B.D: Memoirs of a Rogue

Chapter IV

BUBBLE BROKEN

I remember the following events as painfully as a kick to the stomach.

The new jobs were quite different from my usual line of work. Most of it was based on sending letters to ponies in dark suits, overhearing guards talking in the market, that sort of thing. There were no bits involved on it, just information. On the off days I was sent sneaking out for a bit of food now and then, which I was a lot happier doing. The new tasks were just too... strange for me.

* * *

I opened my eyes, and turned to my jacket hung up by a closed window, with a list peeking out of the side pocket. I wasn't surprised in the slightest. I put it there in the first place. The note detailed the tasks that Cinders told me to do the day before.

The room wasn't empty when I woke up. Yingling was asleep as quiet as a colt, with Jem sitting on the table, swinging his legs playfully. I lifted myself up, a worrying squeak emerging from the mattress.

"Morning Crow," Jem said. "Ying sure takes a while to get up, huh?"

"Huh, yeah," I yawned.

It was predictable that Parable and the foals weren't around, as she'd normally start a morning walk with the foals.

"Where's Cinders?" I asked.

"She didn't say, but I think she went out about... thirty, forty minutes ago? She was in a hurry."

"Weird," I muttered.

"Yeah. On the bright side, her leg must have totally healed up by now."

I nodded, and slid off the bed. She hadn't said anything the day before about it, or if her leg was strong enough to get out the room. Having already positioned my jacket to make it easy to wear, I didn't need Jem to help me this time. I was ready to work within the minute, and turned to the blue unicorn with my front hoof held up to him.

"I need to get on with this list. Bye, Jem."

"See you soon, Crow!"

I turned and heard a loud slam from the entrance to the building. An eyebrow raised, I opened the door into the hallway, where none other than Cinders rushed up in front, almost tackling me to the floor.

"Woah, there!"

The mare was almost as startled as I was.

"Sorry, Crow, didn't see you there! You're just the pony I need to talk to right now."

"It's nice to see you up and galloping again."

"Thanks," Cinders said quickly. "I have a change in schedule. We've got another contract, and it's for you."

She trotted briskly to the table, nipping the list from my side pocket as she went. After dropping the note on one side of the table, she pulled out a much more serious-looking document from her own pocket, written in block print.

"Does this mean I have to wait until midnight again?" I sighed. Accompanying Jem all day like I'd done before would be a lot less fun with Ying around.

"No, actually," she said. "I suppose you'd prefer me to read it?"

"Yes please."

"I'm sorry about the timing of this," she started, "I literally just got it straight from the client. The... short of it, is he's asked you to get a special necklace from in the market smithy. It's... stored in a display case, above his bed. The client told me that the blacksmith actually sleeps in his own shop at night, so it'd be much safer for you to go while he's at work selling his wares outside."

A day job was most likely difficult to pull off, but the alternative wasn't any better. Doing it in the day could be a plus—I had plenty of experience with using the noise and clutter the crowds made to my advantage.

"So, go to the market, break into the shop, take the necklace and run. Got it."

She put a hoof up to stop me from trotting out.

"Easy, donkey. You don't think you're going to be able break into a display case with force, do you?"

"Well, breaking into things has worked before, so.... yes?" I smirked.

"Not this time it won't. The client himself told us it was 'pony-proof'." Cinders walked passed me into the room, towards where she normally sat. She rummaged through her shelves, bringing out a small wooden box.

She opened it, revealing a few pieces of thin, bent pieces of metal. They reminded me of hair clips that some of the higher class mares would use, only uglier.

"You'll need a couple of these if you're thinking of getting into the case."

"What are they?"

"These, Crow, are lock-picks. Designer-made to 'pick' any 'lock' the user requires. I'm actually quite surprised you haven't had use of them earlier."

"Huh. I can see where that might have come in use a bit earlier," I muttered.

Cinders tilted her head. "Hmm. Shame, that."

"So... How do these work?"

"It's not too hard," she replied. "You have to place it into the lock you want open. You sort of have to twiddle it around until the lock clicks, and you've picked it. Tell you what, if we can ask Mrs Goldheart, I bet she has some old locks that we can practise on about the house."

I knew what I had to do.

"Uh, Mrs Goldheeeaaarrt...?"

* * *

Getting a lesson on how to open doors without a key was undoubtedly useful in my line of work. It was crazy that throughout my entire life as a thief, I'd never learnt that such a useful tool existed. My job was always stealing food from stalls, so I never had to open a lock without a key.

It didn't take long before we found an old empty safe box that she kept in the cupboard. Admittedly, asking an adult for lock-picking material was hard to do while sounding perfectly innocent. Cinders cut me off before I said something stupid, asking instead if we could look through the cupboards for some extra dishes.

Lock-picking did not come to me naturally. It took what seemed like hours to figure out how to not fumble the pick, and another long stretch of time before I opened the box. Cinders said her congratulations, but I wasn't wholly sure she meant them. She wanted me to try another couple of times, and I finished, a bit quicker each time I succeeded.

"I think you're ready, Crow. The case might not be an old lockbox, but I bet it isn't anything like a safe."

"I hope you're right."

"Of course I am," she laughed, shrugging off my concern. "These aren't specialised locks we're dealing with here. This blacksmith won't have anything you can't handle. Now, run off and get me a necklace, woud'ya?"

I nodded, leaving the boarding house soon after with a couple of the lock-picks held in my side pocket. I was soon on the road, made confident by Cinder's help.

The market was full of life when I arrived. Vendors selling their wares, customers haggling their tails off for a bargain. The guards were back to normal after the incident involving Mr Pebbles, letting me blend incognito with the crowd. I had plenty of time to navigate the market. I was quite small, so I had to burrow under ponies legs and simply hope not to get stamped on. The smithy wasn't a shop that I'd usually go to, and in the crowded plaza, I was basically clueless about its location. I needed to search for it.

I laced through the crowd in a haphazard fashion, knocking into the legs of other ponies without really meaning to. One stumble was into a fancy polished boot. I looked at the owner, who returned a glare.

"Sorry," I muttered, recovering my balance.

"Sorry?" The plump stallion cried out dramatically. "My dear, do you not know who you foalishly frictioned with that preposterous red mane of yours?"

He clopped his hooves in front of me in a cold manner.

"Mitley! I require my introduction, tout suite."

A much younger and seemingly frightened stallion came out from beside him, about the same age as me.

"M-my apologies, sir! Introducing the one and only Lord of Internal Affairs Haberdash Duckat."

I stood frozen for a moment, not sure how to react against the pompous twit.

"Well?" He asked, apparently waiting for me to do something.

"Um...  sorry, Mr Duckat?" I responded.

"Never in all my... Mitley! Did you not hear the very atrocity this child has begun to entail without even a proper greeting to a stallion of my magnitude?"

"Uh... n-no," the young stallion began, and was given a darting glare by the Lord. "I mean yes! Yes, I agree completely."

The older stallion huffed. "Mitley, make a note of this foal's name. The authorities shall have their very tails cut from their hinds if insolence such as this goes unpunished."

"Of course," Mitley said, turning to me with a notepad, his horn glowing. "N-name, please?"

Yeah, right. Like I'm going to say that.

I looked around for a fake title, eventually finding myself looking at the exotic fruit stall.

It was perfect.

"Pomelo... Cherry," I replied, masking my lie with a straight face.

The young stallion scribbled the name down, clearly unaware.

"Got it, sir."

"Very good, Mitley, and as for you," he roared, shoving a hoof in my face, "you can expect a ripe sentence for your actions. Hah! Write that one down, Mitley. A 'ripe' sentence for Miss 'Cherry'. Yes.... now run along, play with your friends or what-not before the inevitable. Mitley!"

The stallion called the nervous wreck to his side, making his way to somepony’s stall. As it turned out, it was same one I'd had such difficulty in finding.

"I believe you have a certain ceremonial rapier that I ordered ready, do you not?"

The fat aristocrat trotted to the stall, where a muscle-bound stallion was hammering away at an anvil. The sound of steel hitting iron  echoed off the surrounding walls. In front of him stood a display, holding all sorts of metalwork. Farming equipment, horseshoes, sabres and the rest on one side, while an assortment of jewels and jewellery were placed on the other. The stallion was fixing up what looked to be a spearhead, as customers flocked around to examine the wares on his stall. A few gossip-mares had also crowded around, gawking at his physique.

Behind him was my target entrance, the door to the smithy swung out, with the inside of the shop only barely visible. Of course, there was the problem of him being right outside it. I guessed that it'd be foalish trying to sneak in that way, thinking he wouldn't notice, because even if he didn't, the crowd certainly would.

I committed to finding another way in, without distracting him from his business.

Looking to the side of the oblong structure, there did seem to be an alleyway. I broke away from the crowd into it, concealing myself at every opportunity. The coal coloured walls surrounding the building made it look more grim than it actually was. They were the victims of smoke from the smithy's furnace, bellowing away like a steam-engine on overdrive.

There was, to my relief, a back entrance in the alleyway. It was grottier than the fancy oak one out front, but I didn't feel the need to be fussy.

Time to break out the new weapon.

I took out a pick from my side, and placed it carefully into the lock, making sure to, as Cinders put it, "Not break the damn thing before you even get started." I made sure the lock was almost perfectly aligned with the pick before clicking it in.

I rotated the small piece of miracle metal a few times in the lock. Nothing interesting happened. This, I was taught, was normal procedure. The pick had to take the shape of the key to imitate it, bending it in place to unlock things that would be near impossible to open without the key. It just took time.

I turned it one way. Maybe to the left? It was incredibly difficult to see what I was doing. I spent a good fifteen minutes on the thing before I heard a something. There was a sharp click from the inside. I took it as the door unlocking, and used a hoof open it, the door gliding silently towards me as I did so.

The smithy was definitely more of a house than a shop. There was a dust-ridden bed along with counters, a small table stretching from the wall, a bookcase, and several shelves peering out from the other side of the room where the main entrance was. I was too small to see out of the windows without standing on something, as luck had it, making me practically invisible to the ponies outside. It was only me, and the necklace.

Light shined from the corner of my eyes. It was the reflection from the display case, pinned up on the wall, showing off the copper necklace inside.

This is my target?

It didn't look as glamorous as I imagined. The only thing of interest I could make out was a closed locket hanging from the bottom. Basic colour knowledge told me it was copper, the same sort of metal that a couple of pans hung up in Mrs Goldheart's kitchen were made of. I wasn't really sure how valuable it actually was (I'd never asked), but it seemed too commonplace to be expensive.

The case was shielded by a varnished wooden panel at the bottom, and underneath it was the lock. It looked bulkier than the others, built out at the bottom as if there was some kind of extra storage space the size of a quill. I put a mental note to ask Cinders about it afterwards.

I jumped up onto the bed to level myself, and began to try a pick at the new case. I put my head at angle, trying to reach the lock. A few  minutes in showed my attempts proven fruitless.

I can't get the right angle standing up like this.

I sat down on the bed, and rolled onto my back to give a better view.

A small dust cloud from the bed emerged around me, my muzzle taking it badly.

"Ah... AH!"

I tried to stop myself desperately.

"CH-," I threw my hooves onto my muzzle, dropping the pick in the process. The sneeze came out as nothing more than a tiny sniff.

Phew.

Resuming my progress, I bit onto the end of the lock-pick, and tried once again. It was significantly better in the new position, and conveniently comfortable. The lock was challenging, but not nearly as much as it could have been. The sneeze-danger was well worth the shortcut.

I unlocked the case in record time. There was a satisfying click, followed by my own sigh of relief. I wrapped my hooves around the bottom, opening it out to the side.

As it clicked something else happened. Something I didn't quite expect.

The seemingly harmless quill storage... wasn't quill storage at all. It was a clockwork music box, triggering a few seconds after I unlocked the case.

Oh... horsefeathers.

I'd heard about them in the orphanage, told that only the 'highest' classes of Equestria used them, for their foals to listen to as a plaything. The music box began playing a nursery rhyme song. It was at least double the volume that a pony from the outside would've heard it.

Panicking, I flipped open the case, wearing the necklace over my neck for easy carrying. There wasn't much time before the blacksmith heard the box, so I rushed to my escape route. I was ready to dash out, ready to run for my life, just like with Barn Break—

When did the door close!?

I charged stupidly at the door I'd come from, only injuring myself in the process. I banged the door with both my hooves. Something was blocking it. Maybe it relocked by itself? I hastily grabbed another pick and aimed it at the door, struggling helplessly at the lock.

It didn't work. I was shaking too much to get a proper grip, and honestly, who'd ever heard of a self-locking door? My only guess was it was the blacksmith, blocking my stealthier escape route.

The idea faded quickly once I saw the big, hulking mass at the other door, carrying a hammer in his mouth.

"Dro thuh neckla. Nahw."

He lowered his head, bringing the hammer to my chest-height.

Immediately, two reactions came to mind.

GIVE HIM THE NECKLACE.

Don't give him the necklace, you need it. You can outrun him.

I stood there, frozen, as did he. I didn't have long to choose before he'd start charging.

I chose the latter.

Lowering my head, I galloped straight at him, aiming to go underneath the gap between his legs. It was reaction-versus-reaction. As he swung the hammer in my direction, I readied myself to dodge the blow...

...Only to have it hit me directly on my side, smashing me against the wall. Pots on shelves above me shook from the force as my body slammed into the brick wall.

Now I wasn't the largest from the hideout, and certainly not the strong-mare. Technically I wasn't the weakest, as the foals we kept were clearly not going to be as tough as someone five or so years older. Through the running I did to escape the scenes of crimes, I'd built up some sort of body strength.

Even still, it was a miracle I survived that hit, and an even greater one still that I remained partially conscious. Not saying it didn't hurt. Oh, it hurt. A lot.

The blacksmith was closing in on me slowly, hammer held in mouth, venting fury. He wasn't going to let up, and if he didn't, I was dead. Lucky for me that he stood under a very dangerous spot, some very wobbly pots above him.

I thought that if I could pull it off, I could escape. I stood up with all my strength, and slammed my body into the wall once more. The final force was the required 'push' for a large pot above him to fall.

It dropped squarely on his head with a hard knock. The stallion fell, as did the unscathed pot, onto the wooden layered floor of the smithy.

My struggle was a lot harder than I expected. I slid to the floor, the music from the music box ending its sweet chirp.

I blacked out.

* * *

"Ow..."

Returning to reality was painful. I took a peek at my surroundings. A split second past where I thought it was a dream, but to my dismay, I was still there. The pot on the floor, the shelves above me, and... him, the blacksmith. He was on the ground, his legs keeping him at a kneel, his front hooves hanging from either side, and his head... facing down, the energy drained from him.

I was aghast, seeing the lifeless body in front of me. I took a moment to stare and, out of any last hope, prodded the stallion with a hoof to the chest. He collapsed to the floor.

I... killed him?

I didn't know how long I'd been out for. The sounds from the market outside had stopped. With nopony coming to either his or my rescue for however long, his death was almost certain. Didn't anypony care that the blacksmith had gone from his stall? Didn't they hear anything?

It didn't take long before my mind turned to reality. I'd killed somepony, and I was a murderer.

I've killed somepony.

It was self defence. You had to.

But... I've killed somepony!

It was an accident!

My mind ablaze, I forced myself up onto all fours and limped past the broken corpse and into the darkness engulfing the market plaza. My movement strained from the blow, I limped past closed shops and stalls.

I didn't feel I had the heart to keep it secret from my friends, or Cinders... but what would she say? We broke the law, but never this way. The group's intentions weren't stellar, but they were better than this.

It might drive future clients away from our group! Cinders'll be furious with me, maybe even... even throwing me out.

A sudden burst of nausea started rising up. I rushed to a secluded spot, back behind the smithy. I gagged, trying to let it out, but I couldn't. I simply couldn't.

I started coughing like a madmare, my wounded side erupting into a world of hurt. I tried to make it go away, crawling into the alley corner, curling up in a ball.

It felt like an era before the nausea faded, my coughs fading along with it. I was shaking horribly. A glimmer of light shined off the object on my neck, and I remembered the necklace, and the task.

I've done it, and the client can have their stupid necklace. All I needed to do was take it to them.

Wait... that's it. 'All I need to do'.

I stood up.

I don't need to tell them what happened. As long as nobody saw what happened... Who's going to tell them? How could they find out any other way?

I felt silly for worrying about an ordeal that nopony had seen. I was the only one there, and as long as I didn't say, they didn't know. I wasn't a murderer if I couldn't be found guilty.

That's it. I'll act like it all went according to plan. Then, if anyone asks how he died the next day, I'll say it's coincidence. Nopony needs to know.

I swung my mane, skewed myself towards my uninjured left side, and started the long trot to the hideout.

* * *

"Hey Mrs Goldheart," I said, trying to sound as normal as possible as the silver mare opened the door.

"Good clouds and sky above, dear, what in the magi happened to you?"

"Nothing, nothing... at all," I replied with difficulty, my speech impeded.

She gazed down at my mane and jacket in horror. "Nonsense, you look like you've met a dragon! Are you hurt?"

"Nope, fine as a daisy." I chuckled, hurting my sides in the process.

"You don't have to be so secretive about it, Miss Violet. First Cinders with her leg injury, now this? You're ruffled up something major, and I don't like any of it," she said, peeking her head closer to whisper.

"If anyone is bullying you and your friends, anyone, please tell me. I don't want to see another instance of this, not with Master Jemrock or Yingling, nor with Miss Parable, or any of the foals.  You tell me names, and I won't hesitate to bring them to justice, mark my words."

"It's nothing like that at all, Mrs Goldheart, honest. "It... was really just an accident, running a bit too fast down the streets, is all."

"If you get into trouble with anyponies young or old, tell me. The guards'll be over in a hop."

Whatever my situation, calling the guards would probably be the least popular. I gave a small "Thanks", and another when she let me in. She eyed me carefully as I walked the corridor, trying to disguise my slight limp without success. I opened the door to our room. The rest of the group were sitting down, Parable being the exception. She was looking through the window as I entered, and jumped when she saw me.

"Vi- I mean Crow, you're back! I was-, we, were worried about you."

Cinders slid off her chair and walked towards me.

"And with the necklace, no doubt." She looked at it for a second, and then to my face. "What took you this time? Don't tell me it was another colt."

"Not at-not at all," I said. "It took me... longer than normal, is all." I gave out a fake chuckle, and a not-so-sincere smile.

"I'll say. What happened to you? You look like a wreck."

"Happened... to me? Nothing. I'm fine, really."

"Donkey dung. You're hiding something, Crow."

I gave another chuckle.

Why is she being so invasive?

"Hiding something? Why, why would I hide anything? I have nothing to hide."

She looked at me, and smirked. "Wait... I wasn't right, was I? Was it another colt? Please tell me it wasn't."

"Don't be stupid, Cinders." I prayed the inquisition would stop so I could get to a bed and rest.

"Whatever you say. So that's the necklace, huh? You got the right one, did you?"

"O-of course. The one in the display case."

"First a diary, now a cheap rip-off? This client we have has a weird taste, huh?" she said, taking a further look at it, the locket in particular. "What's in that, I wonder?"

She used both her hooves to click open the locket on either side.

I couldn't tell what was in it, but it made Cinders, as well as every pony looking at it, stunned. Cinders paused, taking it in.

"Is i-it alright if I go-"

"It's a diamond! Clean cut. too," Cinders said, gleaming at it. "Hmm. 'Eliza'... Well, look at that! Turns out our friend does have a bit of class after all. Nice grab, Crow!"

She clicked the locket back, and gave me a friendly slap to my right with a hoof. She hit me before I could recoil, and an insurmountable blast of pain struck me. My eyes burst wide open and I screamed, the façade I'd put on tossed aside mercilessly.

"Gahhh...!"

I keeled over onto my back, my vision going blurry. I heard their voices from above.

"Woah, what did I do? Are you alright?"

"Hey, hey! Why's Crow screaming?"

"What happened?"

"Cinders, why did you do that?"

"Everypony quiet!"

There was a moment of silence from the others. When I'd stopped writhing in pain, Cinders spoke. "Crow, what in Tartarus was that all about?"

I didn't want to say—if I did, I had to explain everything. So I didn't, trying instead to ignore the question altogether.

"Stop messing about, Crow."

"Where did you hit her?" Parable asked.

"Only on her right... Jem,  can you levitate her jacket off?"

I speedily raised a hoof in protest. "No, don't!"

"Sorry Crow."

The young blue stallion filled out her request, and I felt my body sting as the jacket peeled off. They stared, in horrified silence at me.

"Uh... you... don't know any doctors around here, do you Cinders? Jem sounded almost queasy.

Cinders shot a look at him.

"We do, Jem. But we aren't going to get one yet. Instead, she's going to tell me what happened. Right now."

I turned to her, pain-tears blocking my sight.

"Can we talk... in private?"

* * *

Cinders agreed begrudgingly. She didn't see a reason to send the others away, but I persisted on it. I didn't want anypony to know, but on the bright side, Cinders wasn't fragile. I hated the idea of telling Parable, for instance. She told the others to move out, and after closing the door behind them, signalled me to a chair. I clambered on with difficulty.

She turned to me. "They're gone. Explain.”

"It's... to do with the job."

"Go on."

I felt uneasy from her stare, and searched my brain for an alternative explanation. The limelight disabled any good excuse I may have thought about when I was walking up. It was no use.

I told her what happened. The events in the smithy, the lock-picking, the music box, the blacksmith's death, everything. Her brow furrowed as I came to my conclusion.

"...I see why you wanted to speak in private," she sighed.

"You're going to throw me out, I suppose."

Cinders shook her head. "You didn't have a choice, Crow. It doesn't put me or you in a good position, though. This is the second death that's been tied to you in the past couple of weeks, and this one you committed. Keep this up, and we'll be getting the wrong kinds of attention, from the law or not."

"Like you said, though, I didn't have a choice!"

"I know. Just... don't do it again, okay? It's not good for us. Don't make this sort of thing persist any longer, or we'll have a real problem."

The mare walked to the door. "I'll get you that doctor now."

She opened the door, and put one hoof outside before I heard Ying's voice.

"Cinders, there's somepony here for you. Says he's here for the necklace."

"Oh!" I heard her exclaim. "Well, how about that? You're just in time. Please do come in, sir."

She reversed into the room. Her ears had fallen submissively as she moved back into the room beside me, bearing an expression like a scared filly. It made me worried.

"Crow, I'd like you to meet our guest. He's the client we've been working for."

A taller, cloaked stallion came in dressed in black, with a hood covering his face. He was wearing dark leather boots, strapped on with scaly-looking material. I hadn't seen anything like it before. He spoke with a strangely upbeat posh Manehatten accent.

"So this is the young mare I've heard so much about. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

He tossed the hood up and behind his mane, revealing a beige face with a smile. He had a grey mane, matching the colour of his eyes.

"And with the necklace I ordered, too. Marvellous. You fail to disappoint, you know."

I didn't want to speak. Cinders made hoof-signs to take the necklace off, pointing at her neck, then mine. I started getting it off, lowering my head and trying it at with a hoof.

The stallion turned to Cinders.

"Quiet type, isn't she?" He approached me, laying out a hoof. "Now, my little pony...you needn't trouble yourself with it. Let me."

He walked closer, perhaps a bit too close. He bit onto the locket of the necklace, and with one smooth action tugged it over my head. With another, he wrapped it over his own, looking at me all the while.

"Smokey Cinders, you truly have a fascinating group here. It's piqued my curiosity of late. I would like to bestow a gift."

"What would that be, sir?" Cinders asked.

"I invite your friend... Crow, is it? I invite her to my mansion, all expenses paid for. Let's say... tomorrow, shall we?"

I looked at Cinders, and she looked back at me, guilty as ever.

She isn't going to go through with this, is she? I need medical attention!

I was about to open my mouth in protest, when Cinders stopped me.

"Of course, sir. She'll be there tomorrow. I can show her the way."

"Grand. I know she won't disappoint."

He re-cloaked and left the room, the other ponies lowering their heads as he passed by.

I turned to Cinders in anger. I waited for the front door to close before unleashing it.

"I. Need. Medical attention!"

She looked down, trying not to meet my eyes. For the first time ever, her eye's glow faded.

"I'm sorry, Crow. You'll—you'll have to wait."