the hood, revealing the lips of the shade. They drew close to my ear, practically bumping against it. “Tell me, why do you endure?” The voice was a whisper, hardly speaking at all.

“...” I was frozen to the spot. I expected for him to inform me of how he was going to drag my soul through the deepest reaches of Tartarus, past the incarcerated demons that made their home there.

The voice did not relent so easily. “My intentions are not so dark.” Lies. The voice was quiet, poorly attempting to calm my nerves. “I am merely curious. Why do you endure?”

“...” I do not know if my silence was due to fear, or lack of an answer.

That serene voice pierced through my head again. “Do you have a reason?” The voice had not risen nor lowered its pitch. It had merely maintained its serenity and hushed tone.

“...”

“You don’t have an answer, do you?” There was a momentary pause in his breaths as he drew his tongue along the rim of his lips.

“...” My fear had me pinned there, unable to move, unable to breath...unable to answer. I couldn’t find solace in anything, not even my silence.

Then the voice did something unexpected. It gave me a chance. One I am very grateful for. “Do you want one?” The tranquility in his vocality was present. It guided the words along like honey, slowly leading them to me. Allowing me to process what was just said.

And for the first time in a long time, I found my voice, tucked away, yet somehow ready. “Do...I want...what?” My voice was almost as quiet as the shade’s.

I heard what could be compared to a snicker. It was a sharp intake of breath followed by a deep exhalation. “A reason. Do you want a good reason to suffer?” He began to pull away from me, slowly rising to his hooves as his neck extended upwards. He just stood there, silently looking down on me, awaiting an answer.

Even in that environment, with every instinct telling me to run, I could not help but think. I did want a reason. I did want some kind of purpose to suffer for. If I was forced to suffer then why couldn’t I have a reason? Thinking about my life in that accursed orphanage was agonizing. I had suffered so much in Baltimare(along with all the other children) without reason.

I couldn’t speak, partly from fear, partly from anticipation. It was a 95/5% balance, really. I gave my affirmation to him with a nod. A nervous, minuscule nod. One that would require an eagle with a telescope to see...in daylight.

“You’re brave to accept an offer such as mine. Not because you have anything to fear from me, but because you have no idea whether there is any fear to be had.” I didn’t quite understand what he meant at that time.

He raised one hoof high into the air, and I instinctually cowered into the crook of the trunk. There was another sharp intake of breath and another cold snicker as the stallion ran the hoof past his hood bringing it to rest on his neck. He was revealing his face. Was that supposed to be a gesture to calm me.

He was smiling. It wasn’t a welcoming smile, though. Nor was it an empty smile. It was just a smile, calm and serene as the evening breeze. Behind that smile laid a black-haired face, every bit as dark as the cloak that had been draped over it such a short time ago. His snout was pronounced, with shallow cheekbones, making him appear regal.

His mane was long, falling to one side haphazardly to partially cover his right ear. It was midnight blue, with alternating streaks of black and indigo fading through. Its length was excessive, to the point where it was almost effeminate. It laid loose and bedraggled, either showing a lack of regard, or an inability to care for it.

His nostrils flared ever so slightly as he breathed. And his breaths were even and deep. Very deep. It was as if he was meditating, regarding every possible outcome of the current situation. His ear flicked once, but I did not see any muscles in his cheeks move.

His eyes were most peculiar. They irradiated a soft light, deep amber piercing through my skin and looking into my very soul. It felt as if he was able to divulge my every secret upon a single glance, looking straight into my memories. It was an intimidating visage.

“Then come, my dear. Come to me and I swear my family will give you what you most desire. What you most need.” His chilling smile created a placable setting. Only moments ago it had made such a dark one. Funny what a smile can do.

I sat in my spot, unable to move, unable to get up. My body was done. I had experienced enough adrenaline. The shade stood still, smile never passing from his features. “You’re tired, aren’t you?”

“...”

“It’s quite alright. I should’ve known you would be. We’ll just take the quick route home.” He took a step towards me, slowly leaning forward.

I flinched away. To me, this was a matter of trust. And trust was something I didn’t give out. Ever.

“You’ll have to trust somepony, eventually. Why not trust the right one?” His voice was silky, and quiet as the rolling winds of the moorlands. I don’t know where I found my energy. Perhaps it was his smile, a lack of purpose, maybe even nothing at all. I leaned inwards, and he responded by wrapping a leg around me and pulling me closer.

He draped his cloak across me, propping it as a blanket. I absorbed the warmth of the fabric, letting its protective wrap shield me from the unforgiving chill of the evening winds. His horn was emitting a black aura that slowly enveloped us both.

I could feel the tendrils of his magic reaching out and grasping me. I didn’t know much about magic, but I even I could see, this mysterious stallion was powerful. After covering us both the aura ceased expanding and just stopped.

There was loud crack and blinding flash as my entire world turned white.

For a moment there nothing. Nothing but my thoughts and memories. So basically...nothing. Then an overwhelming feeling of nausea washed over me, coupled by a crippling dizziness. I was seeing only red as I toppled over, hitting something solid and hard in the process.

The last thing I saw was the black of the shade’s coat.

Author's Notes:

Well first off, I'd like to thank unoriginal character ideas. They have been such an inspiration for the way I have written my characters *sheds tear*.

A Glimpse

I opened my eyes to the sight of soft light. It was the type of artificial light that fills the passages of small houses and illuminates dingy streets. The light came from a singular bulb that dangled from the center of the area, slowly swinging back and forth. It was dim, only highlighting the center of the room while leaving the corners dark and recondite.

I was laying against something soft and feathery. It was comfortable beyond any level of experience I had. I looked over my shoulder to see what exactly I had been laid upon. It was a bed.

Huh. Is this what they were supposed to feel like? The one I had used at the orphanage had been rough and uncomfortable due to decades of use and thick springs.

As the rest of my body caught up with my mind I was able to take in more and more of the room. It was barren of anything. The bed that I rested upon seemed to be the one of the only types of furnishings present. There also was a small one-pony desk in the corner that looked as if it had seen some neglect. Lastly, there was a small dresser.

There were four walls, and door. The room was large enough. The walls of the dorm were stone, as was the floor, as was the ceiling. Lining the ceiling were wooden support rafters. I think I was underground. I lifted my hooves off the bed and placed them against the stone. I was not prepared for the sharp pain that ran up my leg and I toppled over.

It was only then, when I felt most helpless, that memory of the previous night came rushing back. I remembered the murder at the orphanage, fleeing through the woodlands, meeting a shade of the night, and striking an agreement with him. So I had, quite literally, sold myself to the devil. Wonderful.

The stone I was sprawled upon was, unsurprisingly, frigid. It chilled me to the bone. I looked upon the leg that had caused the problem. In Baltimare wounds I sustained had always been superficial enough so that I didn’t have to pay them too much attention.

This time, though...my leg was numb, very numb. I had practically no feeling in it aside from the occasional tingle. Attempting to move it resulted in a small shock. It was a very uncomfortable discharge of electricity that passed through the limb.

I didn’t want to lay on the hard stone surface so I did the only thing I could. I yelped. “Hello? Is anypony there? Please, I need help!” It seemed a bit idiotic to scream out into a kidnapper’s lair, but stone is not the most comfortable rock.

Besides, I had already traded my soul in a fit of fear and adrenaline, so what possible harm could befall me that I was not already destined to face?

I heard the shuffling of...something against stone. Whatever the sound was, it was not the clopping of hooves against stone. It was something else entirely. I was not able to piece anything else together before she burst through a door.

She had the head of an eagle, but distinct parts of her body were very lion-like. For one, she had a bushy tail. She talons for fore-legs. They were sharp, tuned to a point so fine they gleamed, even in the soft light. Yet, they did not scrape across the ground as one would expect. Instead, they gently glided over the stone walkway, hardly even leaving a trace.

Her lion paws rapped against the ground, soft pads conforming to the stone. The strange, tissued tail swished through the air, making gentle circles as it moved. Her wings were folded to her sides, tucked neatly into the tufts of her feathers.

The most striking feature of this new addition were her emerald eyes. They were so large, beautiful, and so very kind. They were tender and had motherly element to them. I almost felt as if she was wrapping me into a warm embrace with just a stare.

The pure majesty and general beauty she displayed left me without doubt. She was a griffon. I had seen their kind before. Every so often one or two would pass through Baltimare looking to make a quick buck. They were generally excellent thugs due to their strength and speed.

Several crime lords would kill to have a chance to employ a griffon. Several more did. Apparently the devil I had met was one such pony. Something about prideful, mean, violent, territorial, predators just seems to appeal to those characters.

“What’s happened, my dear!?” The concern in her eyes was a foreign concept to me. I had been exposed to too harsh a life to actually believe in kindness. At that time it just appeared as a hollow stare. But, I did not have many options at that point.

“It’s my leg...” My voice was strained and my throat was sore. When had that happened?

“Oh, poor thing. Come let’s get you back into bed, shall we?” She rushed over to me, easily lifting up my frail form with her powerful claw. Even though it had been sharpened, she still managed to refrain from digging the points into my skin.

She had me onto the bed within a second.. She swept the duvet and sheet over my body in another. “Which leg hurts, dearie?” Was that concern in her voice, or just my imagination?

“...”

“Come now, I can’t help if I don’t know which leg it is.”

“Left hind-hoof.” My voice was automatic, my words stale. It was the voice I used whenever I spoke to an adult.

She reached a talon over before I even had the chance to shrink away. She gently grasped my right leg, lifting it up to examine it.

“My left...”

“Ah, yes. My mistake.” She laid my leg down gently and reached for the other. As soon as her talon touched the fur I winced away in pain.

Her nostrils flared upon seeing me shy away. “Is you’re leg numb, little one?” I was beginning to close up again, but the look of pure sympathy etched onto her visage broke me.

“...Yes...”

Her face contorted into an expression of anger, causing me to experience no small amount of terror. I cowered away from her powerful stare, fearing the wrath of the griffin. But, my dread was misplaced.

“That dim-witted, slack-jawed, brute! He knew how exhausted you were, and yet he still...he still teleported. I am going to kill that idiot!” The griffin had her talon raised skywards, sharp claw clenched into a tight fist.

“What?” I asked, still shrunken into the safety of the blankets.

“Oh, it’s nothing dearie.” A wide smile formed on her beak and her eyes regained that motherly aspect as she looked over me again. “Just some fool who has made his last mistake. I’m Aeria, by the way.”

I stared at her. I had already made myself vulnerable enough. Why should I also give her my name?

“This is the part where you tell me your name, darling.” Her smile never shrunk and her eyes never lost that shimmer. It was an incredible that she was able to act a facade out so well. Most ponies who pretended to care quit after a few minutes.

She stared at me for a moment before loosing a long sigh. “I understand. I was like you once. Solitary, cautious, callous, frightened...alone...but you don’t have to be anymore. You have us.” Her smile grew a few sizes, threatening to engulf her face in an implosion of self-induced, nostalgia-filled happiness. She placed a reassuring talon over my shoulder, gently caressing the fur. It had a relaxing affect on me.

I still wasn’t quite ready to give in, though. “But who are you?”

“We’re...well we’re...uh-” Her voice faltered for the first time.

“We are Blackscale.” A familiar voice pierced the air. It added a certain tranquility to the scene, almost creating a placid environment. It maintained a steady rhythm.

Aeria flipped around and I left my eyes drift towards the source at a much more gradual pace. It was the shade. Aeria looked positively furious with him. “You! You have a lot to answer for!” Was she this mad over my deadened leg? Why should she even care? Silence hung in the air. “Well, Star!?”

So I had a name for my shade. Star. It was oddly fitting, considering how his glowing amber eyes stood out against his onyx coat. “It was irresponsible of me to teleport an exhausted filly over such a long range. I do realize that. You don’t need to remind me...again. But she’s fine, Aeria.” So there was minor bickering in Tartarus. I didn’t know that.

“Don’t you try to tell me she’s fine, Star! Her leg has been hurt by your careless actions! That won’t be back to normal for days. How could you have been so selfish!?” There was no smile. Just a disappointed frown and scolding eyes.

Star shrugged off the rebuke with a simple reply. “She’ll be fine. It’s just a side effect that displacement energy has on young ones. There is no reason to be so...high-strung.” He gave a smile that just screamed the essence of smugness.

It looked as if Aeria was about to explode. “...High-strung...?” Her voice was shaking and I thought I spotted her eye twitch. Her talon was clenched into a tight fist, bright yellow coloring starting to drain to a pale white. I had seen that look many times on the streets. Somepony was about to receive some serious punishment.

My shade was not oblivious to this fact, so he dropped the smug look and serene grace he had masqueraded before. He cleared his throat and spoke. “He is actually waiting to see my apprentice here. So I shall take my leave, if you don’t mind.” He turned around lighting fast, horn aglow with magic vapor.

I felt myself being lifted by some unknown force. I tried to spin out of its grip but found myself held too tightly. What had me. My gaze fell to the ground. I was simply floating. Some sort of gaseous black cloud held me in place, keeping me levitated.

I didn’t have any knowledge of magic at this point in life, so I had no real way of knowing that it was just simple levitation. The magical tether holding me had me out the door and floating right next to Star. I was in a state of pure awe at a basic spell that is widely considered to be on a foal’s level.

The hallway we were in was extremely long, with a door at the end. Star kept me in his telekinetic grip. A voice rang out from what had been my room. “We aren’t done here, Star! It’s a very, very small sanctuary that I am very, very familiar with!”

For the first time since I had seen him, Star looked distressed. “By the maker, she’s going to skin me. Somehow I always knew it would end this way...” His gaze dropped as he bit his lower lip. It made it rather hard to tell if he was joking or not.

He appeared much less intimidating without his cloak and dark aura. To the point where I almost felt, ‘mildly uncomfortable,’ as opposed to, ‘I may loose my bowels at any moment due to sheer fright.’ I even managed to dig up the courage ask a question. “In there you said I was your apprentice. What did you mean by that?” I was still frightened of him, but only to an extent. Even though I was completely at his mercy.

He looked at me as if I was strapped in a straightjacket. “I realize you’re uneducated, but I assumed you had some semblance of a brain. You asked me for a purpose, remember? So what do you think I meant?” His tone was serene once again, not at all dry or sarcastic. He could have been delivering a serenade to the Princess at the Gala with that same voice. Instead he was insulting me.

“...” I didn’t want to anger him. “Then what do you do...exactly...?”

“Were you not blessed with a pair of functioning ears? I said we were a part of the Blackscale.” He stated that as if it should explain everything. As if uttering that name would remove any doubts.

“...What...? I’m confused.”

“No, you’re not really. You’re just well mixed. Come along, Trixie. Come along.”

It was obvious I wasn’t going to get any more information out of my shade, so I just kept silent and hoped that my future didn’t prove too bleak. He drug me along the corridor at a slow, gradual pace, allowing me to see a great many things as we passed through. The corridor was also made of stone, and it was quite well decorated.

The entryway that had led to my resting place was not the only one present. Doors aligned the entire corridor, about twelve feet apart each. There were approximately four on each side, including mine.

Tapestries hung on the spaces between these openings, decorating the hallway. Each one depicted a different scene, but all had one thing in common: culpability. Some of the draping depicted a pony sneaking by several others and taking an item, some exhibited a pony impersonating another, another depicted a pony whispering poison into a companions ear, one even displayed a pony torturing a companion, and others even showed somepony slaying kinsmen.

The ponies performing such acts were all wearing the exact same garbs. An unlit black, hoodless cloak accented by a stygian violet. There was a symbol on top of each of the tapestries, but I did not recognize it.

It was a grayish feather crossing overtop an oleander shrub. The feather dripped a singular droplet of black ink that became red as it flowed. I didn’t recognize it as belonging to any organization. It was puzzling, profusely so. What could it possibly mean or represent?

“You’ll find out soon enough.” Star continued to look straight ahead.

His voice snapped me out of stupor, startling me a bit in the process. I looked over to him. “I’ll find out what soon enough?”

“Why this place is decorated in such a grotesque and peculiar way. That is what you were wondering, correct?” His smile was unnerving. It didn’t change, nor did the look in his eyes.

“I kind of expected Tartarus to look like this, worse actually. What I’m really curious about is that symbol.” We were nearly to the end of the corridor now. I could still hear a few banging sounds coming from where I had slept. That griffon sounded quite unhappy.

“You think this is Tartarus? Sorry to disappoint you, but this we’re somewhere much, much better.” His smile became dreamy, nostalgic even. He appeared to be reminiscing.

“If not Tartarus, then where? Where could we possibly be that is made purely of stone and decorated so...horridly? What are you? Who are you?” My fear of Star was starting to return, partially due to how cryptic his words were, and partially due to how much he appeared to love this place.

Star stopped walking. He turned his gaze on me, his deep amber eyes penetrating through my own. “What we are has already been told. Where we are is to be told.” We were at the large door at the end of the corridor.

His black telekinesis reached out to the handles, gripping them tightly. The doors did not creak, neither did the hinges wail. They were well oiled, abiding to their master’s wishes and opening without complaint or resistance.

We were in a circular lobby. There were doors similar to the pair we had just exited everywhere. They lined the edges of the hallway, creating a small perimeter around the room. Star didn’t even pause. He walked towards another pair of doors, obviously quite sure of where he had to be.

We were not alone in the lobby. Several others stood throughout the room, chatting amongst themselves. It wasn’t just ponies that inhabited the room. On all sides of me there were young griffins, hyenas, ponies, zebras, wolves, foxes, some and even drakes. Drakes. They stood, chatting with one another, either oblivious to their physical differences or not caring about them.

One zebra made eye-contact with me and quickly started whispering to his neighbor. That neighbor, in turn, told another. That neighbor informed another, and soon all eyes were upon me. I could hear several whispers regarding “new recruit,” and “doesn’t look tough,” and “blue.” Mainly the latter.

I tried to shrink away from their viewing eyes, but I was held tight in place by the black aura Star manipulated so masterfully. Everyone in the room made way for Star and I, an unknown gleam in their eyes as they looked upon him. They didn’t look at him with fear or hatred...just...respect.

Some of them even smiled at me. Not the wicked smiles you would see on the countenance of a tormentor either, but genuine smiles, meant to comfort and share elation. Rather than helping to calm my nerves that made me anxious. I was still quite sure that whatever fate awaited me, it would not prove to be satisfactory.

Star still carried his serene grace, even with all eyes on him. It was quite admirable. He had a minuscule smile crafted that exuded confidence and warmth, but did not appear immature or silly. I could not help but wonder why all these beings seemed to have so much respect for Star. He was not much older than they, nor was he much larger. I envied that innate quality of his.

Perhaps he was of a higher standing than they, then? That would make sense. It would explain why everyone in the room looked proud just to be near him, and why he carried himself the way he did.

So now I knew (maybe) that I was with a high ranking member of an organization. It was still an organization I knew nothing about, not the location, not the purpose, not the structure, not even the name. I could only make idle conjecture as to what a mysterious organization could want with an undeniably useless orphan such as myself.

Hopefully this wouldn’t end in my life being sucked away in a blind fury by vile beasts who’s very image would drive me past the brink of insanity...there was nothing quite as treacherous and perfidious as my imagination. A young mare stopped Star before we reached the double doors.

“Hey Star, is this her? Is this the one you found in Baltimare?” The mare had a vanilla coat accented by a wisteria mane. Her eyes were orange, like citrus, wide, and curious. They looked me up and down, trying to place a value on me.

My shade simply rolled his eyes. “You know very well that it is, Pulse.” So I was an it. Wonderful.

“She doesn’t look very strong.” I saw a great amount of doubt lining her features. A great amount of doubt. “But I guess looks can be kinda deceiving.”

“They can be, but they are not in this case.” The vanilla mare looked confused by Star’s words. I felt confused by Star’s words. “She is not strong, but tough. And smart enough to survive.”

Star continued walking past, ignoring any other words the mare wished to share with him. Another griffon spoke louder than the rest but was ultimately ignored. He ignored everyone who tried to speak with him, opting to surround us both with a soundproof bubble.

His shifty black aura reached out, firmly grasping the handles of the doors. Rather than turn the handles, however, Star held them. He stood stock-still, face becoming expressionless. He took one deep inhalation in preparation for...something.

“Be ready Lulamoon. I know I’m not.” He mumbled the last few words quietly. The handles turned without a sound.

It's funny to think what lies behind a door. It's a wonder a simple gateway could let you in, and block you out of, anything. They lead to such interesting places and now I can't help but wonder, what's behind my door?

Author's Notes:

I love cliches. I absolutely adore them. Well actually, that's a lie. No one likes cliches. No one. Not even Mother Teresa.

First Impressions

It was a large room. Large and rectangular. Centered and in the middle was a square desk, crushed under the weight of hundreds of papers. An abnormally lean wolf rested leisurely on it, hind-legs propped against the desk, and fore-legs crossed behind its head. It didn’t look like a comfortable position at all.

As we neared him there was a sharp inhalation followed by a deep exhalation. The wolf opened its eyes to look at us. “What’s up, Star? As you can see, I’m quite busy.” He had not appeared to be busy.

Star didn’t roll his eyes or snicker, as one would expect. He just ignored the false statement. “I believe you know why I’m here.” There was a brief pause. “Or at least you should.”

The wolf groaned and swiveled in his chair so that his paws were firmly on the ground. “Fine. Let’s get this over with then.” His position still did not appear entirely comfortable.

He descended from the chair in one fluid motion that implied a very dexterous physique. He stretched in front of us, letting his bones crack and snap as they popped into place. His coat was blood orange, not particularly bright, not particularly dark. His legs bore blackened fur from the paw to the knee. There was a tuft of fur on the nape of his neck that was also black.

His slender body and elongated legs made him appear tall, graceful, and intimidating. The tip of his tail was a grizzled white. The ears ended in rounded tips standing away from his head. His snout was narrow, fading from persimmon to black upon reaching the nose. Out of his mouth several incisors and canines were visible. They were keen, no doubt capable of inflicting wicked injury upon a mark. His eyes were a shade of deep brown.

While he wasn’t an astonishing sight he did arouse curiosity. I didn’t recall having heard of a creature fitting his description. He was a wolf, that much was clear, but he was extremely slender and well-groomed. Wolves I had heard of (and seen) had been described as having matted fur, and thick bodies. I was incapable of leaving a question unanswered. “What are you?”

He snickered at the question. “You don’t know? Not surprising considering how rare my kind are nowadays. I am a rare breed of lupus, known by most as the Tall-Maned Wolf. I am a rare subspecies of the rare Maned Wolf.” He allowed the information to sink in before continuing. “Now it’s my turn to ask you a question.” He paused again, allowing silence to settle.

No noise was permitted to permeate the air for an exorbitant amount of time. Finally, Star snapped. “Well? Aren’t you going to ask her a question?” He sounded annoyed. Me- I was just nervous.

The wolf just frowned at Star. “Yes, but I’m building some suspense before-hand. That way the question sounds important.”

“The question is already important! It decides her fate for Celestia’s sake! Is it really necessary to add more suspense to something so monumental as that?” I had to concur with the shade; it seemed rather operatic and wholly unnecessary.

“Yes, yes it is. Just because you don’t have any sense of drama doesn’t mean the rest of us have to fumble around aimlessly.” The wolf had his head turned upwards, eyes cast away from Star. Pride was a rarity in my life. I hadn’t seen many show it, and I certainly hadn’t been privileged enough to experience it.

“There is a difference between drama and stupidity.” Star looked quite peeved.

“Is there a really a difference, though? Is there a difference between anything in the world? Is everything the same in the end? Isn’t everything just one big blob?” The wolf’s head was now tilted to the left and his eyes looked skyward as if he was lost in the recesses of his mind.

Star just stared stupidly at him. His expression just emitted the question, are you serious? “Will you do me a favor?” I doubted that the favor was of a pleasant nature.

“Since favors are just one big blob, yes I will.” The wolf turned his head back towards my shade and smiled an enormous, toothy grin.

“Do not ever, ever, speak again. Please. You are, essentially, a thief. You have taken all of the stupidity out of the air and confined it to several incredibly idiotic statements. And I, fearing contamination, am tempted to warn others to wear hazmat suits around you.” Star actually had a pleading look about him. “I implore you to consider my words carefully.” He stated the final line with a hidden undertone of aggression. Or perhaps it was an overtone. I never could tell the difference between the two.

The wolf just nodded along with his brow arched. “Have you ever noticed-”

“Celestia save us...” Sighed Star.

“-how life is sort of like salt water taffy?” He finished. His contemplative stare remained.

“...” It would not do justice to Star to say he was frowning. The way his face contorted was so foreign and strange that I doubt any adjective could describe the annoyance he so obviously felt.

“Do you know why life is like salt water taffy?” The wolf turned his gaze back on Star.

Star, for his part stared back, intently. “No. How...? How, in the name of Tartarus, is life like salt water taffy?”

“You’re no help at all, are you? Do you respond to every question with another? I honestly cannot fathom a more annoying habit. If you don’t know the answer just say so. I’ll ask someone else.” The wolf took on an expression of mock annoyance.

Star just looked more dumbfounded. This creature had quite an aptitude for annoying him. “Are you saying that you don’t know the answer?”

“Yes. And I must say that it is unbelievably ridiculous that I have tell you that. Why else would I have asked the question to begin with?”

“...” Hopefully Star’s silence would not prove to be negative. Maybe he was in a happy place thinking happy thoughts.

I was a bit a nervous. Star looked as if he wanted to hurl something at the wolf. And seeing as how I was already in his grip, I was a bit hopeful the situation would resolve itself. “Excuse me.”

For the first time the wolf acknowledged my presence. He turned his focus towards me, dark brown eyes digging into me. Star emulated the action. The wolf was the first to speak, however. “What?”

I coughed and licked my lips. What could I say? I didn’t have a bluff for this situation, nor did I have any leverage. There was really only one thing I could do to change the subject at that point. “Weren’t you going to ask me some questions?”

A wide grin broke out across the wolf’s muzzle. “Why yes I was.” His ear flicked once. He looked at my shade. “You didn’t mention that she was brave as well as smart.” He once again turned his attention to me. After a brief pause he added, “Nor did you say she was blue. I like blue. Blue is cool.”

The wolf sat on his haunches, inhaling in preparation to speak. “Star, you can just drop her here and leave. I’ll handle this one alone.”

Star raised one eyebrow, looking perplexed. From the impressions I have gotten of him he did not seem the type to become confused. This must be...abnormal. Extremely so. “Are you sure about that? It’s been quite a while since you did one of these interviews alone. I’m not even sure you know the questions anymore.” I saw a smirk on his face.

“Just go, I think Brightwing was searching for you anyways.”

Star nodded and quickly looked to me. “I hope we get to talk again Trixie. You’ll make an excellent addition.” Too bad he didn’t he didn’t say to what. He turned and walked away while slowly lowering me to the floor.

The wolf was silent as Star made his exit. His eyes followed him as he graced over the floor. As soon as the doors shut behind him, however, he began to speak. “I’m going to ask you a series of questions.” He remained silent, as if waiting for me to respond.

“And...?”

The wolf’s brow formed into an arch. “And, what? They’re questions. I ask them and you answer them. Surely they have questions in the slums of Baltimare?”

“It’s just...you were silent for quite a while.”

“I was adding drama and suspense.”

“To what, exactly?”

“To my question.”

“Which is?”

“What I’m going to ask you.”

“...” Interesting how he had the questions, yet I was the confused one.

“What’s your name?” Odd question considering he already knew that.

“You already know my name.” What exactly was he playing at?

He sighed. “No. That’s just a mess of words on your birth certificate. Which you technically don’t have...anyways, it doesn’t mean anything. I’m posing a different question. Who are you? What’s your name?”

Who was I? I didn’t quite know how to respond besides the obvious answer. “I’m Trixie.”

His eyes were sad. Incredibly sad. “But who is Trixie?”

“...”

He lifted a paw and examined it absentmindedly. He wasn’t fooling me, though. I could see the dejected look in his eye, the sympathy. Or perhaps empathy. “Trixie is just some foal on the streets of Baltimare. She is a foal without a home, without friends, without family, without drive, without...purpose. She lives to survive.” His paw slammed to the ground and his eyes darted towards me again. “Is that who you are?”

My lips were dry and cracked. I bit the inside of them until I tasted blood. The warm metallic flow failed to comfort me. When I finally did find the courage to speak out, my voice was meek and feeble. “Yes...”

“And you’re satisfied with that?”

“...”

“It doesn’t have be like that, you know.”

...How dare he...

I looked at him hard. “And I guess you’re going to offer me a way out, huh? You’re going to rescue me from my life of despair and misery. You intend to be my savior. Because that’s just how it works, right? Yeah, sure.” Something in me just snapped. This creature had no place here. He knew nothing of me! How dare he try to trick me, how dare he try to insult me, how dare he to try and give me hope.

I wasn’t done. “You don’t get it, do you? What gives you the right to claim you’re different? How are you supposed to be unique? I’m suffered my life long enough to know that it’s inescapable. I’ve watched others get killed in my world. Yet you’re just going to stroll into the thick of it and give me a reason, a new perspective? You’re gonna be some sort of savior? Just who do you think you are, exactly?”

He looked upon me cooly, not moving an inch. He appeared to be absorbing my words. He wasn’t smiling anymore. My breath was heavy as I finished, coming out in long gasps as my lungs filled with air. He leaned over to me, letting his snout draw close to my ear. “You ask who I am?” His voice was hoarse and rough.

His voice was scratchy and dejected. It was...pained. He continued. “Me? I am a name. A real name.” His breath was ragged and irregular. “I am what a name could mean. I’m what you could mean.”

“But...what are you?” What could he possibly mean?

He leaned back. He was smiling again. Though it was smaller and much more content than the broad grin he had boasted earlier. “Something interesting.” He had a dreamy look about him that did not agree with his sad tone. He inhaled deeply and sighed a long, worn-out sigh. “So, tell me, what do you want the name Trixie to mean?”

“...” It wasn’t a question I had ever been asked before. No being had ever truly cared enough to ask me such a question. No one gave the time of day to a street urchin like me. I mean, why would they?

“Are you content with it being synonymous with the word whelp? Are you satisfied with that?” His hazel eyes were hard to look away from. Something about them just drew me inwards.

“...” I couldn’t speak. All that came from me was a throaty squeak.

He leaned over, pressing his face close to mine. “I didn’t catch that.” He knew very well I had not spoken. “What?”

“...no...” The word stuck to the back of my throat, remaining obstinate in its attempts to remain unspoken.

“Then what should it mean? Tell me what you want it to mean. What you want. Tell me what you want from me.”

I managed a nod. A slight, almost unobserved, nod. “Could- could you provide me a purpose?”

“No, I cannot. But I can tag along while you find out. Maybe even help a little” He broke out into that wide, toothy grin again. “So how about it?”

I was about to agree, but then a thought occurred to me. “You still haven’t told me what your offer is.”

He frowned and arched his eyebrows. “Really? Well that won’t do, now will it?” He jumped in place, practically falling over. “Oh! I had almost forgotten!”

“What?” There was more?

“I have yet to ask you the question. Star would destroy me if he found out. Ahem.”

There was a long, rather uncomfortable silence. “Are you building up suspense?”

“No, actually. I was trying to remember the question.”

“...”

“Ah! Now I have it.”

The wolf leaned over, knees practically scraping the ground as he drew closer to me once again. He was not smiling. His nostrils flared as his warm breath pushed the hair on the nape of my neck. His deep hazel eyes looked into my own, scanning my mind. They were not the eyes of a fool. They were intelligent and experienced eyes, eyes that had seen much.

His voice was hardly a wisp, reaching only my ears. “Do you regret it?”

“What?”

“Do you regret it?” He repeated the question in a slightly louder tone.

“I don’t understa-”

“Her. Do you regret her?” His tone was void of any emotion. Strange how he could change his attitude on the spot.

“Who?”

“The filly. The filly you killed at the orphanage. Do you regret her?” No emotion was present on his features. None at all.

“...” I didn’t really know how to answer that. Did I regret it?

“Think carefully about this.” The serious air about him was...frightening. His eyes warned me against lying.

I had not given much thought to the subject. I had been too busy ensuring my own life would continue to fret over another lost one. It seemed I was being forced to make time to reflect upon it now, though. So...

I had ended another pony’s life. All they could’ve been, all they would’ve been, stolen in one fleeting moment. An act so incorrigible and horrendous that normal, well-off ponies could not fathom it. But did I regret it?

“No.”

He continued to stare at me, eyes boring into me. It felt as if he was searching out a lie, trying to corner me. Had that not been the right answer? Did he think me to be a monster? Was he just thinking up a way to dispose of a psychopath now?

Finally he opened his maw, revealing those sharp, angular teeth. “You’ll fit right in with our lot, then.”

He stood up quickly, appreciating his surroundings and rolling his shoulders again. “Do you remember the way back to your room?” I nodded.

There was a tense moment of silence as I just laid on the stone floor below the wolf. He looked at me with a slight hint of confusion. “Is there something you wanted to ask me?”

I shook my head to indicate I did not.

“Then you’re free to go back to your room.” He stared at me as I laid motionless. “That means leave.”

“...I can’t. My legs have been...” What was the right word?

“Ah. That does make this problematic.” He bit his lower lip. Then he opened his maw to speak, before closing it again. With his eyes downcast he mumbled. “I suppose I could carry you.” He glanced up at me. “Are you sure they won’t move?”

“They’re my legs.”

“Of course, of course...you would know. But just to be safe, did you try moving them?” He looked at me inquiringly.

He did have a capacity to annoy. That was one sure thing. I saw that now. “...”

“Have you tried scaring them? Just to see if they were faking?”

“...” I just stared blankly at him.

“Sorry.” He walked over to me, taking light steps that did not make any sound upon contact with the ground. His movements were graceful to match his lithe body.

He grabbed me with his jaw, sharp fangs threatening to pierce the scruff of my neck. I could not help but let out a yelp at the feeling. He dropped me immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“Your fangs be sharp.” Not the most intelligent statement I’ve ever uttered.

“Yes, I’ve noticed that. Sorry. I’ll try not to bite down so hard next time.” He paused for a moment. “You tasted good. What kind of of conditioner do you use?”

“That joke was just in bad taste.” And so overused.

“Well no, actually, it wasn’t. The exact opposite is true.” He looked at me, perplexed.

“Funny.” Strange how this wolf’s demeanor and personality could change in a single instant.

He wrinkled his nose at me. “You have a rather sick sense of humor, then.”

He bit down on the scruff of my neck again, lifting me into the air. He gently placed me on his back and began to walk. It was then that I realized something. I looked to the wolf I was riding. Hah. I was riding a wolf. How fun. “It has come to my attention that you have failed to tell me who you are. Or who we are I guess.”

He laughed. “I’ll tell you once we reach your room. Which may take a while considering I have no idea where it is.” He smiled that large toothy grin has he walked to the doors.

“Oh, and I have one last question, Trixie.” His voice trailed on.

“Yes?” What could be left to be asked?

“How do you feel about salt water taffy?” Oh.

Author's Notes:

Hooray, I have a migraine!

Stories

I was laying in a bed looking up at the wolf. He had carried me over to the bed and placed me gently on the sheets. Granted, he had placed me upside down on the mattress. “So who are you? What do you all represent? Just what do you do?”

He looked as if he was deep in thought. “If you’d like to know the name of my organization then you’re in luck. That, I can tell you. We’re the Blackscale. We hail from Aurora.”

The what from where? “I haven’t heard of you. Or Aurora.”

He smirked. “Good. We’ve done quite a lot to make sure of that.”

“I take it that you have a good reason for the introversion?”

He chuckled. “I do believe we do. Though we aren’t so much introverting as we are secretive.” He licked his lips. “It also isn’t surprising you are oblivious to Aurora. Few are aware of its existence.”

“Could you possibly enlighten me?” I smiled. I smiled for the first time since I got here. Something about him was likable. It could have been his amicable personality but it felt like something a bit deeper than that. There was just a certain charisma about this wolf.

“Nothing would please me more, my dear! One moment.” He turned to the door and bellowed, “Aeria?”

“Yes?” The response came muffled through the door.

“Could you bring me the map?”

“Which one?”

“The world map?”

“Do you mean the map of the known world or the world world?”

“The known world will do just fine. Just please bring it to me.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m searching for Star.”

“Are you playing hide and seek?”

“...”

“Can I join in?” There was silence after Sicarius spoke.

“Just tell the filly the story without the map. She’s bound to know basic geography.”

“Why? The map is really helpful and adds some good drama.”

“Just tell the story.”

“Fine.” He huffed. “It’s on you if its not dramatic enough, though!”

“Duly noted.” Her voice was dry.

He mumbled to himself, “If she didn’t want to play hide and seek she should have just said so.” He turned to me, instantly losing his annoyed expression. “So, what do you know of Vaporia, Trixie?” Just by his expression I could tell that he expected a coherent answer. One that I didn’t pull out of a hat.

“Vaporia?” It sounded familiar but I was not quite sure where I had heard the word. I searched the recesses of my mind for some type of knowledge, but came up with naught. “The name sounds familiar, but I can’t quite place it.”

His eyebrows formed a large arch and he wore a deep frown. “Really? Your orphanage didn’t stock a lot of books, did it? Anyways, Vaporia is a myth.”

“A myth?” What would something that didn’t even exist have to do with anything?

“Yes, a myth. According to the myth, there is a massive smog that moves over Antlertic Ocean. It travels over the ocean like a large gaseous cloud, billowing out a fog thicker than any other. And in its wake disaster is said to strike. Hurricanes, whirlpools, quakes, magnetic pulses, tropical storms, arctic storms, smokescreens, classic songs performed poorly, and a number of other tragedies are left in its wake. That’s according to sailors who have claimed to sail through it safely.”

A myth? That certainly did not apply to me. At least, it did not seem likely that it did. “How does this fantasy relate to this Aurora place?” What exactly was he playing at?

He grinned again. “Well, This ‘fantasy’ is quite real. I can assure you of that.” Even his eyes were smirking.

“Something like that can’t possibly be real, though...can it?” Of course, the most insane tale I had heard was the story of the fringe. And it was most certainly real. The fringe was on the western most corner of the map, sitting on the rift. Over it floated it the chain islands of Heliopolis, Continua, Elsweyr, Integrity, and Eden.

The tall-maned wolf looked me straight in the eye. His eyes weren’t particularly revealing, but that did not make them any less intimidating. “I could tell you that there is more to this firmament than any philosophy could fathom, but the Trixie that could be is well aware of that.”

I smiled again. “I’d love to meet her someday. She sounds like a character.” I received another toothy grin in return.

“She is closer than you think.” There was a spark in his eyes that almost made me believe him. “As I said, Vaporia is real, Miss Trixie. But Vaporia is not merely a destructive force of nature only recorded in the exaggerated tales of whimsical travelers. It is also an organized system.”

It was a system? Well that narrowed down the possibilities as to what it could be- if it existed. If it was a system then it served a purpose. It was a destructive force according to the description, yet it remained hovering over the Antlertic in constant motion.

Unless its soul purpose was to destroy it sounded like it was in constantly fleeing. That sounded more like a defensive system than an offensive one. Add to the fact that the smog was probably meant to cover or hide something. “So what is it guarding?”

He looked genuinely surprised. “Nice deductive reasoning.” He smiled again. “Aurora. Vaporia defended Aurora. You see, Aurora was, and maybe still is, a city. It was a metal depot that was surrounded by a thick fog of natural disasters meant to protect it from the outside world. Our world.”

“I still don’t see how this relates to us in any way.”

He looked on at me. “No. You probably wouldn’t. But, you might.”

I wrinkled my nose at him. “Those two statements seem to contradict each other.”

He bit his lower lip and stared at something distant. He put a paw to his chin and stroked it with one of the free pads. A gentle humming noise came from his throat. “So many things do, yet we mortals hardly notice. Is that a flaw in our very nature, or is it something much deeper?” He spoke in a rather histrionic voice that exaggerated the term, experienced. He took a unnecessarily deep breath and continued. “Perhaps it is the way of-”

“Please, stop.” A voice broke the air, surprising me. It was a cool voice that spoke, one with a strange placidity about it. I recognized it almost instantly. In the doorway stood Star, leaning casually against the stone. He was smiling. It was that cool, unnerving smile. “Just stop.”

The wolf, rather than become annoyed just looked to Star with a worried expression. “Did I overdo it?”

Star smiled at him and strolled towards us. Even when he moved normally, his gait was graceful and his hoofsteps were silent. “Yes, yes you did. But that is quite alright. You’ve never really had the attention span to tell this tale.” The wolf nodded in agreement with his words.

“Why do you think that is, Star?” The wolf ignored the insult itself, apparently taking it as constructive criticism.

Star paused for a moment. He looked at the wolf with a sympathetic gaze that almost looked genuine. “My dear, dear friend. Listen to me.” For a moment I actually believed he was going to say something comforting. “I, nor anyone else in this place, have the capacity to fathom a reason as to why you behave like a toddler searching for a popsicle.” He smiled again, a genuine smile.

For a moment the wolf was silent. Then he opened his maw slowly and asked, “Where are the popsicles by the way...?”

Star sighed. “Perhaps I should finish up with our new recruit.”

“That would probably be best.” The wolf turned on the spot, letting his thick tail brush along the stone flooring. He began to walk towards the portal of the room.

Before he left I had a question to ask him. An important one, considering I would likely be in his base for some time. “Wait. Before you go can you tell me one last thing?”

He turned and looked at me expectantly.

I coughed once. “What’s your name?”

Star looked at the wolf in disbelief. “You didn’t even tell her your name?”

The wolf pursed his lips and said, “I suppose it slipped my mind. But, ‘it’ is a something I can easily fix. My name is Wolf.” He looked proud, as if saying his name was an accomplishment.

I didn’t even make an attempt to hide my disbelief. Who named their child after their own race? What could possibly possess such an uncreative mind? Wolf must have noticed my expression because he spoke again. “My parents were rainbow addicts.”

Again, what? I was familiar with drugs. I had been offered them enough times in the past to know the different kinds. I had never heard of a drug that went by the name rainbow. “There isn’t any such drug on the market?” I phrased the blanket-statement like a question, hoping to receive some type of elaboration.

Wolf looked at me in disgust. “Drugs? Who said anything about drugs? My parents just got so caught up in staring at rainbows and reading with them, that they neglected every other aspect of their life, including me. See, Star. I hate telling others my name, it always makes my parents sound insane.”

Star looked to me. “You can just call him Sicarius. All of us do here.”

“Why?”

Star smiled as Sicarius rolled his eyes. “It’s a descriptive word from the texts of Vaporia. It is a rank here in our little guild that signifies a significant achievement. One that only Sicarius here as accomplished.”

Now I was curious. “What achievement, exactly?”

Sicarius coughed. “Star will tell you after he finishes the tale of the Blackscale.” He made a cooing noise. “I made a rhyme. How cute. Bye then.” And with that he disappeared through the doorway. Star watched him leave with very little interest.

Only after he disappeared completely did the shade even bother to speak. “Aurora was run by a government that wanted to seclude itself from the unknown world.” Oh, so we were just going to jump right in. “They feared anything foreign so they created their city to be a fortress. We don’t know the exact specifications of the city’s structure, besides the defensive systems it uses in the form of Vaporia. We have no physical evidence of Aurora.”

If he had no evidence how was he able to be sure that it existed? “How do you know it exists? Without evidence it seems rather fanciful.” What was the point of relating a myth to me without evidence to support it?

His gaze bore that tranquil look that worked to calm every nerve in my form. “We have an eyewitness account.”

They couldn’t have. If this mythical place had been a flying fortress with such an advanced defense system then how could any one being have possibly have seen it? It just wasn’t possible. “How do you know you can even trust that account? If no creature has been able to enter Vaporia and pierce through Aurora then it is a safe bet to assume no creature would be able to recount a story that involved that task.”

He laughed. That irritated me for some reason. “While nothing has ever entered Aurora, there is one thing that has exited.”

Still curious I asked, “And what was that one thing?” I suppose things are weaker from the inside. I was interested in the story now. Mainly so I could disprove the ridiculous myth.

“Avalerion Blackscale. A resident of Aurora who grew sick of staying trapped in one place for a lifetime. And, as I am sure you have guessed, the founder of our little family.” He sighed.

“Still, how can you be sure that’s tru-” I stopped myself. Was I seriously about to ask a question like that?

His eyes snapped up to me. His smile faded. I had just questioned the honesty of the founder of his organization. Great, I had made him angry. Damnable mouth. He did not berate me, surprisingly. “You even question something that should be trusted. That’s good.” His smile returned. “We know her account was true due to her unique biology.”

“What do you mean? How exactly would anatomy have any effect on truth.” And now I was curious again.

“Avalerion Blackscale was not of an equine nature.” He put out bluntly.

That was hardly uncommon, considering the number of species inhabiting the world. I had even seen a number of other species here. “What was she then? A gryphon? A dragon? A drake? A dog?” Her species would not really matter in relation to a mystifying city that definitely probably didn’t exist.

“None of those. She wasn’t anything.” His glowing amber eyes showed nothing.

“I don’t understand. She obviously was something. So what was she?” This was becoming confusing.

“Her species wasn’t documented. There were no appearances of an organism anything like her.”

“But what was she? And why wasn’t she a known species?” I may have sounded a bit demanding. Any fear I previously had of Star was replaced by curiosity. I was young, after all.

“She was a species that happened to be unique to Aurora. A species that is likely still hidden away there today. They are known as Zhenniao.” I expected him to burst out laughing at any moment, telling me this was a joke.

“Zhen- what?” I had never heard of anything like that before. Though I suppose that had been the point.

“Zhenniao. A species completely unique to Vaporia. A species so rare that we don’t even have mythology regarding them. It’s fascinating.” He had the look of an intrigued scholar, head tilted left, eyes distant and searching, eyebrows furrowed into a crease.

“What were they?” I asked suspiciously. I wasn’t ready to believe anything based on words alone. Words lied. Often.

“Rather than tell you I’ll show you.” An ominous darkness formed around his horn and his amber eyes glowed faintly as he cast a spell. Instantly a scroll emerged from the empty air. “This is a drawn anatomy. An artifact that Avalerion Blackscale brought from her home.” He levitated the scroll in front of me, unfurling it as it moved.

What I saw was bizarre, to say the least. A demure bird-type creature laid in front of my eyes. It was larger than an eagle, but still rather small. It was not a chimera like the griffin or harpy. It was purely a bird. Its beak appeared coppery, with grooved indentations giving the impression of holes in metal.

The head was feathered with black tufts of plume that slicked down the length of the skull like leathery skin. Following the chest and the wingspan, the black transformed into a softer grey tone. Things this darkly colored were not normally seen in Equestria. The quills were marked as being soft and moldable along the entire body for the purpose of sound muffling, camouflage, moisture control, feeling, hearing, even diving.

The talons were curved sharply inwards, almost coming to stand at a crescent. According to a small line of text on the page it was to aid agility on the ground. The talons were, strangely, darkly colored. They were a faint black that matched the head. Three rings aligned the stalk of the left talon, and two aligned the right.

The eyes were complex, according to a rather large block of text. It exploded one area of the eye to show three marks lined up with the iris. Supposedly each mark served a different machine-like function. The one nearest to the iris allowed for sensitive vision that quickly relayed signals from the nerves to the brain in order to improve reaction time. The middle mark was meant to allow for better vision in darkened areas.

The final marking had the most peculiar affect on the eye. If the chart was truthful then it changed the color of the iris itself. Something that couldn’t possibly be right. That was a natural process based on the amount of pigment in the eye. It couldn’t just change colors. Even an uneducated orphan such as myself would be aware of that.

None of that even compared to the entry contained on the middle of the page. A bubble was blown up on the inner edges of the wings to show the feathers there. They were thick and coarse when compared to the rest. That was not the strangest part of the quills, however. They had two ends. But even that was not the most outrageous claim made by the scroll. The feathers apparently acted as a container and carrier for a deadly neurotoxin.

It was definitely not a species native to Equestria, or any other nation for that matter. “That’s not possible.”

“Yet here is the proof.”

I was still finding it difficult to believe. “It can’t be real, though. It’s not real.” Of course, I was wrong. Otherwise my tale would be extremely boring. “What other proof do you have?”

He smiled. “Always with the questions. It’s good, but try to open your mind to the impossible. The world is much bigger that way.” His tranquil smile and advice did not quell my interest. “We also have documents and letters from those who interacted with her. As well as technology she brought from Vaporia with her.” He paused for a moment. “And lastly, we have her body.”

Now that caught my attention. “Wait. You have a body? That’s...Why didn’t you just show me that?”

He was still smiling. “Your right. Here, why don’t I just pull the ancient, dusty bones of Miss Blackscale out of my pocket and show it to the young filly. I should’ve thought of that, my bad.”

My ears pressed down against my head. That had been a rather dumb comment. “Sorry.”

“Quite alright. Anyways, Avalerion Blackscale formed a guild that was based off of her talents. She made it in order to find shelter and friends in an unfamiliar world, as well as put her talents to use.”

“And what were her talents?” According to the description of her race it seemed like she would’ve made an excellent thief. Perhaps that what this place was. A guild of organized thieves...yeah, right. That would just be ridiculous.

Star smirked a proud little grin. “Have you noticed anything about me? Specifically how I move and my appearance.”

I had noticed him. His coat was black like the night sky and his eyes were piercing amber. His magical aura also appeared black and empty, wielding itself silently. His steps were extremely quiet. Unnaturally so, in fact. “You appear to have all the qualities needed to be a good sneak.”

His proud little grin transformed into a small, cryptic frown. “I deal with a different degree of stealth than the thieves and beggars you knew. I’m trained, and more importantly my abilities serve a purpose. But yes, you are correct. I’m exceptionally stealthy. Avalerion Blackscale was as well. But you probably guessed that from her biology.”

“Being an entirely different species than everything else was limiting in our semi-modern culture. She couldn’t work in establishments, obviously, so she resorted to other means of obtaining basic resources.” He paused for breath.

“Let me guess. She robbed ponies.” It was obvious she had no other option. In the end no one did.

“No. Four-hundred and thirty years ago there was series of murders in the continent of Ursland. Civilians were slaughtered in their homes, and robbed of every possession.” He licked his lips and coughed once. There was no need to say who committed the crimes. “Murder is an incomprehensible act in most societies today. It is not just abnormal and abhorrent, it is unheard of. Benevolent rulers like Celestia have made sure of that.” There was a hint of something foreign in his tone. Was it disdain?

“These murders were all linked by one single thing: a needle-like projectile that delivered a toxin into the bloodstream of the victims. Approximately a year after they began the killings stopped. They never found who was committing the crimes, and it was assumed that the perpetrator either passed on or was imprisoned. Still, the concept of murder had been introduced in the once peaceful continent of Ursland.”

“I thought Ursland was torn by civil infighting and pointless wars.” I didn’t know it had ever been peaceful.

He laughed. A genuine laugh. “Peace was before the inhabitants got a taste for blood. A few years went by after the murders without a trace of our founder. She, for all intents and purposes, disappeared. That is, until she appeared in Neig(h)geria.”

“It was around the time of her appearance that a new type of crime ‘happened’ to become prevalent.” Before I could ask what it was, he answered. “Scams and identity theft. Everywhere, the fair citizens of that land found themselves donating money to false charities and making strange purchases that they had never actually made, themselves. While it didn’t send shockwaves through the world like the Ursland murders did, it did corrupt the Neig(h)geria populous.”

“After that, Avalerion Blackscale made her way to the Scorched Lands. Not to go into too much detail, but the populous there became very familiar with the idea of false prosecution, political assassinations, and planting evidence.” I couldn’t possibly imagine why.

“Then, our fair predator made her way to Equestria. She found herself stuck in the Badlands and the northern area of Saddle Arabia as Equestria had a very strict border patrol back then. She stayed with a group of changelings while stuck and helped to familiarize them with the ideas of kidnapping and manipulation.” I chose not to ask what changelings were, just then.

“At the time changelings remained secluded from other nations, scavenging scraps of emotion from the mating creatures of the Badlands. She thought it was pathetic. A species with so much potential wasting away. She believed that if they possessed the means to gain the item they desired, then they should not have even hesitated in acting upon those desires.” There it was again. That tiny tinge of scorn in his vocal pattern. Directed at the changelings. Whatever they were.

“So, she somehow managed to convince one tiny tribe of changelings to leave the Badlands to try and feed off of the love of ponies in Saddle Arabia. They infiltrated a large city, mixing in well with the populace.” He smirked. “Other tribes and even entire hives saw how successful they were and the idea caught on.”

“Our mistress had contacts then. Having friends with the ability to shift forms would be useful. Instead of causing havoc in Saddle Arabia she persuaded them to sneak her into Equestria. It-”

“Why would she care about Equestria?” Why did she just drift from place to place? It sounded as if she was like me, a survivor without a purpose.

He didn’t look bothered by the interruption, thankfully. “Curiosity. She was out to see the world. And spread her philosophy.”

“Two questions. Why, and what?” Those sounded like completely pointless goals. This organization had been trying to draw me in by offering purpose, yet their founder sounded without one. Seemed a bit questionable.

“Aurora was a different type of society than the one you know. The Zhenniao were an extremely advanced society possessing extremely advanced technology. They were, however, not perfect. Things we can’t even imagine, such as murder, torture, sacrilege...existed. The citizens there were familiar with incredibly horrendous acts.”

“Why wouldn’t they be on a higher plane than us? I thought they were more advanced.” I was well aware he had not answered my original question.

“Our dear founder had a belief.” Was he ignoring me in purpose? “She believed that the reason Aurora was so far ahead of the grounded nations was because of its corruption.” What? “If you’re able to imagine a truly horrendous crime, something that is has succeeded in abolishing all levels of morality, then you can advance yourself.”

Star paused again. He licked his lips and breathed in deeply. “Miss Blackscale sabotaged the countries of the world, killing, stealing, and other such things, trying to advance their culture?” That was simply the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard.

“Why did she care?” If she was, in fact, trying to help those nations, then what motivated her?

“She hated Aurora, Vaporia, and Zhenniao. She thought they were wasted upon this world. They were an old world construction that didn’t even have the courage to descend from their platform of solitude. While that cloud existed nothing else could. She was determined to construct a world that would be able to find those lands.” He spoke with a passion I had not yet heard in his voice.

“She hoped that if every nation were to become comfortable with the unspeakable, then the dormant brilliance within each of them would present itself. Brilliance that would otherwise black inspiration. She hoped they would create the technology to discover Vaporia. Discover it, and force it out of its little hovel. Discover it, and tear it apart, piece by piece. And maybe after that, peace would be achievable.”

Now I was extremely confused. “Peace? But it sounded as if she was trying to corrupt the entire world. It sounds like she just wanted revenge.”

“Quite the opposite, in fact. The peace that nations like Equestria have is false. It masquerades as love and tolerance, without having ever really experienced true strife. It’s obligated. Our founder realized this.”

He paused. “When you recover from disease, you become stronger. Your body builds ways to combat that disease in the future. However, the disease first has to exist. And then be diagnosed. So she decided to create a disease and a diagnosis.”

“She wanted to make the world stronger? By hurting it?” That sounded insane. Yet, surprisingly, I could see the value in the goal.

“That’s correct. And that is what led her to create our organization upon reaching Equestria. She realized that her goal would require centuries of work. So she left a legacy. She gathered friends she had made on her travels, persuaded them to join her cause, and that’s how our family came to be.” there was still one question left, though.

“Fine. So an anonymous po- species appeared from a mythical city full of technology, drifted through our world while causing untold amounts of havoc, came up with an insane philosophy that she wanted to live by, and created your organization. I guess with a little time I can start to believe that. That just leaves me one question to ask, though.” My stare was rock solid. This was the question I’d had on my mind since I got here. I had an educated guess, but the question still needed to be asked.

“What do you do?”

Star looked at me. He remained silent before breaking out into a cocky grin. “What don’t we do? We deal in the shadowy arts of espionage, thievery, ‘special’ depositions, torture, planting stuff, murder, kidnapping, spread of dissent, political maneuvering, and much more.”

“We’re the carriers of Avalerion Blackscale’s legacy. We’re the shadows that move so brilliantly through the night, noiseless but leaving a distinct mark upon everything we touch. We’re the healers, slowly cleansing the world by a deluge of its own blood. We’re partially insane, incredibly dangerous, and your family now.” He paused. “Think you can handle that?”

I didn’t even need to think about it. “Yeah.” I shrugged. “I can deal with immorality.”

He looked at me solemnly. His amber eyes looked to be appraising me once again. “We have morals. Just a different set. A set you’ll be learning soon enough.” He intook one sharp breath, causing his mane to bounce and fall to the side in a ragged mess. His smile returned with that incredible tranquilizing effect. “Now rest. We have quite a lot to do, and only a few years to do it.” He turned about and began to stalk out. “I hope you like this room, because it yours now.”

My own room. I guess change does exist.

Author's Notes:

There's snow outside. I hate snow. But that's okay, it hates me too.

Sicarius

I was being mobbed. Literally. And not just by ponies. Everywhere around me there were creatures smiling at me, ranging from wolves, to buffalo, to foxes, to griffins, to Oozlums. They greeted me, welcoming me into their little family, treating me as if I really were their blood relative. It was a bit overwhelming. They were far too overexcited to meet someone new.

Upon waking up earlier that morning I had found the numbness in my leg to have subsided. It apparently had been temporary. I waited in the- my room believing that I would once again be greeted. However, being young, curiosity got the better of me after several uneventful hours, and I removed myself from the bed, proceeding to leave the room.

I thought it best to head towards Sicarius’s office, find out what I should be doing. Plus, I never did find out what his name actually meant. So seeing him would give me the opportunity to find out.

I took the path I had been pulled along the previous day, heading out the large double door a the end of the hallway. The stone was...warm. Huh. I could’ve sworn that it was cooler when I was sprawled over it the other day. How strange.

The door was open for less than a second before I was noticed. I was assaulted by a couple dozen young...creatures. They weren’t hostile, surprisingly. They were calling out to me, greeting me. Some even complimented me. There’s a word for stuff like that. Friendliness. Or weakness depending on your attitude. Kindness and friendliness were usually non-existent, short lived, or a farce in my reality, so I may have been a bit skeptical of their intentions.

Those gathered weren’t looking for anything, though. They didn’t have anything to gain from being nice. It wasn’t like I had anything to offer, after all. There wasn’t even an obligation, really. They didn’t know me, yet I was being treated well. It was different. Not in bad way, strangely. Still, it would require getting used to.

I only recognized two of those gathered. One was the vanilla pegasus with the wisteria mane I had seen yesterday. Pulse, was her name I believe. The other was the unnamed griffin who had attempted to speak to Star.

A voice broke the mass conversation. It resonated from behind the mass, deep and heavy. “Breakfast. Come eat!”

The effect on the gathered swathe of creatures was immediate. As a mass group they all rushed to the source of the voice, leaving me behind in a daze. They all piled onto a singular stair well that led farther into the ground. I didn’t follow.

I was moving towards the room that Sicarius was, presumably, residing in. I lifted my hoof to the door tentatively, unsure of what I would actually say once I met Sicarius. Of course, I didn’t have to worry about knocking.

“Hullo!” I jumped as the deafening voice assailed my eardrums from behind.

I spun around and, acting upon instinct, not thought, pulled my hoof up to strike my attacker and gain a chance to run. I ended up striking Sicarius over the muzzle. The bone quivered as my hoof made contact with his narrow snout, instantly aching from the blow. His bones must have been adamantium. I believe it hurt me much more than it hurt him.

He didn’t even flinch as my tiny azure hoof made contact. He just looked at me with a strange frown. “I take it you’re not one for mornings, then?”

I backed away, swallowing down the trepidation in my throat. Accident or no accident, it wasn’t good to hit a member of an organization when you’re at its mercy. Trying to force movement out of the lump proved futile. All I could manage to splutter out was a guttural and fear-filled, “S-rr-y.”

Instead of become angry, he just sat back. “Its quite alright. That wasn’t the first time I’ve been hit today, and it won’t be the last. Besides, your left hook isn’t nearly as well-developed as Aeria’s.”

Was that good or bad? “Why did Aeria hit you?”

“I forcibly made her play hide & seek with me.”

“How did you force her to do that?”

“I dyed her facial plumage green while she slept then hid. The game lasted for about seven seconds after she woke up and discovered her feathers. Word of advice: don’t hide under your opponents bed. Also don’t talk, it apparently reveals exactly where you are.”

I liked his silliness and stupidity. It made me smile. It was entertaining to see something with a sense of humor. Humor and commodities were very alike in my world. Both were great to see, but hard to come by.

He squinted and arched his eyebrows. One corner of his mouth curled upwards. In a perplexed manner he asked, “Was it something I said?”

“No, no, I just remembered a funny joke.” An average lie. The original thought hadn’t really mattered anyways.

“A joke? Smashing! Please, do tell it.” He looked at me expectantly. He was like a foal. A grown foal.

I stuttered trying to think of something to say. “Uh, well you see, there was this carriage driver. And she, uh, liked to swerve and hit lawyers while she moved. So, uh-”

“How did she identify the lawyers?”

Crap. “Um, because of the trail of slime they left?” That was it? That was all I could come up with?

He stared off for a moment, legs completely still as he considered the statement. “Sounds accurate from what I’ve seen of them, continue.”

“Being a religious mare she naturally picks up a hitchhiking priest.” Why not? “So while she’s moving she sees another lawyer on the road and turns to smash him. She kind of forgot that the priest was sitting in the carriage.”

“Ooh, conflict! I love conflict.” He looked to me expectantly. “What happens next?”

I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “At the last second she remembers who’s in the carriage and straightens out. But, uh, there’s still a thump noise. So she, uh, said, uh, ‘Please, forgive me father.’ And, uh...”

“And, uh...what?”

Crud. What was the punchline again? Eh, it wouldn’t hurt to make one up. “And the priest replied, ‘It’s okay, I got em’ with the door.’” I smiled nervously and stared up at Sicarius.

He chuckled. “Pretty good. A little training and you might do well.”

“Do what well, exactly?”

He stared at me for a moment, smiling widely. “Well, even if it was a bit rough, you did a pretty solid job trying to spare my feelings- don’t do that, by the way, I hate that. But maybe we could teach you how to form a proper lie. I’m sure you’re used to manipulation. You could be an excellent liar.” His smile was broad and genuine, his pitch having borne no signs of sarcasm. Which was even stranger.

“I could become an excellent liar?” I repeated his statement blankly, not really understanding how that could be considered positive.

“Yes, you could. It’s quite important in our line of work to be persuasive and sale your character. Or whatever character you’re portraying.”

“Okay...so what are you good at?”

Sicarius inhaled deeply. “Star didn’t tell you?” I shook my head. “I personally specialize in murder, political assassination, kidnapping, torture, and bobsledding” He was still smiling as if he had not just stated that he caused pain for a living.

“What...?”

“Bobsledding.” He deadpanned. “I realize it’s unorthodox, but I still hold firmly to the belief that everything can be solved with bobsledding.”

“You’ve killed others?” My blood froze at that. Star had said that his organization worked in that...field, but I hadn’t really thought much of it. I figured...I don’t really know what I figured, actually.

“One-thousand-sixty-eight and a half others.” He stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

I was gawking. “You’ve killed over a thousand ponies?” Impossible.

He scoffed. “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.” my chest heaved in an expression of relief. “I’ve killed two-hundred and forty-one ponies.” Once again my mouth dropped. “The rest was a bunch of other creatures.”

Wait. “What about the half?” I asked. This was insane. Completely insane.

“Paraplegic griffin.” He said that as if explained everything.

I was still suspended in a state of disbelief. “How could you have possibly killed that many...living things?”

He blinked and thought for a moment. “Mostly through evisceration, excessive stabbing, blunt-force trauma, drowning, excessive sugar intake, poison, slashing, burning, traps, manipulation, manipulation of wild life, bubbles, temperature, crossfire, intense glares, exorbitant amount of hugs, trampling, dehydration, starvation, masquerading as a surgeon, electrical shocks, sticking forks into things, avalanches, rock slides, overly friendly lighting clouds, strangulation, forced suicide, grass, and illusional distress.” He nodded along as he listed the ways he had killed.

He continued. “That’s how I got the nickname Sicarius. It’s an honorary title here that is given when you’ve disposed of at least seven-hundred and seventy-seven targets. It’s based off of the number of creatures that our founder killed in her time.”

Now I knew he was lying. This was simply impossible. He couldn’t have killed that many. He was too cheery, too happy, too humorous, too...not empty. “How could you do that?”

He stared at me. “Well, you see, living things are like balloons; when you stab them they die.”

“You’re insane...”

He scoffed once again. “Am not! I am, in fact, on a higher plane of sanity. I rest above the lot of you, in my sanctum of sanity. I am so sane that I am inside the inner workings of sanity, itself! That’s right, I am inside sanity! Sanity and I are so close that I wave to him and he’d wave back! You could even say that I was in-...sanity.” He paused for a moment. “Huh...” The whiskers on his snout quivered as he breathed. “I could have phrased that better.”

“How do you live with that knowledge? How do you exist knowing that you’ve ended that many lives? How can you not possibly think about the ones you’ve killed?” True, I had killed somepony as well, but that was in self defense.

He didn’t even pause. His answer was instantaneous. “Because I don’t consider death to be a negative.”

What? That was gibberish. Death was the end. It meant you were gone. Kaput. Lost forever. “But it’s the end...”

“Exactly. It’s the end. What should I care about the middle of a story when I reach the end. When looking for spoilers, you don’t turn to the middle page of a mystery novel, you go to the end. That’s the part you want to see. And I do. A lot. It interests me.”

“You enjoy it?” I couldn’t mask my disgust.

He recoiled, the long black tuft of fur on his back arching upwards. “Are you mad? I’m a bloody assassin, not a sadist. Every time I kill it serves a purpose. It serves several in fact. First, it serves the client, second, it serves us, and third, it serves to create a wound. One that will be doctored. I don’t enjoy killing, nor do I particularly dislike it. It just happens to serve my interests. And I’m friggin’ amazing at it.”

“But what about everybody you’ve killed? They’re dead because of you.” Unbelievable. It one thing to hear a tale about a killer, but to actually meet someone with so little regard for life in reality...it was a change in perspective.

“So what?” He asked.

“Beg pardon?” What did he mean, so what? They were dead! Without life! And it was because of his actions. How could he not feel bad about that?

“What does it matter if they’re dead?” He stared at me, waiting for a answer. Why did it ned an answer? It was common sense! Thing was, though, that was the only reason I could come up with. Strange. “They’ve never helped you have they?” He continued, “They’ve never done anything to earn your trust or respect. So why should they matter?”

“But still, they were alive. They had family and friends waiting for them. How could you take them away like that? What kind of black-hearted monster could do that?”

He bit his lip then asked, “Sticks and stones, love. I’m able to keep on just by knowing that I’m serving my purpose with every life I take.”

“What about their purpose?”

He was frowning. At least he took this seriously. “If any of them had felt as strongly about their purpose as I do mine, they would be here and not me. The world is a dangerous place to live; not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who won’t do anything about.” His voice was sharp, unlike the kind, if not a little bit enthusiastic, tone he sported earlier.

“Living isn’t about surviving, or even about making sure you’re remembered. It’s about furthering your ends by any means necessary. If you’re not making enemies or causing mayhem along that way, then you’re not getting anywhere, ever.”

“You’ve killed.” I stated flatly. “That’s not something you can justify.”

“You’ve killed as well.”

“That was in self-defense!”

“How is that not a justification?” He asked.

I could feel the anger swelling up inside of me. “Because she would have killed me if I hadn’t done something!”

“So it was okay because your victim threatened your survival?” He asked bluntly.

“Yes! Well, no. I mean-well, yes, I think-but-I don’-” I was spluttering, brain unable to function properly. The words I needed remained restrained within my mind, bound by some unseen force.

“You yourself conceded that your only reason for living was to survive. So, weren’t you killing for your purpose?” He almost sounded accusing.

“It was self-defense...I couldn’t just let her...”

“You’ve killed.” He said mockingly. “That’s not something you can justify.”

“...” I stared at the floor, avoiding eye contact.

He placed a paw under my chin and lifted my head up, forcing me to look into his eyes. He leaned forward. “My point is, that you killed in order to ensure your survival. You were serving a self-satisfying purpose in doing so. I have slain others in order to advance the purposes of my group, who’s long-term goal is the advancement of the world.”

He pulled away, letting my head drop back down. I continued to stare at the floor. He continued, “Now, I want you to tell me something Trixie. Which of those sounds more noble in the end?” His whiskers vibrated as he spoke, and the tuft of blackened fur on his neck rose in anticipation of my answer. “Which one?”

“...” I was dumbfounded. My moral beliefs were never strong, yet even they existed. But now, now I hadn’t clue what to think. Silence was all that was allowed to permeate the bare, annular room.

“And there you have it. What should it matter?” His voice was harsh and low, different from his normally cheery tone.

“I-I-do-don-kn-know.” And I really didn’t. It wasn’t often anypony, or rather, any creature managed to change my mind. I usually just trusted my instincts. But his logic, his terrifying logic, made sense. As difficult as it was to provide justification for the reaping of over a thousand wayward souls, his words managed it.

As a street-rat I had seen enough crime and sin, I had seen how disgusting it was. I had seen what it did to victims, families, friends, communities, even perpetrators. And I knew I had never wanted to be a part of it. Yet there I was, allowing thirteen(ish:my age was only ever approximated) years of experience to wash away in one moment. There I was, letting it fall away, and I didn’t even care.

Sicarius became suspicious, his tail twitching. “Star was supposed to have explained what we do to you.” His eyes burrowed into mine.

“He did, but he kind of just listed off what you all do. I only heard a little bit of it. The murder part might have just slipped past me.” That was close to true, almost.

He looked thoughtful for a moment. “He and I shall talk about proper stage presence.” He turned away from me. “Come now!” He waved his paw in a dramatic flourish to draw my attention to him. “Let. Us. Get. Ice cream!” He bellowed out the words dramatically.

“Isn’t it a bit early for ice cream?” I asked quizzically. “I haven’t even eaten breakfast. I don’t even know where to eat breakfast.”

“It is never too early for ice cream! Even alcoholic ice cream. Especially alcoholic ice cream.” His tail swished back and forth, rolling across the stone gently. Each hair bristled at the touch of the stone. “Come along and you shall find: The Mess Hall!” He broke out into a whimsical saunter as he headed towards an open door.

I trotted a few paces behind him. That wolf...he was a mystery to me. He acted and spoke in a manner that seemed so doltish, yet in a single instant he could become cold, and calculatingly intelligent. Perhaps he used immature behavior as a shield, deflecting the passing glances of the more analytical creature. Or he was just odd.

Author's Notes:

Sorry about the length. I realize it's short.

Breakfast in Ameri*HACK* Equestria

It was large, much larger than the space at the orphanarium. Tables aligned the center of the ‘Mess Hall,’ filling the entire room. Each one was circular, sitting twelve total. No one sat alone there. Everyone was seated with at least four others, either chatting or enjoying each others company.

It was an odd sight. From my experience conscious beings tended to pull away from each other, fearing treachery from their associates. Here, though, everyone seemed to enjoy each other. They drew close to one another, sharing stories and laughing. They seemed happy to ignore the value of their possessions, even going so far as to share them with their friends. It was a madness of which I had previously never witnessed.

Yet this group, this Blackscale, seemed content to partake in it. They seemed not only willing to perform this bizarre act, but delighted to do so. There was no obligation, no lies, just a diversity of creatures being kind. Was this what peace was? Was this harmony? If so, then it was nothing like the ‘harmony’ of Equestria.

Peace and love in Equestria (I could, of course, still been in Equestria. I had no real idea where I was at that time.) was just the foals’ tale. It was nothing more than a function. A function thats roots stemmed from fear; Fear of the Hearth’s Warming Eve Windigos coming back if the masquerade of amicability was not kept aloft. Nobody had ever actually wanted to be nice to each other. Not really.

I saw the truth, though. I, along with anyone else who the world broke, saw the darkness residing within everyone, the dormant evil waiting to be released. That hatred is hidden away, boiling just beneath the surface of our coats. No one had ever truly been kind out of any genuine want. No one could. At least, not that I had seen. Yet, here was this organization with no reason to play nice, doing exactly that. I’m sure any one of them could have survived on their own, but they chose to stay here instead. Why?

Was it possible that this group of killers, thieves, abductors, spies, and liars had it all figured out? Was it possible that they had truly found a way to be kind? To live in a constant state of harmony? Was this what Equestria was supposed to be?

A foreign cough broke me out of my stupor. I looked up to see Aeria glancing over at me with a quizzical smile. Quizzical, yet still warm.

I stood at a rectangular counter that the griffon was distributing food from. It looked different from food I had seen before somehow. Something was very, very off about it. I couldn’t quite place my hoof on it at first, but I knew, without a doubt, that it was wrong. But what was it? What was wrong with that food...?

Wait, it looked...appetizing. I pushed the thoughts about harmony and all that crap to the back of my mind in favor of a fresh meal. I mean, there were whole fruits and vegetables in front of me. Whole Fruits! Even salad that wasn’t damp! There wasn’t any sludgy purple substances anywhere. For me, that might as well have been heaven.

Aeria stood tall, a good three feet taller than me. That didn’t keep her from managing a smile that radiated happiness. “What would you like?” She gestured to the layout of food with an open talon.

I swallowed, trying to keep myself from drooling at the selection. It was more difficult than one would think. “I-I don’t know. It’s a lot. More than I’m used to...”

She beheld me with a pitying gaze. I normally hated pity, but something about her gaze was reassuring, showing emotions besides pity. “How about some stew. It’s got a little bit of everything you ponies like. Carrots, lettuce, tomato, onions, garlic, celery, bones, mushrooms, water, the works.” She procured a bowl and spoon, gently ladling a serving of warm liquid into the bowl. She handed it to me over the counter.

It had been a while since my last meal. At least two days. Maybe three. So I am not ashamed to say that I slurped down a great portion of the broth in front of the counter, with Aeria watching. It was positively delicious. “This is good. Did you make it?”

She stared at me with those warm, emerald eyes. “I did make that, actually. I’m glad you liked it.” Her chest swelled a bit, whether it was from pride or happiness from being able to make me happy, I did not know.

Her smile was like a contagion, infecting me with its bliss. I had the tiniest of smirks as I told her, “It’s incredible. What’s your secret?”

“I cook with wine.” She said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Oh.” That made sense. Many chefs did that.

“Sometimes I even add it to the food.” She added. She was still smiling.

I excused myself and walked away quietly. I’d rather not learn how to cook today, anyways. Too time consuming. Too much liver damage.

I sat myself down at the nearest table with several other creatures. There were seven others to be a bit more precise. The moment I sat down all eyes were on me. It was a bit uncomfortable being the center of so much attention. Normally I would have just used my demure size to fade into the background, but that would prove impossible considering I was the new member of this little “family.”

They weren’t looking at me with disdain or anger, though. Most just smiled while one just looked on at me curiously. They were first to speak, naturally. Curiosity tends to beat out everything. Even fear. “So your name is Trixie, right?” It was a fox who posed the question. Her voice was dangerously sharp. I wonder if her wit would match that tone?

“Yes.” Even if I knew they weren’t my enemies I still did not want to speak too much. Information was a commodity in any situation.

“I knew a Trixie. Though he was male. And an ocelot. And dead. I wonder if you’ll end up like him?” She spoke casually as she ate, more addressing herself than anyone else. She appeared to be only a year or two older than myself.

One of the others, a bug-like creature with a black carapace spoke up. “Bah! Don’t be such a pessimist, Scarlet.” I had no idea what species this new speaker was, or even what gender. Its voice had a strange reverberating effect to it. Almost as if it utilized vibrations to vocalize rather than vocal cords.

The fox frowned, squinting at her shelled accuser. “Everyone is a pessimist when surrounded by optimists.” She sounded a bit indignant. Either that bug hit a nerve, or Scarlet was easily irritated. I would have to make note of that.

“Blah, blah, blah,” drawled the creature while rolling its eyes. Turning to me it said, “Hello Trixie. I’m Zephyr.” Its strange, buzzing voice sounded friendly in an odd, detached sort of way.

“It’s a pleasure. Do you mind if I ask...what are you, exactly? And uh, what gender are you...?” Celestia, I hope that was not offensive... Wait, of course it was! I just asked a creature what gender they are! How daft, and without a doubt rude. Especially if this creature was sensitive. I prepared myself against the inevitable admonishing.

Surprisingly, it laughed. It was a queer, throaty noise that scraped against my eardrum. It wasn’t unpleasant, just unbearable. “I’m a changeling. We’re shapeshifting creatures that make our home pretty much everywhere. Though we originally hail from the Badlands. Me included.” It was still chuckling a bit after finishing off its statement. “And I’m female by the way.”

Changelings. Star had mentioned them in his account of Avalerion Blackscale. “Shapeshifting? What do you mean?”

She shot me a wide grin and bursted into flames. I may have screamed a little. And then a lot. No one else reacted beyond the occasional snicker as Zephyr continued to burn alive and I continued to shout. After a few seconds the flames stopped, though. And where there should have been gooey bug ashes, there was a blue unicorn. No, not blue...azure.

Not just any azure unicorn, but me. Sitting directly in front of me was an exact copy of myself, with the metallic-blue mane, magenta eyes, and my coat color. Her flank was bare of a cutie-mark. I stared blankly at my copy, who smiled at me stupidly. She waved a hoof at me. “Hiya Trixie!” Even the copy’s voice sounded like mine.

“Zephyr...?” I probably sounded a bit dumb asking that question. Who else would it have been? Who else could have it been?

“That’s me!” Exclaimed my replica. “Good ole’ Zephyr here, borrowing your body.” She was still smiling goofily. “I hope you don’t mind, but I just couldn’t resist such a rockin’ form.” She added with a little wink.

I was too startled by the display to really notice the remark. “How are you doing that? How is that even possible?”

Another burst of flames. Zephyr looked as she did before, large blue eyes bulging outwards, black carapace acting as an exoskeleton, mesh wings fluttering about, sharp fangs protruding over her lower lip, and holes all through her hooves (likely to maintain proper weight distribution; that chitin can’t be light).

“It’s an innate ability.” Her voice had that strange buzzing quality to it once again. “As for how it’s possible...I don’t know. I didn’t really pay attention in anatomy class. But it sure is fun to mess around with.”

This was almost as crazy as poisonous birds living in flying gas cloud cities. Well, no actually. Nothing was as crazy as that. Except maybe if Celestia were hiding the fact that she had a corrupted devil sister who was trapped on the Moon, or some other crazy junk. But what was the likelihood of that? “You were in the Badlands, right? How did you end up here(wherever that was)?”

Her expression darkened immediately. Her large green eyes dropped to the floor, gaining a sad, lonely tint. Even without pupils they still expressed emotion quite well. She drew her tongue across her fangs slowly. She rubbed one of her legs gingerly, as if trying to bring some sort of non-existent warmth into her form. Everyone else at the table looked upon her with sympathy. I had definitely touched upon a heavy subject. I would need to tread carefully.

It took her a moment, but Zephyr worked up the nerve to speak. “I used to be a part of a tribal hive back in the Badlands. We were a small, nomadic group that fed on what little scraps of emotion there were to find out there. We weren’t apart of any official hive, so we lacked a queen. One day an enraged Scorpio crossed our path.” She drew her gaze away.

“Everyone I knew was wiped out and I sustained a serious injury. I managed to survive by playing dead until the beast left. After that I wandered the wastes of the Badlands, half-dead, until Brightwing found me. Some stuff happened in between and that’s how I ended up here.” She finished with a quick shiver. It was an uncomfortable topic.

I tried to manage my most empathetic look. “I can relate to being alone.” I finished with a sympathetic frown. She gave me a sad smile in return. Even in sadness these individuals were kind. It was incredible. From the expressions of the others I could see that they all had similar stories. Maybe that whole philosophy spiel Star pitched about having to suffer to truly understand utopia wasn’t complete garbage.

A loud voice pierced the silence. “So what about you?” It was a pegasus directing the question at me. The one with the wisteria mane and vanilla coat. Pulse. “How did you get here, Trix?” She leaned back in her chair with her fore-hooves spread lazily on the table. Her citrus eyes were appraising my value as they glanced over my form. “How’d you end up getting involved with dudes like us?”

I coughed. How did I end up here, actually? Star had approached me right after the “incident” with Ginger Snap, but how did I actually get here? Had he just been watching me the entire time? Was it completely by chance that he just so happened to be there the moment I killed that other foal? Doubtful.

“Star was watching me. He was keeping an eye on me and caught me performing an unsavory act.” I held back as much information as I could. It wasn’t exactly a point of pride for me.

“You killed someone, right?” Pulse posed the question bluntly, oblivious to how uncomfortable I was speaking of it.

“Yeah...I did.” I looked away. I didn’t want her to see the shame in my eyes.

She blinked at me, confused by my mannerisms. “What? Was it not a clean kill or something?” I shrunk even more at the question, beginning to feel a bit queasy. You can always count on a pegasus to be insensitive.

A griffon sitting next to Pulse raised his hand and punched her in the shoulder. “Idiot. She’s uncomfortable because it was her first kill. Not every single one of us can be an innate psychopath.”

Pulse’s look of indignation was a bit overacted. “Hey, I am not a psychopath!” Her nose was scrunched up as her eyes threw daggers at the griffon. You can also count on a pegasus to overreact. “And don’t you dare raise your hand to me!”

Scarlet snorted. “Yeah. It leaves your midsection unprotected.” Pulse’s attention instantly shifted to her. The evil glare she gave the fox was quite intimidating. Scarlet simply shrugged it off and turned back to her meal. She didn’t so much strike me as the indifferent type as she did the lonesome type. She was probably someone who’s wit outmatched that of her peers(from her perspective at least), and thus made her bitter externally.

Zephyr coughed loudly. Well, it was more of a reverberating buzz that sounded like a disemboweled animal gasping for air than a cough. “So, uh, Trixie, what do you think of this place so far?” She chuckled nervously. It was an obvious, and rather poor attempt at defusing the arising conflict.

That didn’t make the question posed to me any less important, though. Not from my point of view, anyways. “It’s different. But in a good way. The food is edible, I sleep comfortably, and you’re all friendly enough. I really only have one question.” Actually I had several.

A hyena sitting across from me spoke up for the first time. “Go ahead.”

“Um, I’m not really sure how to phrase this, but why is Sicarius so...” I really didn’t know how to phrase it. His strange personality and mannerisms had me confused. And I am not one who is easily confused. I think. Maybe.

“Sicarius-sy?” Finished Scarlet, who was still ignoring the glares shot at her by Pulse.

“That’s it.”

Scarlet spoke first. “He’s smarter than he acts. A lot smarter. Just count yourself lucky that he is on our side and leave it at that. We can ignore the fact that he is a grown wolf who acts like a child, or at least, we should. As for his other mistakes...” Her voice sounded indifferent, but I thought I could detect a faint smile on her visage.

Another voice broke out from behind. A very familiar voice. “Well, what’s the point of being mature if you don’t get to act like a child? As for my mistakes...you’re right. I should have made them much sooner.” The object of our conversation sat himself down at one of the five empty seats. Star sat next to him.

Sicarius gestured to an apple Zephyr had. “Would you mind giving that to me? I’m starving and Aeria is still upset with me.” He looked at her with a pouting lip and pleading gaze. Or he tried to. It looked more like he was gnawing on his top lip while eyes were trying to engulf his face.

She shrugged and tossed the apple over to him. “Sure, not like I need it.” It was an excellent pitch, despite the fact she used her flat-faced legs to do it.

Sicarius caught it in his paw without missing a beat. It was strange to see such dexterity in beings that did not possess any real type of grip. “Thank you.” Taking a bite out of the apple he said, “I love pears.”

“Apple.” Star mumbled under his breath.

“Hm?” Sicarius made the questioning noise with his mouth still full.

“It’s an apple.” Star stated clearly.

Sicarius looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. “No, I don’t think so. I’m sure it’s a pear.”

Star sighed. “It isn’t a pear. It’s an apple.”

“But it’s green.” Sicarius said slowly.

“It’s a green apple.” Star said.

“It can’t be.” He showed the apple to Star. “It’s round and big on the bottom and thins out at the top.”

“You’re holding it upside down.” Star sounded a bit exasperated.

“It’s fruit. You can’t hold fruit upside down.”

Star squinted at him. “Touché. Touché.” He remained silent for a moment. “But it’s still an apple.”

Sicarius shrugged his lean shoulders. “Let us agree to disagree.”

“Or, and this is just a suggestion, we could agree to agree, and call it an apple.”

At this point the hyena broke in. “Or we could just call it a banana and that way no one wins.” That incited a small chuckle from the group, excluding Star and Sicarius. They contented themselves with glaring at the hyena.

Sicarius looked extremely annoyed, but let it go. Star dropped his petulant attitude in favor of that quaint smile. After a few minutes of casual conversation the dark stallion interjected. “Oh, I almost forgot. We’ll have to start training you today Trixie.”

“Training me?” That sounded...interesting. In a painful, not very interesting, sort of way.

Sicarius was about to speak when Star cut him off. Again. “Yes. It’s not like we can send you out on assignments willy-nilly. You’d be dead within a week. Or a day if you sucked.”

How nice to know someone was looking out for me. “So what kind of “training,” exactly?” I’m not sure how I felt about where this was going.

Star gave that calm, reassuring smile. “Proper training. Training based on your specific proficiencies.”

I bit my lower lip at that. There was a serious problem with that. “And, um, what, exactly, are my proficiencies?” I wasn’t really aware of what my specific skills were, or if I even had any. There had never been time to observe myself and look for special talent.

Star stared at me but did not comment upon my lack of perception. “You’re probably already slightly accustomed to skulking from your time in Baltimare, so that would be a good place to start. Coupled with that you could be taught how to wield a weapon properly and effectively. Without magic.”

Another problem presented itself with that little idea. “But I have hooves. And I’m a unicorn. My grip isn’t exactly suited to that type of thing.”

He just continued smiling. “That’s never stopped me, nor any other magical beast to pass through these halls. While true that it is difficult, it is still an acquirable skill. Furthermore, you’ll be taught how to pick a lock.” His smile was tranquil, but his tone was casual and business-like. This would be an interesting experience...

Sicarius let loose a cough to garner my attention. “And I’ll be teaching you how to properly fabricate a tale. I might even-”

“You’ll be teaching her something?” Star interjected, “It’s been a while since you tried mentoring. What are you up to, Wolf?” The apprehension in his voice did not soothe my nerves. Neither did my nerves soothe my nerves.

I hated when others chose not to address me. It wasn’t like I was in the room or anything...

Putting that aside, Sicarius wanted to teach me how to lie? I was under the impression that was more of an innate skill than an ability to be learned. Of course I had been under quite a lot of impressions earlier that week. And most of those had been shattered within a few hours.

Sicarius wore a wry smile. “Come on old friend, why so suspicious? I just happen to like her. Plus, I think she would make an excellent equivocator.”

I would? True, a little lie had saved me more than once, but I had never really thought I had a talent for it. What use would they serve me, after all? I had always had more pressing matters to attend to.

Sicarius continued. “In fact, why don’t I take over her training?”

Star looked concerned, strangely. “Are you alright?” I knew I wasn’t. “You don’t normally take such an interest in education.”

He shrugged, smiling. “I just have a feeling she’ll happen to excel at things I happen to be good at.”

Star laughed. “You’re good at everything! But if you insist. What if she shows a talent for magic, though? What then?”

Sicarius stared at him. “What if she does? I know magic.”

A loud scoff greeted his words. “You know magic tricks. The chances she’ll be able to perform illusionary magic are marginal. And considering that’s the only thing a wolf can do...”

Sicarius placed one paw on Star’s shoulder. “Like I said before, I have a feeling. Not like that feeling I had when I contracted a stomach bug, either. This is a good one. A non-nauseated one.”

Star licked his lips. It was a solid minute before he spoke again. “Fine. But I’ll still be keeping tabs. It’s been years since you tried to teach anyone. With good reason, if my memory serves me correctly.”

“How was I supposed to know that he couldn’t handle dynamite?”

“He was seven.” Star deadpanned.

“Seven and a half. My point stands.”

“...” Star sat in silence. “I have so much trouble deciding whether you’re a fool or a genius.”

“Can’t I be both?” Sicarius posed the question casually.

“I would say no, but you seemed to have already achieved this...Foonius.”

At that point I opened my mouth. Not intentionally, either. My opinion just seemed to have a mindset of its own(as contradictory as that statement was). “Maybe he’s a prodigious genius child stuck in the body of a full grown Tall-Maned Wolf.”

Star stared at me for a moment. “I like that. Maybe you would make a good cheat.”

Sicarius bore a look of mock indignation. “I completely disagree! I can assure you I’m a full grown wolf, in a full grown body. There is no little wolf inside me. I haven’t eaten any children in months.”

How comforting. “So when does this training start?”

Sicarius grinned cockily, sporting an air of pure anticipation. “Glad you asked. My schedule is free until the next season of Neigh’s Anatomy premieres, so after breakfast.”

Author's Notes:

I'm a lot happier with this chapter than the previous ones. Well, less disappointed, at least...

Training

“How in the name of everything holy am I supposed to do this!?”

Sicarius sat a few meters from me, extremely carefree. He had me in some sort of training room that was somehow even farther down in the ground than the rest of the sanctuary. He was trying to teach me how to wield a throwing knife. Without magic. Using my pasterns. With ordinary non-magical throwing knives. It had proved to be difficult.

He laughed. Laughed. “Come now, It’s easy really. You just balance it on the cleft of your hoof, keep it moving perpetually around the bend of your pastern, spot your mark, lead in with a sidearm pitch, and presto! You just stabbed a dude!” I absolutely loathe being mocked. Especially by someone who I can’t mock myself.

“How is that easy!?” I snapped at him as I, once again, dropped the small practice knife. It hit the ground with a solid thunk. I could not help but groan, this task was becoming incredibly tedious. My back ached from leaning over to pick the up the thing.

Every attempt I made always ended the same. I would pick up the small blade, balance it in the cleft of my hoof, attempt to spin it consistently to gain a bit of momentum, pull my arm back in preparation for the swing, and drop the knife. The constant failure was extremely demoralizing. Which in turn caused me to do even worse. It also didn’t help that Sicarius was simpering and repressing giggles as I continually failed.

Sometimes he was unable, or unwilling, to even extend that common courtesy. “HA HA HA HA HA *HACK* HA HA HA HA Ha Ha ha ha ha ha ahhh...I completely forgot how fun it is to mentor a new initiate.” He was panting heavily following the bout of laughter, chest heaving outwards as he struggled to regain his composure. “But yeah, you’re doing great.”

I may have been a bit confused. And slightly, extremely irritated. “What do you mean I’m doing great? I haven’t even managed to throw the knife!” I was finding him to be a horrible teacher, considering I had failed to do anything thus far.

He leveled off the last of his vexing snickers with a simple throat clearing. “No, you’re fine. Not like ‘damn, you fine girl,’ fine, but like ‘you have performed in a fine manner,‘ fine. You’ve got the right idea, and you’re performing the right motions...” He left the sentence hanging clumsily. I was just waiting for that annoying little impostor noun to appear.

“But...?” I drew out. I hated that word so much.

“But you suck...hard.” He finished. What a wonderful thing to hear from your new mentor. Best encouragement ever. Those were exactly the words of encouragement I needed. I mean really, what could possibly be more inspiring?

He was not done, however. No, he had even more to add to his inspiring little comment. “Right now you suck worse than a dirty pan. I mean, you can reuse a dirty pan if you’re desperate, but you...if we tried to use you or rely on you even once in a real situation we’d all die. I’m eighty-seven percent sure of that. So yeah...great job besides that, though.”

I stared at him for a minute. “So you’re telling me that you would rather use a dirty pan than me? So, not only would I be the last creature chosen for a mission, but I would also be the last thing?” Why was I even here, anyways?

“Unless you can throw that dagger. In which case I would have to flip a coin. Now chop, chop, there are only so many centuries before the apocalypse.” He clapped two paws together, indicating for me to continue with the frustrating “training.”

I picked the tiny dagger up again, balancing it in the cleft of my hoof. I breathed in deeply as I let my eyes bore into the practice dummy, marking the spot I wanted to make contact with. I rotated the small blade around my hoof, applying a continual push to keep it spinning around my pastern. At least that was something I had progressed in. A few hours ago I had not even been able to keep it spinning in motion..

I took shallow breaths as I brought my leg, blade still whirling around it, behind me. I didn’t dare move my head to see if it was still spinning correctly, for fear it would cause me to lose my balance. With as much force as a unicorn could muster I whipped my arm about my body. I could still feel the blunt of the blade moving around my hoof. That was a good sign. Maybe.

I felt it leave my grip, smoothly releasing. I watched in awe as, instead of heading towards the dummy, it somehow veered to the left, making a beeline for my giggling tutor. Sicarius’s eyes followed the small saw as it spun towards him. His expression was one of mingled surprise and shock. Obviously neither of us had expected me to succeed in actually throwing the thing.

It was only through years and years of having honed his reflexes that he managed to duck away from the oncoming projectile. It arced through the air, colliding harmlessly with the ground. I stared at Sicarius as he just sat there, expression changing from bewilderment, to disbelief, to...amusement?

He coughed, clearing his throat. Again. “Hm. Well, uh...so, that was...the, uh...” Was he...? He was flustered. That obnoxious, chortling buffoon was flustered. I was a little proud of myself for managing to put him in such a state; he did not seem the type who was often caught bereft of his speech.

Might as well have a little fun(now that I knew I wasn’t in danger from this group). “Looks like I missed, huh.” I smiled.

He gave a nervous smile back. “Yes, I guess you did. If it makes you feel any better, I would definitely take you over the pan now. You’re far more fun.”

I smirked, knowing my next comment would be just witty enough to catch him off guard. “Thanks. Though I think my aim will improve if I aim for the center of mass instead of the head.” I wore a broad smile, trying not to make the implication too obvious.

Sicarius bit his lower lip. “You know what? I think that’s enough blade handling for today.” I thought as much.

He grinned. His face was once again the picture of jubilance. “Instead, let’s find out what your magical alignment is.” The subject certainly changed fast.

I blinked. My magical alignment? What was that? I was unicorn, so wouldn’t my magical alignment be magic? “What are you talking about?”

He stared at me intently. “Miss Lulamoon. You really don’t know anything about magic, do you?” Evidenced by the fact I knew nothing about magic.

“Not really. I didn’t exactly have many prime opportunities to study magic at the orphanage.”

Sicarius stared at me with a hint of disbelief. “But Star said you killed that pony with a kinetic blast! You gotta know something.”

“Nope.” What would magic matter have mattered to me? It’s not like I had any chances to wield it, and with my old home being the way it was, flashy magic would have probably just made some bitter earth-pony angry.

There was a long drawn-out sigh as he pushed his lower lip out in a look of petulance. “I hate starting from scratch. Scratch stinks. Do you know what sourdough bread tastes like when I make it from scratch? Do you? Because it tastes like soggy dough.” He paused, pouting a little bit. “So I guess you don’t know the six fields of magic either then. I’m going to have to explain that to you, huh?”

I nodded in affirmation. I had no idea magic was even split into fields. I learned something new everyday.

He sighed once more before starting. “Okay, so there are six fields of magic: Ruination, Creation, Restorative, Distortion, Mysticism, and Universal Illusion. Remember those, alright? It’s important...and basic.” I nodded. “Good, now lets talk about these fields as individuals.”

“Ruination covers any spell that is meant to destroy, rend, or assimilate another object. Common spells from this field create fire or another destructive element and wield it as a weapon. Usually the subject of destruction is susceptible to whatever element is harnessed. If improvised in a skillful manner you can also use the offensive spells from this field defensively. That really falls to the caster’s talent, though, as the spells are still primarily offensive.”

“Creation covers any type of particle manipulation, summoning, or transmutation. Spells from this field are used to create new objects that previously did not exist, change one object into another, or summon a shade. This form of magic is quite powerful and highly controversial. Matter manipulation is dangerous to the caster, the subject, and the environment. Most governments have outlawed this field of magic, including Equestria. Don’t worry, that won’t be a hindrance to us, though.” He wore a sly smile.

“Distortion is the most versatile, and most commonly used, of all of these magics. It deals with the widest range of spells, going from basic levitation, to teleportation, to cloning. This field deals with any type of spell that distorts physical laws. Levitating a ball? Distortion. Making a wall change colors? Distortion. Traveling through time and space? Distortion. Ripping Celestia’s castle from the ground, swinging it like a bat, and then making it dance afterwards? Distortion. If you don’t know how to categorize a spell, it’s probably Distortion. It’s also the field that most magical beings lean towards.”

“Restorative is just that, restorative. It covers any type of magic that is meant to heal or empower, be it of a physical or magical nature. It isn’t rare to see magical creatures lean towards this field, but it isn’t common either. Mainly because it is the second hardest field to master, or even learn for that matter. Medical magic is extremely complicated and requires a vast amount of energy. You’re not likely to be good at this field, but who knows. You’re semi-capable.”

I decided to ignore that last comment. Trying to decide whether it was an insult or not would be a waste.

“Then there’s Mysticism. It is the hardest form of magic to learn and master, technically. It revolves around temporal contact with the meta-physical world. In other words, it is the study and practice of spiritual affairs. Most magical formula of this revolve around predicting future events, meditation, peripatetic astro nomadism, spiritual deviation, and emotional or soulful eradication or manipulation, and mental domination. I’m going to be extremely straightforward; I’m more likely to turn into a manticore with an alcohol addiction then you are to be a mysticism adept. It’s just that rare a field. There are only around two-hundred mystics. And I’m rounding up.”

“And lastly we have Universal Illusion, the weakest and most pitiful field of magic. It’s extremely simple and any yokel could be good at it. It revolves around using your magic to create a false image. The images are easy to detect unless properly masked and completely useless for anything. The amount of magic required to dispel an illusion is akin to the amount of magic required to lift your left hoof and rub your head. I hope that you have no connection or alignment with this field as it is just that pointless.” He had a significant amount of disdain towards illusion, apparently.

That didn’t quite make sense, though. I specifically remembered Star mentioning something about him being an illusionist. “But I thought that you were good at illusions? So wouldn’t you be inclined towards Universal Illusion?” Truthfully, I didn’t even understand how he could use magic. He had no horn or any other output device.

He acted quite incredulous at that. “I work with real illusionary magic, thank you!” He looked away from me with a humph.

“Real illusionary magic? Could you explain?” Illusions were illusions, right?

“Later, first let’s find out what your alignment is. I’m going to ask you a series of seven questions. I want you to answer them honestly. Otherwise this won’t work. Are you ready?”

I hated it when my questions were ignored. Still, I nodded.

He flashed a quick smile. “Good. First question: Are you prone towards outbursts or exclamations of rage when dissatisfied?”

“No.”

He showed no sign of a reaction. “Do you find the natural world fascinating?”

“Yes.” Who doesn’t?

He still showed no signs of a reaction. “Are you empathetic towards others pain? Would you rather put yourself in their place?”

“No.” Screw them.

“Do you often find yourself aimlessly moving things about, such as your hooves or an external object?”

“Nope.” Not ever.

He squinted at me. “Alright. Do you often find your imagination getting away from you, dreaming of a fanciful place or having something out of the ordinary?”

“Never.”

I almost thought I saw him smile. “Okay. Do you ever hear voices?”

I looked at him for a moment, gauging if he was being serious or not. Did he really ask me if I heard voices? I mean seriously? “Of course I don’t.”

“Great. Final question: Do you look at others and wonder how they perceive their surroundings?”

“...Yes...” I looked away for a moment. It was rather fascinating. Who was to say that any one creature perceived things the same way as another. I could be looking at a color and see blue while another would look at it and see a completely different color. And that, that was an interesting concept to wrap my head around.

He just stared at me. “Alright. Now I am going ask you a few more questions. These ones will be a bit more...in-depth. Are you-”

“Are you going somewhere with this?” I interrupted. “I realize these questions have something to do with you figuring out my ‘magical alignment,’ or whatever, but couldn’t we just as easily do that by teaching me a little magic from each field and seeing which one I gravitate to?” That seemed like the logical thing to do.

He laughed again. “That would be appropriate and the simplest way, but sadly it’s impossible.” He had that big, goofy grin on his face still. I was starting to like that grin, it was...fun.

“And why is that?” I asked in reply to his statement.

“If I gave you a spell from each field and told you to perform each one, it wouldn’t help any.” I was really hoping he would elaborate. “Each field of magic works on a different level, or degree. Spells from one field can’t be dragged across the border of another field and compared to its spells.”

“The amount of magic, as well as the potency is skewed when you try to do something like that. The only way I could perform a test like that would be if I found a spell from each field that had the exact same potency, capability, magical consumption, and radial effect. Which is nigh impossible. So, instead, I’m going to narrow down your field of choices a bit and then will do some testing. It will save time and energy, specifically yours.”

“Oh, okay.” That made sense. I suppose if I had stopped to think about it I would have been able to come to answer like that.

“Can we get back to my questions now? I really want to see if my gut was right about you or if it was just hungry.” His eyes peered at me questioningly from beneath his bushy brow.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry for interrupting.” Not really.

“Sure you are. Now, first question: Do you like to craft things?”

Odd question. Sometimes at the orphanage I had entertained myself by messing with coil from my bed frame and an assortment of other junk. So, I suppose, “Yes.”

“Have you ever conned another, say cheated them out of their bits or food?”

“Yup.” That had been one of my favorite pastimes. Manipulating others to get ahold of something to eat was basically necessary to my lifestyle. It was always a ridiculously uncomplicated affair, as well. Mainly because ponies are idiots. There was one instance, for example, where I threw a pebble at the back of one, rather violent, foal’s head and upon their turning around I simply pointed at another foal. The idiot took the bait and just leapt on the other foal, leaving me with their tray of food.

“Do you think of yourself as physically weak?”

“Yes.” I was definitely not Neighvid Hasslehoff.

“Which of these three would you prefer in order to address that weakness: getting buff, working around it with clever tricks, or summoning a demon from the depths of Tartarus in order to have it rip the life from your enemies and feast on their innards while slowing releasing a dreadful cackle that resonated within the bones of ponies for miles to come?”

Well, those all sounded so wonderful. “Can I choose all three?”

“Yes.” Great. “Now onto my last question. When playing Hide & Seek, how do you go about hiding?” .

What...? Was he being serious? Did he really want to know my strategy for a foal’s game? “I’m sorry, I don’t quite understand.”

“I’ll repeat. When playing Hide & Seek, how do you go about hiding?”

“You’re being serious aren’t you?”

“More serious than the difference between a potato and a catapult.” What did that even mean!?

“Okay then. I haven’t really played many games like that in my life. I suppose I would search for a place they wouldn’t look.”

He scoffed. “Well, obviously, but could you be a bit more specific?”

“Could the question be a bit more specific?” Really, it was unfair to give me so vague a situation and expect specifications. I hated double standards.

Surprisingly, he smiled. “Quite right. It’s better to obtain the correct question before attempting to divine the correct answer. Here is your scenario. You’re playing Hide & Seek against an intelligent opponent who knows you’re intelligent. They have sharp senses and unlimited resources. How would you hide?” He was watching me closely. I didn’t know why this question was important, but I was determined to give a satisfactory answer.

“I suppose I would hide myself somewhere obvious. Somewhere simple where they would think to look.”

“Why?”

“If they’re intelligent, and think that I’m intelligent, then it would stand to reason that they would assume I would hide somewhere secretive, right? So instead of doing what would be expected, I would try to be unexpected.”

“Is that it? You would be unexpected?” He asked, eyebrow arched.

“That and I would lay down a few false leads. Maybe make a game out of the...game.” That was what things were in the end. Games. My life up until that point had been one long bluff, trying to make something out of nothing. I just hoped someone was enjoying watching me suffer.

“You’d make a game out of it? Lead your pursuer on a wild goose chase, as it were?” His voice was questioning, as if probing me to see if I was being serious.

“That’s right.”

“Interesting. So, why not just hide somewhere you were sure they wouldn’t find you?” He asked.

That was an easy enough question answer. If I laid down false leads it would buy me time. It would give me an opportunity to retaliate against anyone pursuing. There are, after all, two players in every game. “Then I would continue to be a victim, a runner. I would have no way to strike out against the seeker.”

That grin spread across his features again, warming up the entire room. “Being a victim does get boring after a while, huh? But even now, even considering what you’ll be doing with us, you’ll still be the victim. Everyone is a victim. You’d do well to remember that.” He looked oddly thoughtful.

It was out of character. Which annoyed me. If he was going to act foolish, that was one thing. But if he was going to become a philosopher on a whim...well consistency in his strange actions would be nice.

“Sorry to say, but the victim never changes.” He added somberly.

His expression flipped in an instance. His drooping gaze and hard frown morphed into a crooked grin and cocky stare. “On a different note, I think I know exactly what field of magic to start with.” His expression changed...again. Now he sported a more devious look, front paws clamped together, eyebrows bent downwards, and a curved grin. The best word to describe it would be comical. “I can’t wait to rub this into Star’s face.”

“Rub what in his face?” I figured it would be best to deal with whatever was distracting him before getting any information about myself out of him. I did not want his mind to wander. Well, wander more.

“Why, the fact that I was right about you, of course!”

“What were you right about, exactly?”

“That you would be an illusionist!” Sicarius shouted.

Well, that was...disheartening. Extremely so. To know that the field of magic I would excel at would be the one that wolf had made a special note of calling “useless” was not a boost for my self-esteem. “So, basically, I’m useless.”

“No, not at all.” His tone was flat, confused even. “Why would you think that?”

“...” Probably should have expected that. “Five minutes ago you called the field of Illusion useless.”

“What? No I didn’t. I would never tell such a horrible lie.” Either he was a fibber, or he had a short memory. “I said that Universal Illusion was useless.”

“So, basically, I’m useless.” I deadpanned. I might have been forced to play them, but I hated games.

He looked even more confused. “Uh, no.”

Was there something I was missing here? Was there some insider secret he had failed to clue me in on? “But-”

“You’d be good at Perceptive Illusion. Which is incredible. It is beyond useful. I happen to be a practitioner of the art.” How? He didn’t have any external participle to expel a force of magic. Maybe he had an internal one?

Ew. It was probably better not to think about that. “So, what’s the difference between Universal Illusion and Perceptive Illusion?”

He clapped his paws together. “I’m glad you asked, Trixie! You see, Universal Illusion is magic, plain and simple. You discharge energy towards a certain goal or work, and create a result. That’s what makes it useless. Illusions aren’t about your magic or what you can do, there about what everyone else can do.”

Come again?

“Perceptive Illusion isn’t, in technical terms, even magic. It is a scientific process. One you manipulate.”

“What kind of process is it, if it isn’t magic?” It was an oddly confusing thought. What form of non-magic required magic. The ability of everyone else, not myself, was a confounding component as well. That sounded like nothing I had ever heard of(of course, my basis of magical knowledge was relatively non-existent).

He smiled, of course. “It is magic, but it is theoretical in the minds of modern scholars. According to the theory it is based off of, there is magic in everything, not just sentient beings. A type of latent magic that is dormant within every single item, creature, and idea within our world.”

“Perceptive Illusion uses trace amounts of magic from the caster in order to call upon this latent energy. Now, this energy cannot cause any real damage, being dormant and rather ineffective, but it can temporarily cloud the senses. The caster can mold it within an object so that it appears to have changed. And unlike Universal Illusion, this change can be focused, limited to only those you want to experience the illusion.”

Strangely, I wasn’t confused. That had made perfect sense to me. “And utilizing this latent magic I could, for example, change the way a pony perceived its surroundings, right?”

The hair on the nape of his neck rose an inch in anticipation. His brown eyes looked...excited. “Yes, yes! That is exactly right! This energy can be used to trick entire crowds, molding them to see, hear, smell, feel, and even taste, what you will them to.

“With just your wits and this latent magic you could bring an entire civilization crashing down. You could dethrone kings and invade the minds of others. You could subtly plant an idea. Because, unlike the proper fields of magic, this ‘non-magic,’ this technique, affects the senses. And your opponents senses are far more dangerous to them then any fire, knowledge, or creature you could create ever would be.”

That sounded magnificent. I had always found it rather easy to manipulate my peers, and now? Now I had an advantage that played upon that strength. Perhaps the hand I had been dealt was not so unfavorable after all.

I forced myself to swallow down my growing excitement. “When do we start?”

“Right now, of course! We’re in the training room, after all!” He beckoned me forwards, even though there hadn’t been much distance between us to begin with.

“Now, I want you to close your eyes.” I did as I was told. “Clear your head, this is a little bit more complicated than active magic- at first.”

Clear my head? There was kind of a lot going on for me to do something like that. “Can’t I just ‘feel up my magic,’ or whatever?”

“First off, no. Secondly, that is not a good way to phrase that question. Thirdly, you’re not trying to access your own magic, or rely on your own senses. Your trying to access the dormant magic within everyone else. So clear your head. And keep your eyes closed.”

“Alright, alright.” Okay, so clear my head, clear my head. Do some cleaning. Better make sure to get everything. What’s that in the corner? Is that some dust? Better get that out of here. Then again, that would be a futile gesture, wouldn’t it?

If I dusted that mass it would be ensuring the inevitable by just pushing the dust a few feet away. Then I would move to dust that dusty dust and it would move again. So I guess it was okay to leave the dust alone because it just so happens dust is one badass powder. Yeah, definitely shouldn’t mess with dust.

Wait. Where was I supposed to do with my thoughts once I got them? Where was I supposed to clear them to? This is why I hate unspecific expressions! You know what? I’m just going to assume my mind is clear and move on.

“Alright, I’ve uh, cleared my mind and whatnot.”

“Good. Now I want you to reach out with your magic, even your meager knowledge should enable you to do that. Try to feel me, my presence. It shouldn’t be too hard. I have quite the personality.” His tone implied just a bit of pride.

Unenthusiastically, I added, “Yes, that you do.”

I had to feel his presence? I could do that. Probably. All I had to do was reach out, whatever that meant, and feel up Sicarius’s essence. Wow, upon thinking that I realized that I could have probably phrased it in a more eloquent, less revolting way.

The tendrils of my magic were unsteady, not as a sign of weakness, but as a symbol of an undisciplined nature. Still, that didn’t prevent me from being able to latch on to my surroundings. At least I could do this. Even if it was more basic than levitation. The feelings were quite amazing, as well.

“Alright. You’re doing okay. Now I want you to imagine from my perspective.” Wait, what?

My nose was scrunched up against his unusual request. “Hold on. How? I don’t see how-”

He interrupted me with a soothing cooing noise. “Shush. It’s okay. Just imagine. Imagine you’re my perspective. Think about what you’re envisioning.” His voice was calm and relaxing, no doubt for my benefit.

“So I’m you.” What would I see if I was him? What would I be-

It was right then that he chose to interrupt me. “No.” What now? What could I have possibly done wrong now? “You’re not me. You’re my perspective.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Believe me, there is a colossal difference. You’re trying to manipulate my perspective, not my mind.”

I knew that. But what was the difference between what could be perceived and what could be thought? “Now that you bring it up, why am I not just trying to control your mind?” That would make more sense, wouldn’t it? It seems like it would be far more effective in a real situation as well.

His reply was a small chuckle. “Because then you wouldn’t be within the realm of illusions, you would be in the realm of Mysticism.”

If that were true, then why not just attempt mysticism? Didn’t mental domination invalidate perspective illusions? What was the point of creating a lie when you could just force someone to believe it? “Why don’t we just use Mysticism then?”

“Even though Mysticism powerful, it is flawed and difficult. If you try to mentally subdue someone you’re in for the fight of your life. For many reasons. One, they’ll probably notice you trying to worm your way into their head and cause a commotion. Two, you’re in their mind, their domain. Meaning that you would be fighting them on their terms. Three, it is absolutely exhausting.”

“But still. Illusion just happens to be the easier of the two? That’s the only reason we use it?” Good to know that my potential was to be second best to some other field.

“No. I find illusion to be far more helpful. With this type of illusion you’re manipulating a dormant piece of magic, making them far less likely to notice your presence. Plus, you can use it on multiple targets at once. And it hardly drains any magic. The manipulation it wields is, without a doubt, far superior to mental domination.”

So I wasn’t cursed with second best. That’s good. “Getting back to the subject at hand, what do I do now that I’m your perspective?” I was hoping to get this over with so I could open my eyes again. I didn’t like the darkness.

He smiled. “Are you going to give me an answer or just sit there grinning?”

His smiled increased ten-fold. “How did you know I was smiling?”

“Because I can see-” I stopped mid-sentence. Wait, how did I know that? My eyes were closed. Yet I knew somehow. I could feel his smile. I could feel it like it was my own. But I could still feel my own, too. It was...odd. Was I in his perspective? Was this what he wanted of me?

“What?” Sicarius asked, “You can see it? I doubt that. Unless you have a third eye.” I could feel his snarky smile. “No, you felt it. Didn’t you?” His smile was cocky and his hungry eyes just egged me onwards. Or were they my eyes now?

“How is this possible? How am I in you’re conscious? I’m seeing what you’re seeing...I’m feeling what you’re feeling...it’s not possible...”

“Just not probable, my dear. The reason you’re able to access my perspective as you are is because I’m letting you. It will take a lot of training before you can reach someone who isn’t guiding you. Think you’re ready for that?”

It was such an incredible feeling. I was still me, yet I was also him somehow. It was like I was seeing the world in the same place, but as two different entities. His perspective was so botched and flowing, I felt like the entire world had been recreated just for my benefit.

I wanted more. Most creatures are limited in seeing the world from their own outlook. But this...this gave me an opportunity to view the land not just from my perspective, but from everyones’. I was given free reign to see it all, hear it all, feel it all, smell it all, taste it all...more than once!

“I know I am.”

He smiled. I had a feeling I made a good choice in coming here. Here, here I had a future.

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 Notes:

Oh, look, a time lapse.

Always Running

Two days. It had taken two whole days to reach Haysead Swamps. There was still time though. There had to be.

I was galloping through boggy woodland, dodging past swampy earth and twisted roots. I gave no regards to the idea of stealth or the danger possibly posed to me. Caution didn’t take precedence over what I was trying to protect.

This was about family. Specifically, my family. They needed me and I couldn’t let them down. They had never let me down, after all.

The branches of boggy willows whipped by me, curling limbs trying to grip me. Roots protruding from the ground attempted to pull me down into the soft earth. They were trying to drag me down and away from my goal. Leaping through the thick shrubbery left me with marks from their thorny bushels.

My mane and tail were matted with sweat and clumps of dirt. Strands of both were torn away by the vicious woodland. This was not a friendly place. And I had to go deeper still into the bog. I had reach a cave, a sanctuary of cold stone among the dry, hot swamps.

The closer I came to our headquarters the more my lungs burned. I had been galloping for quite a while. At least long enough for exhaustion to overtake me. Nature hadn’t constructed unicorns for long distance sprints, yet here I was defying biology. And now, for my dissent, nature was punishing me, stealing away the energy I so desperately needed to reach them.

Anxiety and paranoia had prevented me from achieving sleep in the days it took to reach the swamplands. The depravation of rest took its toll on both my mind and my eyes. My vision faded in and out as my hooves pounded against the soft, mushy earth. Alternatively, my mind was only able to focus on a single thought. Nothing was able to pervade the walls enervation had created.

It was only then, once I was overcome by fatigue and anxiety that a single gnarled root came forth. My fore-hoof crashed against it, sending me sprawling to the ground. The low-dug roots of trees that protruded from the soil pummeled my sides as I rolled over them. Unfortunately, I had been moving downhill, which forced me to roll continuously.

I came to a stop after crashing into a lifeless willow. The weight of my form shook the small tree, dislodging the narrow leaves. They fluttered to the ground, enshrouding me in their weave-like limbs. Leaves sat atop my form for hardly a second before being swept away by the abnormally strong gales.

I laid still with my eyes shut for a moment, body battered and bruised by the swamps that held my home. The azure of my coat was stained in the blood flowing from my numerous cuts. My breathing expanded my chest, forcing it into the earth and causing the dirt to grind deeper into my wounds. Weariness kept me ignorant to the pain and stress kept me oblivious to the weariness.

One choice breath brought more than oxygen into my lungs. An unknown substance drifted into my trachea bringing me to cough forcing me out of my rest. I opened my eyes to the sight of an ashen woods. A field of cinders and black powder lay before me, blown away by the wind. The wind had blown it away. It had blown it away from the direction I was heading...

Ignoring the protest of my tired limbs, I arose. All my hooves could manage to do was scrape against the ground as I struggled to rise. I had to push the cuff of my knees against each just to manage to stand on the flats of my hooves properly.

I pushed myself forward, holding a steady gallop that, while not exactly fast, was moderately impressive considering my condition. More ash blew against me as the soft gales that frequented the bog carried them to me. The black powder stung as it scratched at my eyes, but that was good. It kept me awake and gave me something else to focus on other than the burning feeling in my chest.

The tree line thickened as I pushed deeper into Haysead. The sharp twisting forms of the thin branches scraped against my shoulders, cutting markers through it. They were ignored in favor of something else. Something I found to be far more pressing.

Smoke. I could smell smoke. I really hope someone was just happening to have a massive bonfire, or a cookout, or something. Hah, blind hope. Is that what I’ve been reduced to? Sicarius had always said hope was a fool’s food. That, and sunflower seeds.

Limping farther into the forest the reality of it became more than just a wayward scent. A gray haze began to thicken, originating from an epicenter that could only come from the sanctuary. My eyes watered as the particulates of dead forestry and ash dug into my corneas. Or maybe I was crying.

There was only one possibility given the evidence: fire. The almighty destroyer, that which indiscriminately kills all, had made its way to my home. But maybe I would be lucky. Maybe the few who were still in the sanctuary escaped. Maybe they found somewhere safe to hide out.

Maybe, maybe, maybe, but no- I couldn’t hope. I knew I shouldn’t have hoped. Yet I did anyways. What a fool I was. My reason for living could not simply leave me. They just couldn’t. I wouldn’t let everything I’d held onto for the last seven years disappear. Never again would I be alone, never!

My sight was failing me as I willed myself deeper into the swamplands natural forestry. But I pressed on, oblivious to the ache in my joints and the fire in my lungs. The sounds of burning wood overpowered every other noise. The crackle of flames alerted me to my proximity to certain death. I lowered my head away from the cloud, opting to run blind. As lucky as I was it came as no surprise when I collided with an object. A squishy object.

“More of you!?” A foreign, scratchy voice exclaimed.

I didn’t allow myself the privilege of a daze. Rolling away from whomever collided with me I got to my hooves, shakily. My action was performed in time to feel the solid thud of two alien objects against my back. A heavy weight was pressed against my neck and chest, as well.

My hoof went instinctively for the place I normally kept my weapon sheathed, only to meet with my an empty pouch. They had already disarmed me? Before I could push against my mystery assailant and retaliate their voice pierced the air. “Trixie! You’re alive!” I could feel a blade being slipped back into my secure pack. An ashen mare pulled away from me to answer my prayers.

“Brightwing?” I asked. A mare stood in front of me. Her voice had been scratchy and throaty due to overexposure to the thick smoke. Soot and ash was smeared upon every visible part of her coat, hiding the deep crimson that was underneath. Thick wings protruded from her back but were covered in the smoldering remains of the woods. They should have been red and orange. Eyes that should have been a pale blue were glazed over and watery. In short, she looked like she’d been partially cremated. But she was safe. She was alive. There really was hope.

Her words were first to puncture the silence. “You’re alive? You’re alive! When they got here I assumed- Goddess, I thought I sent you to your death. But you’re alive. You’re so very, very-” Her speech was cut short by a series of coughing. I could hear the scathing noise of dust grinding against her windpipe.

I silenced her by placing a hoof against her lips. She needed to conserve her energy. So did I, actually. “It’s good to see you too, Brightwing. But where are the others? What happened here?” I found it hard to speak. My words came out as one blurb, strained and hardly audible.

She pushed my hoof away and brought me into a long hug. Somehow it was sad. “Not here. Not now. We have to get out of here...fast. Come on.” She motioned to run before I placed a firm(sort of) hoof on her shoulder, staying her. She looked perturbed by this. “We don’t have time for this, Trixie!” She looked at me desperately. I hated to see that.

I stood firm, my expression hard. “What about the others? We have to find them.” My voice was resolute despite the harsh conditions of our environment. Nothing could break my determination on that front- not exhaustion, not fire, not even more family.

Brightwing was looking more and more desperate by the second. “They got them! Now come on!” She was tugging on my hoof, her stamina drained legs dragging my stamina drained body gradually. She was so scared. But so were they, probably.

“We have to go back for them then!” I shouted, attempting to pull away from her grip. She was naturally more muscular, however, so all I managed to do was make myself light-headed in my feeble undertakings.

“Please, we have to go! They’re coming after me too. Them and their stupid fire! They’re chasing me right now. The others fought to give me a chance to run. Now run!” Tears streamed down her face as she spoke. Crap. She was obviously just as hesitant to leave our family as I was.

I bit my lip; it’s an action that any pony who has ever had a problem has done. It was quite obvious Brightwing needed to get out of here. Her ragged form showed just how little energy she had; if she reentered the inferno enervated she would surely collapse. I needed to make sure she got out of here safely before anything else. “Fine...but we’re coming back!”

Ignoring the last comment she had begun to run, checking behind her occasionally to make sure I was following. I galloped after her, straining to keep her pace. Even for a pegasus, Brightwing was incredibly swift. Only while traveling on hoof, though, she was rather sluggish in the air.

We ran. That is all we did. I knew not where we were heading, only that safety came with flight; constant, unending flight. Running was in my nature. From the day I was born I was running...until someone caught me. And I was going to leave them now.

My body was protesting my demands, threatening to collapse if I did not rest. Unfortunately for my body, I do not take kindly to threats. I pushed forward, tears streaming down my face as cinders rained down. The cuts overlaying my coat screamed out as the embers burned into them, searing me.

The flats of my hooves were aching from the constant pounding against the ground. I couldn’t see through the water that was flowing from my eyes. As my hooves pumped up they kicked the scattered waste of the bog into my chest, staining it with the disgusting mixture of dry ash and damp swamp.

Eventually I was forced to the ground. When my form had taken too much punishment it fell. There was something there that made sure I wasn't down for long, though.

“You have to get up!” Brightwing was standing over me, pale blue eyes begging me to move. “Please, Trixie, get up. I’m not leaving you too...”

I pushed my hooves into the soft ground and shoved. I was only able to manage to get myself halfway up before I felt my knees tremble. I winced in pain as one of my hooves slid out. I began to sink to the ground before a pair of crimson hooves wrapped around me and pulled me up.

Brightwing pulled me to my feet, allowing me to lean against her to support myself. Her eyes penetrated mine. “Come on, we have to keep moving.” She wrapped her wing around me and pulled me into a forceful trot.

I looked at her as we moved. “Thank you.” All I got in reply was a grunt. She never had liked thank you’s.

As we worked our way away from the nostril-burning scent I noticed a few things about my companion. Cuts and bruises aligned her body, some neat and clean, others...not so much. The nicks resembled those of spears and swords, weapons a soldier would use. But other cuts on her body were...they were made by a ring blade. The even depth of the wound all around made confirmed that. The weapon itself was unique to our guild.

Leaning into her crimson coat I asked, “What happened back there?”

“Keep moving!” Shouted Brightwing. Was...was she avoiding my question? No, no, it couldn’t be. A distant noise was heard. It was shouting. Somebody was catching up to us. Brightwing looked over her shoulder examining the thin shroud of leaves. “I’ll explain everything later!”

We limped on, our pace still pathetically slow. I could see my companion’s legs trembling under the stress of my burden. “Let go of me and move, I’ll catch up.” I tried to pull away from the grip of her wing only to find it tightening around me.

“No.” She stated simply. Her eyes were hard set on the trek before us, never straying towards me. “You’re getting through this and that’s final. Because if you don’t, I’m not sure I will.” Her voice cracked. “I can’t let another one of you go.”

Branches and snags ceased to scrape against my tender skin as the treeline thinned out, revealing the rapids leading away from the Horseshoe Bay Basin. The shouting was growing in volume. Both Brightwing and myself were exhausted.

We had to stop upon reaching the cliffside facing the rapids. I was deposited upon the ground as Brightwing laid down. Brightwing looked behind her again, brow knitted into a frustrated expression. “We can’t run anymore. They’re catching up.” I was about to interject when she placed her hooves on my shoulders pointing me towards her. “Shush. I need you to listen.”

The look in her pale eyes told me just how serious she was. “We were assaulted by some agency back at the sanctuary. They started a fire and smoked us out. There were too many of them for us to do any real damage. It was basically a small army. At least one-hundred to our fifteen. It was professional work too, but that's not important.”

Brightwing pulled her saddlebag off. A layer of dust and soot descended to the ground as it came off her shoulders. She began strapping it to me. What the hay was she doing? The distant hoof steps of the small army became louder.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

She continued, ignoring me. “They knew everything. Where to strike, how to draw us out, every entrance and escape root, nooks and crannies, how many of us there would be...everything. Even their weapons were specifically designed to keep us at length.” Where was she going with this?

Brightwing bit her lower lip, staring away from me. Something in her eyes, something more than physical pain. “And what’s more is that I was attacked. By an adept. Someone assaulted me with a rather unique weapon, trying to kill me. I fought them down and got away, though. They did nick one of my wings, unfortunately. I didn’t see who it was...but their form, their weapon, their style...it was one us.”

The comment did not work its way through my mind immediately. I sat their for a moment, dumbfounded. I couldn’t filter the idea that someone I knew, that someone I trusted could do that. “That’s not-”

“Trixie. Deal with the emotional garbage later. There are more consequential things I still have to say, okay?” I nodded. “Great.” She said, half-hearted smile gracing her visage. I loved that smile usually, but right then it just made me want vomit. The bellows and hoof steps were getting close. “Those saddlebags I just strapped onto you are enchanted to be waterproof. They have my ledger in them, along with and a few supplies. As you know, my ledger has a record of all outgoing clients and jobs.”

Wait. Brightwing never departed with her ledger. Seriously, what was she doing? “If there is a traitor, it’ll come in handy. I bet that you got ambushed on your mission. Right?” I nodded again. “Thought so. The others got jumped too, probably. You need to check it out. You need to make sure our family is okay, okay? All thirty of them.”

“So what you’re going to do is jump in the rapids and float out to Dodge City. There you’ll supply yourself and survive.”

Without thinking I blurted out, “That is the dumbest plan I’ve ever heard! We’re going to jump in the rapids? The rapid rapids?”

Her gaze hit the cliffside immediately. Uh-oh. “Wait, what’s that look?”

She looked at me sadly. “They’ve seen me. I’m too high profile. You, though, you are safe. They have no idea what you look like. I’m going to stay. Stay and hold them back. You-”

“What!? There is no way I’m going to let you stay here and die while I run away! I came here to save you and I’m not running away!” There was no way I would lose another friend. Never again would I be alone.

Brightwing smiled. This time it was that smile I loved. That self-assured, happy smile. “I won’t die. I won’t even fight. I’ll just keep them occupied. I'm quite the smooth talker ya'know." She winked at me with and flashed a copy grin. "But you need to go now, before they see that there was a second pony with me. Okay?” Her eyes were set on me now. She was set on this idea. It would have been foolish not to go along with her, because she felt quite strongly about this. She wanted to protect me. The best thing to do would have been to honor her wishes.

“No! Not okay! I am not letting you do this.” I may have been slightly, beyond irritated at the situation.

She let a hoof fall across my cheek. “I knew you would survive. I just knew it. You were always good at it. It was like your special talent or something. And I need you to do that now, okay? I need you to survive- for me, for Sicarius, for Aeria, for Star, for everyone. As long as I know you’re okay I’ll be fine. But you have to be okay.” She bit her lip.

“You’re the only one who can do this Trix. I don’t think I can...not knowing that everybody I’m checking up on...not knowing I’m the one who sent them into a trap...” Her wings sunk to the ground beside her, laying in a down, useless state. She instantly changed motions, looking directly at me.

Her pale blue eyes bore into mine, communicating her wishes for me. In my line of work it had always been a blessing being able to read faces...but right then, right then I would’ve given anything not to read her. Nothing has ever felt as horrible as the sight of that sadness. “You’re going for a run, Trix. Don’t ask me how far or how fast. Just know that I’ll be there at the end.”

It was just like Brightwing to spring something like that on me. She just had to go and make me feel that I was important didn’t she? She had to save me like that, screwing herself in the process. It was just like her to be self sacrificial. Why couldn’t she just be more selfish? Huh? Well you know what? I’m staying with her no matter what.

“Not happening Brightwing. I’m staying right here. Next to you. We’re getting out of this together. Then we’re going to find our family. After that we’ll find whoever is responsible for this. Okay?” The distant hoof steps were practically stomps now.

Brightwing let loose a deep sigh, despite her ragged condition. She threw a wayward glance to the woodlands. “You’re right. We have to stick together. We’re family. However-” She stood up quickly and rocketed her body into mine, propelling me off the cliffside. “-we have a better chance this way.”

Wind slapped against me as I fell. My respiratory system, already drained of oxygen, struggled to gain any sort of respite now. My eyes were closed against the force of the gale, water streaming from them. I’m not sure whether those tears were all related to the pain, though.

I heard shouts above the forceful breeze. I could make out the words “Halt!” An appeasing voice rung out above the throng of shouts, calming the shouts. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was happening.

And I could do nothing to stop it...

Soon the crashing force the rapids washed over me, drowning out any and all noise. All I could feel was the cool blast of the sun-beaten waters and my own tired limbs drifting uselessly. I was launched forward, unable to muster the strength to stray off the path of the waves. Nothing could be done. Everything about me in that single moment was useless.

My mind faded as my senses slowly succumbed to the forces of nature. Soon only the harsh black of unconsciousness was there to comfort me. Maybe the world would be kind to me and let me die.

Author's Notes:

Sorry it was such a long wait. I've been busy, no, no, extremely busy lately.

Graciousness isn't a Common Virtue

Light filtered down, irritating my sleeping form as it danced over my eyes. My closed lids twitched against the uninvited intrusion, instantly growing weary of the glaring dawn. Soon they opened, bringing me back to the conscious world. A world I could not abhor more.

The first thing I became aware of was the severity of my condition; or rather, a lack of severity. I felt at peace. My body ached dully, but it wasn’t painful. I was laying across something soft, extremely so, in fact. It was abnormal for my experience. Normally when one passes out on a rapid flowing against stonework they don’t end up somewhere nice. Normally.

They usually die.

Wait, was I dead? I did fall unconscious under the pressure of water...an experience not many can claim to survive. And I couldn’t seem to find the saddlebags which had been so tightly strapped to my back. Also, when Brightwing shoved me off the cliffside I fell quite a length. Who’s to say I didn’t sustain internal injury from the impact with the water surface? Plus there was this super bright light shining on my face and-

...

Crud. Yeah, I was dead. There was no way I could be anything else. I died on the rapids, body floating downstream until it hit an embankment or something. From there I would've just washed up on shore like any other piece of garbage. My body might not even be discovered depending on how far downstream it moved. Well[/i,] it wouldn’t be discovered by intelligent creatures, at least.

It would end up being found by timber wolves or some other ravenous predator. After finding my juicy remains they would proceed to rip me apart, pulling anything worth consuming off my body and leaving the scraps to rot in festering heap of bone and sinew. What a nice image to think about. Maybe I’d give them food poisoning or something. That would be nice.

Funny thing is, though, heaven looked a lot like a dusty old room. I was in a bed with a number of blankets piled over. No, not piled, placed. They were meticulously wrapped around me, keeping the heat my body radiated contained within the confines of the cloth. It was kind of hot. Two pillows were stacked under my head, one leaning against the post of the bed to support the cushion directly underneath my cranium.

The room was small and bare of any decoration, excluding a table that was pressed against the bed. On it was a small, unlit candle. Directly above my head was a window with blinds closed over it. It hadn't helped keep the light out of my face though. I winced more as the unwelcome beams continued to dance across my face.

A worn and beaten door sat across from the foot of the feather bed. It was small, looking to be an attic door or something.

Wow, even Heaven had stuck me in the attic. I could see rust easily forming on the hinges. Whoever ran the place obviously didn’t give a crap about quality. .

So that was heaven then? A crappy motel room that had light trying to grip my eyeballs in a bear hug? Heaven sucked. Unless I was in Hell. Was I in Hell? How would I determine whether I was in Heaven or Hell? Alright, let’s start with the basics.

Had an undying fire consumed my body in a spiteful explosion of fury?

Nope, I was okay there.

Was anyone poking me with a pitchfork?

Nope, I was good there too.

Was anyone poking me with a regular fork?

No, it seemed I was fine there as well.

What about a spoon?

No, nothing seemed to be poking me.

Did my body ache?

Dully.

Did an immortal torment haunt my soul?

No more than usual.

Huh, guess Heaven does just suck. How unfortunate. You’d think I’d get a special place after seeing of so many people off here. Then again, they might have frowned upon that. Likely, Heaven was to be a very exclusive place. The caretakers in paradise probably hated new arrivals; I mean that was less space for them, right?

Wait. What was that noise? Were those the door hinges squeaking?

Of course, my eyes were instantly targeting the door after the noise until, sure enough, the handle turned. I sunk into the covers awaiting the whomever dared to enter my- well, their, domain.

The door did not open easily. It scraped against the flooring as it moved, scratching and denting wooden boards that had already been ground by its past movements. The eerie squeaking of the un-oiled hinges worked at my nerves. The basic fear of the unknown that lies in the heart of all ponies overcame my more logical side(so what if I was afraid of Heaven?). I could not help but expect the worst.

So when some apron wearing housewife burst through the door with a tray of liquids balanced on her back while whistling “Walking on Sunshine,” I was a little bit surprised (any fear I felt was gone by that point). The earth-pony’s eyes were closed as she strode towards my resting place, shoulders swaying with the beat she conjured. Her easy-going smile did look rather indicative of her being an angel of some sort.

Without once looking towards me or opening her eyes she placed the tray down on the table. She plopped down in front of the table, sitting right on the edge of my blankets. These angels have great hoof-eye coordination.

The mare took a glass of green liquid off the tray. She turned to me, still not looking directly at me, and started to push the sludgy drink towards my face. Globs of what looked to be spinach and, ew, olives were present in the repellent mixture. Heaven or not, there was no way I was going to drink that.

“I’m going to shove that glass down your throat if you bring it any closer to my face.” I looked directly into her eyes as I spoke in a collected, deliberate manner. “Also, “Walking on Sunshine” sucks ass.”

It seemed that, for the first time, the angel had noticed me. “AH!” She recoiled from the bed in surprise as soon as I spoke, tipping backwards and falling flat on her back, all four hooves flared up in the air. The sewage waste she had been trying to feed me followed her down, spilling over her and staining her country coat.

I leaned over the bed as soon as she fell. She was rubbing away at the nasty, smelly crap on her with all hooves, desperately trying to remove the stink from herself. It took most of my willpower not to laugh at her. Wait, scratch that, it took all my willpower not to laugh at her. Strangely, she didn't acknowledge me while on the ground. She seemed to be stuck in her own little bubble, once again oblivious to my existence. Idiot.

She picked herself off the ground taking heavy breaths. She was wiping away at the muck on her coat with her fore-hooves as she came to a sitting position. She didn’t even acknowledge that I was awake. She couldn’t have seriously forgotten what I had just said.

“Excuse me.” I said blankly.

Apparently I set off some alarm in her tiny mind because she reeled back once again. She managed to shout, “OH SHIII-” before hitting the floor...again. This was one dumb angel. Unfortunately for her, she fell into the remainder of the goop that she had spilled earlier.

She gave a small squeak as she lay on her back, hooves flared out in all directions. What a sad display. Rather than pull herself up, as she had before, she rolled over to place the flats of her hooves against the ground. While this did help her get up, it also smeared more of that green sludge over her coat. It really wasn’t a good look.

She turned around to face me. She didn’t wipe her face this time. Either that was a testament to her will, or her stupidity. But hey, angels don’t have to be smart. Though the drink, if you could call it that, did cover her features...that would make her hard to read.

Oh, well. “Soooo, can you run me a bubble bath? I feel like I haven’t bathed in a week.” What? I have to bathe, don't I?

Even through the green ooze I could see the blank look on her face. “What?”

Not only was I stuck in the attic of Heaven’s crappiest house, I also got the mentally deficient angel. Woohoo. “Did I go too fast? Sorry. Me. Bubbles. Bathe. You. Make. Kapeesh?”

The ball of green goop didn’t reply at first. Then it just repeated itself. “What?”

Okay, this was ridiculous. “Could I request a different angel?”

“Angel? I’m no angel.” Well that probably accounts for the lack of grace.

“What’re you then? Housekeeping? Could you fetch an angel or something? I really want to get out of here and see what you’ve got up here.”

The buffoon’s mouth was opened slightly. Whether she was trying trap a fly or just confused I couldn't tell. “Uh, mam? Sorry to say, but we don’t have any angels. Not that I know of, anyways. We’re in a valley next to Dodge City. We’re about as far down from up as you can get. So wherever you think we are...”

“Oh.” I was still alive? Figures. The world was far too cruel to let me die alone. No, I had to live alone instead.

The mare sniggered. “You really thought you were a goner, huh?” She pushed a hoof against her chin. “Guess it’s not so hard to believe though, eh? I mean I did find you nearly dead, washed up on the side of a river. What were you doing out there, anyhow? Did you fall or what?”

A river? The river! I pulled myself up from the bed and grab the mare by the skin of her neck. It was hard, but I managed to ignore the stinking mess that dripped onto my legs...That could've been phrased better. “My saddlebags! Where are my saddlebags!? What did you do with them!?”

The mare didn’t look scared of me, though, just empathetic. I wish I was taller. Then this intimidation crap would work better. “Woah now, simmer down. They’re fine. I have them downstairs in my kitchen. I didn’t touch em.’” I pushed her away and got completely off the bed, heading straight for the door. A hoof latched onto me, though. “Just hold it right there. You’re in way too bad a condition head off now. Besides there's-”

I turned on her, pressing my face against hers. Celestia, that smell was worse than a septic tank. Did she dump raw sewage in with those leafy greens? “Look. Don’t touch me, ever. I appreciate you saving my life and all, but you don’t need to try and help me now. I’ve bounced back from much worse and survived. So what you’re going to do is back off. Ok?”

She lifted her hoof off of me and lifted it into the air in a pacifying display. “Okay, okay. Sheesh, there is no need to bite my head off. I mean I was just trying to help.”

“Good. Now tell me where your kitchen is.” I had little patience for fools. And intelligent creatures. And average ones. And creatures that were ordinarily dumb but displayed small bursts of intelligence now and then.

“It’s down on the first floor, you can’t really miss it. But I think I should tell you that-”

“Enough.” I cut her off. “You’ve been more than helpful. Now you can sit back and enjoy the good feeling you probably get from helping a complete stranger. Even if it is only a fleeting sensation meant to boost your pathetically inadequate self-esteem.”

“...” She stared at me in silence. “You’re a di-”

“Let me stop you right there. Bye.” I still didn’t get my bubble bath.

I pushed through the door leading to the first floor, leaving a green, stinky mare behind me. Did she ever say what her name was? It was a quick descent to the first floor, each of my hooves pounding against the wooden boards of the staircase.

I turned through the corners of the house looking for the kitchen. It wasn’t hard to find at all considering the size of the house. My saddlebags were located on the countertop. Right in the middle of the counter top. I heaved a sigh of relief as I grabbed them.

I quickly overturned the bag onto the countertop. The contents poured onto it in a clutter. My eyes instantly focused on the small ledger. “Thank goodness your safe. I thought I failed the one thing Brightwing trusted me to do. The fate of the entire Blackscale hinges on you after all!”

“Now I should be leav-”

A false cough interrupted my self-aimed speech. I turned my head towards the noise, expecting the mysterious savior idiot to be standing in the frame of the kitchen. What I did not expect was a group of guards to be standing in front of me, eyebrows raised.

I stared helplessly at them. “Uh...”

Right then another voice rang out from the attic. “They’re are guards here, by the way!”

Author's Notes:

Sorry if this chapter gives you diarrhea.

Pots, pans, and bruises

There were three of them, each one standing next to the other in order to block the path through the frame. The three looked at me with expressions that left me with no doubt that they knew what I was. They were strong looking, burly really, but didn’t appear to have any weapons on them.

I could take them on easily. Well, usually. Unfortunately, I was not at my then. The stresses of nearly dying saw to that. And It was far too risky to try and cast an illusion with that weakness. The feedback from latching onto the unconscious magical nervous system of three individuals would likely send me reeling. My approach to the problem would require a physical solution.

Or maybe all the situation required was a healthy dose of bull-crap.

“So, what’s up?” I smiled broadly, trying to act as innocent as possible with the ledger at my hooves. The curved dagger on the counter didn’t look good either. Neither did the brew of what I assumed was poison. And I guess the book on naturally occurring toxins looked bad, too. The smoke bombs might have looked suspicious...Yeah, this was going to be difficult.

The guard on the far right spoke up to answer me. “Mam’, I’m going to have to ask you to come with us.”

Well it was kind of a long shot. But like I was always taught, play dumb until the very end. “Uh, why? I was just making a sandwich.” I hope Idiot comes downstairs. They wouldn’t dare try anything with her watching.

“Uh-ha.” He didn’t look convinced. “We just need to ask you some questions. It shouldn’t take long.” Maybe I could try to act incompetent again.

“What about?” Just keep at it, Lulamoon. They’ll get bored at some point. Or frustrated.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “We’re taking a census. We just need your help.” A small smile crossed the corner of his mouth. It looked pretty forced.

“I think I can answer any questions you have for me here, in the comfort of my home.” If they knew who lived here then I could probably pass off as Idiot.

His forehead creased. “According to my reports this house belongs to a Miss Cherryfield.” So that was idiot’s name. Huh.

The smile that crawled over my features was annoyingly bright and excruciatingly broad. “That would be me.” Where are you Idiot?

The smile on his face broadened just a bit. "Actually the mare who lives here is named Cherry Grover."

Okay, that was pretty smooth. I'll have to give him that one. I can still play the fool, though. "And that's my name. I'm just a little shy about correcting ponies." I smiled.

His eyes narrowed at me. "You do realize Cherry Grover had to let us in, right?"

I hadn't actually thought of that. Huh. Maybe I did have a concussion, after all. "Uh, we're both Cherry Grover. You see, we're sisters and our parents were really uncreative. I have a brother named Cherry Grover too."

This seemed to do it in for the stallion. “Ya’ know what? Screw this. You’re under arrest for treason.”

Treason? What treason was he talking about? Was it when I sold government secrets to Saddle Arabia? Maybe when I had that senator deposed. Or it could just be because I was in a dangerous organization that operated like a cult. Yeah, probably that last one.

The stallion advanced on me while his two companions stood on his heels, waiting for me to do something stupid. The gleam in their eyes...it was like they were daring me to make a move, daring me to try my luck on them. Unfortunately for them, I was experienced, intelligent, and had poor impulse control.

The stallion stopped in his tracks. “Now, I want you to take a few steps back from the countertop.” He was trying to get me away from my weapon, eh? Perhaps he didn't realize we were in a kitchen. Because kitchens and bathrooms happen to be the best weapons ever crafted by pony kind!

No, but seriously. There's lots of hard stuff in em' and crap.

So I complied, stepping into the shadow of the stove. The stallion resumed his approach when he decided I was far enough away from the dagger. But it wasn't the dagger he should've worried about so much as it was the boiling pot of grits behind me.

The grits were pulled off of the stove and thrown into the guard’s face(I think I burned my hooves touching the pot.). He reacted as most would to hot food being thrown in their face. He recoiled, falling back a few feet towards the countertop. Dropping the pot to the ground, I took the opportunity to advance on the stallion and smash his head against the curved marble lacing the counters.

The other guards in the room were already working towards me. In a second they would be on me. Acting as quickly as I possibly could I grabbed the dagger and threw it at one of the ponies.

I had been aiming for the chest or lower throat, but my aim was off. My hoof shook and I ended up tossing blade too low at a foe too close. It barely ended up hitting one of the them in the hoof. Luckily the dagger, while not large, was just large enough to penetrate her boot. Soon she was rolling on the ground clutching his hoof.

That just left one guard, who, due to my lack of planning, reached me. He was a unicorn so I expected him to burst me down with a common stun spell. So it was a bit surprising when he hit me across the face instead.

I hit the kitchen floor, hoof pressed against the spot on my cheek. I think the stun spell would have been preferable to the brutality. I wasn’t on the ground for long, though. The remaining guard grabbed me by the collar and shoved me against the countertop, holding a firm leg against my throat.

While I wasn’t in range of a suitable weapon, I did have on way to express my disdain for the guard’s rough treatment. Spitting.

“Aw! Did you just spit on me!?” He said as he wiped away the stain.

I sneered at him, letting my eyes express every hateful feeling I had. Which was many. Because I'm full of hate(and a few other things). “Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to handle a mare so roughly?”

“Most mares aren’t capable of stabbing a guard and knocking out my squadron leader.” His squadron of three? I squirmed a bit, loosening his hold on my left arm. He didn't readjust his grip to hold it down. Maybe that would allow me to grab something.

I smirked at him. “Don’t forget about breaking a container of liquid over your skull.”

He looked confused. “What?”

My left arm shot out towards the bottle of...something...pulling it towards me in one fluid motion. Squirming a little more out of his grip, I was able to bring the glass container above my head. I forced it down on the guard’s head, shattering the glass bottle.

The effect was instant. He pulled away grasping at his face. He screamed in pain as the glass shards dug into his snout. Never one to let a chance slide by, I grabbed the pot laying on the ground and slapped it against the guard’s already abused face.

It had the desired effect. He quieted down. Not dead quiet, just possibly fractured skull quiet.

There was just the guard with the dagger in her hoof left. It wouldn’t be too hard to deal with her. At least, that was what I thought before she jumped me, holding the dagger in her fetlock(the obsidian handle made it resistant to magic).

Sadly(for her) deranged mare with pot beats injured guard with knife. Tossing the dented pan at the guard was easy enough. I mean I couldn’t really miss with her limping at me. The pot crashed against her chest plate, winding her.

She dropped the dagger, letting it fall to the kitchen floor. An extremely dumb move on her part. Darting to the weapon, I picked it up. Just as the remaining guard was recovering her breath I was upon her. I pressed her against the ground at the point of the tiny weapon. It’s funny what ponies will do to avoid death, even if it means allowing yourself to be threatened by it. The mare could have easily overpowered me in the situation. I was so much smaller, yet she allowed herself to be shoved to the ground.

Still, I didn’t really want to risk her pulling something, so I pressed my hoof against her wound. As you anyone would expect, the mare drew away, wincing against the pressure. Using the hoof holding the weapon, I forced her head upwards so that her eyes could not look away from mine.

Now, I am no fool. These guards or Idiot will bear witness that one of the missing criminals is an azure mare with a silver mane. One course of action would have been to kill every single living creature in the house, but that wouldn’t do.

Idiot had saved my life, so, in technical terms, I owed her one. While not killing her doesn’t exactly seem like proper payback, it was a start. And since I wouldn’t be killing her that meant I didn’t have to kill the guards.

That doesn’t mean they wouldn’t prove useful, however.

Staring deep into the eyes of my victim, I saw something: fear. Fear was the one advantage I had over the institution. None of them knew what I was capable of. They wouldn't know if I was willing killer who derived pleasure from bloodshed or a basic criminal who was horrified at the thought of murder. That mystery could lead to fear. Fear could lead to mistakes and clumsiness. And that could lead me to my family and the bastards who ordered this marehunt. So fear would be, for quite a while, my best friend.

I smirked as evilly as I could, letting my eyes fall wide open to create what is normally known as “crazy eyes.” If only I could force venom to drip out of my mouth.

“Attacking me like that? You must have a death wish. That is so selfish. I have one too, but I direct it towards others. Unlike you, I like to share. I want to see my fellow pony get every. Little. Thing. They. Deserve.” I emphasized each word by pressing the blade deeper into the mare's chin. I smiled wickedly at her. Or, I tried to. It is kind of hard. I could only hope I avoided looking constipated.

Apparently it wasn't a complete failure of facial muscles, because the mare was staring at me with her ears pressed against her skull and wide eyes.

Now, I’ve learned something in the years I’ve been alive. Crazy and disturbed is far more frightening than intelligent and capable. Even if it isn’t quite as dangerous. Right then was the time to be crazy and disturbed.

Now, one would normally think the key to intimidating another with a blade would be to cut them. However, a far more effective tactic, as I was taught, was to cut yourself. It may sound strange, and utterly mad, but there is logic behind it.

Torture is all about fear. The captive has to be constantly afraid of what could happen to them, of what will happen to them. And often times, they’re fear of what will be done is far more damaging than what is actually done to them.

So if you hurt yourself, say, out of anger towards the captive, then you’re bound to make them wonder, "If they’re willing to do that to themselves, then what are they going to do to me?" And that fear and mystery is what everyone in the business of gathering information wants.

I frowned at the mare, allowing my harsh gaze to fall over her. “It just makes me so angry, you know? I mean how could you be so self-centered?” I pulled the dagger against the skin of my hoof, drawing blood. It hurt quite a bit. It turns out drawing blood is a bad idea after burning yourself. “Well! How could you!” I screamed into the face of the poor mare.

I leveled my bloodied hoof over her face so that the descending droplets would land on her face. She winced as each speck hit her. The utter terror and shock on her face was clearly evident. Her mouth moved a few times, but nothing came out. Finally she croaked out two words. “Please...stop...”

I continued on my fake rant, acting as if I was oblivious to her dread. “Ponies like you sicken me. You hold on to everything, never bothering to share it with the world. But it’s not your fault. You probably have a genetic imperative or something. But it’s okay. I can help you. I can help you share. Let’s start with something easy...How about a little more blood?”

Her eyes widened as I spoke, searching mine for any traces of sympathy or empathy. She wouldn’t find an ounce of compassion. I brought the dagger above her head, holding it steadily above her. She was petrified. I could smell the fear radiating off of her in waves. Good. Maybe she would share this experience with her cohorts.

Maybe even a rumor about me would get started. A rumor about the azure monster that threatened Equestria's peace. I could work with something like that.

I brought the butt of the dagger against her collarbone, letting the hard obsidian hilt take care of her. She passed out as soon the object made contact with her skin. Unfortunately for her, I couldn’t stop there. If the mare woke up and found herself unwounded(besides the hoof) she might become suspicious.

A quick jab to the shoulder should take care of that. A shallow jab, even. I gently pushed the weapon into the shoulder blade. It probably didn’t look like I was doing it gently, but I promise I was. I definitely wasn’t furious at the mare’s organization for taking away my family and taking it out on her shoulder. Nope, definitely not. I pulled the blade out of the wound and stood up. I totally didn't twist the blade before pulling it out of her either.

It was time I gathered my things and left. Walking back to the countertop I grabbed my saddlebags. I dumped the remaining items in there, excluding the dagger. It was a fine a weapon, but if there were guards here, they were likely all over Dodge City. It would look bad if I was found with a bloody knife, or any kind of knife, really.

I turned to the entrance frame of the kitchen, prepared to leave. I may have forgotten about one little detail in the excitement, though.

Standing in the doorframe was Idiot, her mouth hanging wide open at the sight before her. She was sitting on her haunches, eyes glued to the bloody and bruised mess before her. I don’t think she even blinked.

“Uh...hi?”

Her eyes didn’t move from the bloody mess.

“You said we’re on the edge of Dodge City, right?”

She did not react to my question.

“So which way to the center of town?”

Not letting her gaze drift from the guards unconscious bodies she lifted a hoof. She pointed in a random direction.

I coughed awkwardly. Hopefully I hadn’t broken her. That is definitely not how I wanted to pay her back. “Thanks. So...yeah.”

I rushed past the dazed mare making my way for the door. The guards had seen my coat color and hair color, but they hadn’t seen my cutie mark. And my color could be changed easily with a spell...once I felt strong enough to actually perform an illusion.

Brightwing’s instructions were still clearly laid out in my mind, each step as she had said it to me. I was to get into Dodge City, get supplied, study the ledger, and find any of us who managed to escape. And I was almost ready to do that. First I wanted to find a tavern and drink myself to death.

Then maybe find out how to get the heck out of Dodge and find that traitor.

Author's Notes:

This is addressed to anyone who has read this story, and is interested in seeing it continue. I haven't glanced over this story in a while, and in doing so now I feel I've abandoned what could've been a good one. The writing isn't particularly spectacular, nor is it very catching. Plus, I used that tired old 'Trixie's past blows' backstory that's so popular (and in my opinion, overused). Anyways, I may revisit this story. I really loved the plot I outlined for it, and I still do. If I come back to the story, however, I'm definitely going to revamp the chapters I've written out so far. Reading through this again, I didn't feel incredibly connected to any of my characters (which is pretty bad considering I wrote them); they all felt bland and one-dimensional, and hardly any of them were fleshed out. There was no point for introducing them into the story. So, if I do revamp this story, expect a very different beginning chapters.