Cape and Cowl

Chapters

Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter One

Chapter Two

July 4th, 1007,

I've completed my first night as the Mare do Well. The first of countless. Would I consider it a success, or a failure? I've always been an impatient pony; I need results immediately.

When you're young, with somepony to guide you and walk with you, Manehattan doesn't seem so big. You go to a few select places, sometimes expanding into new territory, but you usually follow a set path.

But now, I'm free of such paths, and I’m only now learning just how big this city is. Living in the night as I do makes it seem somehow bigger, because I can't find the horizon. The edge of the city is a mirage just out of my grasp. Like the dying stallion in the desert who sees the Oasis, it moves further away as I try to reach for it.

I underestimated this city, and now doubt begins to pervade my mind. I was... so sure that it'd be a simple matter of finding four thugs. How hard could it be?

Extremely, apparently. Tonight I saw only a carriage crash and a few purse snatchers (which I promptly stopped. The ponies were grateful to me, so that's nice.) I had thought looking for them would be like looking for a needle in a haystack... hahahah, no. Try pinpointing a grain of sand in the San Palomino Desert. That's how grand this city is, and how impossible my task is.

I can't let it get to me, however. This was only the first night. It may take weeks, months, years. I don't care, I'll outlive the Princesses themselves just to bring these four to justice.

Speaking of justice... I was able to satisfy a secondary objective of mine. My Master taught me more than how to fight - I must observe everything, blend in, assess every possible angle.

I met four pairs of the Night Guard tonight. I met them as Snow Storm, not the Mare do Well. I met them as a silly girl who got lost after her movie ran too long, and I sized them up.

The Guard seems to have a simplified hierarchy system, with senior officers taking cadets under their wing (so to speak), and some sort of Captain. I'll have to learn more.

I must admit, seeing a Fulake up close can be intimidating. Their sharp fangs, slitted eyes, and leathery wings are enough for any vivid imagination to vilify them.

After the initial shock, however, they're really a nice species. Their reputation as playful pranksters is well deserved - one Lieutenant was teasing his cadet about me. He probably does the same with any young mare.

I can see the sun coming up now, and I need to sleep. This... is going to be difficult, balancing the Mare do Well with a dayjob. I can't complain - the Oranges don't have to do a single thing for me, yet they'd give me the world if I asked. If I ever regain my ability to speak (therapy, perhaps? Must look into it.)

I must rest now, I can already feel myself slipping off into sleep at this desk.

-Snow Storm

“Rise and shine, Miss Storm!”

Annabelle Orange’s refined motherly voice was a distant echo in Snow Storm’s mind as she slept deeply.

“Really, now…” Mrs. Orange frowned at the blanketed, snoring lump that was her adopted daughter. The corners of her mouth tightened into a wicked grin as her rolling eyes stopped upon a set of closed blinds. This should be good.

Snow Storm squinted her eyes shut as a new flood of sunlight blasted her eyes. Alright, alright, I’m up! she had wanted to say, though all that came out was a guttural grunt. Her rear legs tangled in the blanket she had completely covered herself with and she flailed about, trying to kick out of them. Her face became uncovered and she threw up a foreleg to shield her eyes from the unfiltered sunlight. She blinked away the black spots in her vision, and finally rolled out of bed, landing ungracefully on her legs and yawning widely.

“Good morning, dear,” Mrs. Orange said sweetly. Almost innocently. “Don’t forget, today is the day you start working! Make your bed, get dressed, and come down for breakfast.” She trotted away and shut the bedroom door, leaving Snow Storm with some privacy.

* * *

“Good morning!” Mr. Orange said cheerfully when Snow Storm finally came downstairs for breakfast. “I hope you are looking forward to helping out around here! It could not be a nicer day, too… oh, I’m afraid I had the last of the toast, but there’s plenty of orange juice!” He chuckled. It was the seventh time he had made that joke since she had arrived there. Considering she’d only been back for a day or so, his dedication to dry humor was admittedly impressive.

Snow Storm smiled brightly - not that his orange puns were particularly funny, but she appreciated them all the same. After a quick wolfing of her own breakfast, she started for the mansion's rear exit, a pair of ornate redwood doors facing the Orange’s massive, twenty-acre grove.

“Now I expect you thought you’d be bucking the trees, bringing down oranges like the others,” Mr. Orange said as he walked through the groves alongside her. “But that would be a waste of your talents. You seem a lot stronger than most of the stallions here, and recently our strongest one had to move away, leaving us with no one to haul the cart to town. My dear, I’d be delighted if you’d do that for us.” He pulled the sheet off of a rickety old cart.

“Snow Storm, meet Delilah.” He grinned fondly at the ancient contraption. Snow Storm herself seemed a little disheartened at the poor condition of the cart, however. She stared at the thing for a long moment... and then the neurons in her brain started firing. She blinked, pointed at the cart, pointed at herself, tapped her throat, and shrugged. Her ears drooped, and her eyes bore a confused, slightly worried expression.

“Oh, if you’re worried about getting everypony’s attention, you can ring the bell on the side of the cart. I had it installed since… well, you know.” He winced, politely omitting her muteness. “As for bartering, you must stick to your guns. Never let them push you around. In this city if you give them an inch they’ll take a mile. Oh, and leave before nightfall. I hate to say it, but the thieves start to come out in force after dark, and there’s no sense in risking your life. If you ever get mugged, just leave the cart and run. This old thing can be replaced, you cannot. Have you got all that? Here, if you have any other questions...” He handed her a scrap of paper and a pencil; he had taken to carrying such items around for her sake.

If anypony tries to mug me, they'll be in for a big surprise. She shook her head politely at the pencil and paper, ignoring the thought shooting through her mind; she’d let Mr. Orange be the protective father-figure he wants to be. After a moment of fiddling with the cart's harness, she managed to slip snugly into it. Now all that was left was to fill it.

For as big as the cart was, it was surprisingly quick to fill. “Good luck out there, and remember; we’ve got the best oranges in Manehattan. Don’t let the fools over at the Rind Family think they’ll convince the city otherwise!” He grinned and waved his adopted daughter goodbye.

“Eight bits for two oranges is ridiculous!” a plump mare with a foal just as round clinging to her knee said frankly, raising her voice over the background noise of Market Street. “So, giving me the silent treatment, hrm? I simply cannot believe how rude kids are these days!”

Snow Storm rolled her eyes, produced a homemade bootknife from the cart's cupboard at her knee, peeled the orange, cut a small piece off, and handed it to the mare. And if the fat broad doesn't like it, I'll just eat it my own self, she thought bitterly. Sometimes muteness was a blessing.

The mare took a nibble, chewing it thoughtfully. She handed Snow Storm four bits.

“We’ll take that one, I need to see if Gumdrop here likes it.” She was handed another segment and handed it to the colt.

“But Mooooooooooooom, I don’t wanna eat fruit!” he whined.

“You shut your spoiled little mouth, you will get your vitamin C if I have to shove this down your throat myself!” she said, her voice gaining volume. The street dropped to a dead silence, with heads turning in their direction. Snow Storm felt a heat rise in her face as the mother and son argued back and forth. After a few minutes of bickering, the colt finally gave in.

“...Well?”

“It’s awful, I hate it.”

The old mare watched her son's distaste, her frown turning into a devious grin at his discomfort. “We'll take four boxes.”

Good, take it and go you pompous hag. Snow Storm’s face creased in a deep frown as the mare walked away with her pudgy little whine-box in tow. I may not even bother keeping up with the Mare do Well stuff if there are ponies like that in this city.

All around, the white noise of a hundred voices and vendors started up again.

* * *

It had been a long, boring afternoon for Snow Storm. Sales of the citrus fruits were decent based on name recognition alone, but the hours seemed to drag by, as if Onyot, the God of Time himself were mocking her. Her head was laying on the cart’s wooden top, resting on one cheek, while she rolled a tangerine back and forth between her forehooves, contemplating what sort of ritual sacrifice would be needed in order for the God of Time to speed up the day when a familiar Fulake strolled up, waking her up from her slump.

“I’ll take a box, I was planning on making a cake for- oh! Fancy meeting you again, haha!” It was Lieutenant Flyntt, out of uniform. He laughed, a little embarrassed that he hadn’t even recognized the mare behind the cart.

“So, you’re working for the Oranges? Best orange juice in town, I couldn’t start my day without it!” He gave her a friendly enough grin. “How have things been? Guess you got home after that movie, huh?”

She shrugged and nodded in noncommittal agreement. Her eyebrows raised and she pointed at him, asking the stallion how he was.

“Not much to tell, for a guard at least. Pelleas is hopeless, kid’s got no imagination for comebacks at all… oh, and the streets are safe I guess. I’m taking an orange cake down to an old friend of mine’s retirement party. Between you and me? I kinda wish there was a little more excitement out there, some more gangs to fight or something… heheh, not like you’ll be telling anyone anyway!” he remarked cheekily, but soon his face fell into a more serious manner.

“Look, I hate to ask this. I know it’s hard, but… gosh. Listen, I know who you are now. We’ve been looking for your brother’s murderer for a long time, but… look, cases go cold. Trails get lost. I really hate to ask this, but… do you possibly remember anything?”

Snow Storm stared at him for a moment, her own face becoming serious. One great thing about being mute… one learned how to become an actress with facial expressions. She tongued her cheek, as if contemplating the request. Oh, of course she remembered. Every detail of them was burned into her brain, though he seemed to believe there was only one. After what seemed the right amount of time, she shook her head and shrugged.

“I see. Sorry about this. I know this is hardly something you wanted to talk about right now... well if you remember anything later on, please don’t hesitate to contact us, alright?”

She shrugged and wrote down a quick note. “I was only ten at the time, of course. I don’t remember much of anything.”

“Well thanks for your time anyway… oh crap, my shift starts in ten minutes! I’ll take two boxes please,” he said, handing her the bits and rushing off. A few minutes later he ran back to pick up his oranges.

“...Can’t believe I almost forgot the oranges, bye!” he said, taking the box and dashing off once more.

About half an hour passed without event, the ponies that passed by not even bothering to give so much as a cursory glance at the fruit stall or it’s contents. The sun beat down on Snow Storm, who began to wish she had brought a fan, or even just a bottle of water to combat the relentless, unforgiving midday heat. She turned her attention to the rooftops across the way, and began to daydream of leaping across them as she had done the night before. She remembered the strange sensation of the jump, the brief, giddy thrill of weightlessness, of knowing what it was like to have no safe ground beneath her hooves, if only for a moment…

“O-oh! I’m sorry…” a skinny-looking filly said in an adorable whisper as she bumped into the stand, breaking Snow Storm out of her daydream. Snow Storm noticed that the impact had caused a few oranges to roll off the cart, and right into the greedy hooves of the filly’s accomplices.

“Crap, she’s seen us! RUN!” The youths scrambled, leaving the filly to try and escape Snow Storm herself. She was caught only moments later, no match for the speed of the mare.

“Hey, it’s not my fault they don’t feed us enough at the orphanage!” She grumbled, a number of items falling from her saddlebags - some of them far more valuable than mere oranges.

Snow Storm frowned at the filly... but there wasn't much she could do. The filly wouldn’t get far anyway, not on Market Street. There were too many witnesses.

“Hmph!” the filly said, walking away. She stopped, turning and throwing the orange at Snow Storm’s face.

“Your oranges suck anyway!” She remarked, galloping away at surprising speed.

* * *

As the sun began to set, Mr. Orange showed up at last. He gave her a bottle of water, smiling.

“You’ve earned it. I’m impressed, actually. Most stallions quit after a day in this kind of heat, but you’ve toughed it out just like I thought you would. Tonight, we’ll order curry or something, my treat!” he smiled. “So, meet anyone interesting today? It tends to be a little uneventful around here.”

She shrugged, then shook her head. What was it that the guard cadet had said? 'Nothing to report'. She smiled, wishing she could make the words come out. As the sun settled down, Mr. Orange helped pack up the cart for the night. It was significantly lighter on Snow Storm's shoulders.

Snow Storm perched on a rooftop’s lip, watching the streets below. Once again, there was no sign of the four she sought, but tonight she had another target in mind. A filly and her little group of degenerates had dared to rob the Oranges, and they were going to have to pay for that.

Where are you, you little urchin…

“Damnit, what do you mean you lost everything?” The voice of a bratty young stallion floated on the breeze from nearby.

“Listen, some cranky mare was running the stall and she caught me, alright? It wasn’t like the last guy, she was fast!”

“I don’t care, you’re supposed to be the best we got and you screwed up bigtime,” the lanky young stallion said angrily. “...if you wanna stay a part of the gang, you gotta prove yourself.”

“Fine! As if it’d be difficult for me anyway.”

“You gotta go steal something from the manor on the outskirts of town… the Orange family mansion.”

The group gasped.

“Yeah, I can handle that. As if those old farts will miss a few spoons or something,” she grinned fearlessly.

Foals... why did it have to be foals? Snow Storm watched the scene from her vantage point, her face set in a frown. She could scare them off, maybe. But if they decided to stand their ground... well, she couldn't very well hit a kid.

She sighed, pulling the Mare do Well mask over her face. The filly was already gone, dead-set on completing her mission. She didn't matter; Snow Storm would corner her at the mansion. For now, however...

The Mare do Well landed on all fours, seemingly having fallen from the night sky. She turned slowly to face the teenaged colt.

“Oh shoot!” the colt said, starting to run off. He tripped on the cobblestone path and fell gracelessly to the floor.

“W-what do you want? I ain’t got any money!” he said, slowly backing away.

She walked toward him at a plodding pace, her head low, face forward - image was just as important as actual criminal justice. Just scare him a little.

“Listen, I ain’t even done nothing! I was just talking to my friend, what’s the problem with that?” he said, clearly frightened of the mare. It seemed her silence was far more intimidating than she had expected.

“Quit staring at me like that! Here, it’s everything I stole today, now leave me alone!” he said, tossing her a handful of bits and a silver pocketwatch.

The silver eyes of her mask continued to stare at him.

“Screw this, I’m outta here! I got nothing else to give you, bye!” he said, fleeing the scene sobbing with as little dignity as possible.

She turned slowly around, eyeing every other member of that small gang. The face of the mask was serious, harsh even. Thank the princess Luna they couldn't see the utter amusement in her eyes. This had turned out to be pretty fun, after all.

“She got to the Boss like it was nothin’... I’m not fighting her,” one said, placing the valuables he had stolen on the floor and slowly backing away. One by one the others all followed suit. To Snow Storm’s satisfaction, a few of the oranges from before were amongst the items claimed. Maybe later she would hand in the rest to the guards, assuming they kept a lost and found for such matters.

Then again, I could use a few extra bits in my bags. Sure. The jewelry and such would be returned, but nopony ever counted a lost coin here and there, right?

“Where’s the kid?” one of them whispered to another, not quite as out of earshot as they had hoped.

“She’ll be at the mansion by now. Don’t worry, the stuff she’ll nab there will be worth more than all this junk put together!” the other said to reassure him.

Snow Storm frowned. She had business to conclude, but... there was something else. Those kids. Yes. What had been said? 'It's not our fault the orphanage doesn't feed us enough!'

She found the hiding place of their leader, and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Damnit, what did I tell you before?” he asked, clearly terrified of her. “For the last time, I got nothin’ left to give you!”

She reached back into her saddlebag. The adolescent winced, expecting the worst... but she gave him the tangerines that had been taken earlier that day.

“Huh?” he said, confused.” But why…? What are you after, whoever you are? Say somethin’ for once!”

She looked around, found a stone, and ran it against the ground as a crude writing tool. Even in the silvery, bright night, they could barely make out the word 'EAT'.

The colt looked confused, but after a few minutes he ate one of the oranges.

“I’m not that hungry anymore. We usually share up the oranges, along with whatever else we can find. It’s better than the stuff they serve at home…” he sighed. “Thanks. We won’t steal more than we need in future. In return, you keep off our backs. Deal?”

She nodded, starting off towards home. There was still one more member to catch.

* * *

The filly from before was tiptoeing through the shadows of the Orange family mansion. The light of the moon was all that gave her away, but as far as she was aware there was no one there to see her.

As she slowly ascended the staircase a creaky floorboard made her freeze; she knew only too well those were the sort of amateurish mistakes that could get her kicked out of the group; this was her favorite type of mission- all or nothing.

“Heheh, that was easy! And to think, even the grownups who tried to rob this place got caught! They were no match for Manehattan’s Number One Master Thief!” She allowed herself the boast, not noticing the figure that stood in the shadows.

“You are not the first to break into this house.” It was a mare’s voice. Strict, refined, with an underlying hint of twang, as if she had lived on a farm in a past life.

The filly slowly turned around, a hint of fear in her eyes.

“...Great,” she mumbled sarcastically. “I was this close to finally pulling off a real heist, too. Fine.” She sighed, dropping the set of spoons she had taken.

“Don’t feel too bad, sweetheart. Greater thieves than you have tried and failed. And older ones. Starting out kind of early, aren’t you?”

“I gotta if I’m gonna become the greatest thief in Manehattan!” She beamed, her head already filling itself with grandeur. “Well, I guess I oughta get going. The guys are gonna wonder why I’m taking so long if I’m not back soon.” She turned, starting to walk away and making a mental note to try and acquire a smoke bomb for a flashier exit next time.

“Oh but what sort of responsible dam would I be if I let a child walk all the way to the city by herself?” Annabelle Orange stepped out from the shadows and into plain view of the filly. “Perhaps I should call for you a Guard escort?”

“Huh? But I thought for sure you were the cranky girl from before…” the filly said, confused. “As for escorting me home, I can handle myself, and the Guards and me have a history… if you sent for one they wouldn’t be taking me home, that’s the for sure…” She sighed. “Well, I’ll see you around!”

But if I do my job, you won’t see me, not next time…

“‘The cranky girl from before’, hrm? I hope you mean Mrs. Rind. She can be quite the bother.”

“Nah, she was quite young. Blue mane, white coat, and she is uggggllllyyy!” The filly giggled- not realizing that Snow Storm had just arrived, and was right behind her.

Mrs. Orange nodded over to the purple-clad figure. “One of your friends come to save you, my dear little filly? I daresay, the things kids wear these days.”

Snow Storm started beneath her mask as she saw Mrs. Orange still awake. Oh Goddess oh Luna please don’t let her figure it out why is she even awake at this hour!? Her heart beat rapidly under that suit… but thankfully Mrs. Orange had taken her role in the opposite direction. She’d just have to play along for now.

“Who in Equestria…? Well, I’m out of here. I don’t think I’ll try robbing this place again, you guys are way too weird for it to be worth the hassle. Seeya!” the filly ran off into the night.

The Mare do Well stared at Mrs. Orange. Beneath the suit, Snow Storm was frozen solid, afraid to move. Her mind raced and her heart was going just as fast - if she even moved an inch, somehow that sly old dam would know everything. That’s impossible. I locked my room door, they’d never disturb me anyway. Maybe she was just getting a glass of water, that’s all…

Mrs. Orange stared at her for a second, then smiled sweetly.

“If you were a robber I suppose you’d have raided the place by now, like your friend just attempted to. A rather strange costume for a thief to wear, though… too strange for that sort of work. I could understand the mask, but such an elaborate suit! And much too fancy for that sort of work,” she chuckled at the idea, remaining perfectly calm despite the circumstances.

“Well, I suppose it’d be rude for me to not offer a guest some tea, wouldn’t it? I’ll go put the kettle on,” she said, walking out of the room. It was as if she knew the mare would be stuck on the spot until she left, giving her the opening she needed.

As soon as Mrs. Orange was out of sight, the Mare do Well bailed, bolting through the house and following the little thief into the night. Goddess never let it come to that again!

Out in the open, she let out the breath she’d been holding. Dear Epona that mare is too slick… Her legs were quivering. She looked towards the bright lights of the city, turned back to the manor… and decided she was too tired to carry on. She stripped the suit, stuffed it deep in her saddlebag, and wrote a quick note about a movie before starting back home.

Her four targets would keep.

One night off wouldn’t hurt. Besides, she was exhausted.

Author's Note

Artimae: Chapter Two. The one, in my opinion, that really gets the ball rolling. Why? Because it's past the setup. It's past the exposition. Now we're seeing the story take off. And where does it take off, exactly? Why, in the normal day of the mare beneath the mask.

I love Batman. I am a huge Batman fan. My favorite iteration is simply known as The Animated Series. Why? Because it also showed Bruce Wayne. It didn't give you the cursory nod acknowledging that someone in the Batsuit has a name - it actually showed you Bruce Wayne. I very distinctly remember a classic episode where Wayne developed amnesia and was shipped off to some slave labor camp. What happened by the end of it? He offered the other prisoners (whom were eventually freed with the aid of Alfred and the Batwing, heehee) jobs at Wayne Enterprises.

What's that got to do with anything, you ask? Did you even read this chapter? I gave Snow Storm a chance to be herself outside of the suit. She has a job. She has a... sort-of family. I'm quite sure that's going to be a rather significant overhang sooner or later; the fact that the Oranges really aren't her family. She'll call them mom and dad all she wants, but there's always going to be that little feeling of disconnect, that they can't really love each other as much as a parent and child really can.

Where was I...? Oh, right. I've seen a lot of Mare do Well fics. And maybe 8 out of 10 times, I see some boring caricature filling the suit because the "writer" (I use that word loosely here) is filling some fantasy of ass-kickery. (For examples of some amazing Mare do Well, have MagnetBolt's own MDW series and ShadeJak's Mare do Well series) Sure, I may be doing the same, but I'm making a mare fill that suit. She doesn't live, eat, or breathe the Mare do Well. She's maybe not nearly as obsessed as Bruce Wayne is with Batman. Not yet, at least. But we'll give that obsession time to flourish. She just wants some good, old fashioned revenge, that's all. But how she got to this point is explained. She wasn't born a master Blackbelt, you know. Outside of that, she's Snow Storm, adopted daughter of the Orange family. She has a job. And she has a friend. It's like she's almost an actual pony or something.

Hey, I may even write an origin story for her training and her five years living out of Manehattan. You'll catch glimpses of it later on.

Post Script: For me, the key difference between Cape and Cowl and many stories that feature the Mare do Well is that in a lot of ways, this isn't about the Mare do Well herself. It's a story about the mare behind the mask, and at least half of the story doesn't even feature her in the suit. More importantly, she isn't the 'chosen one', or even the only mare that can make a difference. When the city needs her, she can let it down, and trust me that that is no bluff on my part. Snow Storm will fail on occasion; and not simply little, incidental moments either. There will come a point- perhaps several stories down the line- when she'll have to pick herself up after failing to do something extremely important, but what makes her a hero is her ability to rise after having let the ponies- and city- she loves down so badly.

Chapter Three

July 11th, 1007,

A week. It’s been a full week since I’ve begun my search, with nothing to show for it. It’s… frustrating, to say the least. Four ponies cannot be this hard to find. Especially criminals.

It’s easy to preach vigilance, but almost impossible to maintain it. Especially when I’ve fallen asleep more often than not while trying to keep a lookout.

Should I just give it up, journal? I wish I could talk to you… or anypony, for that matter. Just to have someone hear my plight, offer me guidance. I’ve caught up with an old friend, a mare only a couple years older than me. She had once been my brother’s sweetheart. Still… Primrose lives a carefree life. Loving family, warm home, work after school… she’s as typical a teenage pony as you could find. How could I possibly lay it on her that her new best friend is secretly a… a…

A what? A vengeful night stalker masquerading as a ‘hero’? Can I even use the title of hero anymore? All I’ve done so far is stop purse snatchers when there were no guards around. But is that enough? Market Street has been buzzing lately with deeds of this purple-clad mare coming out of the shadows at night. I must admit, it’s amusing to hear their exaggerations of my deeds… telling stories of things I haven’t even done! Word spreads fast in this city. Frighteningly so.

Maybe I need a break. A night off. It’s been a whole week, what’s one night? Would it really be the one night I might have a chance encounter? No, I think I’ve earned this one. Maybe myself and Prim will hit the town. A girl’s night out, you know? I do have a hefty amount of bits saved up from work, after all…

Yes. This is what I need. It will do me some good. You’ve always given me the best of advice, journal, even if you can’t say anything at all.

I look forward to tomorrow night. But for now… I could really sleep.

-Snow Storm

“So, Snowy, how have things been going since the Oranges took you in?” Primrose asked her friend as they walked down the street. With the sun long below the horizon, the twilight sky was a magnificent purple as it slowly transitioned into full night.

Snow Storm nodded her head agreeably enough, indicating everything had been good so far.

“It’s been awhile now, hasn’t it? Feels like forever since we just decided to hang out.”

The mute mare shrugged. It was her favorite response to just about everything.

“It’s been so long… didn’t think I’d see you again, to be honest. This city is huge, it feels even bigger now that I’m not a kid anymore…” Her voice trailed off.

“I couldn’t believe it, when I heard the news,” she said sadly, and suddenly. “Frosty… I never even got to say goodbye. I don’t remember the last thing I said to him, for that matter. I couldn’t believe it. I still don’t want to… why did it have to happen, Snowy? He was so young, and so kind. Why did it have to be him?” Her voice cracked at the last word. She took in a deep breath, and released it slowly.

Snow Storm shrugged in response, not particularly interested in conversing about it… though it seemed like Primrose herself had been bottling up her own negative feelings all these years. At least she can express them…

Don’t be silly. You can too, once you get the chance. Oh, yes. When she finally gets the chance to, she’ll very much express her feelings. All over their faces, if she has a mind to.

“I’m sorry Snowy, it’s just been so long since I’ve had anyone to talk to about this… my folks don’t want to know. Hell, nopony does. His name is practically forbidden in my house now, and my new coltfriend’s no use. Cute, klutzy and helpless, but he’s no good when it comes to words…” She sighed, blinking back her tears.

Snow Storm cocked an eyebrow at that one. New coltfriend? It sure didn’t take her long, did it?

“... Please don’t judge me Snowy,” Primrose said, noting the look that was given to her. “I know how it looks, but I just couldn’t bear it. It was driving me crazy being alone after it happened. I guess it must be even worse for you though… look at me, some help I am! I should be trying to keep your mind off of it!” She let out a weak, pathetic laugh.

Snow Storm shrugged again, stifling a yawn. The lit streets of Manehattan were slowly trickling down to near empty - not surprising, since all the ‘night-life’ action was really happening a mile or two away, in deep downtown.

“After the movie, you wanna go down to the Headless Horse? It’s the toughest bar in town, you’ll love it! Beats hearing me mope about the past, right? I’ll buy the drinks.” She smiled, apparently trying to steer the conversation elsewhere in a less than graceful fashion.

Snow Storm frowned at that. The idea of a rough-and-tumble bar sounded fun; very fun, actually. But drinking? The hardest thing she’d ever had was her Master’s tea… which, when she thought about it, could just about knock out a dragon.

“Don’t worry, we’ll only order a cider… this time.” Her friend grinned mischievously. “I mean, when you hang out at a bar you gotta think about appearance. Order an orange juice and they’ll laugh you outta town…” Prim shrugged while following her own ever-twisting train of thought. “Though frankly I’d rather have the juice. liquor still tastes like soap to me.”

The two continued down the street for a few minutes before they spotted a group of youths hanging out on a street corner. One wolf-whistled from a distance. Prim immediately turned to Snow Storm. “Let’s cross the street, I don’t want to deal with pricks like that right now,” she said, trying to sound casual about it.

Snow Storm nodded, cocking one ear towards the group just in case they tried to be funny. Different from those thieves... more malicious. Just try us, she thought coldly, immediately filing them as a non-threat. Compared to the hellish training she went through, though… well, most of this city was really a non-threat.

The two mares continued on for a minute before Prim froze. She could sense two of the stallions right behind herself and Snow. She began to walk faster. “If they get any closer, we run, got it?” she whispered frantically, clearly terrified of their stalkers.

Snow Storm frowned, stopping dead in her tracks; this silliness had to end here and now. Besides, seeing her normally-cool friend being terrified out of her wits struck a chord in her.

“What’s the matter, ladies?” One of the stallions grinned, slightly off-put. Mares were supposed to run away, not stop! This wasn’t fun. But what the hay, if they didn’t bolt then they’d just be easier targets. “A bit late for two pretty mares to be walking alone, isn’t it? Me and my friend here would be glad to escort you…”

“M-maybe some other time, I’m afraid we’ve got places to be right now-” Prim began, carefully eyeing a chance to run.

“Oh, I’m sure you do…” The other sneered, letting out an annoying little chuckle. His voice grated against Snow Storm’s ears - she was just waiting for the chance to shut him up. “But I’m thinking maybe you and us go make a night of it, hmm? I know a nice place a few blocks from here.”

“Listen, we’re busy-” Prim began before the taller of the stallions grabbed her by the shoulder.

“Heheh, maybe you’ll loosen up a bit if-”

The stallion who grabbed Prim was on the ground in a flash, with what had felt like a lead brick jammed deep into his gut. He whimpered at Snow Storm's feet. She glared at the other, putting herself between him and Primrose. In any other circumstance, the image of a petite mare defending someone a couple of feet taller than herself would've been comical. But tonight? Tonight it was almost terrifying.

The other one fled, leaving his buddy writhing on the ground. Primrose backed into a wall and slowly sank down, tears beginning to well up in the corner of her eyes.

“Oh Snowy, if you hadn’t been there…” she began, visibly shaking from what just happened. “I was so scared. This city’s changed, Snowy. It never used to be like this…”

Snow Storm patted the mare on the shoulder, then gave her a comforting hug. Prim's eyes widened for a moment, feeling the underlying muscle beneath her friend's deceptively petite exterior. It was a hell of a shock, to say the least - Snow's entire body felt like a steel-coiled spring ready to snap.

“Snow...” Prim said, her voice barely a whisper. “Snowy… what happened to you?”

She pulled back, giving Prim a quizzical look. The stallion continued to moan, rolling around on the sidewalk and clutching his gut.

“Damnit, what are you, you freak?” he asked, coughing out a gob of phlegm.

Primrose glared at the stallion, regaining her composure and adding a temper to boot. Now that the threat was gone, she was feeling spry. “You’re not very smart if you think you can call someone who just kicked your flank a ‘freak’.”

“You think you’ve won? She won’t always be there to protect you. Sooner or later…” he laughed nastily at her.

Snow Storm landed a swift jab at his throat, just to stop his laugh.

* * *

“That… that was incredible! Where did you learn to fight like that?” An incredulous Prim asked Snow Storm as they continued on with their night. Now that everything had settled down, Primrose was right back to her old self. “I mean, wow! Wish I had moves like that… so why did you decide to train? I mean, I can understand wanting a little self-defense after what happened, but I doubt there are many ponies in Manehattan that can fight like that!”

Snow Storm grunted, writing down a note. Stopping every few feet just to communicate was quickly becoming annoying. She’d need to break this mental barrier keeping her voice away sooner rather than later. ‘Self defense.’

“I don’t think I could fight like that. I’ve never really been fond of fighting, even when I was a filly I’d never fight back against any of the bullies at school, remember? You protected me, even back then…”

The mute mare grinned as she wrote now. ‘Imagine if I had these moves back then… I’d’ve been in detention a lot more.’

“If you could fight back then the way you fight now, you’d probably have put them in the ground, not the hospital!” Prim remarked, still a little scared of how much her friend had changed.

‘Not that Skyhopper didn’t deserve it. Remember him? Always teased you. I beat him up more than anypony else.’

“Yeah, I remember… he was kinda cute in hindsight,” she admitted shyly. “Bet he’s still an asshole, though.”

‘Surprised he’s not in Juvenile hall.’

“So, have you heard about the strange mare that’s been showing up around the city? All the newspapers are going crazy trying to guess who she is… most are trying to claim she’s a celebrity or famous politician. I think it’s awesome, but not everyone’s a fan. My folks think she’s a menace.”

Snow Storm had to smile to herself - a bit of egotripping wouldn’t hurt, after all. ‘I’ve heard of her. Market Street is abuzz with it - they talk about nothing else now.’

“I just want to know why she didn’t just join the Guard like everybody else.That way she wouldn’t have become a wanted criminal… the Mayor issued a statement this morning. She’s wanted for vigilantism.”

‘Maybe she is a guard?’

“Hmm, I doubt it. It’s an exhausting job, even the strongest pony would be too tired to pull off that sort of work part-time, at least not as regularly as she does… tell ya though, half the guards are on her side. And the city can’t stop talking about her… I mean, it’s pretty exciting. Our very own superhero!”

As they arrived at the cinema, Primrose let out a sigh of relief. Nopony else had bothered them, and she was thankful for that. “Well, we might as well head inside. Though after tonight I’m not so sure I need any more excitement…” Prim half-laughed.

Snow Storm nodded, following her friend.

“Mr. Orange, would it be alright if I went and helped Snowy with the cart from now on?” Prim asked the next morning. “I can sell the product more easily given she’s currently mute, and she’s probably pretty lonely out there right now, I’m sure she’d appreciate the company.”

“This is quite a sudden request,” Mosely Orange said, lowering his paper to look at the filly. “But, I do recall you both being quite close, a long time ago. Wishing to catch up on old times?”

“Oh definitely! It’s been a long time… oh, but if she doesn’t want me to tag along I’d understand. It’s been a long time, it’s almost like she’s a different pony now.”

“I would be remiss to lose such a productive picker - I daresay unicorn magic is far easier than bucking trees. However, I would be a terrible employer to not let you do as you wish.” He grinned lightly, seeing the relief on Primrose’s face. “Go on, then. I’m sure she would welcome a break from the monotony of that cart.”

* * *

Snow Storm looked exhausted after a fairly unproductive day. The sun hung lazily in the sky, basking Market Street in its terrible heat that was unfiltered by a blue, cloudless day. Barely a handful of customers had even stopped all afternoon, leaving Snow Storm to boredly roll a tangerine between her hooves. By the time Primrose strolled up to her friend an hour later, the mute mare was fast asleep, her face flat against the unshaded cart.

Prim waited a good ten minutes before waking her, deciding to take the time to get used to the stall.

“Orange Family Oranges! The freshest citrus in town!” she cried enthusiastically, though she quickly found the townsfolk rather uninterested. She turned to her dozing best friend and gave her a gentle nudge.

“Mr. Orange let me work here with you! Oh, if you’re alright with it, that is. I figured you could use the company, but if you’d rather I just left you be just say the word and I’ll go back.” She smiled brightly, choosing her words carefully.

Snow Storm choked on a snore and came fully awake, reaching out with an automatic self-defense reaction at Prim before stopping herself.

Prim recoiled slightly, a noticeable fear in her eyes.

“S-sorry about that,” she mumbled awkwardly. “I forgot you know all the karate stuff.” She stared out at the fairly empty streets, and then turned to Snow Storm. “Y’know, I’m not sure this is the best place to get customers. I mean, it’s the end of a fairly long day, where would you go after work? I think I know just the place…” She grinned. “You wanna help me move this thing? There’s a pub on the other side of town, ‘Rose Garden’, and they happen to do a pretty nice cocktail with a slice of orange. Might be a fast way to get rid of some of our inventory, if they’re interested.”

Before Snow Storm could answer one way or the other, a scratchy, annoying voice assaulted their ears. “Well well, lookie here! What’s with this rotten fruit, anyways? No wonder ponies choose our Rind Family Citrus!”

“Hah! You aren’t even allowed to call them oranges, are you? Like anyone would want to buy the nasty, bitter things you peddle,” Prim spat, sneering at the pony who had just addressed them. “The Orange family treats it’s oranges with respect. You use those nasty machines the Flim Flam brothers invented, and you can taste it in every miserable bite of the fruit you sell!”

“Taste don’t matter, bits do! So, a setup by the Rose Garden, eh? Thanks for the idea!” He blew a shrill whistle down to his own fruit stand. “Come on, boyos! We got a new place to work!”

“Damnit, me and my big mouth… sorry Snowy, looks like we’re stuck here.” She sighed.

Snow Storm shook her head; her face scrunched up in frustration. ‘You think we’re gonna take that from them?’ she wrote down, already packing the cart while Prim read.

“Well no, but if Mr. Orange found out we were making trouble with our rivals… I don’t think he wants us to so much as acknowledge the existence of those clowns...”

Snow Storm was already strapped in and moving. Prim sighed. “This isn’t going to end well…” she muttered, following along.

* * *

“Well well, if it isn’t our competition, late to the party as usual? Sorry girls, I’m afraid the Rose Garden won’t be needing your services for a long, long-urgh!” The Rind stallion was struck with an orange. Snow Storm turned, shocked to see Prim had thrown one first.

“Well if we’re gonna do this, we might as well throw the first punch, right?” She grinned.

Unbeknownst to both parties, a crowd was beginning to form both inside and out of the pub. Inside, bets were being laid down as the mares inside watched the unfolding battle with bated breath.

“...Wait a second, I have an idea!” Prim said, climbing on top of the cart and addressing the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlecolts, are you tired of the inferior products these has-beens have been peddling for far too long? Then take up arms with us, and show them what real oranges taste like! Just two bits for some ammo!” She grinned happily as, after a few second, a crowd began to surge toward the Orange family cart.

“I’ll take five, the Rind family sells horrible oranges!”

“Same here!”

The elder Rind son took the cue, and stood on his own cart. “Ponies, hear me! Those oranges are fake! I have it on good authority that the Orange family uses steroids in their products!”

The fat mare Snow Storm recognized from a week ago appeared from the crowd. Her son sat next to her, clutching his belly in an over exaggerated manner.

“It’s true! My son was complaining of an upset stomach for days after eating their oranges- and the salespony was very rude as well!” she scoffed, buying several boxes of the Rind’s fruits.

“Yeah!”

“She doesn’t even say hello to anyone!”

“Because she can’t speak, moron!”

Prim snarled, turning to her friend in shame.

“Just ignore them, Snowy,” she said, visibly upset for her friend. “They don’t know what they’re talking about.” She grabbed an orange, staring into the crowd. “Which one of you has a problem with her being mute? Huh? Because I’ve got an orange with your name on it!”

“Yeah!” the crowd near Prim shouted in unison. They were ready to come to the defense of the Orange Family’s honor. Before long, the mass of ponies had split into two sides, each one raring to go. Prim grinned.

“Alright men, they’ve picked their side, now let’s show them the Rind family has the best citrus in the city! Who’s with me?” Neville Rind shouted to the other half of the crowd.

“Alright, on my mark! Ready… steady…”

“What the hell is going on here?” a gruff Fulake Snow Storm recognized as Flyntt flew into the crowd. “Who started this? Well? Fess up!”

Both Primrose and the Rind son pointed hooves at each other, with the crowd following suit.

“I want to know what’s going on here. Pelleas!” he yelled, “we have a situation!”

“But sir, we’re not on duty for several hours,” Pelleas said, frowning and coming up to his friend and superior. Plus I’d rather be sleeping the day away.

“Hmm… well then, I guess technically we’re on break, aren’t we?” A twinkle set in his playful eye. “Tell me Pelleas, are you an Orange pony or a Rind pony?"

“Orange, definitely,” the cadet managed through a yawn.

“What kind of Guards are you!?” It was the rotund mare again. Her voice was indignant, almost offended even. “This is highly unprofessional! Just go back to your caves if you can’t keep the peace!”

“Tell me, Pelleas,” Flyntt smiled “what’s the penalty a guard suffers for inciting and/or participating in a riot? I know you’ve read the rulebook back to front twice already.”

“Sir, I say we just take a leaf out of your book and walk away from this one.”

“Yeah, that’s right! Go back to your belfry, you bats!” a random stallion in the crowd jeered at the two. Pelleas’ left eye twitched slightly.

“It seems as though racism is still rampant in this place,” Pelleas growled, ready to shove his hoof in the mare’s fat face.

“Remember kid,” Flyntt whispered to his friend “hit ‘em, and it’s assaulting a civilian. Instant expulsion from the guards. But there’s no rules about hitting ‘em with an orange…” He smiled.

“Alright, I think we’re done here folks. Give the Rind family back their oranges, they can barely afford to make ends meet as it is, the last thing they need is a food fight- and it would be a shame to waste the superior produce that the Orange family sell...” Flyntt awaited the inevitable reaction this would cause.

“And just what precisely is going on here?” A unicorn in Day Guard armor trotted up - Lieutenant Murdoc, Flyntt identified. An unsavory hardass if ever there was one. Flyntt’s good nature suddenly dispersed, like the sun being blotted out by a particularly dark storm cloud. That was really the best way to describe Murdoc: A very dark, thunderous storm cloud.

“Finally, a unicorn! Somepony sensible!” To no one’s surprise, it was once again the fat mare, notorious around town for making her voice be heard by as many ponies as possible.

“We were just, erm… dispersing an unruly crowd,” Flyntt said nervously. By Luna, he hated Murdoc and the stick that was jammed up his rear. “A food fight was about to break out, but we’re lucky you showed up sir; seems a couple of Fulake don’t carry much say around here, even guards…”

Lieutenant Murdoc cocked an eyebrow at the Fulake. Equal, his flank. Night Guards were almost always useless. “You wouldn’t happen to be instigating this little scenario? You do have quite the reputation back at the Barracks.”

“Now hold on a second-” Pelleas stepped up, but faltered when Murdoc shot him a venomous look.

“I will not be talked back to by a lowly Cadet!”

“F-forgive him sir, he’s a newbie. You know how cadets can be, don’t you? I’ll make sure he learns some respect by the next time you see him…” He shot a look at Pelleas and prayed the kid got the message.

“Anyway, from what I can gather the crowd was divided over a dispute. Seems the Oranges and the Rinds have started feuding again, from what I could tell at least. We were just telling everyone to pack it in when you showed up, funnily enough.”

“That’s not true!” the mouthy mare piped up, strutting her way to the front of the crowd. She leveled her stern gaze at Murdoc. “This heathen was just about start a riot! I daresay a marvelous Unicorn such as yourself should not be subjected to working in the same profession as a… as a monster! They should have all been wiped out with Nightmare Moon!”

The entire crowd gasped - even those on the Rind side.

“...I hardly think it’s the time to let personal feelings get in the way of doing my job,” Flyntt managed calmly to himself, though beneath his exterior was a boiling fury. There were some things in this world you just don’t joke about. “We should handle this like professionals, regardless of what our feelings on the matter may be.”

Murdoc stared crossly at Flyntt, and then slowly, slowly turned his head to face the mouthy mare. “You, civilian, will never insult one of my Guard brothers like that again. I may not like the Night Guard, I may not particularly like this stallion right here, but I would give my life to save his, and he’d do the same for me.” His face was a snarl as he advanced upon her - she herself seemed to shrink, with her son clutching her rear leg tightly. “I should have you arrested.”

“Well it seems I was wrong about you after all! Any stallion that would take the side off a filthy winged rat deserves to be cast out with the rest of them! Hmph!” she said, quickly regaining her uppity nerve. She was turning to leave when, suddenly, an orange landed on Murdoc’s face.

“Sir, are you going to let her get away with that?” Flyntt asked, seizing this golden opportunity. “She clearly assaulted you with an orange.”

“It’s true, I saw her do it!” a voice said from the crowd.

“Me too, she just chucked it out of nowhere!” said another.

“I will not participate in such childish endeavors. However, Lieutenant Flyntt… as I recall, you’re not on shift yet. When I walk away, I’ll have no idea what happened here.”

“Of course. Have a nice day, sir.” Flyntt nodded and saluted as the unicorn walked off.

There was a moment of tense silence after Murdoc’s departure… followed by all hell breaking loose.

Ten minutes later, the streets ran with sweet, wasted orange juice. Prim laughed at the ridiculous carnage that surrounded them.

“We’ll need to make a quick stop at a friend’s house on the way back,” she said to Snow Storm, who was picking up what remained of the pulped fruits and chucking them in the trash. “He owes me a little money and I want to pay for the wasted inventory,”

She looked up at Prim curiously, shaking her sticky hooves. Sweet Luna I could use a shower.

“Don’t worry, it won’t take long, and it’s my fault we lost the oranges in the first place. I bet you’ll like him,” she said fondly, wiping her forehooves on her clothes. “He’s such a sweetheart.”

* * *

“Buck, open up! I kinda need that money you owed me, it’s important,” Prim said as she knocked on the door to her friend’s apartment. Snow Storm, meanwhile, stared out the nearby window, not particularly interested in meeting this coltfriend of Prim’s, especially if he was a… replacement.

Not to mention she was exhausted, continually fighting down yawns. But more importantly, she was itching to get out into the city. Tonight was the night something would happen, she just knew it.

“Hey there, Prim!” a strangely familiar voice said from behind the opening door. “So is this your friend? Nice to meet ya, the name’s Bolt Buck!” He extended a friendly hoof out to the barely-attentive small mare.

Snow Storm shrugged, dragging her attention away from the window with some effort. Her gaze fell upon the stallion. She blinked… and it felt as though her blood had turned to ice-water. That face… that body… Her mind regressed to when she was a filly, accessing dormant memories. She had seen him before, long ago. He was one of the four giants looming over her child self; one of the four different voices booming with malicious laughter. They were laughing. She remembered that. She remembered the fear she had felt then, but now that dull fear had been honed and sharpened into anger. She remembered him. Very, very clearly.

“Are you alright, Snowy?” Prim asked, but decided not to press the matter.

The mute mare blinked twice, shook her head to clear her mind, and offered her hoof to him with a companionable smile. The very idea of touching him repulsed her to no end, but now would be the wrong time to attack. She made a mental note of his apartment address - it would come in handy later this night.

His eyes betrayed a look of mild confusion, as if he were on the precipice of familiarity… but it was just out of reach. How much did he remember, if anything? It hardly mattered, really. That night he would remember everything… and pay dearly for it.

“So, you friends with Prim?” He smiled, hugging Snow Storm’s friend close.

“Eheheh, he’s the one I mentioned before,” she admitted shyly. “I hope… you’re not too angry with me, Snowy.” She hung her head slightly, unable to meet Snow Storm’s gaze. “I know it must feel like it’s too soon, but it’s been five years. As much as I miss him I can’t stay alone forever, can I?”

“Aw, why would she even be mad? Wait… you two weren’t a thing…?” Bolt Buck looked between the mares, confused.

“No. Her brother… a gang of thugs killed him five years ago. He and I…” her voice trailed off.

“...” The stallion swallowed. “How many bits was it you said?” he asked, his tone shifting noticeably. “Fifteen? I’ll get ‘em.”

“... Well that was strange,” Primrose said, turning to Snow Storm. “He’s usually a lot more cheerful. Guess something about you must’ve spooked him… Snowy? You alright?”

She scribbled quickly, ‘Popcorn must’ve given me an upset stomach, that’s all.’

Buck returned a few moments later with the money.

“L-listen, I’m kinda busy today,” he stammered “I don’t mean to be rude, but I can’t stick around. Me and a friend got some business tonight, so I guess I’ll see you tomorrow… maybe,” he added, almost silently.

“Err… okay then.” Primrose took the bits, slipping them into her purse and sounding a little put-off. “Well, I guess we’ll just be heading off then. Seeya later, Buck.”

Prim turned to her friend as they walked away, “Snowy, I’m really sorry about all that. He’s usually so much friendlier…”

* * *

That night, Bolt Buck paced back-and-forth in his darkened apartment. He continuously threw glances at the door and out the window, biting his lower lip. Sooner or later the Guard would show up, putting him away for a five-year-gone murder that he was even barely part of!

“It can’t be…” he muttered to himself in his umpteenth round. “That’s the filly… no, it can’t be. Agh! What am I even worried about, eh?” He finally stopped and dropped to his haunches, laughing pathetically into the night. “She was just a kid! She don’t remember nothin’! She won’t tell the Guard, nah, I’m just being silly.”

He froze, turning towards a noise on the balcony outside his apartment. It seemed too loud to be that neighbor’s blasted cat that always enjoyed bugging him, but what else was it going to be? As he turned away, he could hear something else… hoofsteps. Within seconds a large silhouette towered imposingly before him, the darkness making the mare larger and more frightening in his mind.

She simply stood there as he backed into a corner, having found that the more she drew out an encounter, the more fear she could instill in her opponent.

“Y-y-y-y-” He slapped himself across the face. “You’re that what’s it… Mare do Good or whatever! You spooked me,” He breathed a sigh of relief, seeming to drop his guard. “Whaddya want? I got no beef with you!”

She pressed him against the wall, her foreleg cocked to his throat, cutting off his air.

His wide eyes shifted side to side, unable to look at her masked face. He tried willing himself to melt into the wall, anything to escape this monster. “Wha!?” he sputtered, clenching his eyes shut.

She slammed her hoof hard next to his head, putting a large dent in the wall. She waited for him to open his eyes and when he finally did, she thrust a photo of her brother into his face.

“I don’t- I don’t-” he cried, bleating out an agonized moan.

Snow Storm removed her mask at last, looking him dead in the eye. In a flash of brilliant insight, he understood everything.

“P-please, I’m sorry! Don’t hurt me anymore, I’m sorry!” he said, starting to cry as he struggled to breathe. “It was years ago! We was just stupid kids, that’s all!”

Undeterred by his pathetic grovelling, she began her five-year revenge.

* * *

“Sir, did you hear that?” Pelleas asked, stopping in his tracks and cocking his head sideways, ears vibrating lightly. “Sounded like a scream.”

“...Crap. And it was such a nice, quiet night too.” Flyntt grunted. “Well kid, you know the drill. You take the window, I’ll hit the stairs. Make sure they don’t get away, whoever they are,” he said before rushing off into the building.

Up the stairs, Flyntt ran headlong into the slender hind quarters of another Lieutenant, Aella.

“Watch it!” she snapped, feeling a heat rise in her face. “That’s not the first time you’ve run into me, Flyntt.”

“Yeah, well quit being such an obstacle then. You heard the scream, right? We don’t have time for this, some pony could be dying just a few feet away!” he said crossly.

“Oh, don’t worry, he’s not dying.” She pointed to a corner of the apartment, where a stallion rocked back and forth in the fetal position, clutching his tail and sobbing. “I’ve identified a few bruises, a badly twisted pastern and a broken jaw, but that’s it. Looks more like the poor guy’s been scared half to death.”

“He’ll need medical treatment. Oh, did you catch a glimpse of the perp, by the way?” Flyntt asked casually.

“Might not even be a perp,” Aella said, nodding toward a drawer. “There’s a vial of Diamond Eyes in there. My guess is he took some and freaked out. Probably started seeing crap and hurt himself.”

“Hmm… take the drug as evidence, wouldja? And go track down my cadet,” he said, annoyed at the absense of his partner.

“Yeah, sure. And I’ll get a ride for this guy while I’m at it,” the Fulake mare said, snatching up the drugs and walking off. “Oh, and Flyntt?”

“Yeah?”

“You really need to stop trying to crawl up my ass. It was one dance.”

“It’s not my fault you’re the cutest bat in the Barracks.” He grinned. “Well anyway, I’m gonna have a quick word with this guy, see how he’s doing. Oh, and if you see Pelleas, tell him he’s a screwup for me, willya? Kid can’t even follow simple procedures…”

Flyntt turned to the pathetic stallion, still convulsing before them. He cleared his throat; he was never particularly good at playing the ‘good guard’.

“Hey there,” he said in a gentle voice. “I don’t recommend trying to say anything, your jaw’s broken. Not that I need to tell you, right? Here’s some paper, write whatever you gotta say,” he said, handing the stallion something to write on.

Bolt Buck flailed his hooves, pushing the paper away as though it would attack him.

“Wow, you’re in a bad way… c’mon, we’re taking you to the hospital. I swear I ain’t gonna hurtcha. Your legs aren’t broken, so stand up and let’s go.” He grinned warmly, trying to soothe the poor guy.

The heap-of-a-stallion muttered something that almost sounded like ‘momma’.

“Oh for the love of…” Flyntt sighed, shaking his head. “It’s gonna be one of those nights. Luna help me.”

Author's Note

Artimae: Time. It's a funny thing. It's also an extremely difficult thing to write. How can one easily convey a sense that time was passing by? If I'd not mentioned in Snow Storm's journal that a week had gone by from Chapter 1 to Chapter 3, would you even know? Of course not. Like I said, it's hard to convey a sense of that passage in words. And a lot can happen in the span of a mere week. Hell, your entire life could change in just one single night.

Tony Stewart knows that all too well. (R.I.P. Kevin Ward Jr. You should've stayed in your car.)

Time is difficult to convey, but easy to manipulate. I said it was a week. I could say an entire year takes place between 1 and 3. Or ten years. Twenty. But it wouldn't be right. A week was about right. I slightly worry that the pacing suffers - she already finds one of the four in the third chapter. To you, it was but a few minutes in between readings. To her, it was a week of grueling stalking. But in the end, I felt this was the correct decision - if I'd've written two, three, four more chapters with no payoff whatsoever, you wouldn't even get this far. Frustrations can work, but to overdo it is boring. Let's just ask Skirts all about that. What was it... four fights between Harmony and the Royal Grand Biv without any real payoff? Sure it was... entertaining. And the Biv was possibly my biggest inspiration for having a mute Mare do Well (so thanks, Skirts!), but eventually you have to satisfy the need for a resolution.

If it was just one guy she was after, then we could've kept it to near the end. But no, it's four. So something would have to happen relatively early. Did it work? Did it not? That's up to you. As for me? Well, it's written, and it's not gonna change. Hell, there's still three more to get.

And when she finally gets to him... there's nothing! I originally had this big scene planned out where she just unloads on him. But that was boring, and unfair. As it is now, she looms over him, and the next thing you know, she's gone and he's crying and afraid. So what'd she even do? Maybe I'm trying to justify lazy writing, but really, the imagination is far better than anything I could've possibly written. What exactly did she do to him to break him like that? Shove an icecube up his ass? (No that is not giving you carte blanche to write that kind of scene... oh who am I kidding, I'd totally read that.)

Post Script: We briefly considered having just three criminals to fight, in the planning stages, but when push came to shove four felt like a better number. Two would've come across as ridiculous, given what they end up doing, and three was close, but didn't quite feel right. We needed a crook who didn't have any real importance to him. The other three all had a significant part to play, but the fourth drives home the point that sometimes the guy that ruined your life is just that; a random guy, of no real consequence. Frosty's death was a brutal, random and meaningless act, so why should the crooks behind it all have a deeper part to play? That was the reason we ultimately settled on four... because sometimes, it's not about a character having sigificance, it's that they didn't have any that matters.

Chapter Four

July 12th, 1007,

Finally! After so many years of fear and anger… after a week and a half of the Mare do Well, I finally got one of them!

I wish I could put into words the ecstasy I felt tonight. The closest term to describing it would be ‘adrenaline rush’. Seeing that pathetic little lump of a stallion cower before my fearsome silhouette… now he knows how it feels. My heart was racing as I wrought justice on him. He tried fighting back, of course, but he quickly learned how useless that was.

By the Goddesses, I could’ve just drank up the terror he radiated, especially after I pulled out the picture of my brother. If I close my eyes, I can clearly see the recognition as it dawned on his face. And then I made him look upon my face.

I made sure not to hurt him too badly, however… he’s going to be my little snitch; the key to the rest of the three.

Whether he likes it or not.

One of the Guard saw me exiting the building - the young cadet, I believe. If he talks, the Mare do Well will be wanted for assault, at least until they learn who their civilian is. I’ll have to keep an eye on him.

My little stool pigeon’s going to be held up in his little hospital bed for awhile. I think it would be nice of me to go visit him tomorrow night, yes?

But for now, I’m satisfied.

-Snow Storm

“Snow, dear, your friend is at the door. She seems very upset, poor thing…” Mrs.Orange called up to Snow Storm the following morning. The mute mare made her way downstairs, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

“Oh, Snowy, Buck was attacked last night… he’s in a pretty bad way. Oh, Buck…” Primrose said, barely able to hold herself together.

Snow Storm cocked her head, putting on what she hoped was a concerned face.

“Could you come along with me to visit him? I’m feeling just awful right now, I could use the support if you’re not too busy…”

She nodded at once, hurrying back to grab an outfit.

* * *

“He has no idea who attacked him,” Prim explained as they walked to Buck’s room in the infirmary. “He was attacked at his place, but didn’t see whoever did it. Probably a thief, though the Guards claim he wasn’t robbed…”

‘Maybe it’s the start of a new gang thing?'

“I sure hope not. What if… what if Buck’s involved with the wrong ponies? He never was eager to talk about his past… still, now’s not the time to ask him questions anyway. His jaw is broken so he can’t say much. I hope you don’t mind if I stick around here ‘til he gets better? I know you’ve enjoyed having someone around to help with the stall, but I want to make sure whoever did this doesn’t come back to finish the job. Just in case, y’know?”

Snow Storm nodded, cocking her eyebrows into a more sympathetic look. As they reached Bolt Buck’s room in the hospital, the pair spotted a pair of Fulake standing bedside, talking in hushed voices.

“Listen, I ain’t happy about this either,” the older one said to his subordinate, “but as far as the Captain’s concerned, this was just another junkie getting himself hurt in his apartment. I don’t buy it either, but there’s nothing we can do without evidence.”

“But, sir,” the other protested, growing obviously frustrated. “I saw that Mare do Well figure! We even made eye contact for a brief moment! She’s starting to become dangerous.”

“Of course she is! You think some unstable kook in a costume is just gonna rescue kittens from trees? No, this so-called ‘hero’ is a menace, and the sooner we find out what they’re really after the sooner-” he paused, noticing the two mares nearby.

“Excuse me, but can we go inside? I’m a friend of the victim’s, and I’d like to stay with him for awhile,” Prim asked the younger of the Fulake.

“Of course,” said Pelleas. “We’ll take our argument outside. Sir?”

“Sure,” Flyntt said, stepping out of the way.

Inside the room Bolt Buck lay, pale and bruised with a good portion of his body wrapped in bandages. He seemed to be half-asleep, though he quickly became alert at the sight of the mares entering the room.

“Hey Buck,” Prim said softly “I brought you some flowers. You feeling any better?”

The stallion nodded carefully, looking up at Primrose with a genuine warmth. His heart skipped a beat when his eyes drifted over to Snow Storm, who was staring coldly back at him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d’ve sworn the corners of her mouth were curled in a tight, humorless smile.

“Oh!” Primrose gasped, noting the sudden fear in his eyes “What’s the matter? It’s only Snowy, you have nothing to worry about,” she said, her tone a little less certain than she’d have liked.

Snow tapped Prim on the shoulder, raised her foreleg, and tilted her head back in a mimicry of drinking.

“Oh, water? Sure…” she said, walking out of the room and leaving the two alone. Buck started to whimper as soon as the door was shut, unable to even back away from the mare before him.

She glared at him, her sky-blue eyes a pair of icebergs. ‘Rat me out and I’ll rip your tongue out. Understood?’ She shoved the note in his face.

He nodded, never breaking eye contact with the mare. To do so would be dangerous, he figured. He replied with a hastily-written scrawl.

‘What do you want from me?’ the note asked.

‘Information about the other three.’

He slowly began to scribble down notes, stopping only when he had run out of paper.

'Facade I don’t know anything about. We split ways. Thankfully. Rough Houser went underground after that night. He’s been on the run ever since, but he’s still in the city. He owes the Boss a lot of money... If the Boss ever finds him, he’s a dead stallion, so you’ll struggle to catch that one. Bloodshot… well, he’s in an asylum. A total monster, far more psychotic than the rest of us, and far stronger too. You’d have a lot of trouble visiting him; he’s in the highest-security section of the place, and is under strict orders to have no visitors under any circumstances. That’s all I know.'

She took the note and stuffed it into her bag without reading it - she’d have plenty of time for that at home. ‘If any of this is wrong, I’ll know where you are.’

“You’re friends with Prim, right?” he asked weakly, his voice barely above a whisper. “If you attack me, how are you going to explain how it happened?”

Snow snarled, but restrained herself from smacking the bruised pony. ‘I’ll tell her that you murdered her last boyfriend.’

“I plan on telling her anyway,” he croaked out. “I’m tired of running from it. She can’t spend day after day looking after me without knowing the truth. If it means I lose her, then so be it. I won’t rat on you, but not because of your threats.”

‘Good boy,’ she wrote, patting him on the head like the dog he was.

* * *

Pelleas was unusually quiet as the pair of Guards walked back to their barracks and the end of their shift.

“What’s the matter, kid? You’ve been giving me that look ever since you left the hospital. What’s on your mind?” Flyntt asked on the way.

“Do you ever get deja vu, sir?”

“Not very often. Why? See something important?”

“I’m not sure. It’s that little white mare we ran into today. Something about her…” Pelleas’ voice trailed off, trying to untangle the knot in his brain. Something huge was just on the horizon, just out of his reach...

“Oh, I think I know exactly what you’re talking about, kid,” Flyntt grinned “and that feeling ain’t deja vu, eheheh…”

“I’m being serious, sir,” Pelleas growled. “We’ve run into her once before, remember? Last week?”

“Yeah, you seemed to be focusing on her pretty intently.. especially her butt,” he smiled, enjoying the reactions his friend was giving him “I guess you thought she was important to the case? I’m sure that’ll help us find whoever’s responsible…”

“It can’t be a mere coincidence, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Well maybe you should go talk to her then. Ask her some questions if it’ll make you feel any better. Just don’t try mixing business with pleasure kid, it never works.”

“No time,” Pelleas said simply. “Captain Leaf just threw us cadets a 'surprise exam'. Once I get home, I’m having myself a nice shower and getting right back to work.”

“Well good luck with that, I’ll be looking through the case notes to see if there’s anything we’ve missed,” Flyntt smiled, knowing he’d actually spend the evening trying to woo Aella.

“Oh, dear, how is he doing?” Annabelle Orange asked Primrose as the girls returned to the grove.

“He’s alright,” Prim said quietly. “I’ll probably go back later. I don’t want to leave him alone right now. He needs me.”

“Of course, but I’m sure he also needs rest. Come, have the day off, or go back out with Snow Storm if you wish… Oh! That reminds me…” The motherly mare turned to her adopted daughter. “Mosley would like to see you in his study concerning a… food fight?”

“Crap, busted,” Prim whispered to her friend. “Well, he can’t get that upset, right? I mean, we sold out pretty quickly. Money is money, right?”

“He’s waiting,” Mrs. Orange said impatiently. Snow Storm grimaced and scooted inside.

“Mrs.Orange, I was partially responsible for this,” Prim admitted. “I should probably take some of the blame too…”

“Now, now, you have too much else to worry about.”

“But… but… ah, alright. I’m just gonna go back to work. I’ll be back later, seeya Mrs. Orange.”

* * *

“Come in,” Mr.Orange said solemnly to the hesitant mare. She could feel her breath catch as she stepped inside his grandiose study.

“Snow Storm, we do not associate with the Rind family. Do you know why?”

She wrote down, ‘Because their tangerines smell like sweat and sadness?’

“No. Because the oranges they sell are an insult to our craft,” he said sternly “We do not acknowledge their existence. As far as I am concerned, we are the only source of citrus in the city, Is that understood?”

‘Of course. Although we did sell out fairly quickly. Half of the city shelled out their bits in order to pelt the Rinds with our superior firepower.’

“Such a waste…” Mr.Orange sighed. “It’s about more than money, you know. Without our oranges, the city would have one less healthy option at snack time, one less source of vitamin C… I don’t want you using our fruit as ‘firepower’ again, do you understand? We’re above that. If the Rinds want to be children, let them, but do not debase yourself like that again. Remember, you’re representing our family out there.”

‘I think they’ll be leaving us alone, now, anyway.’

“Well if they do start any trouble, just walk away. You’ll look like the more mature party, and the Rinds will look like the pathetic children they are.”

Snow Storm nodded. ‘Is there anything else, dad?’

“No, just leave this grumpy old stallion to his work.”.

As she walked out, a note fluttered down onto the sire’s head. He had to smile in spite of himself as he read it.

‘The city said they hadn’t seen an orange fight that intense since you worked the cart.’

Pelleas sat by Bolt Buck’s bedside, patiently awaiting the stallion’s awakening. The nurses had all squawked something about ‘visiting hours’, but his position as a city guard, even a lowly cadet, managed to get him places.

“Urgh…” the stallion moaned, blinking as he awoke. He looked at the armored Fulake with confusion in his eyes before reaching for a scrap of paper with his one good hoof.

“Who are you?” he asked. “You with the Guards?”

“Yes, I am,” Pelleas responded softly. “And I’m having a hard time figuring out why the Mare do Well attacked you. That is who attacked you, yes?”

With some effort the stallion managed to shake his head before writing a note. It was easier this way.

'No, it wasn’t her. I owe a debt to the mob, and they weren’t happy that didn’t have their money, so they sent one of their guys after me. They dressed em’ like the Mare do Well so ponies would think she was chasing a crook or something. That way nobody’d call the Guard before they’d finished. I’ve seen the real thing, and they weren’t nearly as graceful. Costume wasn’t all that convincing up close, either.'

Pelleas read this over several times, frowning hard. It was a load of crap, he knew. This guy looked too pathetic to be involved with some petty gang. Surely even the Red Hoof had better standards…

“Are you absolutely sure?” he asked at last. “Because if the Mare do Well attacked you, that’s a violent assault that can be pinned against her.”

'All I know is that the gang had a reason to attack me, and she didn’t. Heck, she’s supposed to be one of the good guys, right? So why would she attack a random pony in his home?'

Pelleas sighed, only skimming over the note. This pony would only become a broken record, no matter how many times he asked. For all the cadet knew, Bolt Buck was probably convinced his own self. Pelleas might’ve even believed it… if this criminal hadn’t spun into the tale about another pony dressing up in the costume. From what little he knew of fashion and design, mostly from his… eccentric brother, that suit was almost impossible to replicate with such detail.

'Sorry, but have you asked everything you needed from me? Because my girl’s gonna be here any minute, and after that you’ll probably not be able to get a word in edgewise.'

“That’s all I’ve got. Just get better soon, whether you deserve it or not,” the young Fulake said, walking out. He gave Primrose a passing nod as he left, a plan formed in his mind.

Primrose returned only a cursory nod, her mind focused mainly on her bruised-up coltfriend. “Buck? You doing any better today?” she asked, walking into the room with a fresh bouquet of flowers to, hopefully, brighten Bolt Buck’s day. “I got your note. You said you had something to tell me?”

He pointed at the door and swiped his hoof, mimicking closing it.

Prim shut the door and sat down next to him.

“What is it?” she asked.

He began to write. And though the note itself was only a few words, it was still the longest one he’d ever write in his life.

There was a loud knocking on Snow Storm’s room door. She grunted internally, rolling out of bed, disgruntled at having her nap interrupted. Who could possibly need to bug her now…?

Prim stood in the doorway, her expression dark and terrible. She handed the note Bolt Buck had given her, and huffed.

Snow glanced it over, looked at Primrose and, much to the mare’s surprise and confusion, hardly reacted at all to it.

“So you did know,” Prim said at last. “And I guess that means that you’re… well, not that it matters. You got him. I wanted to leave my mark on him too, but he was in such a bad shape I really couldn’t have hurt him any more… my first glimpse of happiness ever since Frosty died, and it was a lie,” she said bitterly, ripping the note from Snow Storm’s clutch and crumpling it into a ball.

‘It’s fine. He probably brainwashed you, that’s all. Caught a vulnerable mare. You were just icing on his cake, weren’t you?'

“No!” Prim shouted at once, to both of their surprise. “I mean… I loved him. It wasn’t brainwashing at all. He really was a sweetheart, when I first met him. Kind, and gentle… I know it’s a terribly selfish thing to ask, but please don’t kill him. Break him, yell at him, do anything else you want, but please…” Prim said, ashamed.

‘He’ll keep. I have a new problem now...’

“What’s that? I swear I won’t tell a soul, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Snow Storm cocked an eyebrow at the mare, as if to say ‘How can I believe that?’

“What choice do you have? I already know, and there’s only one way to make sure I keep my mouth shut… and I’m sure you wouldn’t do that.”

‘I would suggest you go home and live your life normally, and forget all about what’s going to happen in the coming weeks.’

“Alright, but should I resign? I mean, if having me around would complicate matters maybe I should just keep my distance…”

‘You’re nothing but a grove picker. Plus the boys would miss you.’

“Alright then. By the way, are you done with Buck? Or will you finish him for good once you’ve taken down the rest?”

‘I’m angry, not heartless. He’s learned his lesson, I think.’

“Okay then. Guess I’ll need to find a new coltfriend… and don’t worry. Next time I’ll introduce you as soon as I’ve met him.” Prim tried to smile, but it was a weak attempt.

A cloudless night settled onto Manehattan, leaving the millions of stars to twinkle brilliantly and a full moon to shine brightly far above. The moon’s rays mixed and mingled with the endless streets and alleyways, making the city look almost like one huge maze.

Pelleas was dead-tired on his feet tonight, shuffling along next to Lieutenant Flyntt. Every yawn he smothered had gotten closer and closer to escaping. It’d be an especially sad sight for a Fulake to be tired in the evenings.

“Kid, here. Have a drink on me, it’ll keep you going for a few hours,” Flyntt said, handing the cadet a flask of Moon Apple Cider.

“Sir we can’t-” That yawn finally escaped him whole. “-drink on duty.”

“Then consider this a break. If you don’t relax soon, you’ll pass out. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it’d be for a Fulake to see seen sleeping at night? You’d be a laughing stock!”

“I’d be fine if the Captain wasn’t having us cadets working overtime. Sir, that Mare do Well needs to be unmasked.” And I need that promotion to Full Guard.

“Cadet, you’ve read the rule book back to front, haven’t you?” The older Fulake asked his comrade.

“Yes, sir. Why?”

“So if I order you to drink this cider and relax for awhile…?” Flyntt said, handing him the drink.

Pelleas sighed with a hint of amusement. “I think you know the rulebook better than I do, just to find ways around it.”

“We’ll make up for tonight by working on the weekend,” Flyntt said draining his backup flask. Always carry two drinks! That was one of the great lessons his own mentor had taught him. “But trust me, you’ll be thanking me later. Spend too long on the same case without a break and you’ll burn out. Happened to me all the time when I was starting out.”

“You? An energetic young upstart with delusions of grandeur?” Pelleas barked out a laugh. “I’d’ve paid to see that.”

“More like a cocky little brat desperate to prove himself,” Flyntt said with a smirk.

“But you made Lieutenant… not that there’s much competition in the Night Guard,” Pelleas pointed out. If he had to guess, there was about a one-to-three ratio between Night Guards and Day Guards.

“There was less competition when I was a cadet. Times have changed, kid. Don’t think you’ll reach Lieutenant as easily as I did…”

“We had even less Night Guards? I mean, I know it’s a suicide-shift for regular ponies, but we still got some. I even heard Captain Leaf preferred it over daytime.”

“Captain Leaf… you remind me of him, actually. We started together as cadets, and he had the same kinda drive you do. Confidentially, I think you’re Captain material, but don’t tell the others that. They still see you as the greenhorn of the group. Prove them wrong.”

“I doubt I’ll ever actually make it.” Pelleas swirled his flask of rapidly-draining cider. “I mean, I wouldn’t let myself kiss the Red Hoof’s flank like Leaf does.”

“The thing about good and evil, kid, is that it’s rarely clear cut. The Red Hoof’s a bastard, sure, but he keeps a lot of dangerous ponies in line. He’s the reason we don’t have hundreds of little gangs warring all over the place. He’s a necessary evil. Heck, you ever hear of the Luna’s Shadow, or the Order of Assassins?”

“I can’t believe the Princesses would sanction such things,” Pelleas grunted, beginning to sway in his seat.

“Sanction!? Just look in the name! Princess Luna herself formed them, way back in the day. They come in handy as Luna’s eyes and ears in the underground. They’re used as spies and whatnot.

“Someone oughta clean out the lot of ‘em! But look at me talk, sir. I can’t even unmask one crazy mare…”

“Like I said kid, good and evil aren’t as obvious as you might think. Not all the time. Maybe by the time this is all over you’ll finally get that,” Flyntt mused.

“I didn’t mention this yet, sir, but that night at the apartment… I saw the Mare do Well. We made eye contact. I know she attacked that stallion… but I can’t figure out why.”

“Really now…? Hmm. Does he have a criminal record?”

“That,” said Pelleas, playing with his now-empty flask, “is an excellent question. But he’s not willing to talk to me.”

“Tell him we have him with possession of Diamond Eyes- which is technically true, since a small amount was found in his apartment- and that if he doesn’t start talking we’ll arrest him for it the second he’s recovered. All by the book, and I’m as sure he’s withholding information as you are.”

“You mean… blackmail?” Pelleas blinked in surprise, shooting his superior a confused glance.

“Well if he’s got information that could save lives… c’mon, it’s hardly the worst thing that could be done. Rumour was that a few centuries ago, the Guards were pretty corrupt. They’d interrogate, even torture in the name of keeping the city safe. Compared to that, a little blackmail is nothin’.”

The door of a nearby bar exploded open. Pelleas and Flyntt looked at each other before rushing into the tavern. A stallion stumbled in, panting heavily, clearly shaking. He pointed to the two Fulake. “You… guards...?” He gasped, trying to catch his breath.

“What’s the matter citizen? You look like you’re running from someone,” Flyntt said, taking on the authoritative tone he so rarely used.

“Stallion… down the block…” He coughed, wincing at the burning-hot stitch in his side. By Celestia, how long had it been since he’d run so hard? Tomorrow he’d hit the gym for sure. “Attacked… Mare do Well… saw it happen!”

“Damnit, c’mon kid there’s no time to lose!” Flyntt barked at Pelleas as they took off in the direction the stallion had pointed. Hell, we’d’ve stumbled upon this anyways. Within minutes they saw the masked vigilante attacking a stallion.

“Stop!” Flyntt yelled, his voice booming. “As a Lieutenant of the Night Guard, I demand that you cease this cruelty on an innocent citizen at once, or you will officially be declared a public menace!”

The Mare do Well seemingly ignored his call, only stopping her attack when they saw the stallion shake his head. Faintly, they heard him whimper, “I’m not Facade! I’m Mort, a Bricklayer!”

“I told you, kid. She’s a maniac, going after anyone she just doesn’t like,” Flyntt muttered. “You mighta been on to something. Sooner she’s unmasked and taken off the streets, the better.”

* * *

Snow Storm held ‘Mort’ there a moment, highly aware of the crowd that had gathered around them. She had meant to chase him into an alleyway or something of that nature, but much to her chagrin, he didn’t run. In fact, he even smiled when he had seen her.

After seeing that grin, she couldn’t help herself. She’d smacked him across the face.

Now she tapped the piece of paper with ‘Facade’ written on it, and pointed to him again. There was no chance he was getting out of this one!

“I don’t know who that is,” he said simply. There was nothing in his voice to suggest he was lying. Her confidence wavered for a moment.

Why isn’t he even afraid!? She quickly scribbled a note, not even bothering to subdue him. If her reading of his body language was correct, he wasn’t even thinking of running. ‘Prove it.’

“B-but how? I don’t know anything about him,” he said, again seeming more confused than scared.

‘Five years and seventeen days ago, you and three others attacked two innocent ponies on a dark street. Remember now?’ Her composure was slipping even as she wrote this - the guy was either that dumb, that good of an actor… or the wrong pony entirely.

“No, no you’ve got the wrong guy. I’ve never attacked anyone!. I don’t understand what’s going on, but I’m not this ‘Facade’ guy, I swear it’s the truth.”

Snow Storm became flushed beneath the suit. The heat rose so quickly to her face, she could almost feel herself passing out. It really is the wrong one… she thought, sweating. Hell, that smile…

“Please let me go, this is all just a mistake,” he managed at last.

She nodded, reaching her hoof down to help him back up. For a moment, she thought about writing out an apology, but what good would that do? It’d only look hollow, insincere with no tone to back it up.

He tried to swallow, succeeded in only making himself cough, then walked away, feeling the intense stares of those around them weigh down on him as much as the mare. To her relief, he spoke.

“It was just a misunderstanding. It happens, and she didn’t hurt me,” he said before slinking off quietly.

“Oh no,” a burly stallion from the crowd said, grabbing the other by the shoulder. “You’re not going anywhere, buddy.”

“H-huh? But I didn’t even… she got the wrong guy!” he protested. Snow Storm braced herself, in case things turned ugly. Not that they weren’t already, with her silent accusations.

“Here’s the thing, buddy.” The stallion grinned broadly, hoisting Mort up onto his back. “You survived the Mare do Well! Drinks are on the house tonight!” The crowd cheered at this, creating at first a cacophony of noise that slowly formed into regular chants of ‘Mort! Mort! Mort!’

“Well alright…?” he said, being carried off with the majority of the crowd. Snow Storm smiled a silly grin beneath the mask in spite of herself. Wonders apparently never ceased in this city - first she had beaten up a random stranger, he forgave her, and now he was a celebrity. Am I dreaming or dru-

The thought was cut short when she spotted, yet again, those two guards, who were staring straight back at her. Ah, crap, she thought, and took off, bolting down the street.

“You! Stop!” Lieutenant Flyntt yelled out, knowing it was futile. He huffed in aggravation. They never stop. “Kid, take the skies!”

Pelleas nodded, then launched himself into the air. From above the rooftops he could just make out a shadowy figure leaping away at great speed.

Damn, she’s pretty capable for an earth pony, wings or not, he thought to himself, impressed at her agility.

She could feel his eyes on her as she galloped, and decided to see just how far he could go. She dove into a crack between buildings, hopping down fire-escapes and back onto the ground, weaving in between the darkened alleys. Can’t see me now, can you Guard?

To her surprise, he was right behind her when she turned around. “These ears aren’t just for show.” He gave her a cheeky grin.

She faltered to a stop, breathing rapidly. Still, it was only one. She could take him, if she had to…

“I’m not here for a fight, or some stupid glory-seeking mission like the other cadets,” he said, standing his ground “If you want to leave, I’ll just say I lost you. I want to prove you can trust me. My name is Pelleas, and I’m a Cadet of the Night Guard.”

She merely stood there, watching him and listening to the other avenues - after all, he could just be stalling for his partner.

“Listen, if you want a friend in the Guard, I’ll be leaving a letter every week at the Post Office. You can use it to check up on everything we’ve learned and- if you feel like sharing anything you know with me, you can reply with the address I’ll leave on the back. Just in case you feel like you have something the Guard could benefit from knowing… oh, and it’ll be entirely anonymous.”

She scribbled a quick note before deciding to run, trusting that he wouldn’t follow. ‘I work alone. Don’t try to stop me.’

Pelleas sighed, stuffing the note into his armor and returning to Flyntt.

“Sorry sir, lost her up there. Underestimated how fast she’d be…”

“Slippery, eh? Don’t sweat it kid. Now come on, we’ve got drinks to finish.”

“Frankly, sir…” Pelleas grinned, wiping his brow. “After all that nonsense, I could use a harder one.”

Author's Note

Artimae: One thing I personally find interesting (though I may be biased in this regard) is a 'hero' who really doesn't have the moral highground. Snow knows her standing with Bolt Buck, and she's going to use it.

Until Mort comes along, at least. Mort the Bricklayer (See what I did there? No? Because Brick and Mortar? Still no? Aw, fine... I'll go sit in the corner). That was a bit of an eye-opener for her. Hey, at least he wasn't mad about it. This chapter just seemed to be a big humbler for her all around.

Post Script: I love this chapter. Aside from chapter seven it may actually be my favorite. We spend the whole thing building these characters and worlds, trying to make them worth caring about, and everyone gets a decent share of the spotlight. One of the issues I've noticed with many fics that follow the Mare Do Well is that that is *all* they do- follow the character, never stopping to show the story from anyone else's perspective, and I'd like to think we've managed to address that issue to some extent with this story. I can only hope we've succeeded.

Chapter Five

July 13th, 1007,

Oops. That’s all I can say. I’d never taken into account the remote possibility that more than one pony looks alike…

I saw whom I thought was my second target, only for it to be a random masoner.

It’s strange. He didn’t even seem to mind - even acknowledged it was a mistake for me. Frankly, I was worried that a random attack would have soured his opinion of the Mare do Well - especially after that bright smile he gave upon my approach (I must have more supporters than I know). But… it didn’t. He was never once scared, only confused.

Then again, what would an upstanding citizen have to fear? Other than the remote possibility that the Mare do Well is a psychopath.

Even though Mort shrugged off the attack for the misunderstanding it was, I need to make it up to him. I will make it up to him.

Later, though. For now, sleep.

-Snow Storm

“Kid,” an astonished looking Flyntt said to his cadet the next morning. “The Captain wants to speak with you personally.”

“C-captain Leaf?” Pelleas blanched, almost feeling the color drain from his face. No one saw Captain Leaf personally - not for anything good, at least.

“Better not keeping him waiting, kid,” Flyntt said, his tone unusually serious. He led the younger to Captain Leaf’s office, looking almost worried. “Whatever he says, just nod and agree. Oh, and don’t waste his time, he hates that… good luck.”

Pelleas tried to swallow, only to find his mouth had gone dry. What could the Captain possibly want with him?

“Cadet Pelleas, of the Night Guard?” The tone was sharp, authoritative, like a blade that had been honed on only the finest of grindstones. It came from the other side of a chair, facing a large circular window. From the chair, the sole occupant could see nearly a mile across the western end of the city.

“Sir!” Pelleas clicked his hooves together in salute and stood at attention, even holding in his breath lest it be out-of-place.

“Cadet, I have chosen you to lead one of the most important missions I have given a cadet in many years now. You know of the masked menace that has suddenly taken it upon herself to deliver her own warped brand of ‘justice’ on our fair city?” he asked.

“The Mare do Well?”

“Yes. I want this mare captured, alive, and I want you to be the one to do it. Are you interested?”

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Granted.”

“What’s your angle?” The cadet stared suspiciously at his Captain. “This type of thing would be better suited for a superior. Why me?”

The Captain held his stern gaze.

“Because,” he said, pouring himself a drink, “you’ve gotten closer than anyone to her- Oh don’t give me that look. I’m the Captain- it’s my job to know everything that goes on in this city. As I understand it, you were speaking to her last night. I have eyes and ears everywhere, cadet.”

“Yes, sir...” Pelleas shuffled in place, growing increasingly uncomfortable. The suggestion danced on the tip of his tongue, but if the Captain decided it wasn’t worth the effort...

“Hrm?” Captain Leaf raised his eyebrow, levitating a full glass of amber liquid over to the youthful cadet. “Something you’d wish to say?”

Pelleas sighed; any good idea was worth a shot. “Sir, the Mare do Well could be a valuable ally, if the Guard becomes her friend instead of her enemy,” he suggested, bracing himself for the backlash.

“Be that as it may, my orders come directly from... the Mayor.” There was a brief hesitation, Pelleas noted, as if Captain Leaf had meant to say something, or someone, else. “And my hooves are tied for this one…”

Captain Leaf turned away, staring out at the city. “In the end, we can only do what we are allowed. I imagine that must frustrate certain ponies in power to no end… a force of change in this city they can’t control or subdue with bribery or threats…” his voice trailed off.

“The Red Hoof,” Pelleas said flatly. Everyone ‘in-the-know’ knew the Mayor himself was nothing but a figurehead. A spineless little gelding afraid to stand up to what was essentially a power-hungry bully.

“Precisely. Do you know why the Red Hoof so rarely attacks the guard in this city? Because we have an… understanding. He leaves us alone, and in turn we leave his lesser criminal activities untouched. Gambling, extortion, Diamond Eyes production and distribution… these are a small price to pay to keep violent thugs from overrunning our city, killing in the streets. Our numbers are too few to stand a chance against his forces, not if they all struck at once. It would be a massacre…” He sighed, downing the rest of his drink.

“Choose your next words carefully, cadet,” he said coldly, noting the Pelleas’ sour expression. “I can tolerate a little gumption but outright insubordination will see you thrown from our ranks.”

“Has there ever been anything like a Mare do Well to counteract the Red Hoof before?” Pelleas asked pointedly.

“No, and I believe that is what frightens our ‘superiors’ so much,” Captain Leaf grunted, remembering his own youth and how he’d wanted to bring down the whole empire by himself. “He’s facing an outside force for the first time in his career, one that actually stands a chance of undermining his efforts at every turn. He’s become desperate to try and prove that she’s just another mare. Wants to crush her under his hoof and show her broken body to the world, a reminder of who really runs this city… and as much as I hate to say it, we have to help him. If we refuse, he’ll wipe us out, threaten our friends, our families… until everything we fought for is gone. You may not understand this yet, but good and evil stop meaning a damned thing when your loved one is the one about to pay. I have a daughter I have to protect, cadet. If that means bringing down the city’s one hope… then so be it.”

“But if this Mare do Well is supposedly only one pony, then so is the Red Hoof!”

“No, the Mare do Well is one pony. The Red Hoof controls hundreds. Half of the city’s criminals work for him, and the other half are smart enough to keep their distance. She’d have to fight more ponies than even she could possibly handle just to get a glimpse of him…”

“They’re nothing but thugs, sir,” Pelleas said, trying to ignore his growing frustration. “The Guard is trained - we can even request assistance from Canterlot. The City of the Sisters? Who’d even dare commit a crime there? They can spare a garrison or two.”

“We would lose too many guards,” the Captain said bluntly. “It’s not so easy to try and wipe out crime when you know you’d be sending ponies to their deaths along the way.” Captain Leaf grimaced at Pellea’s expression - it was like looking into a mirror back in time.

“It’s an imperfect solution, but it’s the best we’ve got. If you can think of better without putting the lives of every guard- and many innocent civilians- on the line, I’d love to hear it.”

“So we just let this city rot in its own crime-infested stew and not live up to our own standards? What about the other cities? Fillydelphia, Baltimare, Chicacolt…”

“They don’t have the sort of scum we have to deal with… they don’t have a Red Hoof. And there’s a reason that the first case of child murder in Equestria for over a century happened in our city and not theirs, cadet,” Captain Leaf said sternly. “Even amongst the cities of these lands, we’re infamous. And as much as I trust the guards under me with my life, I know that we’re outnumbered three to one. We can’t do what you’re suggesting.”

“Fine then,” Pelleas conceded, knowing there was no more point in arguing. They’d just start going in circles sooner or later. “But, what if I convince the Mare do Well to be on our side? She seems to be looking for something… or someone specific. If we can give it to her, she can trust us.”

“Is she, now…? Hmm… yes, we can use that. Tell me, cadet… does she trust you?” the Captain grinned suddenly, his mind swirling.

“I don’t think so, sir. I’d be surprised if she trusted anypony.”

“Well then, earn her trust. We’ll need you to make her trust you implicitly before we stand a chance of bringing her in… I take it you can handle that?”

“And what happens if we do bring her in? If you’re really neck-deep in the Red Hoof’s pocket, she’ll be in trouble for sure.”

“She’s only a threat as long as she’s out there unchecked. The second we take her off the streets, the second the Red Hoof will have no reason to want to hurt her… providing she stays off of said streets. He’s not so unreasonable as to attack a pony he no longer sees as a threat, I’ve known him long enough to understand that much about him.”

Pelleas sighed, seeing no other way out of this… except for one. “Sir… half of the city is starting to turn to her side. They see her as a beacon. If we go after her, we could have a massive riot.”

“And if we don’t, the Red Hoof will come down on us like a ton of bricks. If I had to choose between facing a civilian riot and one orchestrated by the Red Hoof, I’d take the civilian every time… but I tell you what. You clearly believe in this mare. I cannot officially condone you supporting her efforts to help the city… but if you can come up with a plan within the next week, I will be open to discussing it.”

“Well…” The cadet chewed the inside of his cheek, internally debating whether or not to bring up a word, or rather, a name he’d heard last night. Surely Captain Leaf would know of him… and if not, his contact most definitely would.

“If you have something to say, spit it out. I’m in no mood for games, cadet. Not with the Red Hoof breathing down my neck and half the city ready to call for my dismissal the second I dare follow the Mayor’s orders.”

I can’t believe I’m actually about to lie to the Captain! “Actually, sir, there was an unrelated matter, if I may call upon your expertise?”

The Captain breathed out, almost relieved to be away from the previous line of discussion. “...Fine. But it had better be important. Not to be snippy, but I’m rather busy tonight.”

“It is, sir. It’s about a criminal named Facade. His… er, his name was dropped the other night in a bust.”

“Oh? And what is the importance of this? Perhaps he knew of the criminal being arrested.”

“Call it a hunch. If you don’t know this pony-”

“Oh, I know of him well enough,” the Captain interrupted, barking out a laugh. “An arrogant little punk, once a small time crook who lucked out at the Las Pegas casinos a few years back. Now he thinks he’s untouchable… what of him? Think we’ve got enough evidence to tie him to your bust?”

“Accomplice, maybe. Like I said, just a hunch. It’s… frankly, embarrassing to even have to ask, since you must have far more important matters, sir, but would you have any ideas where he could be?”

“Facade? Probably in one of the large warehouses down by the docks. Shipping and receiving. As for the business regarding the Mare do Well… well, you have a week to give me something I can take to the Mayor. Until then, that will be all, cadet.” He stood at attention, saluting the cadet as Pelleas turned to leave.

“Yes, sir.” Pelleas returned the salute, and walked out of the Captain’s office. Oh, I’ll earn the Mare do Well’s trust alright. Thanks for the info, Captain.

“Snow Storm, Primrose is at the door. Says you two had a ‘girls night out’ planned awhile back?” Mrs. Orange grinned. Snow Storm winced, swearing the old dam had said that more loudly than usual in an effort to get her husband’s attention.

“Best not keep her waiting, dear. Come on, out of bed!” she said cheerfully, knocking on the door to her room. For a sweet old dam, she certainly enjoyed being a bother sometimes.

Snow Storm grunted, rolling out of the bed and onto her wobbling legs. For the love of Luna, when was the last time she even had a decent sleep? She yawned, dragging herself to the wardrobe for something decent to wear, swearing to herself that when her mission was satisfied, she’d take a good, long time off from that Mare do Well business.

If she even decided to keep it up at all.

“Hey Snowy, it’s Ladies' Night at the Headless Horse. C’mon, I’m buying!” Primrose said, practically bouncing around Snow Storm’s room, apparently not having been content to just wait at the front door.

‘I don’t drink,’ she wrote down. Why couldn’t that mare ever get it through her head?

“I know,” her friend whispered, “but I need an excuse to get you to come along. I know a way we can trap Facade that’ll work for sure, but I’ll tell you the details when we’re there.”

‘It’s not your concern.’ Returning to her wardrobe, Snow Storm began to debate going out at all, or just slipping into the suit. It would probably hurt Prim’s feelings, of course, but it was better than having her get involved in matters well beyond her ability to handle.

“Well alright, but I heard about what happened last night! Do you really want to risk humiliating yourself like that again, when you have a guaranteed means of finding the real thing?” Prim said from outside the window. An unwise thing to bring up, but at least there was some distance between them.

Snow Storm decided to ignore her comment, and galloped into the city.

Besides which, she had a new avenue to explore. One where Primrose couldn’t possibly get hurt.

“You look like a mare who could use a drink,” the Headless Horse’s barkeep said, pouring a hard liquor for Primrose, who slumped at his bar. “Rough night? Drinks are pricey, but listenin’s free.”

“My best friend’s on the warpath, and there’s nothing I can do about it. And I still have feelings for my ex, even though he’s… let’s just say I have no reason to ever forgive him.”

“Lemme guess: Stallion cheated on you, you cried to your friend, and she’s one of them crazy types who’ll defend your honor to the death and now she’s furious that he hurt you? Heh, I see it all the time.”

“He killed someone that mattered to me, and I never even knew. For a whole year he lied to me about it. He made me so happy, I was almost ready to move on… but it was all a lie. If it weren’t for my friend I’d have never learnt the truth…” Prim said, draining her glass in a single go.

“Oh,” the barkeep said, suddenly uncomfortable. Ponies killing other ponies under the watchful eye of the Sisters… what was the world even coming to anymore? “Did you turn him in?”

“Nah. He’s in the hospital. I…” she paused for a moment, “I’m still visiting him. I don’t know why. My friend, she’s so distant now. So consumed with what she set out to do, she barely even speaks to me anymore. I guess… I guess I just needed someone, and even after everything he did he was all I had.”

“Why do I get the feeling your friend’s warpath and your ex’s… thing are connected? I might have to start drinking again, myself.”

“I think I should go, my folk’s are gonna be furious if I stay any later. Here,” she said, handing him some bits for the drinks before walking off. “Oh, and thanks for listening.”

* * *

“...Buck? You awake?” Prim asked quietly as she entered his room. He was already starting to recover, but she made a point of being gentle around him… though even she wasn’t sure why.

“Prim?” he managed, his voice slightly groggy. “Thought visiting hours were over…”

“They are, but I wanted to see you again. Snowy’s out on the prowl, so I thought now was the time. Besides, these days you’re the only one I can still talk to. She’s… she’s changed, Buck. I’m afraid of her now. And I’m scared for you, too. Aren’t you worried your boss’ll find you?”

Bolt Buck closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “He already has. He thinks he can use me as leverage to get the Mare do Well.”

“What are you gonna do? You think he’ll kill you if he finds out what you’ve been doing?”

“Normally I’d say no, but… you’re not the only one who’s scared, Prim. He's scared. There’s an element in this city he has absolutely no control over, and he doesn’t like that. He’s getting more and more violent just to stop her.” Bolt Buck swallowed, his mouth dry. “He even sprung Bloodshot out of the asylum. He’s that desperate.”

“Buck… if things get any worse, I want to move to Appleloosa. And… Celestia help me, I want you to come as well. I’m a terrible mare, Bolt Buck. Even after what you’ve done… I’m a traitor, and when she finds out I have no idea what she’ll do. That’s why, if things get any worse, I want to run away with you. Forget Manehattan, forget the past, and just run.” she said, collapsing into a chair in the corner of the room.

“But why…? I’ve done nothing but ruin everything around me, and it all started with one stupid mistake. You should be with your friend, not me.”

“She’s become obsessed with finding the others. She has no time for anything else, and honestly she’s starting to frighten me. As for you… hating you won’t bring Frosty back. I loved him more than I’ve ever loved anyone, but he’s gone. I don’t want to lose you too…” she sighed.

“Don’t be afraid of her.” Bolt Buck laid back, and stared up at the ceiling. “That mare… she deserves her revenge. As far as I know, I’m officially off her radar. As long as I play nice and give her what I can… Oh, Bloodshot… Next time you see her, tell her to come here. I need to tell her about him… no, warn her about him.”

“I will. Buck? Please be careful. If your boss finds out, he might not spare you like Snowy did,” Prim said, walking away.

* * *

“Mrs. Orange?”

“Yes? Oh, it’s so late, dear. Isn’t your family worried? You’re usually home by now.”

“I just have an important message for your daughter. Please tell her that Buck needs to speak to her, it’s urgent.”

“I’ll be sure to tell her when she gets done for the night,” Annabelle Orange said casually, noting the look of surprise on the young mare’s face.

“Oh? I figured it out a week ago my dear. The late nights, the bruises... and I found her costume stuffed away in the back of her drawer. She could hide the suit, but not the smell." The older mare smiled sweetly. It seemed nothing could get by her in the long run.

“She’s out looking for them, I guess,” Prim said after a moment. “I hope she doesn’t go too far. She’s been getting angrier and angrier these last few nights, and I have a bad feeling about tonight in particular…” she gulped, staring up at the cold, white face of the moon.

“She’ll be smart, in the end,” Mrs. Orange said, almost serenely. “I hear the Guard are looking for her now.”

“Mrs. Orange, one of the four she’s going up against is very, very dangerous. Even as strong as she is, he’s a psychopath with impossible strength, and the Red Hoof has seen him released from the asylum. I remember his name, in the newspapers… ‘Bloodshot’.”

“I’m quite sure my daughter can handle herself,” the older mare said fondly.

“... I know I have no right to ask this, but… why are you letting her do this? Aren’t you afraid of losing her? I mean, Frosty tried fighting back, and… I’m sorry, that was out of line,” she said, already regretting the question.

“And how do I stop her?” Mrs. Orange snapped. “Ground her? She knows how to get out of here. Take the suit away? She’ll find something else to wear. Forbid her for wanting justice? She’ll resent me and go after them. No, all I can do is be supportive. It’s better than the last-resort option…”

“What’s that? There’s another way? It must be pretty dire if this is preferable to it,” Prim asked.

“The last thing I can do… is betray every last ounce of her trust and turn her in. I don’t know about you, but I’m not willing to do that. Quite honestly, my dear, I feel she’s justified. If she was going around being the criminal, then yes she would be gone.”

“...there’s a third option. Buck.. he knows about the others. He told me their names, where to find them. I’ve only kept myself from telling the guard that information because I’m scared of what Snowy would do to Buck if she found out he’d betrayed her…”

“You seem to be at quite the impasse here,” Mrs. Orange said.

“...what should I do, Mrs. Orange? I don’t want to betray her trust either, and those bastards deserve to face justice, but what matters more? That she gets her revenge her way, or that she remains safe, but forever denied the chance to hurt them? She deserves that chance, I know it. I’d be doing the same thing in her situation. But if she gets hurt, and I knew I could’ve made all the difference… should I take that risk?”

After a moment of tense silence, the dam spoke. “You will do what you feel is right.”

“And so will she.”

This is your chance… Pelleas’ mind raced as he landed on the rooftop, with the Mare do Well only a few feet away, her back to him. As far as he knew, she hadn’t yet taken advantage of that information pipeline he’d set up… and this information was too delicate to be trusted in anything less than a face-to-face meeting.

He still couldn’t believe how easy it’d been - but by the same token, he had straight-up lied to Captain Leaf. When he found out… well, too late to worry about that now.

“I have new information for you,” Pelleas said, walking up to the still-form of the Mare do Well balanced precariously on the lip of the roof. “It’s regarding Facade.”

He was answered only by silence.

“Er… yes, well, apparently he frequents a warehouse on the docks.”

Still only silence. Maybe some tactic of hers?

He cocked his head at her, tufted ears forward. Usually she would at least give him a cursory response. Maybe she’s really upset about something… “He, uh… he’s there now. Maybe we could both check it out? You could use an extra hoof now and again…”

After a few seconds of no response, he moved closer, reaching out to tap her on the shoulder. Mere moments later his world was a blur as she grabbed him, throwing him hard from the rooftop as she awoke.

Oh no. Oh crap, she thought as she realized what she had done. She rushed to the side of the building, but couldn’t bring herself to look down. Stupid stupid stupid! If he’s dead…

Pelleas hovered back up on his wings, the serious deadpan of his expression completely ruined by the rotting banana peel on top of his head. Snow Storm thanked every Goddess for the mask, for she had to bite down on her lip to keep from bursting out in silent laughter. He almost looked adorable.

‘I’m so sorry, it was my training. It’s become automatic, I almost wish I couldn’t react that quickly,’ she scribbled hastily. ‘Are you hurt?’

“No,” he growled through gritted teeth. “The dumpster broke my fall.” Pelleas thought he could hear a snort come from underneath that blasted mask of hers.

‘What was it you wanted to talk about?’ she asked after a few minutes of awkward silence, where she had to fight, hard, to regain her composure. ‘Have you found anything I can use?”

He nodded, telling her all he had heard from Captain Leaf.

‘Thanks. Now I have to go it alone. This is my fight. I know you want to help, but please, when the time comes… let me bring them down alone. For my brother.’

Pelleas focused on one word and one word only in that short note. Brother. A clue… he thought, racking his brain. The old murder case had gone cold years ago. They knew there had been a sister, and she returned after what everyone had assumed was time spent living with other family.

The gears in his mind turned - sure there had been a few killings since, but it was far too coincidental. Flyntt’s words from a week ago blew up in his mind. They had been out on patrol, as per usual, and the Lieutenant actually seemed somber for a change.

“Poor filly,” he had said as they walked. “The Orange kid, y’know? Can’t imagine. Seeing her own brother… and as a filly! I can’t really blame her for not remembering a thing. Hell, I wish I could forget about it…”

Snow Storm cocked her head, wondering what had suddenly made the Fulake so lost in thought. She pondered it for a few minutes, before writing one last note.

‘Let’s make a deal. If your information about Facade is legitimate, then you’ll have gained my trust. And that means I’ll tell you who I am. But if you’re lying… I’ll make you my next priority target.’

He shook his head, coming back to reality. It seemed as though one last piece of a puzzle clicked into place for him - now he had a one-up on her… but the only thing to do was level the playing field. Prove to her she could trust him.

“Don’t worry, it’s good.” He leaned in close, whispering the next two words. “Snow Storm.”

She had never been more grateful for the mask than at that moment, for her face betrayed an expression of incredible surprise. Fighting down the urge to attack, she instead shrugged as casually as she could manage before taking off into the night.

“Well, crap…” Pelleas muttered into the still night. “Guess I better go tell Flyntt I’ve got other plans.”

Pelleas landed more-or-less gracefully next to his temporary partner, his chest pumping only a bit rapidly as he caught his wind. “Wow,” he murmured, though there was no one but the two of them on the rooftop. “Slow down a bit, will you? This armor’s heavy.

They peered across the skyline, looking down at the miles-long Manehattan pier. Snow Storm frowned under her mask - the guard next to her had mentioned Facade being in a warehouse… but not which warehouse. She had, once again, let her excitement take over, automatically assuming the place would be a ghost town.

How wrong she had been.

The pier was alive with probably a hundred or more ponies. Some were sailors, but most were undoubtedly dock workers. A long string of warehouses lined the port, all of them lit up and alive.

She glanced over at Pelleas, cocking her head and shrugging her shoulders. How am I supposed to find him in this? she silently asked. If he didn’t have an answer…

“Well, we could just ask. Most of the warehouse workers run a legit business, and they all know each other. I’m sure if I just told them the guard needed to ask him a few questions he’d either come out, or run away. Either way, he wouldn’t stay in the warehouses. Hmm… actually, we might have better odds of finding him if we both searched a different warehouse first. If I find him before you I’ll keep him busy so he won’t leave before you get there.”

After a moment of mulling it over in her head, Snow Storm finally wrote down, ‘Flush him out. I’ll handle the rest.’

“Don’t start a riot, it’ll give him a chance to escape in the chaos,” Pelleas warned her as he went off to speak with one of the workers nearby.

“Excuse me sir, but do you know a worker called ‘Facade? The guard need to ask him a few questions, it’s a matter of urgency,” Pelleas asked a tired stallion smoking under a streetlamp.

“Facade? I might know him, or I might not. What’s it to ya?”

Pelleas sighed, recalling that Flyntt has told him once that sometimes a bribe was the only way to get important information. I hope this is the only time I have to resort to this…

“Fifty bits. If you know where I can find him,” Pelleas replied.

“Fifty, eh? That’s two weeks’ wortha work in this ratty city. Alright, I know the guy. Full of himself. Works inside warehouse nineteen… and by works I mean barks orders like he’s a big shot and then naps in an office.”

“Thank you,” Pelleas handed him the money “and we never met, got that?”

“Hey, I oughta tell ya. Got a soft spot in my heart for the Guard - my brother’s one, so this comes free: That Facade guy is one of Red Hoof’s lackeys. Be careful with him.”

“Oh, it’s not me he’ll have to worry about…” Pelleas grinned before taking off to find Snow Storm.

* * *

“Mare do Well,” Pelleas called out from the rooftops. After a few minutes she appeared.

“Warehouse Nineteen. I suppose you’d rather if I stayed out of this part? I’m fine with keeping my distance as long as you notify me when you’re done, so he can face the jail time he deserves.”

While Pelleas had been gone, she’d pulled her mask off for a breath a fresh air. Now she looked over at the Guard, eyebrow half-cocked. Do you really think there’ll be anything left of him? her face asked, with its smirk that was almost a sneer.

“So I was actually right? Huh. You’re prettier in the moonlight… er, I mean good luck,” he blushed, turning his head away.

She rolled her eyes, swiftly--and lightly--smacking him in the back of the head, and shook her own.

“Hey, save the violence for the guy who actually deserves it!” He laughed softly as she took off for the warehouse.

* * *

“Boss, this ain’t smart. You heard about the stallion who the Mare do Well thought was you, right? She damn near punched his lights out,” one of Facade’s friends said as they walked the warehouse’s perimeter together.

“So what? You want me to be scared of some psycho- bitch on her little crusade? I own this town. She touches me, and I can make life very, very uncomfortable for her- huh?”

Facade turned, and noted his friend has already several feet away, running as fast as he could.

“Son of a-” he began, before the shadowy figure he had dreaded appeared before him from above.

“Dammit, now listen here you crazy broad, I’m untouchable. The guard are in my pocket, the Mayor’s on my leash, and if I ever find out who you are, you’re dead. So why don’t you take off like a good little filly, hmm?”

The Mare do Well merely stared at her mark, not moving. Facade glanced all around, looking for his backup, but the warehouse was completely empty except for the two. The cowards had all abandoned him - they’d need a disciplining after he was through with this costumed joker.

“What are you after? You want money? Fine,” he grumbled, throwing her his wallet. “There you go, ‘hero’. Robbing a guy blind, some savior of the city you are.”

She deliberately stepped on the wallet as she walked slowly towards Facade.

“Dammit, you can’t prove nothin’! I’m a free pony, you can’t accuse me of anything without proof! Ain’t you got…” he began to sweat as he was backed into a corner, desperately trying to think of what to say.

“Ain’t you got real crooks to catch? Somepony out there could be bleeding to death in an alleyway or somethi-”

She ran her booted hoof across his mouth at that one, feeling her eye twitch. As he reeled, she brought out the picture of her brother she always carried, holding it for him to see and remember.

“... So? Am I supposed to remember this chump? I met a lotta ponies in my time, who the hell is this, and why should I care?” he remarked callously, knocking the photo out of her grasp.

In a flash, she struck him square in the mouth and, in a fury, nearly tore her mask as she ripped it off, showing him her face.

“Ain’t… you heroes…” he wheezed, wiping the blood from his swelling cheek, “ ain’t you heroes supposed to rise above it? Petty revenge and shit. I mean, sure, I made a mistake, but does that mean I gotta die too? What’s that gonna solve?” he shook his head, trying to clear away the dizziness that had beset him. It seemed he had gained a sort of bravery only those that knew their end was in sight could attain.

She snorted her ‘amusement’ at his twisted idea of logic, and pulled her boots off. The softened blows from the foam-padding would be far too good for the cretin.

Before she could even begin, however, a hard blow swept the side of her face, as though a brick had smashed into her. She barrel-rolled a few times, stopping herself on her feet. The room rapidly spun, and she poised into a defensive stance as three swirling images all coalesced into one mighty stallion.

“Bloodshot!” she faintly heard Facade cry out. “Get her, man!”

“Don’t remember you callin’ the shots.” Bloodshot stared at the mare as he spoke, before breaking into a mad grin.

“Heard you were tough. Let’s see just how true the rumours were…” he dashed forward with alarming speed, his movement almost too quick to register- and easily too fast to predict. He didn't seem to be using any style in particular, but he was so fast that it hardly mattered. Snow Storm barely blocked a strong blow from the left, and the subsequent headbutt took her completely by surprise.

“Is that it? This city’s gotten soft while I was inside if they can’t even handle you…” he sneered.

Snow Storm staggered back, grimacing. The mountain-of-a-stallion charged again. She rolled to the side, barely getting out of his way. This guy’s a beast! She shook away the dizziness and poised herself, galloping at Bloodshot and driving a hoof into his chest, forcing a wheeze out of him.

All it did was make him angrier.

“They said you were invincible…guess they musta forgot about me,” he grinned wickedly before dashing forward, sending her flying with a powerful hit to her chest.

Sis, it’s hopeless! You can’t take him yet, RUN! Frost Storm pleaded from inside her head as gathered her feet, wheezing. Her vision began to blur. She began to realize the truth of his words. This wasn’t a pony, it was a demon- and it was far angrier than what she could muster at the moment.

He doesn’t look so tough… She barely kept herself up on her own legs, going completely on the defensive now.

“I’ll give ya this much, you’re no coward. Most ponies run after the first punch… the one’s that ain’t already dead, that is…” he laughed cruelly, circling the mare like a shark.

After a few seconds, he charged, Snow Storm having plenty of time to roll out of the way for once. She lashed out, landing a powerful double-barrel kick on the back of the calf of his lower left leg. He winced and fell forward, using the same leg to land a lucky shot to her stomach. She reeled, grimacing at her cramping belly and dry-heaving beneath her mask.

Sis, if you don’t run this one time, you’re gonna die! Please Sis, I’d be happier with you alive and me unavenged than that! her brother begged.

No! she responded, ignoring how ridiculous it was that she was essentially arguing with herself. I can still do this!

The combatants both regained their ground, and charged each other once again.

* * *

“Pelleas?” Flyntt called out, flying above the buildings. That damned cadet just kept running off lately, and the Lieutenant was growing tired of it.

Damnit, not now! Pelleas winced. He knew hiding from a fellow Fulake was futile, but he needed to reach Snow Storm. Reports had been been coming in about a fight breaking out in the lower downtown district, and judging from the descriptions there was only one pony it could be. Still, Flyntt might have his uses…

“Sir!” he called from a nearby rooftop, “one of our own is engaged in a fight not far from here! I need you to let me borrow a distress flare- I know those are only for emergencies but they’re up against one of the criminals on our Most Wanted list, Bloodshot. They’ll be slaughtered if no help arrives soon!”

“‘One of ours’? Nobody’s patrolling around here tonight!”

“Do you want to argue the details and let a fellow guard die, or are you going to let me call in the bloody reinforcements?!... er, sir,” he said, embarrassed at his sudden outburst.

Flyntt reeled - the kid rarely ever got so worked up about anything. “Alright, alright,” he said, landing near Pelleas. “I’ll give you the flare, but you’re going to tell me the damned truth about everything. Got it?”

“Alright. But I need you keep some of this from the Captain. No need to lie, just never bring it up if he asks. It’s important, but for now I need that flare.”

Taking the flare from his commanding officer, Pelleas fired it high into the air in the direction of the fight. Within minutes every guard in the city would be there, and even a brute like Bloodshot couldn’t handle those numbers by himself.

“Thank you sir. Tonight the drinks are on me- now let’s head out there ourselves. Afterwards, I’ll tell you everything, I promise,” he smiled.

* * *

“What’s the matter? Slowing down already?” Bloodshot taunted his opponent. After half an hour she had barely dented his defenses, and was running out of steam. She had never encountered an opponent that could shrug off this sort of punishment before, and a small part of her was relishing the chance to give him everything she had without fear of going too far.

“What in the…?” he suddenly noticed the bolt of red neon streak across the sky, and was transfixed, completely distracted for a moment.

She took her chance, sending a pair of rear hooves straight into his jaw, feeling the hard bone crack and splinter under her blow.

The stallion clutched his jaw in agony, stumbling away and yelling incomprehensibly. For the briefest moment, Snow Storm felt she had struck the decisive blow. To her horror, he turned, still clutching his fractured jaw, and grinned toothily.

“Mmm… haven’t felt pain that good in awhile,” he mumbled, apparently now a psychopath and a masochist. “C’mere, lemme return the favor…” he said, slowly approaching her.

“Mare do Well, we’re here to help!” a voice came from the rooftops.

“Yeah, can’t let you have all the fun!” said another from behind them. Within seconds, several guards had surrounded the pair, with crossbows tracked on each of them.

“Wait a minute…” A mare’s voice called out, filled with recognition. Aella stood there, a fury in her eyes at the sight of the monstrous stallion that stood before her. She slowly began to shake with year’s worth of repressed rage, sorrow and guilt. “That’s Bloodshot!”

“You… monster!“

“Aella, the Guard are forbidden to kill-” Pelleas shouted, more of a warning than a reminder.

“Oh? You want me taken alive?” Bloodshot interrupted, deeply amused by it all, “I think this city's forgotten me, if it thinks it has to worry about a bunch of brittle-boned bats bringing me down.”

“He’s too dangerous to be kept alive and you know it!” Aella yelled, never taking her eyes off of the beast. “And don’t think you can stop me!” she added to the Mare do Well.

“Ahahaha… That’s adorable. Your ‘champion’ is a wreck, and you think you stand a chance? I’m gonna save you for last, girl. Let you watch as I tear through the whole damn guard… just like last time. Ah, the memories…” He cackled heartlessly.

I almost hope she fires, just to wipe the smile off his face… Pelleas thought to himself as he witnessed the scene.

“I’ll do it!” The crossbow began to tremble slightly as Aella’s body shook.

For a terrible moment, it seemed as though she would never gain the strength to fire, but a pebble thrown from the shadows struck her back, making her fire straight into the beast’s shoulder in reaction.

Bloodshot’s eye’s widened as he looked at the wound in shock. As soon as the rest of of guard saw, they realized his invulnerability was no more than a myth, and one after another took aim, their bolts ready to join the Lieutenant's in the monster’s hide.

Aella stood there, transfixed as her fellow guards began a steady hail of arrows with careful precision. Bloodshot roared a bestial scream as a flurry of bolts descending on him in his wake. Snow Storm noted at a handful made their mark, though the beast of a pony barely slowed as he fled into the night. Once the beast was out of sight along with half of the Guard, she spoke at last, having regained her composure.

“Mare do Well, you are under arrest… is what I’m supposed to say,” Aella said as she turned to the mare. Sweat dampened her grey coat, and she still seemed a bit shaky. “But frankly I don’t see you breaking any laws out here tonight. Any of you disagree?” she turned to her comrades on the rooftops.

There was a chorus of ‘Nope!’ ‘No ma’am!’ and the like - they all knew that Lieutenant Aella almost always got her way, and scattered.

“I’m guessing you owe Pel’ one for tonight. Nice to show what the guard can really do, too- we could use a few more nights like these… well, I certainly know I could,” she grinned. Tonight had given her more peace of mind than the years she had spent in therapy trying to forget her past.

“Sorry to say this, but from here on out it’ll be a race. My boys and I will be working flat out to find him and bring him down… speaking of which, I had best go catch up with them. I can’t lose anyone else to that animal. Goodnight.” She saluted before flying off.

“Heheh, glad I showed up… I knew she’s need a little ‘encouragement’ to actually shoot him,” Flyntt grinned as he walked from the spot the pebble was thrown.

“Mare do Well, you’re alright!” Pelleas said, arriving at last. “How did it go?”

Even if she had the vocal capacity to answer, Snow Storm wouldn’t have been able to. She heaved out a massive sigh of relief, and promptly collapsed.

Author's Note

Artimae: Five feels like the start of some real big things. Not only Bloodshot (PS will get to him), but the Red Hoof starts getting some attention, as well. And who is he, really?

One of the umpteen things I love about Batman is that, some of his criminals are just that: criminals. Carmine Falcone, The Black Mask (Sionas), et cetera. It's an element rarely seen, and one I was excited for in Arkham Origins (BOY WAS I EVER FUCKED OVER THERE. NOPE, JUST HAD TO BE JOKER. I DON'T EVEN CARE IF THIS IS A SPOILER THE GAME SUCKS)

The Red Hoof is a combination of Black Mask, Red Hood, et cetera. In the city, he's been built up as this almost mythical being, but in reality... well, this Red Hoof is nothing more than a control freak. Oh, wait... Snow Storm's also kind of becoming a control freak, herself. This may get interesting...

Post Script: And so Bloodshot enters the fray. In a way he becomes the central focus of the story from this point onwards- he's the only real threat Snow Storm has faced up to that point, and his nightmarish consitution means even Snow Storm's years of matrial arts training is of limited effect. At times he becomes almost super, thanks to a mysterious, highly illegal substance we will go into greater detail on in later stories. I'd say that this is the turning point for the fic, the point at which it switches from a tale of personal revenge into a desperate race against time to bring down a true monster.

Chapter Six

July 15th, 1007,

It’s been a few days and it still feels like my head was pounded by a sack of lead bricks. This massive stallion came from nowhere, catching me off of my guard. In the chaos, I barely recognized him as another of those four. He must be the one Bolt Buck warned me about. Bloodshot.

I need to get back out there. I need to bring this beastly stallion down now. I’d need to do that even if he wasn’t a target of mine.

I need to rest. And heal.

Wait… I hear Mrs. Orange calling me. Did I just hear the name ‘Facade’?

-Snow Storm

“The kid gonna be alright?” Flyntt asked, leaning up against the large house which Pelleas had just walked out of. On their way to take the Mare do Well home for the rest she deserved, the Cadet had told his superior everything.

That had been hours ago, and Flyntt still couldn’t wrap his head around it all. She was just a kid, for Luna’s sake!

“She’s eager to get out there again, but her mother isn’t having any of it… thank you for letting me use the flare, sir. She’d be dead by now if we hadn’t…” He shuddered.

“I hear he once brought down an entire squadron of the guards by himself… is it true?” Pelleas asked, not quite believing it.

“Unfortunately…” the Lieutenant confirmed, trying to forget that long-ago night. “She’s made of some pretty stern stuff if she can go toe-to-toe with him.”

“Right now all we can do is hope she makes a full recovery,” Pelleas remarked. “Well, that and try and find some answers. Hmm… Bolt Buck. That guy that was attacked a week ago? I know for a fact he’s got info regarding the Red Hoof. Info the Captain’s been after for years… if we can get than information he might just stop asking questions about the Mare do Well, at least for a while.”

“Heheh…” Flyntt gave his darker chuckle - the one that always sent a shiver down Pelleas’ spine. It meant he had an idea.

“Uh oh…” Pelleas said, trying not to grin “Well, out with it then. Your ideas are always entertaining, at least,” he said, for a moment treating his superior more as an old friend than a higher-in-command.

“Well, first she went after that Bolt Buck fella. Then she targeted Facade. In a sense, we have both of them now, and they’re obviously connected somehow. What if we just… turned them against each other? Get info out of them that way.”

“Oh? And you have a plan to do that? Facade is a vain stallion, if it helps. As for Buck… he’s been helping our cause for awhile now. I don’t want to compromise that, if possible.”

Flyntt cocked an eyebrow at that. “Has he, now?”

“Yes. Well, according to Snowy… says he’s been providing information on the others. Though right now he’s in a pretty sensitive position- I’m not sure why the Red Hoof hasn’t had him killed yet. He surely knows he’s been ratting on him by now…”

“And invoke the supposed wrath of the Mare do Well? He’s smart, Pel. He won’t do anything with a wildcard on the table… but how long she remains a wildcard is to be seen. He’ll get the one-up on her eventually. He always does.”

“That’s the problem; she’s stubborn as hell, and I still think she thinks she’s invincible. She probably saw Bloodshot as a one-off, a freak. But he’s not the only pony in the city that’s that strong… and he’s not the strongest either…” Pelleas said darkly.

“I was hoping she’d at least learn to be careful from all this, but she’s already raring to go out and fight again. At this rate the Red Hoof might still win, dammit.”

“Are you kidding? She’s just a kid with a hell of a one-up on most of this city, of course she’s cocky. At that age, I was ten-feet-tall and bombproof.”

“I’m the same age as her, sir. And I have the good sense to keep my hooves on the ground,” Pelleas said defensively, giving his superior almost a look of reproach. “But regardless, you weren’t up against what she is right now. It’s easy to be arrogant when it’s not a matter of life and death… but enough of this. You mentioned something about starting a feud between Bolt Buck and Facade?”

“I was up against far worse… er, yeah. It’s easy - we tell a little lie to each of them, then throw ‘em in the same jail cell, and watch the fireworks happen.”

“If Snowy finds out, she’ll be furious, you know. We’d be exploiting her informant without her consent, and she might sever all contact with me. Still… if this works, we might buy her a little time, so I suppose it’d be for her benefit anyway.”

“What’s the problem?” Flyntt flashed a cheeky grin as the pair strode back into Manehattan proper. “Don’t want your sweetheart mad at you?”

“J-just find Buck, I’ll make sure nobody spots you!” Pelleas blushed.

“Prim, that you?” Bolt Buck said, rubbing his eyes as a stranger walked into his room. “It’s been almost a week. What’s the matter?”

“Wrong pony… hell, wrong gender,” came Flyntt’s voice. “Just a plain ol’ guard.”

“A bit early to bring me in, dontcha think?” Buck said, not bothering to hide the contempt in his voice.

“You sure about that? I’d be wanting me some good ol’ revenge for the things Facade’s been saying.”

“Oh? And what has that miserable fop been saying about me?” Buck stood up, suddenly curious.

“Oh, just how you’re a cry-baby little snitch who’s been kissing the Mare do Well’s flank.”

“...Oh, how I’d like five minutes with that simpering pretty-boy. He’d be begging for me to stop. We’d see just how many mares would want him by the time I’m done with that smarmy little face of his…” Buck sneered. Judging from how easily this had upset him, the two had a history.

“So you do know each other, then? Pretty well, it looks like.”

“We never got on. He always wanted to give the orders, even though he was the same rank as us. Never wanted to get his hooves dirty, the coward. He was lucky Bloodshot was too busy picking on ol’ Rough Houser to notice, or he’s have torn him in half. Bloodshot hates being told what to do, especially by a nobody.”

“Rank, huh? So you worked for the Red Hoof?”

“You hadn’t even managed to work that much out for yourself? Sheesh, looks like I gotta spoon-feed you every bit of info I got… great deductive reasoning, pal. Except the Mare do Well had guessed that much before she even threw the first punch… and it was one nasty punch.” He shivered slightly, remembering it. By the goddess Epona did it hurt.

“See, my problem is I need proof. You’re just confirming my suspicions. Now then… I know exactly why the Mare do Well went after you and your little friend. What I want to know is, why did you lot go after them that night? Surely there’s more of a reason than randomly picking on two innocent kids.”

Bolt Buck’s eyes narrowed, his frown growing tight.

“That’s literally what happened. Two kids were on our turf, and we didn’t like it. Far as I recall, we were doin’ something else entirely for the Boss.”

Flyntt stared at the bedridden pony, one eyebrow arched. “Funny how you call him ‘Boss’. As far as my sources go, you and your little gang hadn’t had contact with him ever since that night. So what happened? Killing a kid brings up too much heat, so you turn tail? … Unless they were the job. That piece of trash isn’t above kidnapping, that much I know. So he wants some cheap labor, but you lot damage the goods, and that upsets him. Red Hoof doesn’t like to be upset, does he?”

“You think they aren’t listening? They’re everywhere. Hell, one of the nurses on this floor works for him. I tell you and I die. Besides… what’s in it for me? After everything I’ve done I’m still looking at ten years minimum, and once I’m out I’ll be branded a child murderer for life. From where I’m sitting, I have nothing to lose from staying quiet, and nothing to gain from talking.”

“As far as I know, evidence of your inclusion is highly circumstantial. You might’ve been a kidnapped and brainwashed victim - no less responsible, but maybe a… lesser sentence?”

“You get me a sentence that doesn’t make me look like I killed a kid, and we’ll talk. That, or get her in here. It’s time she learned the truth.”

“She has enough truth on her hooves. But we’ll worry about that later. Right now I’m interested in Bloodshot.”

“... What about him? Far as I know, Red Hoof sprung him from the looney-bin.”

“That so?” Flyntt asked, glaring down at Bolt Buck. He had almost been enjoying this little interrogation up until that moment.

“Yeah, that’s so. Look, you say you nabbed Facade? That pretty-boy knows all about Bloodshot. They’re like brothers… well, Facade likes to think so. You go break him, you got Bloodshot. Got it?”

“Got i- oof!” Flyntt felt his back-end jostle. An apologetic-looking nurse looked up at him, horrified, as he turned around to see what happened.

“I’m so sorry, sir! I wasn’t watching where I was going! Late-night shifts, y’know? I’m like a zombie. Eheheh…”

“No problem, my friend here was just leaving…” Bolt Buck shot him a look that indicated he wanted to speak with the nurse alone. After Flyntt left Buck shifted about uncomfortably.

“What do you want?” he asked curtly.

The nurse blinked innocently. “What do you mean?” One ear was flicked back, listening to the Guards leave.

“You heard any interesting news today?” he asked, not quite willing to accuse her directly.

“Maybe~” she uttered in a sing-song voice, sauntering over to the foot of his bed to check the clipboard hanging there. “Oh, dear… It seems you’ll be having to stay here longer than anticipated, Mr. Buck,” she said, giving the medical chart a mock-reading.

“Oh?” he asked, quietly reaching for the scalpel he had taken from a nearby room a few nights before just in case. “And why is that? I don’t feel great, but I’ve walked off worse.”

Without giving an answer, she tipped his bed over, spilling him onto the floor. The scalpel slid across the linoleum floor, and she grinned tightly when she spotted it. “The Red Hoof doesn’t like little tattle-tales like you. Now, if you’ll excuse me...”

She cleared her throat, began to scream, and bolted out of the room, yelling for help about a patient having a knife and trying to attack her.

“Clever girl… but not that clever,” he smiled, dropping the weapon into the hole of the nearby sink.

“False alarm, I was just playing a prank on her, pulled out a pen like I was gonna attack… pretty stupid I know,” he said, picking up the fountain pen Snow Storm had luckily forgotten to take with her a few days ago.

Bolt Buck’s assigned doctor sighed, trying to calm his beating heart. “Son… if you keep trying to leave, you’re just going to prolong your stay. Now see? You might have re-fractured that rib of yours. Bones don’t heal overnight, you know.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry doc… could you do me a favour, though? I’d like a new nurse. That one keeps grabbing my ass, I’m pretty sure that’s not standard policy here.” Bolt Buck let out an uneasy laugh, hoping the lie would at least ensure she would no longer be allowed anywhere near him.

Captain Leaf stood at the front of the City Hall, surrounded by dozens of journalists, all desperate for answers regarding the recent escape of Bloodshot. Word spread like wildfire in this accursed city. He wiped his forehead and swallowed, knowing the direction the conversation was going to take.

“Captain Leaf! I’m with the Manehattan Express, and would like to know what your official statement is regarding the breakout of a known psychotic with supposed ties to the Red Hoof?” one asked.

“It’s it true he’s a cannibal?” another piped up.

“Please,” Captain Leaf finally said over the indecipherable gibberish that was dozens of reporters talking all at once. “This conference was supposed to be about the unveiling of a new Guard headquarters, not some small-time criminal!”

“Is it true that this stallion is ‘Bloodshot the Butcher’, the same pony that killed five guards before being brought down three years ago?” a journalist named Big Scoop asked, causing the rest to become quiet. That night had become synonymous with the Guard, a mark of shame that was never mentioned.

“Why don’t you put on some armor and find out for yourself?” Gilded Leaf snapped, suddenly uninterested in this verbal debacle. If they wanted to play dirty, so could he, and damn any public relations that followed.

“Sir! We have an emergency!” A senior unicorn burst into the room. “I’m sorry, but this press conference can wait!”

Still the questions came, like an unstoppable tsunami.

“Is this at all related to the murder five years ago!?”

“Are your guards even trying to protect us?”

“Is it true that the Mare do Well is dead!?”

The unicorn rushed to the podium.

“I’m sorry, but this conference is over! No more questions!” he said, leaving the room with the Captain not far behind.

* * *

“Sorry about that sir, just couldn’t stand by and watch the vultures tear you apart in there,” the unicorn said, lighting a cigarette and offering another to the Captain.

“It was pointless, anyway. They didn’t want the truth, just any sensationalist nonsense they can stick on page one… Still no sign of Bloodshot, by the way.”

Captain Leaf nodded. “I figured as much.” He stood up and turned to walk out of the room. “Thanks for the bail. Now I’ve got to go figure out some kind of game plan.”

“Good luck, sir. Hopefully we’ll bring that bastard down without any casualties this time…”

“Mrs. Orange, can I see her? I need to know how she’s doing,” Primrose pleaded with the older mare. They both sat in front of Snow Storm’s room door; the mare in question had been laid up for almost a day now.

Before Mrs. Orange could answer, the door opened and Snow Storm herself walked through the doorway. There was a pronounced limp in her step, and she wasn’t walking quite in a straight line, but she still managed to reach the top of the stairs before the her mother stopped her.

“For the last time dear, you cannot leave yet!” Annabelle Orange said, her voice heavily exasperated. “You’ve need to rest! Now, get back in bed. If not for your sake, then for mine!”

“Snowy… how are you feeling?” Prim asked. She hadn’t spoken with the mare in days and was worried- the rumors about her condition had been far more serious than the reality, thankfully.

Snow Storm’s answer was to shrug. What was the big deal, anyways? She could walk. She could get back out there. In fact, she needed to get back out there. Sitting around all day wasn’t going to bring her brother’s killers down.

I hope the guards take that monster down so she doesn’t have to… Prim thought, shaking her head sadly.

“Well lookie here.” Facade sneered from behind the bars of his cell as Flyntt strolled in. Pelleas, meanwhile, had been called in by the Captain again - something Flyntt didn’t like one bit. The Captain was running that kid ragged lately.

“I’m not in the mood for your mouth. Either you tell me what I want to know or… hm, yeah. We got another friend of yours. We’ll just make you two share a cell. I hear he’d kill to catch up on old times with you in particular…” Flyntt grinned nastily.

“Ain’t got no friends, chief. But what I got is money. And looks. And this city. When I buy my way outta here, you’re gonna be gone. You hear me? I own you, I own your guard, I own Manehattan!”

“Oh really? Do you own him too?” Flyntt said, throwing Facade a newspaper clipping. It was a photograph of Bolt Buck. “I hear you two used to be close. Then you sold him out, let him rot in the streets while you lived the high life. The Red Hoof’s been treating you with kiddie boots if you ask me. If Bolt Buck finds you, you can say goodbye to that pretty face of yours, and that’s a best case scenario. But if you cooperate, we’ll have you shipped to Griffin Country. There’s a maximum security prison out there we occasionally work with. Grim, unpleasant as hell and you’d be surrounded by inmates that’d literally eat you for breakfast if they could… but you’d be in solitary confinement. Without a mirror, I’m afraid. Now, tell me everything about the stallion you were with last night. Tell me about Bloodshot.” Flyntt smirked.

“I don’t know nothin’ about Bloodshot! He’s just some big dumb muscle I hired a while back!”

“Sorry, it’s too late for that. He’s far more than just ‘big dumb muscle’. Now, if you tell me everything we need to know, you’ll get a significant reduction in jail time. If not, well… you really wanna risk your old buddy giving you a makeover? Because the mares of Manehattan don’t dig scars…” Flyntt said, still smiling as he wondered how much else he could squeeze out of this vain idiot.

“You ain’t gonna get anything else outta me! I’m Facade, Red Hoof’s number-one stallion!”

In a flash, the Fulake’s expression darkened, his smile replaced by a serious, sinister countenance.

“Oh believe me kid, I know. And the Boss ain’t happy with you one bit. Says he’ll string you up if he sees your… hmm, what did he say? ‘Girly little face’again. And I bet you’re thinking ‘it’s a bluff. He ain’t one of the Red Hoof’s guys… well, things change. You been gone a long time, kiddo. The Boss has a new favorite, and she’s a hell of a lot smarter than you ever were. You’re dead weight, and he’s just looking for an excuse to cut you loose.”

“He’d never cut me loose like that! He ain’t like that!” A note of panic and doubt began to rise up in Facade’s voice.

“See, he used to like you, kid. Saw a little of himself in you, y’see… but then he heard about how you were going around saying you owned this city. And he didn’t like that, Facade. He didn’t like that one bit.”

“I was just kiddin’! You know, playing around! Taking heat off the Boss! Yeah, if they think I ran the place, they wouldn’t go after him, right!?”

“He says that I gotta make sure he doesn’t see your face again… so either you tell me everything and I go send you off to play with the catbirds a few thousand miles away, or… I leave you and Bolt Buck to play together for awhile. I wonder if he’ll torture you first, or just break your neck? Hmm...”

“You’re bluffin’! You don’t even know where he is!”

“...Alright, I’m gonna be nice here and just ask you one thing. Weaknesses. You tell me what his weaknesses are, and you’ll be safe and far away in a fortnight.”

Facade began chuckling to himself as the situation struck him. “I get it. You have no idea where he is, do you? You’ll never find him - I got hideouts all around this city.”

At last, Flyntt snapped. He opened the jail door and sent a strong blow into Facade’s handsome features.

“See, if I were just a guard I’d never resort to this. They’re above this sort of thing, but me? Well, either you start giving me answers or I won’t stop ‘til even your own mother wouldn’t love you. I’m tired of playing nice.”

He pinned the frightened stallion to the wall of his cell, his eyes burning straight through Facade’s terrified gaze.

“Talk!”

Facade threw his head back, snorting deeply, and spat in Flyntt’s face, laughing. “Or what!? You ain’t got the balls to harm me.”

Flyntt smiled sadistically, grabbing the stallion by the crook of his foreleg and dragging him out of his cell.

“You’re right. Let’s go meet someone who does…”

* * *

“Dear?” Mrs. Orange’s voice calling from behind the closed door. Somehow, that dam had managed to wrestle Snow Storm back into bed. “You have two visitors. Would you like them to come in? One says he knows you, his name is Flyntt Croix. He’s with a pony he says you’ll want to see, I believe his name is ‘Facade’.”

Her ear twitched at the name ‘Facade’. She closed her journal, scribbled down a quick note, and walked over to the door. At least she was feeling much better than before. ‘Bring Facade in and leave us alone.'

She nodded, and after a moment Facade was forcefully shoved in, more confused than anything. The door slammed behind him.

“...Huh? I don’t get it. You got some business with me or something?” he asked, unsure of what was going on.

Recognition dawned on Facade’s face after a few moments, and he became pale as he backed away. He’d seen that mare a couple nights ago.

Outside, Flyntt smiled as he leaned by the wall. He glanced over at Mrs. Orange, still wearing his smirk. “Ignore the cries. He’ll be fine.”

“What do you mean he-?”

“Oh dear Celestia- Flyntt, I take it back!” Facade shouted through the walls. “SEND ME TO THE GRIFFONS!”

Author's Note

Artimae: Six. Six six six six six. That's all I got, really. I don't like this chapter. It's... filler shit, nothing more than fodder to plod the plot along. The only good thing I see in it is my good buddy BillyColt was gracious enough to let me use one of his OCs, Big Scoop for a one-liner. Some of you who've read The Book of Friendship may recognize Big Scoop as Star Horse, the Wonder Horse! Pony Superman, basically. Hint hint at crossovers, maybe?~ Come on, Bills! You know you wanna!
(Also if you haven't read BoF, do it. Awesome read.)

Post Script: Six is the runt of the litter in many respects. It was the chapter we had to write, not the one we wanted to. Any attempt to spice it up also didn't work, because Snowy needed to recover from her injuries- even if the speed with which is does so is still far from realistic. The good news? Chapter seven is on the horizon, and trust me folks, we've saved the best for last.

Chapter Seven

July 16th, 1007,

Things have gone far better than expected. I was afraid I’d lost my chance at Facade after the Guard captured him, but one Lieutenant just happened to bring him to me.

It was enthralling, making him squirm. I made sure he yelled nice and loud for the guard to hear everything.

If I’m correct, that guard will tell his superior everything he heard. I gave him the crude map Facade had drawn up, as well. Now I just have to wait until the guards move against Bloodshot. I’ll be right behind them, waiting for my own chance to strike.

Bloodshot caught me by surprise. Now it’s my turn.

I’ll be prepared this time.

-Snow Storm

“Gentlecolts,” Captain Gilded Leaf began, offering Lieutenant Aella a perfunctory nod. “Lady.”

A large map of Manehattan was splayed on the wall for all of the Lieutenants in the room to see. Several red circles had been drawn on it, each individual one contributing to an even larger, slightly oblong oval shape. The Lieutenants of the Guard, both of Day and Night shifts, stared intently at it; memorized it. It had been a long time indeed since their good Captain had called a convention of this magnitude, and they were all ready to prove their worth.

“A crisis threatens our city,” the Captain said, drawing everyone’s attention to him. Ironic. I was never one for speeches… yet here I am, giving one. “And its name is Bloodshot.”

A low murmur rippled across the Lieutenants like a wave - they all knew the name. It had become almost legendary.

“I don’t have to remind any of you what happened four years ago. It took over half of the Guard in this city to bring that beast down… and he took a good number of us in return.” Aella’s eyes lowered until she stared at the floor between her front feet, vividly recalling the entire squadron she had commanded and lost to that crazed stallion. It was a night she had never fully forgiven the Captain for - he had dragged her away as she was screaming unladylike obscenities and trying desperately to send a crossbow bolt straight between Bloodshot’s eyes. It had taken almost a year of counseling under Mind Mender to get her fit for duty again.

And she’d had the very same reaction only a day ago. A year of therapy, of ‘getting over it’, down the drain in one night.

“He is once again a major crisis. He did not escape the asylum that he was sent to. No, he was let out. I am confirming what many of you have already suspected: In his infinite power, and significantly-less foresightedness, the Red Hoof ordered the release of his favorite rabid pet. He did so in an attempt to destroy the newest element in this city. The Mare do Well.”

Noises barely above whispers wafted over the room. By now, they had all heard of her little exploits. Some of them in that very room, including the Lieutenants Flyntt and Aella, had seen her standing toe-to-toe with Bloodshot only a few days ago. Everyone else had heard it second-hand, and some even disbelieved. Nopony in Manehattan could match him. Nopony.

“She has become a phantom thorn in his side. I only say phantom because, as far as I am aware, she barely acknowledges his very existence. Yet his need to control every aspect of this city, or else destroy that which he cannot control, compels him to take the most drastic of measures.”

“But we are not here to discuss one lunatic’s obsessive-compulsive traits. We are here because he was blinded by fear of the unknown and sought to unleash hell itself on this fair city for one costumed mare who doesn’t follow his by rules. We are here because Bloodshot must be stopped.” Captain Leaf levitated a small stick up to the map, tapping the center of each circled area in turn.

“It was told to me on good authority that these are potential safe houses where he might be staying. That is, unfortunately, all we have to work with. There’s never been any apparent pattern as to when and where he moves next. But we will raid them all the same..”

“We have another advantage,” Leaf continued. This hadn’t been so hard, after all. He almost liked talking in this manner. It was empowering. “Namely the fact that, believe it or not, Bloodshot is wounded. Several bolts were lodged into him, and even better, the Mare do Well broke his jaw.”

They all blinked at that, their faces denoting their surprise even as they remained professionally quiet. “Yes, Lieutenants. She actually managed to hurt him. Which is why we must use her to our advantage. As of this moment, the bounty on her head is off.”

He looked around, eyeing in particular those guards which he knew were nothing more than the Red Hoof’s own puppets. “I take it no one has a problem with that? She’s no longer our enemy. From now on, she’s our ally, and she will be treated as such.”

“And what of the rumors that we’ve made a temporary treaty with the Red Hoof over bringing down this monster?” one of the younger Lieutenants called out from the back. “He killed my brother!” Similar cries and murmurs of agreement could be heard in the cozy meeting room.

“We’re done with the Red Hoof,” Captain Leaf said flatly. This time there was no professional silence - sharp gasps could be heard throughout the room. “We’re done with letting him romp around our city. It’s time we became Guards again. After we’re done with his rabid pet, we go after him.”

One of the braver stallions in the pocket of the Red Hoof stepped forward. “You… you do know what this would mean for many of us, Captain?” he asked cautiously.

“Of course I do. I have a daughter at stake here. And I’m tired of that hanging over my head--over her head--like a dark cloud. For the first time, we have the upper-hoof. But this isn’t about the Red Hoof, this is about Bloodshot. These safe-houses-” he tapped the red circles again, “-are where he’s holed up. And wounded. Now it’s our job to find him, and quick. I would much prefer to take our time, send pegasi to scout and all that, but there’s little time. I reiterate: He is a crisis, and he must be stopped immediately.”

“Now for the plan.” Gilded Leaf’s mouth was a thin line as he concentrated. The funny part was, he didn’t have much of a plan at all. Not one that didn’t involve a lot of luck. “A pair of Lieutenants will lead a squad of eight regulars to each safe-house. You may take him down by whatever force necessary. If a crossbow bolt happens to go into his face… I won’t shed a tear. That does not mean, however, that you can play hero in all this. When you find him, fire a flare, and the rest of us will come.” Along with the Mare do Well, I hope...

“Sir, I’ve been here for thirteen years, and I will assist you with this mission, but afterwards… I’ll have to resign. You’re asking us to pick a side, and if I turn my back on you I’ll have disgraced the guard. If I turn my back on him, I’ll die,” the lieutenant said. Several others discreetly nodded in response.

“A shame,” Leaf said in response. “I’ve known many Guards who started off as his puppets… and decided to treat this position seriously. I’ve also known many who’ve had opposite fates. Leave if you wish, I’ll hold nothing against you. But don’t believe for a second that I won’t bring you down with him myself.”

“...of course,” the stallion said. Not that it mattered; he would likely be killed for having exposed his identity to the guard. At this point there was nothing left to lose.

“I hope Bloodshot finds me out there,” he muttered as the meeting finished, “It’d be a hell of a lot quicker than what the Boss’ll do…”

“Now then,” Leaf said, deciding to ignore his belly-aching Lieutenant. They’ll be dealt with later, themselves. “If we’re done with talks of future mutiny, we have a few more details to work out...”

* * *

“So what’s the big plan?” Pelleas asked Flyntt, catching up to the latter as the Guard Lieutenants all filed out of their rarely-used strategic room, their heads low with reined-in worry and brows furrowed deeply in contemplation. Even Flyntt himself wore an air of somberness, almost shrouding himself in it like a cloak on a drizzly day.

“The ‘big plan’ doesn’t concern you,” Flyntt replied, a certain steel edge in his voice. “You and the other Cadets are to follow normal patrols. In pairs.”

“But-”

Before Pelleas could get in another word of protest, Flyntt whirled around with such harsh quickness as to make the cadet recoil, his face hard and angry. “But nothing! This is far too dangerous for you!”

“Sir, we’re not foals here-”

“If you’re not a foal, then stop acting like one and accept your duties!” Flyntt snapped. He had enough on his plate now without worrying about keeping the younger guards, especially the one he’d actually grown attached to, safe. Or worse yet, have one of them get too gung-ho and try to play the hero.

Speaking of the hero… the weary Lieutenant mused. As he watched Pelleas storm off to get a new patrol route, Flyntt’s thoughts turned outward as he absentmindedly rejoined his comrades, wondering what part the Mare do Well will have in all this. Very little, he silently hoped, for she was even younger than most of the Cadets being forced away. Maybe she could hold her own better, sure, but still so damned young.

As he glanced out of a window into a grey, early-morning sky, he knew deep down that he hoped for too much.

Snow Storm lay on her back atop a building, staring aimlessly up at the newly dawned grey sky. The mask of her Mare do Well costume sat limply beside her, expressionless and harmless without a head to fill it.

High above, thick clouds full of a day’s worth of rain drifted listlessly by, prepared on the previous night by Manehattan’s own weather pegasi. Why is it, what was once her voice echoed in her mind, that it’s always raining on a climactic day?

The thought made her smile. Being the city’s ‘hero’ was nothing like her old collection of Power Ponies comics said--no Mane-iac for her to foil, or super friends with superpowers to back her up--but at least there was the rain on the big day. The day when everything came to a head, for good or ill.

Her stomach clenched. That was another thing which separated fantasy from reality - the Power Ponies could always count on winning the day. Even the ambitious and overly reckless Daring Do got her way, in the end. It was easy enough for A.K. Yearling to write out a happy ending for her favorite protagonist with just a few simple words.

Snow Storm wished she had that same luxury.

She yawned, fighting against heavy eyelids. How long had it been since she had a restful sleep? Not since she had come back home, really. Every night had been restless, herself sleeping only out of necessity. And then that creature that had ambushed her had rattled her cage significantly. She’d returned to Manehattan, sure as any arrogant youth that she was untouchable with her superior martial arts. She had never even considered there could be anyone else to match her, let alone best her with stupid brute force and a hide of steel.

Some twisted part of her was thankful for Bloodshot, though. He was the monster she’d had five years worth of nightmares about. That more than anything had thrown her off-guard. She came home expecting monsters, mindless beasts, and instead she met Bolt Buck. The fact that, not only could one of them ever have any ounce of remorse, but even be willing to help her as repentance hadn’t crossed her single-track mind also, in a way, caught her off-guard.

And so she had gone out, slightly calmer, expecting to find the others like him: a sniveling little coward who would throw themselves at her feet for forgiveness. And instead she found Bloodshot.

A not-unpleasant shiver ran down her spine at the thought of going up against him again, fully prepared this time. She could revel in a fight, holding nothing back. Not only could that monstrous stallion take it, but he fully deserved it as far as she was concerned.

Her thoughts drifted with the clouds, turning towards her return home. She brought her front hooves up to her eyes, staring at them and the purple boots on them. What was she even going to do after this whole mess was done and over? There was still the fourth… Rough Houser, his name was. But he’d probably skipped town by now, off in Baltimare or Chicacolt. If he was smart, that was.

She snorted in amusement. Sitting behind that relaxing orange cart had many advantages, and gossip was one of them. Ponies up and down Market Street were talking and talking and talking about the Mare do Well. About what she meant to and for the city.

What would happen if I told them all it’s just a ruse? A ruse, that’s what it amounted to. A veiled disguise to eke out revenge, nothing more.

But it could be more. His voice. Frost Storm’s. She heard it quite frequently; would probably hear it her entire life. But it had a point, she conceded as she stared at those booted hooves. The Mare do Well could be so much more for this city.

But who was she to decide that? She could go on to live a normal life after this. She still had her family, adopted though they may be. She still had a friend, somehow. She could be normal. Happy.

Maybe it isn’t that simple, though… I mean, you’ve enjoyed it too. The thrill of the fight, the adoration… it’s ok to admit that there’s been some fun times. And you’ve made me proud, anyway. Whether you chose to keep this up or not, you’ve more than avenged me in my book, Sis.

The thrill of the fight… The words were frightening in their truth.

Something caught her ear, causing it to twitch. She rolled onto her feet and slid the mask down on her face, following the source of the noise… no, noises. The clank of metal mixed un-harmoniously with the marching of dozens of sets of hooves.

So that older Fulake--she thought his name might be Flyntt--had kept his word, after all. He’d gone to his Captain, the Captain had formulated some sort of plan, and now they were on the march. Good.

She saw a mix of all pony races as they moved in packs, like trained wolves. She counted ten, two in armor more ornate than others. Obviously higher-ups. This was exactly what she had been waiting for, though she was admittedly surprised it had happened so quickly. Now they could flush Bloodshot out and lead her straight to him.

She frowned beneath the mask, upset mostly with herself for admitting she needed help in the first place. But she was one mare against a dozen possible locations. Just because one safe-house would be empty wouldn’t mean it would stay that way long after she’d gone to another, putting her in a possibly endless loop.

Instead, the Guard and their vastly superior abundance of resources would bring him out for her. Their crossbows didn’t hurt, either…

She shivered; this time it was cold, like an icicle tickling her spine. As much as she was excited to face an opponent that could match her, she had to swallow her pride and admit to needing help against him. It’d be stupid and arrogant to think he couldn’t put her on the defensive again… or worse.

But that would come later. For now, all she had to do for now was wait. There would be some sort of signal when he was found, she was sure.

She lay back down, removed her mask once again for the fresh air, and waited.

“Lieutenant Aella… I know it’s none of my business, but what are your personal stakes in this?” Pelleas asked as they flew through the city together. “I mean, Captain Leaf gave you specific instructions to not go after Bloodshot.”

“Because I want him dead,” she said casually, as if giving the time.

“Forgive me Lieutenant, but that’s not good enough. There’s got to be something more… what happened between you and that monster? All I’ve heard are rumors, and there’s a hundred of them. Please, tell me what really happened.”

“You really don’t want to know that, Pel.”

“Alright, you tell me the story and I’ll tell you my most embarrassing secret,” Pelleas said, unsure whether he should grin or not.

“I already figured you were a colt-cuddler,” she replied, shooting him a wink.

“I’m afraid of the dark,” he said, ignoring the jab. Aella cocked an eyebrow, her face an expression of mildly surprise. For a Fulake, the dark was their home, a place of comfort. Pelleas blushed, hoping her story would at least have made it worthwhile.

“You must’ve had a rough foalhood, then,” she instead remarked, trying her best to avoid the cadet’s badgering. It oughta work… kids like him love talking about themselves.

“Spent most of it at the orphanage,” he said. “I tried to fit in by changing my sleeping patterns. After awhile I could just sort of live a ‘normal life… not that it did much good. Just meant I got to be awake at the same time as the bullies… and when I tried to sleep during the day again, it felt wrong. And the night… the night just started feeling weird to me. I started to get why ponies are afraid of it. But anyway, I’ve told you my big secret. Can’t you at least give me the short version of yours?”

“Kid, you don’t want to hear it.

“I’ve heard the rumors. Some of them are nastier than ‘he killed your squad.’ Some say he was an old friend of yours who went nuts, others say he killed your fami-”

“All piles of pegasus shit, all of it,” Aella snapped harshly, sticking her lower lip out in a furious pout. “I didn’t know him ‘til four years ago when we brought him down. When he tore through my squad like they were paper. Kids barely older than you, thinking they’d be all honorable guards and romantic horse crap like that.”

“He… he killed them all? But how did you…?” Pelleas said, before turning to see she was in tears. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you to tell me this. When we find this guy- and we will find him- I’ll make sure you get the final blow.”

“‘How did I!?’ I followed orders, that’s how. I listened to the Captain and I didn’t stupidly charge in. But after it happened, I wanted to. But Leaf had me dragged off. Literally dragged away. I was cursing and spitting biles of hatred and venom. I told Leaf to shove that stick further up his own ass so he’d get comfortable. I even threw in a few hexes my grandmother taught me… lots of ponies thought she dabbled in black magic.”

“I wonder what sort of dark arts that could create a monster like that… I have a bad feeling, Aella. That if we don’t hurry, we won’t get through this without casualties.”

“Reality check, kid: we’re not heroes. The world doesn’t revolve around us. Every Lieutenant you can think of is out there now, with Leaf himself. And your Mare do Well friend. If we find them, you’d just do something stupid and I’d do something stupider and crazy.”

“I wish Flyntt was here; stupid and crazy are his specialty… anyway, we need to find the Mare do Well. I think she has a plan, and if we know it we can coordinate some sort of attack.”

“Or we’d just get in her way. She strikes me as the type to work alone.”

“Normally she would, but even she realizes what we’re up against… maybe we should grab a couple crossbows from the barracks. I know Leaf wants him taken alive, but confidentially? I don’t care. He’s no Captain of mine, the coward.”

“That’s exactly the attitude they had. Believe it or not, the Captain generally knows what’s best. He’s ‘Captain’ for a reason, Pel.”

“I hear he’s allowing the Red Hoof to ‘help’ find his mad dog. You want that bastard and his goons to find him first? That won’t be justice. That won’t be the guard avenging their own. That’ll just be another gang murder. If I can make even one difference tonight, I want it to be that the Red Hoof doesn’t get to him first. Everything else is secondary. What about you?”

Aella glanced sideways at the cadet, frowning. “Pretty speech, but as usual you’re wrong. Leaf cast off the Red Hoof tonight. Half the Lieutenants in the war-room were practically squirming at his blasphemy. The Red Hoof has nothing to do with tonight. Probably doesn’t even know what’s going on.”

“He what?” Pelleas gasped. After a few moments he regained his composure.

“Hmph. A little late for him to start showing some backbone… and he couldn’t have picked a worse time, either. Half the guard were in his pocket… now we’ll be going into this fight at a disadvantage. I want to have a word with him, once we’re done. If I don’t like how tonight goes I might even throw in my badge. There’s too much corruption on this force, Aella. Even without the Red Hoof’s lackeys in our uniforms.”

“Why, of course, your majesty,” Aella spat out sarcastically, sneering at Pelleas’ frustration. “You are, of course, the singular hero who can pull this entire Guard up and out of their corrupt slump. Talk of backbone is pretty until it’s your kid that’s threatened.”

“... how did you hear about that? The Captain told me that information was classified. He’s so protective of his daughter that nearly none of the guard knows he has one…” Pelleas eyed her suspiciously.

“Kid, when you’re one of the few active mares in the Guard, you become everyone’s friend and confident. Even the Captain’s. I’m practically ‘mom’ to the entire force. With me and an amber bottle, he’s told me things that’d make our hired psychiatrist’s head spin”

“Really now? I guess I’ll have to come to you the next ti-”

“Help!” a voice from a few blocks west of their position cried desperately.

“Great…” Pelleas sighed before rushing off after the scream, with Aella in tow.

The grey, gloomy skies opened for a light drizzle as Captain Gilded Leaf reached his designated safe-house, with his own contingent of Guards in tow. It was a nondescript apartment complex, just as Facade had described to Lieutenant Flyntt, who in turn described it to Captain Leaf himself. Nothing fancy, just a place any ol’ pony could rent and live comfortably. Fancy wasn’t the Red Hoof. Fancy drew attention.

“Sir, allow me to go first,” the Lieutenant accompanying Captain Leaf said. “You’re too valuable to lose in case of a trap.”

“Nopony in my Guard is more valuable than anyone else,” Leaf responded, admonishing his partner. The squad behind them shuffled their feet, eager and impatient to get the day going. The crossbows hanging at their sides were a foreign, but very welcome weight. He could see in their faces the excitement of the possibility of getting to use one in a real scenario, and felt something between pity and disgust. It was a look Aella would have recognized.

“Sir, may I go ahead?” one of the guard asked the Captain. “I know this place, my grandmother lives here. I want to make sure she’s alright,” he said nervously. It was a sentiment shared by many of the other ponies there; these safe houses weren’t secluded away from the rest of the world, but simple apartments, space shared with other residents… and more than a few of the guard had friends and family living there.

“No,” the Captain said flatly. “Once we’ve secured this area… one way or the other… we can check in on any family members.”

There was a brief murmur of disquiet at this amongst the group, but it was soon silenced by a look from the Captain. As they walked slowly through the halls, the place seemed eerily quiet. The sound of a dog suddenly barking outside made one of the newer guard jump, and put the rest on edge. Only the Captain remained completely calm.

“May I help you?” an elderly resident said sweetly from her doorway. “It’s rare to see Fulake up this late… or should I say this early?” she chuckled.

“No ma’am,” Captain Leaf said, not bothering to look at her. “Official business. I’d recommend you lock your door.”

“Are you looking for Bloodshot? He came by for some cookies before, he was looking rather hurt, poor dear… I bandaged him up as best I could, but he needed more help than a little old pony like me could give. I hope he reached the hospital in time, he does so love my raisin cookies…” she mused to herself.

Gilded Leaf stopped suddenly enough to force the line of ponies behind him to run into each other. He turned to the dam, squinting with some combination of curiosity and contempt. “You know him?”

“Of course! I met him about five years ago. He had taken a lot of some sort of drug and was convulsing outside my apartment, so I ran him a cold bath and gave him some soup. He’s the sweetest, dearest thing… but he’s rather unstable as well. I heard he got some help a few years ago, and I visited him every week or so. I’m surprised they let him out so early, though… he always seemed like he could really hurt somepony with that temper of his if he let it.”

“...” Gilded Leaf glanced over at his Lieutenant, who looked as baffled as the Captain felt. “Where… is he now?”

“He wouldn’t say, but… oh…” She began to sob, “I think he’s… I think he’s killed someone. There was blood on his hooves when I opened the door… oh my dear Bloodshot…”

“How could you possibly harbor somepony like that!?” one of the guards piped up, drawing the ire of his Captain.

“Oh? Somepony like what, my dear?” she asked sweetly, “Was he a criminal? He always seemed so sweet to me…”

“No, he wasn’t,” the Captain lied quickly, “but we need to find him as quickly as possible. Your suspicions about him being dangerous were correct- we believe he could be a danger to himself and others, so any information you might have would be greatly appreciated.”

After a few moments of contemplation, the old dam thought of something.

“Oh! There is one place he likes to go when he’s upset… a nearby playground. He tells me he’s been going there since he was a colt…”

“A playground!? Sir, if there are kids nearby and he goes nuts…” one of the guard whispered to the Captain.

“In today’s rain? I doubt it. But we can’t be too careful.”

“Oh, please make sure he gets the help he needs,” the old mare said as they turned to leave.

“We will,” Captain Leaf replied, walking away with his Guards. “We will.”

* * *

Flyntt groaned. Not only was he out looking for some crazed stallion who could probably break them all if he had the mind to, but he was doing it with Murdoc. Of all the Lieutenants to get stuck with, it had to be him.

No, of course Aella had to be the crazy one, he thought sourly, trying his best to keep his face straight. It wouldn’t do good for any of the lowers to see a Lieutenant acting like a foal. Maybe I should’ve been a little nuts, too. Get myself out of this assignment.

“Well, I’m not afraid of this guy,” one of the guard said arrogantly, “we’re ten ponies with crossbows. He’s one. Unarmed. We see him, we shoot him, we go home. End of story.”

“Life is never that simple,” Flyntt said, taking a peek at his partner. Murdoc, usually opinionated to the point of bordering on bigoted, was unusually quiet.

“Aella was crying before,” he said at last. She was the one Fulake he treated like a friend, though that was hardly surprising, with her being the most popular source of advice in the Guard.

“I don’t ever want to see her cry again. Listen, all of you!” he said, turning to the others.

“Killing another pony is completely against the laws of Manehattan and the rules of the Guard… but this ‘Bloodshot’ is not a pony. He is a monster, and should he fall to your bolts, I will hold none responsible.”

“Yes, sir!” they responded in unison.

“Flyntt, I owe you an apology,” he said quietly as they marched onwards towards the apartments “I’ve never really been a fan of your kind. Frankly I see your average Fulake as shifty, lazy and untrustworthy, but the Captain trusts you all with his life, and so should I. I’ll never command any respect if half the Guard are shooting daggers at me whenever I’m not looking.”

“Come on, Murdoc, don’t get all mushy on me. I thought you hated everyone equally!”

“Hmph.” He grinned slightly. “I suppose I’m getting sentimental because we’re all being sent into the meat grinder. These fools think a few bolts will stop him, but so did they, all those years ago… I’m a little worried we may lose a few tonight, and Fulake or not, a Guard is a Guard, and any such loss would be a tragedy.”

Flyntt shrugged. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and he’s not here. Then we can just relax and wait for the signal.”

“Relax?” Murdoc laughed coldly, “You think any of us will be able to relax tonight? Best case scenario is he only kills a few of us.”

“No, best case scenario is Mare do Well helps us out.”

“Strange that she hasn’t appeared yet… are you certain she’s still alive?”

“What reason would she have to appear if she wasn’t sure where Bloodshot was hiding? To check up on us?”

“...Or to use us as bait,” Murdoc said darkly.

“You think she’s that crafty? It’s not as if we don’t share a common goal here.”

“For all we know, this could all be some elaborate plan by the Red Hoof. We’re at our most vulnerable here… who’s to say she’s not working for him? I hear his second in command is a brilliant strategist…”

“Red Hoof already has this city in his hooves, what more could he want? He could be mayor at any time and he knows it.”

“Maybe you’re right… you, over there!” Murdoc said angrily to one of the others who had wandered off from the group. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing? We are to move as a group!”

“But, sir! A flare just went up!”

“You heard him, a flare has been spotted! I’ll take point, and d if something should happen to me you are to follow Flyntt’s orders without question! Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir!”

“C’mon Sis, you’re gonna miss the best part!”

Snow Storm ran through the streets, too small to see the celebrations over the heads of the adults gathered in front of her. The sound of various instruments floated down the city’s paths, and it was joined by the chorus of a thousand voices chatting busily. Frost Storm turned to his sister, smiling.

“Need a boost? You’re still a bit too small to see the fire dancers from there,” he teased.

“Yes, please!” The tiny filly said, standing up on her hind legs for her brother to pick her up easier.

Frost Storm carefully lifted her above the crowd, who stood in awe at the incredible display in front of them. Three ponies twirled staffs in their mouths that were on fire at each end, and the sight of the flames in the jet black of night was hypnotic.

After awhile, the two continued along, not bothering with the rest of the fire juggling act. It was just another hour of the same thing over and over, anyways. “Where do you wanna go next? The fortune teller? Maybe go grab a snack? I won’t tell Mom if you won’t!” he grinned- Mrs. Orange had kept them on a strict diet for a few months now.

“We’re not gonna miss the fireworks, are we!?”

“Of course not! But we’ve got a little time before then, so we might as well enjoy it,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.

The two stopped at the tent of the fortune teller, an old unicorn who seemed lost in thought (or was perhaps simply half-asleep.) Frost Storm coughed to get her attention.

“How much would our fortunes cost?” he asked.

The mare looked him over as if sizing him up, before turning to the filly.

“Hers is free. Yours will be five bits.”

Frost Storm sighed, handing her the money and trying hard to conceal a smirk as she put on a silly act in an attempt to ‘see through the veil’.

“Oh… I see a great fortune in your future! Invest in carpets… or curtains, it’s fairly hazy.”

She then turned to the filly, smiling sweetly.

“Now then, would you like your fortune read little one?” she asked.

Snow Storm giggled and nodded. She knew it was all hogwash, of course, but if big brother believed in it, that’s all she needed.

The unicorn started her theatrics, humming and waving her hooves in front of her ‘crystal ball’. “Ahh… aahhh… aha! Yes I see it!” Her face went flat, and she leaned forward, turning over a sign that was hanging on the front of the table. “I see my lunch. Goodbye.”

“Hey, wait! You can’t just-!” But the unicorn was gone. Frost Storm sighed, walking out of the tent with Snow Storm in tow. “Don’t worry Sis, she’s just weird, all fortune tellers are like that. Besides, I can tell you your future if you’d like,” he offered to the filly, who seemed a little down.

“Aw, but only unicorns can do that! Don’tcha know that!?”

“You don’t need to be a unicorn to be magical, silly!” He smiled. “Earth ponies can do stuff that’d make any unicorn head for the hills!” he laughed for a moment, and then his face grew an expression so serious it was comical. “Hrm… ah yes… I see… I see… apples!”

Frost Storm’s little sister giggled up at him. “But Frosty, we live on an orange farm!”

“Grove, sweetie,” he corrected, putting on a mock-scholar tone. “We live on an orange grove.”

“Fiiiine,” Snow Storm groaned, drawing out the word and sticking out her tongue. She hated being corrected. “Grooooove!”

“Yep, that’s right! Hey, look kiddo!” He swept her up, letting her scramble up onto his back for a better view of the sky. “The real show’s about to begin! Here comes the first one!”

* * *

A ball of light danced in the hazy mid-morning sky, shooting upwards like a wishing star in reverse. It glowed incredibly, piercing even through the curtain of rain now pummelling the city. It caught Snow Storm’s half-opened eye, and for a moment she thought it simply the beginning of a long-gone fireworks show.

Her eyes snapped opened, and she flew up into a sitting position, scowling to herself. She had fallen asleep! Unbelieveable. She ran a hoof across her cheeks, wondering why her face felt so puffy. Her question was answered as she blinked, feeling the remnants of tears at the corners of her eyes. Of course; it wasn’t the first time she’d woken up crying.

No time now. Later. Yes. Later. When all was said and done, she could bawl her eyes out. But for now, there was Bloodshot to deal with.

She stood up, pulling the soaked mask over her face and slapping the hat back into place. The dream had been about fireworks, but that had definitely been a flare she saw. A guard’s flare.

She took off. Some part of her almost hoped they’d already dealt with the massive pony.

And some part of her hoped she’d get him all to herself.

As Captain Leaf’s squadron approached the playground, an eerie silence hung in the air. There was a small colt sitting on a swing by himself, but no sign of Bloodshot. The Captain slowly approached the child, nodding to the others to follow.

“Sir, it could be a trap,” one of the guard warned him. “A child playing here in the rain? Seems almost too convenient.”

“Do I not have nine of you backing me?” Captain Leaf asked sharply, turning his attention back to the colt. “It’s a little wet to be playing outside, son.”

“Might be,” the child answered with impertinence. “This place is a little empty for nine guards, too.”

“What do you mean, nine guards?” one of the others chimed in.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I miscounted. Eight,” he said, putting on a sharp, humorless grin.

“Sir, we’re missing two-” another guard began.

“Kid,” Leaf snarled, deciding politeness was a waste of time. “I’m having a really bad morning. Don’t play games with me.”

“You were the one that put away Big Bro for three years,” the colt said, smiling darkly. “And now he wants to play. You’ve already lost two… shall we make it three?”

Captain Leaf backed away from the colt, yelling into the air. “Bloodshot! I know you’re here!”

“Do you?"a voice said from nearby. Bloodshot walked out from behind a wall, his hooves stained with fresh blood. His grin was wide and maniacal, his eyes wide.

“Gotta say, they’re weaker than they used to be. Your standards must be slipping… and to think, you didn’t even notice they were gone! Must mean a whole lot to you…” He smiled as the guard all took aim.

Silhouettes fluttered in the sky as more and more guards came in response to the flare. They carefully nocked bolts into their crossbows and put Bloodshot in their sights.

The stallion merely laughed at the overwhelming numbers, as if he still held the upper hoof. As he reached into his pocket and took out a small vial of silver liquid, the Captain knew why immediately.

“You know what this is, don’t you Captain?” he said, his voice dripping with malevolence. “Never tried it myself… wonder what it’d do to a pony that’s already invincible?”

Before the Captain could even order them to fire, he downed the vial in a single gulp. His eyes began to shimmer slightly against the rain. Within seconds he had rushed towards one of the guard, knocking them down with now-blinding speed before moving to the next. To the Captain’s horror, the bolts were making their mark… and it wasn’t slowing him down at all.

“Sorry Captain, but you’re nothing but an appetizer. I’m still waiting for the main course to show up.” The crazed stallion flashed a toothy grin as the Captain watched while Aella’s tragic mistake was repeated in front of his very eyes.

“Bloodshot, what are you doing!?” A new stallion galloped up, panting and heaving. Snow Storm would have instantly recognized him as the last pony on her list, Rough Houser. “You were supposed to stay indoors!” he managed in between deep breaths.

“I got bored. Besides, what’s the point of breaking me out if the Boss didn’t want me to raise hell? And given how weak these pitiful foals are, I’d say I’m doing the city a favor. I wouldn’t send these weaklings out to protect a parcel, let alone a city!”

“Who’re you!?” Leaf snapped at the newcomer.

“Nobody important,” Bloodshot cut in before Rough Houser could speak. “And if he’s smart he’ll go back to the Boss and tell him that I quit. I can take this city by myself, for myself, and the second I’m done with that stupid costumed filly I’ll be coming for him. You got that?” he said to the shocked stallion.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” the Captain said, his horn glowing with a protective spell just in case everything went to hell. In situations like this, it always did. “Guards! …” It was only a moment’s hesitation - rarely had he ever had to call this. “Open fire! Take him down!”

Snow Storm dashed between rooftops, still trying to shake the lingering images of her dream from her mind. She made a mental note to visit her brother’s grave once this was all done. She had a lot she wanted to say… but for now, her goal was the place she had seen the flare fall.

Guards flew overhead in a swarm, paying her absolutely no heed. A few stories below, she could hear those who couldn’t fly as they bolted through streets and ducked through alleyways to get to their target.

She herself kept a breakneck pace through the rain, seeming to fly through the air as she leapt from one building to another. The guards may get Bloodshot, but not before she’d had her fill.

* * *

Snow Storm peeked over the edge of the last building, reading the situation below. Bloodshot stood at the center of a large semi-circle, dozens upon dozens of crossbows trained on him from all angles. She felt uneasy as she looked at him, but tried to ignore it. She placed a hoof up on the lip of the roof, meaning to step up and tackle the massive brute from above.

But she hesitated. For once in her life, Snow Storm hesitated. Something rumbled deep in her gut, twisting it. Her heart thumped against her chest. The ground below swirled slightly, and she reeled. She felt the confidence she’d held onto slip away.

What’s going on!? she asked herself, not really expecting an answer. Certainly not the one she was about to get.

You’re afraid. You’re actually scared for once. That’s what’s going on.

But that couldn’t possibly be. She had nothing to be afraid of. Not anymore. She made sure of that.

And yet the very stallion down there showed you how wrong you are. She scowled, but it was true. For the first time, she didn’t feel very much like the Mare do Well.

For the first time, she felt like the scared seventeen year old filly that she really was.

Have you so easily forgotten? A new voice entered her mind - one she hadn’t heard in almost a year now. It was the voice of a stallion who seemed… not old, but timeless. An old sire who had found her, passed out and without food or water. So he had taken her back to his quaint little village, a collaboration of buildings somewhere in the San Palomino desert that no map would ever see, and most wanderers would think a mirage.

For the moment, she stopped seeing Bloodshot. She stopped seeing the guards, or the playground, or anything else. The eyes she looked with were in her mind, and she saw the sire. “Such an emotional child,” he had once said to her. He had taught her many things, after she had hounded him to do so. She could vaguely recall a group of bandits, and watching how he had taken care of them while barely breaking a sweat. She told herself she needed to learn how to do that.

“The heat of battle is a paradox. A culmination of every emotion, but it must be devoid of such,” he had said, clouting her on the head for the umpteenth time. Every strike had just made her madder and madder, which for him made the fight easier and easier. “So emotional! It makes you stupid and clumsy. Was I angry at those who raided my village? Was I afraid of their superior numbers and incredible youth? No! Your mind must be clear!”

Clear. Yes. That was the key she had been missing. Her mind hadn’t been clear; quite the opposite, in fact. It had been running away from her. Her mind had become a hurricane, swarming with chaotic thoughts. Had she been so blind?

As she looked upon Bloodshot again, she felt that sense of fear linger still. Had he not put her on the defensive once already? Her head still throbbed with the dull ghost of the pain he inflicted upon her some nights ago. This wasn’t some normal pony she was after. He was like a boulder.

A boulder…

There’s no way I can break that! she had thought, glancing between the large stone and the stern but not unkind face of her teacher. She vaguely recalled having the exact same thought on her first meeting with Bloodshot. He was almost exactly like that boulder.

“You look but you do not see! Stop living in the physical world, filly!”

The physical world… She blinked, coming to her senses. That giant rock had finally, finally managed to crack beneath her hooves. After years of trying, gallons of blood and several broken bones, she had been able to make a hairline crack. Bloodshot wasn’t a pony, he was that boulder she had come to despise, almost more than the four thugs themselves. The boulder that had beaten her several times over until she managed to overcome it.

She took a deep breath, gathering herself and forcefully shoving all other thoughts away.

It was time to crack that boulder.

A purple blur came from the sky like a meteorite, knocking Bloodshot off of his hooves. Several Guards fired their crossbows in a knee-jerk reaction. Most bolts flew wild, though a couple managed to hit the towering stallion.

To Captain Gilded Leaf’s horror, however, one had also lodged itself shallowly in the Mare do Well’s shoulder.

“Hold your fire!” he commanded, seeing them wind and nock their empty weapons. “We can’t risk hitting the Mare do Well again!”

* * *

“Heheheh…” Bloodshot chuckled, standing up. He felt like he’d just been run over by a freight train, and he relished in it. “About time. I was beginning to think you’d never show up,” he wheezed, “just how many guards do I have to kill to get a real challenge around here?”

Snow Storm stood there, ignoring the flaring white-hot pain in her left shoulder. That leg was already becoming useless, barely able to hold her weight. She held the hoof off of the ground, not daring to put any pressure on it. Tears were rolling down her cheeks from the pain, causing her vision to become fuzzy. I’m already at a disadvantage, she thought, taking long breaths and biting the inside of her cheek. She could feel a small line of blood trickle down her leg. It blocked most of the wound off… so there’s that.

“I wanna see that face of yours,” he said, trying to upset her. “See, the thing is… I don’t get it. You ain’t a guard, and to protect the city for free every night, ‘just because’? Nobody’s that selfless. So what are you after, filly? What did I do to you… and who did I do it to?” he asked tauntingly, his grin becoming wicked.

She paid him no heed. Their fight had now begun, and he had kicked it off by trying to play mind games with her. He’d regret that, soon enough.

The stallion began to walk circles around the mare, observing his prey for the slightest sign of weakness. After a few second he struck her from behind with such speed that she didn’t have time to block. His hoof landed on her rump, sending her staggering forward. He tried for a leg sweep to catch her off balance, but the mare saw the attack coming and responded with a quick blow to his already fractured jaw. He stumbled, muttering some muffled obscenities before readying himself for his next move.

On the defensive… exactly where I didn’t want to be. This was going to be one interesting fight, with one leg out of commission.

He charged again, like a rampaging bull. She ducked to the side, trying to raise her injured leg in response despite the searing pain pulsating in her shoulder. It swung lazily; the entire leg had gone numb. Oh great.

“Heeheheheh…” the stallion put himself in a position to grasp the bolt in her shoulder and twist it around. The shaft broke off with a weak snap. The mare screamed, an act that was normally beyond her as a flash of pain shot all the way up her spine. She grimaced, gritting her teeth with such intensity that she was sure they’d crack if she squeezed her jaw any tighter, before swatting his arm away. She backed up, losing her footing on her wobbling legs and falling down. A curtain of white danced at the edge of her eyes, threatening to drag her down into unconsciousness. She clutched her shoulder, bracing herself on the ground as the world spun faster and faster.

Out of nowhere, the stallion grabbed her mask and wrenched it from her face, eager to see the mare beneath. After a few seconds he recognized her face, and slowly broke into a wild grin.

* * *

It was like those stage plays that Gilded Leaf’s mother would sometimes take him to. He watched the events unfold, entranced. His own foreleg had grown numb from holding it in the air, keeping the rest of his guards at bay. He couldn’t dare let them risk hitting the Mare do Well again.

He watched the costumed mare fall to the ground in slow motion. Watched as she writhed in agony. He even watched as the monster tore her mask off, and she was helpless to stop him. Seeing all of it as though they were moving underwater.

An odd thought struck him. She’s barely older than my own daughter.

My own daughter.

That could easily have been his daughter. Aureate… In a blink, everything came rushing back to the Captain of the Guard. “What are you doing!?” he bellowed to every guard within earshot. “Help her! Now!”

At this, each member of the guard fired at once. In a moment of perfect timing, Snow Storm grabbed the stallion with what little strength she had left and used him as a shield, as six bolts landed in his back. His screams contained more than just rage now, there was something else there as well. Something that gave the mare a renewed sense of hope.

Fear.

She pulled herself up, willing the sweet embrace of unconsciousness away with everything she had. The Guards had given her an opening, and she wasn’t about to throw it away. Now she was on the offensive for the first time since the fight had begun. It was a strange feeling, backing this monster into a corner… but she had a bad feeling about it. What was it about cornered animals…?

Suddenly he jabbed, with Snow Storm taking the hit in full force. Had he not left his hoof there for a fraction of an inch too long, she wouldn’t have been able to pull off her next move, taking his extended hoof and breaking it in a single fluid motion with a satisfying snap.

“ARGH!” he yelped, the smile on his face contorting into a grimace. “How did you…?”

Her only response was to twist around and buck him in the chest, balancing on her one good foreleg while her hind legs slammed into him with the strength of a hammer on an anvil. He began to cough blood as he slowly backed away.

“Dammit, did I not take enough? I should be invincible!” Bloodshot said, his next strike parried, leaving him wide open for the first time as he reeled from an uppercut. Snow Storm then started to pummel his chest with a series of blows too quick to be seen, emanating an unintelligible noise from her gullet. Her one good forehoof was a blur, striking him repeatedly.

“This… can’t…be… happening!” he protested, falling to the ground, trying to catch his breath. As he slowly picked himself back up, he pulled out another vial of the silvery liquid from before. “Heheh...this ends here!” he proclaimed, downing the vial. In a sudden blur he grabbed her, lifting her off the ground with his one good hoof. She flailed her legs at him, but it was so much a useless reflex. For a few terrible seconds she was afraid she would suffocate in his grip, but he fell back, grabbing at his chest where a new bolt had struck. He coughed, wheezed and then hit the ground, shuddering before laying still.

Lieutenant Aella of the Night Guard dropped her crossbow to the ground. Her body trembled and she fell onto her back, weak spurts of humorless laughter turning into pitiful sobs as relief swept over her all at once.

Her own nightmare, at least, was over.

The Mare do Well picked herself up, gasping for air. She looked over at the still form of Bloodshot, but felt none of the joy she’d hoped for. Relief, definitely. But no joy.

In fact, she was almost sorry.

She limped over to where her mask had been torn off and slid it back over her face. She heard a cry from behind some piece of playground equipment, and saw a pair of guards dragging out a familiar looking stallion. Perhaps before the fight he would have struggled, kicked or screamed when the guards caught him, but now his head was held low in defeat. He only raised his gaze to meet hers, the guards stopping as she walked towards him.

It was strange… she no longer felt the hate she once did for the stallion, only pity and disgust. It was as though the rage she had held for five long years had been consumed in the fires of Bloodshot’s madness. A small part of her felt almost grateful for that much, and in a twisted way she would miss having a worthy opponent for once.

She merely nodded to the guard, who took Rough Houser away without a word. After a few minutes Pelleas arrived on the scene.

“You’re alive!” he said, rushing forward and hugging her in a move neither seemed to see coming. The crowd seemed amused by this, but he quickly pulled himself away, blushing.

“I, er…” he began, “I didn’t know whether I’d see you again, that’s all.”

“I thought I ordered Cadets to stay away,” Captain Leaf said, strolling up to the pair with a sour expression on his face.

“We couldn’t take it anymore, Captain. We knew it was against orders, but… if he had killed you all, we would have had to have lived with knowing how useless we were-”

“Sir,” the Lieutenant from before cut in, the one in the pocket of the Red Hoof, “I apologize for my actions earlier. If you are willing, I’ve decided to commit myself full time to being a Guard, as have the others. The Red Hoof has lost his ace… and now the city has one of her own, too,” he turned, smiling towards the Mare do Well.

“Yes, about that…” Captain Leaf mused. He pointed to the costumed mare. “Detain her immediately.”

The entire crowd gasped, then fell into a stony silence. Only Pelleas dare speak.

“Sir… after all she’s done for the city, done for us… why?”

“If I told you it was for her own good, you’d refuse to believe me.”

“...I knew it. And just when I thought you had finally grown a spine… I quit,” Pelleas said, throwing his armor to the ground in disgust before walking away.

Flyntt limped towards the Captain, quietly picking up Pelleas' chestplate.

“I’ll take her, Sir,” he said after a moment.

Gilded Leaf nodded. “Make sure she gets treated, and then prepare her. The Mayor wants to see her personally.”

That night, there was celebrating on the streets. Those that had lost loved ones to Bloodshot visited their graves in solemn remembrance, and others would gossip and chatter about their memories of the monster, happy that the city was a little bit safer than it had been the night before. The Oranges felt a sense of closure to the five-year injustice that had been thrust upon them, and even Bolt Buck felt a weight off his shoulders, know he had helped to bring Bloodshot down.

But in a single apartment on the far side of town, a elderly mare was not happy at all. She simply held her head in her hooves and wept.

Author's Note

Artimae: Here is Seven. 'The Big One', as I call it. It's the action-y one, the Showdown, et cetera.

You may be surprised, perhaps even a little angry at it. Because the real fight itself is short. Because Snow Storm isn't the one who brings the Big Bad down. Both were most definitely on purpose.

I've learned to write fighting from Stephen King - and his fights are short. As Roland of Gilead said, it mostly boils down to five minutes of fighting. I've taken my cues from that. On the flip side, Anakin and Obi-Wan had a very long fight in Revenge of the Sith. Remember that? No? Where they went on and on, and even Ewan McGregor admitted that "you get over the initial explosion of why they're fighting about five minutes in." (Paraphrased from Commentary). This was the right length, the natural length. You see a similar length in The Gray Wolf. If it goes on too long, it becomes boring. I've ever found the formula that works for me is build up, build up, build up, fight, cooldown. If the fight is short enough, you're still excited about it at the end. That's what I usually aim for, anyways.

So why isn't Snow the one who brings down the Big Bad? Does that invalidate her standing as the Mare do Well? No. It only serves to reinforce that she's just a mare in a costume. I hate the 'Chosen One' trope; she's not the only character in the story who can do significant feats, and she never will be. She's a hell of a martial artist, yeah, but she got wrecked.

And secondly, I hate it when cops become cannon fodder (why does Gotham City even have a Police Department?). When I began this series, one thing that always stuck at the forefront of my mind was make Guards useful. They're there for a reason. They can do things, too. They're not there to make themselves look stupid, and make her look good. The Mare do Well and the City Guard work in conjunction with each other.

For the most part.

Post Script: Well, here it is. Snow Storm's big moment, the climax we've been building to. In a strange way, it was a sad thing to write- this story had taken a very long time to write, and when we were finally done with it, I could only look back and wonder and what we left unsaid. One of the things we did I was proudest of with this chapter was avoid Snow Storm bringing Bloodshot down single-handedly. As a matter of fact, she wasn't even the one to make the decisive blow, in the end. And in having her choosing to spare Rough Houser, we show how she's grown from her journey. Revenge simply doesn't matter anymore, not now that she's realized that the city is what really matters. It was in those closing moments that Snow Storm truly becomes the the paragon of justice that the city believed her to be.

Chapter Eight

July 19th, 1007,

Over. It’s… finally over. As I flip through the pages, it’s only been a little over two weeks, from start to finish. But really, it’s felt like a lifetime.

Technically, my ‘revenge’ isn’t fully complete. There was still Rough Houser to deal with… but when I saw him, I simply didn’t want to bother. I’m done with it.

Not to mention my shoulder felt like it had been dipped in molten lead. The guard whose bolt went stray best hope I never find him… I’ll have a few choice words for him.

I’ve passed surgery to remove the bolt head, my foreleg is regaining function, and the threat of infection was stopped. I’ll have a pronounced limp for a long while, and a scar that’ll last forever, but that’s about it.

I have a strange feeling that I’m going to have many more scars before I hang up the cape and cowl for good. That may not be for a long time yet, though. On the contrary, my time as the Mare do Well may only be beginning.

And it’s starting with the Mayor.

I hear Pelleas downstairs. There must be more guards waiting to take me to the Mayor.

Time to go.

-Snow Storm

“Well now, ain’t this a bit of a turnaround?” Bolt Buck chuckled lightheartedly, standing next to the hospital bed Snow Storm lay upon. If her face was anything to go by, she failed to see the humor in the situation. Primrose jabbed him with a sly crook of her elbow, eliciting a wince out of the pegasus. “Ouch, okay, geez, my ribs still hurt take it easy.”

“Snowy… how are you feeling?” she asked with sympathy. Even as monstrous as he was, seeing Bloodshot die before her very eyes must have effected her to some degree.

Snow Storm would’ve shrugged in indifference, were it not that even such a simple act could set her shoulder on fire. Or worse, break the stitches that were the aftermath of the surgery to remove the bolt head from her body.

“Well, the good news is that you should make a full recovery within three months of bed rest and taking it easy… which I’m sure translates into ‘you can go now,’ in your head,” the Orange’s personal doctor said as he walked into the room.

“So, are you going to see the Mayor once you’re better?” Prim asked her.

Snow Storm nodded, feeling something sour down in her gut. She’d gone through hell, and still the Captain of the Guard saw fit to turn around on her. But why the mayor? she’d asked herself more than once, having had plenty of time to mull it over. Why not just take me straight to this ‘Red Hoof’ himself?

“Pelleas told me he’d be here shortly… right now, I think he needs a little time to say goodbye,” Prim said sadly.

* * *

The funeral felt wrong, somehow. The sky was blue and cloudless, and the sun’s rays blanketed the place to an almost uncomfortably bright degree. Pelleas tried to slip in quietly, but it wasn’t needed; no one paid him any mind regardless. Captain Leaf stood at the podium, addressing the group.

“I’ve never been one for speeches. Spent all night trying to fix something up, but it didn’t feel right. These weren’t just our comrades, they were our friends, and a pre-written speech couldn’t possibly do them justice, so I’m just going to say this; thank you. Your sacrifice, your courage and your valor were what let us bring that beast down. I know I’m hardly the best Captain this city could ask for, but you? All of you, you are the best guards I could hope to work with.. It is an honor to fight alongside you all. Now, I believe Lieutenant Murdoc has a few words…?”

Murdoc stepped up to the podium, his face solemn, and gave his own eulogy.

Aella slumped behind the bar, downing the last of her drink and adding the glass to an impressive collection on the counter.

“Another one?” the bartender asked, filling another one without waiting for an answer. He whistled at the stack of glasses on his counter, and floated them away in his magic. “I feel sorry for whatever it is you’re tryin’ to forget, Missy.”

“Never you mind,” she shot back in a slur, clutching her new drink and holding it close. Maybe this would be the one to erase that day. If not, the next one. Or the one after that.

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t have a choice,” a familiar voice said from behind her. “He was a monster. And if you hadn’t done it, the Mare do Well might be…” Flyntt said, not able to bring himself to finish the sentence.

“Don’t you have a memorial to attend?” she snapped, holding her drink even closer in case Flyntt decided she’d had enough. Only she could decide when she’d had enough.

“Drinking to forget… you’ll regret that someday. And I think I drink more than half the guard combined.” He grinned. “But if I really missed them, really cared, I’d hold on to the memories no matter how painful they were. Because even though it hurts, it’s not half the sacrifice they made for the city… for you,” Flyntt mused in an uncharacteristically thoughtful moment.

“Can I at least forget what I did?” She could still feel the crossbow in her forelegs.

“You can try, but one thing I’ve learnt is that the deepest wounds are the ones that never leave. You could drink ‘til you don’t remember your own name, but that night will never go away. Remember what you told me your shrink said? ‘If you run from the past you’ll trip over the future.’ The only way to make sure it never happens again is to stay vigilant. And if you ever need to do it again… I’ll be there to take the shot for you. Besides, I…” he paused, turning away.

“...I killed once too. So at least I know what it feels like.”

“I just wanted it for so long…” She teased her drink, before downing it in one shot before Flyntt could stop her. She waved a hoof at the ‘tender, who complied willingly enough with another glass. “Now that I did it, I don’t want it no more.”

“That’s what killing’s like for us,” he said, taking a seat next to her, “it just means we’ve still got something in us worth fighting for. As for Bloodshot...well, I think he lost that a long time ago. Say, I’ll tell you what; you drink ‘til you’re good and ready, and then I’ll walk you home. It’s maybe not a good idea, but… heck, when have I ever had one of those?” he smiled gently.

“You might be sitting here a long time,” she said.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be,” he said to himself quietly as she took another sip.

“Mrs. Orange, can I ask you a question?" Primrose came up to the mare while Snow Storm was upstairs. "It’s about what happened yesterday... with Bloodshot… did he deserve what he got? I should feel happy Frosty’s been avenged, but I don’t. I don’t even feel any closure, just… empty. Like nothing’s really changed.”

“An eye for an eye makes everypony blind,” the older mare said. “But… some part of me says yes.”

Suddenly, Pelleas burst through the doors, panting and sweating. “Where is she?” he demanded, clutching his chest as he leaned against the wall. “Guards everywhere, Leaf’s tired of waiting… don’t let her go to the Mayor!”.

The Mare do Well limped down the staircase, walking straight towards the front foyer and the door. A pair of guards waited outside, dressed in darker, more elaborate armor than the city’s regular guard. She ignored Pelleas' protests, shoving him away forcefully.

“Will you comply, and come quietly?” one asked coldly.

“We’re not a part of the guard you know of,” said the other, “we don’t owe you anything. If you resist, it will be considered a crime.”

She shrugged, and nodded. Like ripping off a band-aid, it was better to just get this over with.

* * *

When Snow Storm arrived, she was surprised to see just how elaborate the Mayor’s office was. Paintings adorned the walls, no doubt of previous holders of the position. The carpeting was lush, and the chair she was offered was easily the most comfortable she had ever sat on.

“So,” a shrill voice came from the chair in front of her, which was turned away. “I’d ask you to explain yourself, but my understanding is that speech is a rather difficult matter for you… would you like a pen? Paper, perhaps?”

She only stood there, waiting. The mayor had dismissed the guards, which was something.He trusted her that far, at least.

“...As I’m sure you can understand, as Mayor I have certain… obligations to the public. Sometimes concessions must be made for the greater good… ah, but a hero such as yourself must be more than aware of the importance of sacrifice? You see, as much as it pains me to admit it, I am not the absolute power in this city. I can only act within certain parameters…” he said, turning around at last.

Snow Storm had to hold back a laugh at the sight of his ridiculous haircut, which hung over the side of his head in what was likely meant to be cutting edge fashion, but made him resemble a poodle more than anything.

“I suppose you find my appearance amusing?” he remarked coldly, swiveling back around in his chair. After a few moments, he placed a glass eye on the table behind him- she hadn’t even noticed he was wearing one. “It helps to distract ponies, at least. Anyway, regarding chess… I would consider myself the ‘King’. Of unparalleled importance in ensuring victory, but slow. Powerless. A burden even… but you? You can do what no others can. You move freely, ignoring all rules, capable of decimating the board. To the city, you have become the Queen in this particular game of chess… and an associate of mine is very, very unhappy with that state of affairs. Especially since you have just taken his prize piece… have you nothing to say to all this?”

She shook her head, still preparing for something, anything, to jump. The mayor could turn on her as easily as that Captain did, and undoubtedly would just to keep his own flank safe. Of that much, she was sure.

“You think I’m just a puppet, a figurehead, don’t you? What if I told you the only reason you hadn’t been killed up until now is because I’ve been in intense negotiations with the Red Hoof since your first appearance? I told him you were likely just a child playing pretend, or a madmare enacting her bizarre delusions on the populace, of no real threat… but you’ve managed to prove me wrong. So tell me,” he said, throwing her a scroll and placing a quill and ink before her, “Are you now aware of what the Red Hoof will do, now that his champion is dead? I had to beg him to reconsider, and in the end he would only accept the following ultimatum…”

He cleared his throat, apparently unhappy with having to play messenger to this tyrant, “Either cease your actions immediately or you will suffer the consequences. If your own life means nothing, we will find other ways to make you submit. We will make you beg for death, if need be.”

The mayor snorted out a humorless laugh. “That’s what I’m supposed to tell you…” He drew the curtains of his large window, shut any vents in his office, and walked behind the Mare do Well to lock the door. She half-turned, following his movements just in case.

“Now, here’s what I’m going to really tell you. I’m tired of living under the Red Hoof’s black cloud. I’m tired of dancing when he tells me to dance, of asking ‘how high?’ when he tells me to jump. This is my city, not his, and it’s about time I get it back. And you’re going to help me with that.”

Snow Storm began to write, and several minutes later she handed him the note.

‘Your ‘Captain’ fed me the same story just days ago. Said he wasn’t going to stand for the Red Hoof’s injustice any longer… and the second he no longer needed me, he sold me out. Sent me here, and frankly I don’t believe you any more than I believe him. Not anymore. So no. I’ll take him down, but I won’t be your lapdog any more than I would be the Red Hoof’s. My name is Mare do Well, and I answer to no one. When the night is cold and the monsters of this city rise up, I will be there. When the downtrodden are forgotten about by you and your ivory tower, I will be there. Not for you. For them.’

“Did you never stop to consider that I told him to arrest you?”

‘Of course you did. Why else would I suffer your presence? You’re as spineless as he is. That’s the reason why I won’t stop. Because this city needs me- I’m all it has, with pathetic foals like you and Leaf in power. Now stop wasting my time and let me leave, I’m tired of hearing your voice.”

The mayor read this, his frown growing with each line. “If you could possibly pull your head out of the clouds for one moment?” he requested sardonically. “Gilded Leaf acted under my orders to keep suspicion away. More than enough of the Red Hoof’s lackeys wear this city’s Guards armor, and I’m sure even now they’re reporting to their illustrious boss of your capture.”

‘So? What’s your point?’ the mare responded, leaning up against a wall after she tossed him the note.

“The point, my dear, is they’ll report what they saw. And what they saw was Leaf being a good little puppet. What they didn’t see is Leaf did it for me, not for the Red Hoof. You’ll have to forgive me for all of this cloak-and-dagger nonsense, but our common enemy sees much. Too much. And this was the safest way to get you to me.”

‘So what’s next? Even if I do decide to go along with your plans, you’ll be buying yourself days, a week at best ‘til he knows the score. What is it you need me to do?’

“A pony like him needs to be brought down piece by piece - to attack him head-on is suicide. Keep undermining him at every turn. You helped to bring down his rabid beast, so I’m quite convinced you’re capable of anything. You are the wildcard here, Mare do Well. He has nothing to hold over your head. Without a face, you can’t be blackmailed into submission.”

‘I hope you’re right,’ she wrote.

A fire crackled softly in its stone hearth, radiating a comfortable warmth like a blanket. Both an ornate chair and its occupant sat facing the fireplace, the stallion staring into it, lost in thought.

His ear twitched as a door behind him opened with just a hint of a creak. Remember to oil the hinge. “Abacus, my dear,” the stallion said without looking, his voice a smooth baritone. “Pray-tell you can offer me good news? You almost always do.”

“Sir, we have positive confirmation,” a slender, pretty young mare said to a figure that sat in the darkness somewhere on the other side of town. “We have her identity. At least, this pony claims to know it. Should I send them in?”

He nodded, and a mare walked into the room, the dark shadow of the chair obscuring her face.

“Abacus, you promised me this would be the last thing. That if I told you this, you’d leave him alone…”

“Of course, my dear,” Abacus said softly, “We have no need of a treacherous worm like him, and of course had you not been such a valuable asset to us we would have disposed of him weeks ago, but-” she said before being cut off by the Red Hoof.

“Enough of the formalities. I would know what you know.”

“I need your word that you won’t hurt him. Please, for my sake, just promise me that much. I know you never go back on your word.”

“You are in no position here to negotiate,” the Red Hoof said coldly.

“Is it so much to ask? He’s worth nothing to you, and this information is worth everything!” she said angrily.

“Abacus? Remind her of her place. She seems to have forgotten it.”

Abacus nodded, and slapped the mare across the face.

“Until I get your word,” the smacked mare spat angrily, rubbing her stinging cheek, “you get nothing. I would die before giving that information away for free.”

“‘For free’,” the Red Hoof echoed, tasting the words. “It’s sad to see loyalty having a price, isn’t it Abacus?”

“You think I’m doing this for personal gain? I don’t care about money, or possessions. But he is my everything. If she could forgive any form of betrayal, it’d be this.”

Not that she will… oh Snowy, I am so sorry… the mare thought to herself.

“Of course.” The Red Hoof chuckled mockingly, sending a shiver down the mare’s spine. “One life for another. Quite noble of you.”

“There’s nothing noble about it. It’s selfish, and she’ll never forgive me, and…” She began to tear up, but held it back. Showing weakness here would do her no favors.

“Her name is… her name is…”

It’s too late. I’ve betrayed her. I might as well finish what I started.

“Her name… is Snow Storm. The daughter of the Orange family,” she said, hanging her head in shame.

“See?” The Red Hoof said. His tone was soothing, but the layer beneath it was a sheet of ice. “That wasn’t so hard, Primrose.”

“Can I go now, please?” she said, her tone sounding more like a filly’s than a mare of her age.

“As you wish.” He waved his crimson booted hoof in a dismissal. “Abacus? Come to me.”

After Primrose left, Abacus turned back to the Red Hoof.

“Will we be leaving Bolt Buck alive? My sources suggest he no longer has anything of value to divulge to the Mare do Well regardless, sir.”

“Abacus, do you trust me and my judgement?” The Red Hoof asked suddenly, catching her off-guard.

“With my life, sir.”

“Will you question my sanity if I were to tell you to leave the Mare do Well alone?”

Even her years of restraint and mental discipline could not contain her reaction. She stammered at first, staring wide-eyed at the back of his chair. “What!?” she finally managed, gaping in disbelief at what she had just heard. “Leave her alone!? I went through all of this trouble, just to leave her alone! We-”

The flames of the fireplace danced on the bright crimson boot he raised. Her rant stopped immediately. “She will be on high alert,” he explained. “We must let her think she’s won this day. That she’s scared us. Now that I have an identity… I hold the high ground once again. So we just let her get complacent, that’s all. They always get complacent.”

“... Fine. But I’m worried our informant may get cold feet, and soon. What would you have me do with her?”

“What does it matter? We have the Mare do Well’s name, and we have her family. That mare is no longer useful.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her. If she informs this ‘Snow Storm’ of what took place here tonight…”

“Then the Mare do Well hates whom she thought to be a friend, and grows paranoid. Yes, what a tragedy that would be,” he said sarcastically.

“Of course. Oh, and regarding Bloodshot… should I go to the griffon kingdom for a replacement? There are several candidates I had already lined up for this unfortunate inevitability.”

“No,” he said sharply. “Those creatures cannot be trusted. I have… somepony else in mind.”

“Very well. Then, if there’s nothing else, I shall take my leave.”

“There is one other thing, actually…”

“Sir?” she turned, intrigued.

“Abacus, my feelings are hurt.” He chuckled sardonically, showing just how ‘hurt’ he was. “I don’t think the mayor of this city likes me very much anymore. Would you be a dear and do something about that?”

“After last time, I was certain he’d have seen things our way…” she said coldly, “He must have grown delusional at the presence of this new ‘champion’... have you anything in particular in mind? Perhaps I should take an ear this time…”

“Please, surprise me, dearheart.” A knot popped in the fire. “You always do.”

Snow Storm lay in bed, noting with irony that now, at her first real opportunity for rest in over a week, she couldn’t sleep. Bloodshot’s glassy expression haunted her, as did the dead bodies he had left in his wake. She kept trying to think of her brother, of the good she had done… but it felt as is the dark cloud that had hung over her for the past five years was now crackling with lightning. If anything, she felt worse for having finally gained her revenge. For there was no replacing the things that had been taken from her.

'Frosty… was it all for nothing? You’re just an echo in my mind, now. It may not even really be you… I miss you. As terrible as it sounds, I’d trade everything I’ve accomplished to have you back.'

Better get over yourself quick, his voice responded, to her surprise. There’s going to be even more bodies down the line.

‘Then what use am I? I couldn’t save them. When the time came I didn’t even manage the final blow… I was saved myself as much as I saved them. It really isn’t like the comics at all, huh? I may not get so lucky the next time….’

She felt the world begin to swim in front of her, and finally closed her eyes. Perhaps Luna herself knew of her actions, because for the first time in years her dreams were peaceful and pleasant, and in the silence of the night a single word escaped her lips, unheard by even herself.

“Frosty.”

Author's Note

Artimae: And here we have it. Frankly, I wasn't sure it was ever going to come. I've started stories before that never led anywhere, that got half-way through before dying. To have the first story in a long series is quite a personal milestone, even if it is only 8 chapters long. I admit, I wish I could make it longer, but revenge stories are usually short. And I suppose that's not the number that counts, is it? 44,000 words is respectable as a novella-length story. By the standards of a Manuscript (which is about 250 words per page), it'd be about 179 pages.

Not bad. Not bad at all.

Enjoy the tale. Snow Storm has several stories in her yet. I'm aiming for six, she may have seven.

After she's done, though?

I already have a successor of the cape and cowl planned out and ready to go.

Post Script: You wouldn't believe how ironic that opening line is. Because even though we took far, far longer than two weeks to write it, this story really felt like we began it a lifetime ago.

But anyway, onto the chapter itself.

For me, this was the moment where everything came together, where most of the loose ends are tied up. It's not all smiles and laughter, however; Poor Aela will be stuck with blood on her hooves for the rest of her days, the Guard have lose a number of dear comrades, and Snow Storm herself has been stabbed in the back by the pony she thought she could trust the most... no, this is far from the end, my friends. This is only the beginning.

I would like to thank Artimae for letting me be a part of this world he's created, Starryfish for the gorgeous cover art she provided, and you, the reader, for sticking it out with us 'til the end. I hope you enjoyed the story and will return for the sequel.

Chapter One

In the dead of night, on the outskirts of Manehattan, a solitary mare sat, hunched over a desk in perfect silence. Her only company was a single candle, flickering defiantly against the cold breeze that escaped the nearby window. A bead of sweat trickled down her face as she put pen to paper.

How can a single letter be this hard to write? she wondered, simply staring at the blank paper. After allowing herself a few moments to gather what precious willpower she had left, she began her letter anew for the sixth time.

July 3rd, 1007,

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Orange,

If you are reading this- and I pray you never need to- you will already know I am gone. This letter is both an apology and an explanation for my actions, though I fear these words will be no justification for what I’ve done, not in your eyes.

Needless to say, my time in Ponyville five years ago was something of an eye opener… though perhaps not in the way you intended. While I was there, I became enamoured with an idea, a concept that Mrs. Orange’s niece showed me -- the ‘Mare do Well’. A defender of the innocent. Suddenly, it felt as if all the broken pieces of my life had fallen back together. I now know why I was spared that night. This suit… no. It was more than that. It was a symbol, and I would use it to make sure no one ever lost another loved one on these streets.

Night after night I would stare at this purple-and-blue suit which had adorned a mannequin, envisioning myself as some hero, somepony able to defend-

The mare shivered in the cold night air, and moved over to the window to shut it. She began to ponder her choice of words…’Broken pieces of my life?’ Seems a bit grandiose. May need changing…’ she thought to herself before resuming her letter.

-the innocent. The filly or colt who had wound up in my position, scared out of their minds. The idea of me saving them from such heartbreak… it was all that let me rest at night. A single scrap of hope to cling on to.

Upon my request, I was given the Mare do Well costume. Miss Applejack had told me that between herself and her friends Ponyville already had more than enough heroes, and didn’t need a cape or cowl to hide behind. After a week of the Apple family’s hospitality, I set out to travel the world, searching for a means to fight. As luck would have it I came across a quaint little village with an extraordinary old stallion living there. He taught me many styles of fighting, and I took to them with relative ease, so much so that I even earned my Cutie Mark in the process. I was born for this life, it seemed.

And now I have returned; no longer the scared little filly that had to run, but a mare capable of so much more. For years the faces of the four ponies responsible for taking my brother from me were etched into my memory, but now I could finally make them feel that fear.

Frost Storm paid for his bravery, and in truth much of my guilt came from knowing I was not strong enough to do the same. But no more. It is my turn to make that sacrifice, to save as many as I can. If I have fallen in this city's defence, at least take solace in knowing that I have no regrets… other than the pain this has caused you.

It is time. The streets are calling, and the night is still young. Know only that I love both of you, and that I hope someday you can forgive my selfishness for having chosen this life.

But I must do this. I am the Mare do Well.

-Snow Storm

For a moment, the mare considered crumpling up the letter and adding it to the pile was already in the basket beside her, but her eyes were too heavy and her legs were too leaden to continue. She simply folded the letter, and tucked it into one of her dresser drawers beneath a layer of clothes.

A million little stars twinkled brilliantly in the Manehattan sky, disappearing and reappearing behind thin, wispy clouds, remnants of the night's earlier rainshower drifting aimlessly far above. The moon hung at its apex in the sky, washing the skyline of the city in a silvery, serene glow. Down below, rows of tall lamps lined both sides of Manehattan’s streets, their pairs of downward-curving steel limbs clutching bright orbs and casting the lower levels of the city in artificial orange light.

Snow Storm took a deep breath, and exhaled it slowly. She shifted, trying to get her suit into a more comfortable position and keep it from chafing against her body. I should have worn this more often, she thought, pulling the fabric away from her inner left thigh where it had bunched up yet again. The cowl and oversized hat both sagged off of her shoulder; they were both quite easy to slip on should the need arise, but for now the young mare preferred to keep her face in the fresh air.

Not that such a decision was particularly risky to her identity. Besides the fact that most of Manehattan’s citizens had no need or desire to gaze up at rooftop buildings, few ponies in the city even knew she existed. Just about anyone who would happen to see her face could only describe a white mare with a shocking-blue mane, which happened to be a hundred other ponies in this crowded city. Her only visibly distinguishing feature was the off-center grey streak running the length of her mane and tail, but even that could be easily missed by an unobservant eye.

She looked down from the building’s lip from which she was perched, pushing away the slight sense of vertigo which accompanied the movement. Admittedly, she was a little surprised at all of the activity still going on below -- the nightlife was, apparently, just as active as the day time. Dozens of pedestrians flowed up and down the sidewalks, all completely unaware of the mare watching them. Four lanes of carriage traffic made up the movement of the asphalt street, carrying either passengers or cargo to specific destinations. Most were pulled by a single pony, though a few teams of pairs had passed under her muzzle every now and again. She had even seen a large cargo wagon, taking up both lanes and pulled by a team of four muscular, well toned stallions. If only they had glanced her way…

A horrible crash from the streets reached Snow Storm's ears. She snapped her head to the left. There had been a collision between a private carriage and a flatbed wagon. The wagon had been knocked over onto its side, spilling wooden barrels everywhere into the intersection. Traffic was blocked off for a mile, at least. A number of the barrels had split open in the crash, spilling their contents and flooding the streets.

A thick stallion shook his head after the impact that had sent him reeling. Even from her vantage point, Snow Storm could see his nostrils flared out in explosive anger. He twisted his head every-which-way, looking for the driver whom he had run into, and found the poor pony sideways in the air, still strapped into his harness.

The stallion was on his target before the other could unbuckle himself from the harness, his thick Manehattan accent ringing out into the night. “Watch where ya drivin’!” Snow Storm cocked an ear forward to get a better listen, keeping her other one trained on her flank in case of surprises. She wasn’t expecting trouble… but then again, neither were the ponies down on the street only a minute ago.

“Hey, I’m sorry!” the overturned carriage driver said, finally managing to undo his strap. He flopped unceremoniously to the ground, managing to pull himself up and lean against his wreckage. “My signal turned green! I dunno what you were doing!”

“You accusin’ me!?” The belligerent stallion drew himself up to his full stature, puffing out his chest and glaring daggers into the noticeably smaller pony. “I happen to know how to pull a carriage, unlike some ponies in this city!”

Snow Storm frowned, taking quick glances up and down all four streets. She was out here to find a gang of killers, not play traffic cop for one rowdy citizen. But if the guards didn’t show up soon, she’d have to step in before there could be any bloodshed…

As if her mere thought brought them into existence, a pair of night-guards galloped up to the scene. Snow Storm quickly reached back and pulled the mask and hat over her head, letting her eyes adjust to the slightly filtered view afforded her by the mask. She didn’t dare risk one of the guards seeing her features; with their slitted pupils granting them superior eyesight even in a moonless night, a night guard could make her out quite easily. She pulled back onto the roof, letting only her head peek out over roof’s lip as a precautionary measure; one of the night-guard had taken to the skies, presumably in order to get a more complete view of the wreckage. He shouldn’t have to come anywhere near her, but it was better not to take an unnecessary risk all the same.

In fact, it’s about time I leave. Yes… There was nothing more to gain by staking out this spot - the guards would be crawling all over it for a while longer. Everyone was safe from harm, as she could hear one guard trying to calm the raging stallion down. Even if he was unsuccessful, he still had backup with him.

Snow Storm picked herself up, galloping across the flat Manehattan rooftops and away from the crash scene, jumping into the alleyway and switching out her costume for a set of standard clothing.

It was time to size up the guards up close and personal.

“Quiet night,” Pelleas commented, tonguing his fangs out of boredom. Walking at a leisurely pace beside him was the older and much more experienced Lieutenant, who snorted in amusement.

“Quiet nights are always the best…” Lieutenant Flyntt said, sucking in a deep breath of the still night air. “They’re the ones you know could get the most interesting. Every time it’s this quiet, I pray to Luna something big’s about to go down. Don’t disrespect the silence boy. It’s the best part of the job.”

“Come on, sir,” Pelleas responded, rolling his eyes. “The worst thing Manehattan’s seen in years was the homicide of the Orange’s son, which nopony’s ever bothered to even look into after it went cold. Why aren’t we focusing on that? Trying for new leads?”

Flyntt’s eyes narrowed, his smile becoming a grimace.

“You might not want to ask the wrong ponies about that one. We have our suspicions, and if we’re right…” he said, looking away. “I hate to say it, Pelleas, but there are some ponies in this city too big to take down. I intend to change that someday.”

“Oh yeah, some thugs in an alleyway,” Pelleas replied with a snort. “Real big, sir. I’m shaking in my armor.”

“Some day you’ll realize that the biggest crooks around are the ones nobody thinks are crooks… the puppetmasters who nobody can touch. I wish there was somepony out there that could take care of ‘em for us…” Flyntt sighed.

“Why can’t we? Captain Leaf is fearless! We can just storm in on all the big guys’ compounds, one by one!”

“And if we’re wrong? If they’ve hid the evidence elsewhere and broken into the house of an innocent -if wealthy- civilian? Princess Luna would sack the lot of us. No, Pelleas, you need to know that some battles are just too big to fight. For us, at least. Captain Leaf is our best and brightest, and you’ll never see him attempting such folly.”

“Just wait, sir,” Pelleas said with a grin. “Someday, I’ll be the Captain. And I won’t be too afraid to ransack the Red Hoof and his gang.”

Flyntt looked over his comrade, unimpressed. “They were holding bets on how long you’d last out here back at the office. Most of the money was on a week. I bet a day. Try not to embarrass yourself too quickly, kid.”

“You treat all your trainees like that, or am I just special?” the younger one asked dryly, grumbling. It was improper to backtalk a superior, of course… but Flyntt almost seemed to enjoy it.

“You’re growing on me kid… I hope the doctor’s got an ointment for that.” He smirked.

“Pretty sure I know where he could stick that oint-” From down the street came the sound of wood colliding with wood. The two guards stopped, looking back. “Sounded like a crash,” Pelleas said with almost a hint of giddiness. About time something jumped.

“Let’s go show these clowns who the night belongs to…” Flyntt said, baring his fangs in a toothy grin.

“Race you, sir?”

“Alright, on the count of three…” Flyntt said, already in flight before he even began speaking.

* * *

“Halt, criminal scum!” Flyntt shouted. It was an antiquated phrase, but sometimes the old ways were best.

“What’ra ya talkin’ about, ‘criminal’!? This idiot starts pulling his wagon out into the intersection and I’m just here tryin’ to stop! Where were ya, huh!? Useless bats, can’t even be traffic cops I swear!”

At this, a sick grin spread across Flyntt’s face.

“Lemme tell ya a story, it won’t take long, about us… ‘bats’, as you call us. See, we Fulake were here long before you little ponies showed up on these lands, but we let you stay cause’ we’re just that nice. And do you know what us ‘bats’ used to eat?” he said, getting close to the uncomfortable stallion. His fangs glistened in the moonlight, his smile terrible.

“Meat… hey Pelleas, did I have lunch today? I forget.”

“I-I-I-I… screw it!” The earth pony bolted down the street, leaving his mostly-intact wagon behind.

“Hey kid, remember when I said silence was the best part of the job? That’s a load of crap. Now messing with punks like that… that’s the best part,” Flyntt said, smiling smugly.

“Yes, sir,” Pelleas agreed, any hint of his earlier youthfulness gone now that he was on the job. “Seems like a standard collision. Our other ‘victim’ is a pegasus. We should get his side of the story. Would you like to question him, sir?”

“Nah, I’ve handled one, I want to see how you deal with the other. Just yell if you need me to put him in his place- I mean give you some assistance.”

“Yes, sir.” Pelleas trotted up, offering a grey hoof to the wagon puller. He’s barely any older than I am… “I’m Cadet Pelleas of the Manehattan Night Guard, first shift. Can you tell me what happened?”

The other nodded, squeaking slightly as he tried to find his voice. “Don’t worry kid! That last bit was just some stupid myth some of your kind cooked up about us during the rise of Nightmare Moon!” Flyntt called from behind, flashing a very toothy grin. “We’ve never eaten meat. Just fruits and plants.”

“R-r-right… right!” Apparently reassured by the guard, the hauler found a new voice. “Name’s Raindance. I live and work at the alfalfa farm a couple miles from here, and I was just delivering these barrels of water to the train depot when I was kinda blindsided by that buffoon.”

“Barrels of water to the train depot?” Pelleas hadn’t heard of that one before.

“Yes, sir. To be shipped on the midnight freight train and up to Baltimare, to help alleviate their current drought.”

“Y’see kid,” Flyntt added, sauntering up next to his cadet. The kid still had a lot to learn, after all. “Farm pegasi like… er… Raindance, was it? They often produce a little extra rain during crop season every year and generally store it for emergencies.” He gazed at Raindance, offering a warm smile. “What the farms are doing here is nothing short of inspiring. Giving up even a bit of their own water supplies to help Baltimare is extremely generous.”

“Yes sir,” Raindance said, nodding. “The Manehattan farms were able to donate a couple of twenty gallon barrels each. I was pulling about two hundred gallons of water for the relief effort… erm, emphasis on the was. I’d say I lost a good eighty gallons of it from that idiot.”

“It doesn’t look like your wagon is badly damaged,” Pelleas pointed out, spreading his leathery wings and flying to the top, or rather the side, of the flatbed. “Think you could finish your job if we helped you get everything reset?”

“You mind if we have a quick check inside the barrels?” Flyntt asked abruptly, not bothering to wait for permission. “I’m sure it’s nothing, but these days you can’t ever be too careful.”

“Yeah, sure,” Raindance said with a sigh. “The farms are gonna be peeved. Some of their extra stock, gone down the drain! Literally!”

“Well, at least it’s just water,” Flyntt murmured, his voice becoming serious for a second. “I’ve seen these streets run with worse things…”

“You did well out there kid, looks like we’re gonna make a great team. Just remember who’s calling the shots…” Flyntt shot Pelleas a mischievous grin. “Unless we screw up, then it’s all you.”

“It was nice of you to offer some of our own stock to fill his quota, sir,” Pelleas said with a touch of awe. “Won’t Captain Leaf be mad, though? Those are our emergency rations. If Manehattan faces the same drought..”

“If Captain Leaf was the kinda guy that got mad over doing the right thing, then he wouldn’t be Captain Leaf. Hell, he’d probably have given them more! Remember kid, random acts of kindness equals increased odds of promotion. It’s why I love this job.”

“Yes, sir,” Pelleas agreed automatically, not sure exactly what to think of that. He shuddered slightly. “I think a goose just walked over my grave… I felt like we were being watched out there.”

“Well then, we better put on a good show just incase they show up again tomorrow! You don’t want to let your audience down, do you kid?” Flyntt smiled.

“I guess not.” Down the sidewalk, a stocky little white mare was trotting leisurely in their direction. Kinda late out, isn’t it? She seemed just like a typical teenaged pony, with her head soaring in the clouds if the look on her face was any indication.

“Kinda weird to see a kid just wandering the streets at this hour…. I’m not sure I like it. What do you reckon, Pelleas? I’ll let you make the call this time.”

I think she’s kinda cute… “She could be lost, sir,” he suggested. “Manehattan is a very big city.”

Flyntt looked over his partner, a gleam of suspicion in his eye, before realizing what was going on.

“Ooooh, I see. Pelleas, as my subordinate I order you to go over there and speak to this filly.”

“Yes, sir.” Almost reluctantly, he trotted up to the lone filly. “I’m Cadet Pelleas of the Manehattan Night Guard, first shift.” Okay, what now? Would you like an escort? No, that’s too much. “Are you lost?”

She blinked, as if only just now noticing him, and shook her head with a smile.

“Oh, right, uh…” Come on sir, I’m going down in a ball of fire here, help me out! “What’s your name, Miss?”

She nodded, sitting down and twisting back to rummage in her saddlebag for a slip of paper with her name on it. Finally she found it and showed it to him.

“‘Snow Storm’, huh? Hrm… are you alright?”

She cocked her head with a raised eyebrow, held herself like that for a moment, and then got it. She tapped her throat three times and covered her mouth.

“Er…?”

“Kid, she can’t speak,” Flyntt said, trotting up to them with a shake of his head. It’s the second time I’ve had to explain things to him! “You really think she’d let this awkward silence hang in the air like this if she could tell you anything? Hang on, I got a pencil in here somewhere… here we go.” He passed it over to the marel. “Make it short, the lead’s about to go out and I ain’t got a sharpener.”

She nodded with an appreciative smile, and wrote down on a pad she had pulled from her bag. “Walking home. Saw a movie earlier. Guess it ran longer than I thought. Brought my pad but not my pencil - go figure.” She tore the note off and handed it over to the bigger of the two guards.

Flyntt grinned devilishly, not letting Pelleas read the note. Instead, he leaned in close and whispered to the youth. “She wants to know where you live.” He smirked wryly.

Snow Storm rolled her eyes, smiling in awkward amusement. Apparently these two had some sort of brotherly friendship despite their difference in rank, if the teasing was any indication. Then again, Fulake were almost always playful sorts.

Pelleas hurriedly snatched the note from Flyntt and read it for himself. “Ah, I see. Well, get home quickly, Miss. Manehattan’s nice enough in the day, but here at night, things can get a little dangerous.”

“Then again,” Flyntt piped up, chuckling softly. “Pelleas here could just give you an escort-”

“Sir, you are behaving inappropriately for a senior officer.”

“You need to lighten up.”

As the pair began to bicker once again, Snow Storm slipped away and out of sight down a nearby alleyway. Her secondary task for this area had been sufficiently completed, and even brought her a little entertainment.

Out of the range of prying eyes, she took off her basic garments and slipped quickly into the Mare do Well suit, stuffing her everyday clothes back into her bags and climbed the nearest building.

After all, there were still thugs to look out for and more guards to meet.

Author's Note

Artimae: Well, here it is. The first chapter. The first of many. What's there to really say about it? Starts are almost always rocky. It's a time when you're balancing exposition and entertainment. Setting up the world without just throwing it in your reader's face. Introducing the main players, showing flashes of their personalities. Am I happy with it? Not really, no. Content, maybe. Tired of looking at it, definitely. But if you were to ask me what my least favorite chapter is, and most likely will be, I can almost guarantee that I will point to this one. Or Six. But we'll get to that one in that A/N, won't we?

Have some Mare do Well, on the house. Whether you like or not (and I hope ya do, say thankya), there'll be more to come. A lot more.

Post Script: I'm normally fairly optimistic, so I can say that honestly I'm fairly happy with the very beginning of the chapter. Maybe we didn't hit the ground running like I imagined, but I hope we've managed to grab people's attention with the opening lines. Between establishing the main character and her plight, as well as her supporting hero Pelleas and his wisecracking superior, I think we managed to set the stage for things to come. My only regret is not mentioning Primrose in the first chapter, but I'm sure that playing all of our cards at once would have been unwise, so we probably made the right call there.