Eye of the Trickster: The Glorious Deception

The world shimmered and swirled, seeming to flicker in and out of focus rapidly, like a camera on speed. Different images of different places seemed to stretch and scream at me. Faster and faster I traveled, till the world came to a crashing stop, still shuddering. I fucking hate teleporting.

I was crouched on a dusty wooden floor, the teleportation process unceremoniously dumping me on my knees. I slowly got up, the shuddering of my vision giving me nausea. My sight slowly calmed down, and let me see where I was. Home sweet home.

The sun shone through the boarded windows, giving me an optimal viewing luminescence. My homestead was large, considering it was only one room. It had all the facilities I needed to live, including almost every wall covered in shelves. Perfect storage space for my various knick-knacks, weapons, tools, instruments, and most importantly, my trophies.

Aside from my bed, which was more or less a collapsed pile of boards with a mattress, pillows and few blankets slapped on top, there were only a few desks and a solitary chest of draws in the vast space. Dust slowly drifted from the ceiling, procedurally caking every article and furnishing in a layer of smoky grayness. In the gloom, my variously acquired shinnies glittered with what little sunlight did come through the cracks in the wooden boards covering the only window.

I instinctively checked the concealed opening in the wall, a small wooden panel, equipped with a makeshift handle on this side, was still firmly in place. I jostled the board in its fitting to check for my small paper marker, indicating whether or not someone, or rather, some pony had entered my domain since I last left. The small paper Origami was missing.

I could hear the subtle tapping of paper behind me, as I smirked, realising who was standing in the room with me. I slowly turned, poised for attack, despite the lack of danger. “Hello there, Flick.”

The small, dark Pegasus stood before me, her soft gray wings slowly flicked back and forth, keeping the small origami swan airborne. Her self-satisfied grin stretched from ear to ear, the flat teeth slowly grinding back and forth as she chewed on what I assumed was Tea Leaves. She was always chewing Tea Leaves. It seemed to be a Tobacco equivalent for Equestria. Her Dark Grey eyes matched her Salt-and-Pepper mane, the long shag covering most of her face.

“Hi…”

…

“Nice timing by the way. How much did that orb set you back?” I inquired, breaking the tension by starting to unstrap all my various belts and pouches and placing them in their normal places. The dusty outlines could still be seen, showing me as a creature of habits. Flick just watched me as I meticulously removed objects from their pouches and replaced them to their locations.

“Oh, you know. This and that… Sampson owed me a favor, so he let me look at a few before I bought them. He wasn’t too happy about it. But now we’re square. And you, Garrett, What has your charming self been up to- Oh! wait. I know. You were dining with royalty at 3 in the morning. You’re not one know for your over-zealous greed, or your stumbling into traps without a way out… But that might mean that… Oh dear…” Her grin grew wide again. I knew exactly where this was going. I had been saved, only to just be grasped by the next slimy vine nearby.

“Oh no. I don’t owe you shit. I didn’t ask for you to watch my back, or cover my arse. You and I have an agreement on this. Otherwise YOU owe me for the Blueblood Manor incident. And that makes US even anyways.” I could feel my eye twitch with annoyance. Flick was out for favors. And If she was exchanging a Sampson favor for a Garrett favor, she was obviously out for a job. And I was done for jobs this week. I seriously needed a break.

She began to pout. “Oh noes! Then what shall I ever do with all this reclaimed loot..” She fluttered her eyes as she held up a sack- MY sack. The same sack I had left in the broom-closet back in Canterlot Castle.

I snatched it roughly from her grasp, quickly rummaging through it while disregarding her whiny protests. Most of the stuff was here, including the vial of Hairs, and my Bow and Quiver. Good. I pocketed the vial, and gave the sack an experimental shake in one hand. It felt lighter than it should have been.

“Where is the rest of my loot!” I said sternly, interrupting her rambling. If there was one thing. You could have me hanging upside down, or on a dark balcony for hours on end. But noone fucked with my loot. Flick began to grin again, sweeping past me while giving me a seductive look.

“Now, now Garrett, you simply must learn to share. Especially with people who value you life enough to spend a fair coin on proper escape equipment.” She said with her seemingly British-cockney accent. Fiddling with some of the Origami sitting on the desk, she almost seemed disinterested in me. But it was all theatrics. It was always theatrics. Ponies in this trade seemed to live and breathe it.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Look, I don’t OWE YOU SHIT. Like I said. If this puts me in debt, were just square. You’d be in Canterlot Dungeon right now If I hadn’t been there to save your plot from 'Lord Poofter'. You cocked your job, And I pulled the slack. Now both of our slack is gone. Deal.” I began to unpack the sack, checking that the expensive rope was still there. I began placing all but the wrapped jewelry back onto their dust-outlined homes. “How did you even know, or find my loot.”

“I had a favor from a Janitor at Canterlot Castle. Scruffy, I think his name is.” she said. I scoffed, almost outright laughing at my stupidity.

“Oh, of course. You and your bloody favors! They should start calling you The Mistress of Favors.” I puckered up my lips, making kissing noises. It happened so quick, I reacted long after it happened. Flick snapped open her wing, smacking me with her primary feathers right on my nose. It took me a second to figure out what had happened, before I flinched awkwardly.

“What the fucking ffffffffff” I clutched my nose in disbelief, my eyes involuntarily watering from the very brief spike in pain. I gave her a look that could singe hair, but she just smiled at me.

“A good number of Ponies owe me favors. And in our line of work, you can never have enough. I need a favor from you, and you will be helping me. You get a standard cut, and possibly some good rep with the Thieves Guild High-ups. This isn’t me conning you.” she said sternly, still maintaining her off-putting smile. I raised an eyebrow. Me and Flick had always been friendly, but she almost never shared her work with me unless she was in grave peril.

“Alright then. Considering you rescued my Bow and quiver too, I’ll throw you a bone.” She looked at me quizzically, going slightly pale. I realised what I had said.

“No.. as in, A dog likes to chew a bone- You know what, forget it... What’s the job.”

She turned back to my Origami table, sweeping the half-finished creations to the floor, and pulled a roll of papers from her saddle-bag. Rolling them flat, and grabbing a few ornaments to place on each of the corners, she began looking over what I assumed was a map of our future destination. The long corridors, combined with the many furnishing markings and structured placement told me instantly that this was a Museum or Art Gallery. Amongst the many black lines, there were a few crudely drawn red circles placed over certain fixtures, with a largest circle being surrounded by inwards-pointing arrows. I almost recognised the place immediately, but I still had to ask.

“This isn’t… You’re not seriously considering stealing from this bloody place. Its a death trap! You do know how far away this is from her quarters? Besides I am so done with high-profile jobs for the rest of the year.” I huffed, but continued to looked over her shoulder. She simply traced one hoof over the various markings, as if orchestrating a symphony.

“It’ll be like stealing Candy from a foal, if we pull this off exactly as I have designed. You and I will be able to retire for the rest of our lives, considering the mountain of bits that the client promised.” She continued to fondle the paper, I rolled my eyes.

“How much?”

“500. 250 each…”

That wasn’t half bad. But it still depended on the item. ‘Two Hundred and Fifty Thousand Bits’ rolled of the tongue nicely. I looked back at the diagram, and tried to discern which item was circled. Alas, I had never been in that part of Canterlot Castle. If it was one thing I had learned from my time as a nocturnal Thief. Never EVER cross paths with The Princess of the Night. That bitch was CRAZY.

“So, what are we stealing then?”

“Thats the spirit! We are being paid to steal the one and only ‘Night Opal’. The largest, and rarest opal in existence. Gifted to her majesty by Whitetail Kingdom nearly 200 years ago. It remains one of the most heavily guarded, and most precious non-magical items in Equestria. A true beauty to behold. The only problem with is current position is, somepony else wants it. And that’s our job.”

I silently continued to study the map before me. Entrances and exits were detailed, as well as possible magical and physical traps and alarms. A whole bunch of other places were circled, probably being other cabinets with valuables. They would be second priority. Especially if they were trapped as well. I always hated and loved magic. Because it always forced me to rethink everything. It made what should have been the simplest task, into the worst night of your life. It was ruthless, cunning. Unrelenting, and most importantly… very unreliable when around me.

“What traps are we looking at” I asked. There were no distinct markings for traps on the map. And that was obviously the most important part. Flick smiled. If she had fingers, I think she would have cracked them. It seemed apt, but she just began her explanation.

“The gem sits in its own case, completely separated from the rest of the exhibit. The cases are Heart-crystal. Meaning that you can’t just break in. The locks, however, are cheap knock-offs of Smith&Sparkle superior Magic-resistant and Pick-resistant locks. Meaning that the tumblers are frail. But none of that matters, because the counterfeits come with a secret master pin, only accessible by an extra-long key, to which I have the mold.

“The system is rather extensive, especially considering the amount of loot and who it belongs too. This is why I needed you Garrett. The Magic-laser trip-wire system ins separated into 3 bands, covering the entire horizontal area of the wing in Canterlot Castle. One an inch above the ground, another halfway up the room, and the other a few inches from the ceiling. This makes it almost impossible for a Pegasus to enter the room without detection, unless they were a midget, and had some serious hover-control in a no-breeze scenario. The laser’s are way too close together, and Earth Ponies are out, because of the floor lasers. And Unicorns can’t use sticky-spells to walk on the ceiling. This system is mostly adequate, but to top it all off, there are sweeping motion detectors in every room. This means, fast movement is out of the question too. The only way you’d be able to get through is if you were to enter through one of the ventilation shafts, which are situated between the laser’s, use a rope and arrow, create a repelling line between the laser strips, and climb your way to the mana-fuse on the other end of the museum and deactivate the system…”

I pondered what she had said, I recognised a flaw immediately, but she seemed so confident. “Alright then. But there is the flaw of using an Arrow and Rope. You already mentioned the motion detectors. How am I supposed to shoot an arrow through the rooms if they’ll just trip the system?” I rubbed my chin quizzically, but she just looked back at me, nonchalantly.

“Easy. All you need Is an arrow and rope, made of light.”

“...”

“...”

“No, seriously, how are we meant to do this?”

“I just told you.”

“I- I can’t tell if you’re being serious…” I face palmed. “Nevermind, FUCKING MAGIC.”

She laughed, returning her gaze back to the map at hoof. “All we need is a pony who deals in Phoenix Down, and a Tailor who can weave it. Luckily, we both know a pony who does both. And He owes me a favor.”

I rolled my eyes. Again with the favors. But I still had a few questions.

“Okay. Where do you come into this. You said this would be a group job. And I don’t think you’ll be terribly okay with repelling in such tight constrictions, let alone you’re a pony. Dexterity doesn't come to you as easily as it comes to me.”

“I, will create a distraction. And you’ll love this. I am going to ‘attempt’-” she brought her wings up, and curled them at each tip “ to steal the Elements of Harmony….”

I scoffed suppressing laughter. This was too good.

“I hate to break it to you ‘sister’, but somepony else has got them already. Thats what Princess Lavender-Fuzz was ‘hiring’ me for. To steal them back.”

Flick turned away, obviously becoming quite embarrassed. “Fuck, this ruins everything. Now what am…” She muttered something under her breath, and paused there for a while as I assumed she was formulating a new plan in her head. Her ears were pressed against her head as she concentrated intently. She had slowed her breathing, and I couldn't help but tap her on the shoulder as an idea drifted into my head.

She looked back at me, her large eyes watery from clenching them shut too tight.

“Just start a fire?”

“... BRILLIANT.”

***

“But I don’t wanna go to the Underground! I just got fucking hoooome! I haven’t slept in 15 hours!” I whined as Flick slowly pushed me to the exit, using her head and superior grip to push me along. “OW what the fuck.” I clutched my nose as she whipped me in the face again with her wings. I clutched my nose as my eyes watered, not realising that my socks had caught on a crack in the floor-boards, and I was slowly being pushed into one hell of a Face-plant.

*CRASH*

“GAAAH FUCK”

My muffled groans were only met with a disapproving glare as Flick attempted to stare me into submission. I had learned that Ponies were rather visual creatures, and relied alot on their theatrics to get their way. Luckily, I was nearly immune to them. It was hard to consider something to be dangerous, when it looked so cute. This was no exception. I just death-glared her back.

“Are all humans genuinely this stubborn? because I’m not too sure why the saying still refers to Mules. You lot top the list easily!” She huffed, storming past me and through the small exit. I groaned, but obliged. I picked myself up, breeches caked in the accumulative dust. I patted myself down, and quickly grabbed a few supplies before leaving. I crawled through the small hole, replacing the disguised board behind me, and found myself standing in the shell of an old collapsed Mansion.

Huge beams were the only real remnants of the once grand building. They protruded up out of the long forgotten ruble, roof-tiles and various other wooden furnishings and fixtures melded together and rotted after so long. The only parts of the building were now occupied by me, either as storage, hiding places, or the one room I took pride in, the one I had just left.

Apparently this house had once belonged to a baroness. Her long reign ended by the turmoils surrounding the return and reformation of the Draconequus Discord. I never looked much into the history of the building, besides finding the blueprints stashed away at Town Hall. I knew of every hidden room and secret passage that the place still had to offer, not to mention the cacophony of tunnels that made up the catacombs below. The tunnels allowed me to travel between places in the city without being noticed, not that the guards would ever catch me out of the shadows.

Surrounding the Mansion was a rather sizable grounds, now over run by the plants once kept by the staff here. They provided a good cover, visually and acoustically. As well as making it rather difficult for anyone that wasn't a pegasus to even consider getting to the building. Though most ponies had forgotten what was behind the enormous scrub of this lot. This meant I was almost always free of unwanted outside sources, besides the occasional house-call. Today was a good example.

I shielded my eyes from the midday sun. It had been a while.

“Flick, how long was I teleporting for?”

She was moving towards the tunnels, when she turned back, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Well, its about midday, so I assume it would have been nearly 10 hours?”

I cursed under my breath. Another thing I hated about teleportation orbs was the delay. A normal, instantaneous teleportation spell required a rather huge amount of magic to sustain and perform. Whereas a Home Displacement spell required a fraction of the magic, but had a few drawbacks. The most notable drawback being that depending on how far you had to travel from your location to the place considered your home, the amount of time you spent displaced increased exponentially. Meaning that after a certain distance, the amount of time spent traveling there might be worse than just walking at a leisurely pace on foot. But the use in this case was to become displaced to escape the Purple Wonder, not specifically to get me home.

We headed down, descending the pile of rubble, and entering a derelict hallway, its other end collapsed, revealing the mess of vegetation that made up the grounds. We walked to the last door on the right, slowly opening it, careful not to disturb the evened mantra of the buildings precarious repair state. This hallway always made me nervous, and for good reason.

The door silently glided open on its oiled hinges, the only part of this wing of the building I had bothered to maintain. We stepped into the largish once broom-closet, closing the door behind us before continuing.

At the back of the room, was an open crawl-hole. And beyond the claustrophobic opening was the start of the Catacombs. We forwarded in, not saying a word to each other. While flick only had to bend her knees a little, I was on all fours, squirming through. My shoulders were a bit too big for the tunnel, but luckily, this part of the building had seemed to surpass the destructive reaches of time.

We finally came to the tunnel, Flick stepping down gracefully, her wings helping with the fact. While I slowly squirmed out of the tunnel, inching further and further forward till I slipped through, crumpling into a miserable heap on the rubble-ridden floor.

“Its a wonder how you have such a reputation of elusiveness, for one who dwarf’s even Celestia.” Said Flick, seeming to be genuinely curious. I just got up, brushing myself off as always while giving her a puzzled look.

“It’s all relative, I suppose. Although I might be a giant in comparison to most of the ponies in Equestria, there is a very keen difference in physiology, besides the size…” I flexed my gloved fingers in front of her face, making her snort and rear her head back. I laughed at that, but she still seemed confused.

“And lets not forget that none of my appendages end in a hard stubb either. The only thing you ponies have got on me is magic, and flying. God, I would kill to just be able to fly. Even for just a day….” I stared off into the distance, reminiscing about my previous life. It all seemed so foggy now, like it was a dream I had, a very long time ago.

“Well, I suppose.. Come on, Garrett, lets get to the guild while there is still some light to see by. I don’t mind walking in the streets at night, but your place gives me the creeps.” she said, shifting her gaze around, examining the half ruined tunnel.

We continued to walk down, heading on a slope down for a fair while, before it started to come back up again. As we came to the flat that run underneath the street, the small holes in the sewer grates pierced the veil of darkness, the sharp midday sun flaring through, creating curtains of light. In between the spaces, rats and other vermin scrambled about, trying to find what food they could in the accumulated and ancient waste. Nothing lived down here, besides the rats and moss. The slow drips of water were only disturbed by the faint clip-clop of ponies above, going about their daily business. Completely unaware that Equestrian Public Enemy #1 was standing beneath their very hooves.

We continued along, coming to many street cross-roads, which would also have more of the catacombs intersect each other. Not many ponies knew of this ancient structure, due to most of the old grates being cobbled, graveled, paved, or just overwhelmed by the dirt of time. This place was so old, but how old, I could never guess. Nor could anyone. I held out my hand, letting it run against the old stones still kept in place by sheer engineering perfection. Their rough granite surfaces scarred by time lightly. Grooves and cracks added character to their sublime, clean texture. Flick looked back at me, only glancing for a second before turning her head back. Slowly, she let her wing extend out, letting the delicate primaries run across the stones too.

In silence we walked, only changing our sublime behaviour when we had to make the correct turn. We finally came to a stop below a grate, its crusted build-up of moss and dirt unsettled by recent use. A loud combination of nearby market stalls, and a large crowd of shopping ponies above indicated that the area was busy. I knew exactly where we were.

“We’ll use this exit. This is the way I came in. Its concealed by the stalls from th street. If we’re quick, we can slip past the markets easy.” she whispered, beginning to ascend with her wings to the grate. I lightly grabbed her tail, lightly tugging to get her to come back down. She didn’t look impressed.

“Thats probably the worst place to use at this time.” I pulled a sterling silver pocket watch out from one of my many pouches. Confirming the time with a subconscious nod before replacing it. “In about five minutes, the barracks will be changing for half-time. And that place will be swarming with guards, either passing by to return to the barracks, or grabbing a bite to eat before attending their posts… You obviously don’t know the East Quarter.” I finished by putting my hand up on my chest, looking as ‘posh’ as possible. She rolled her eyes, but grinned back.

“I’ve always fancied myself a Stone Quarter Girl.” she whispered back, striking the same pose as me. I wolf whistled, causing us to break. We both giggled quietly, before I began leading the way to the better option for surfacing.

The catacombs began to slope slowly down again,  a slow trickle of water gurgled, winding through the rubble. We followed it for a long time, the complete lack of light making it a bit hard for Flick to navigate. My eye could still see perfectly. Although when I was in dark areas, the colour seemed to bleed away, making everything look black and white. I placed my hand atop her withers, letting me guide her as we walked.

Finally leveling out, the tunnel was pooled with water. The dark shiny surface barely moved in the dark. I continued to guide us forward. Flick yelped as she stepped into the water. She cringed back, but began to hover, still keeping my hand lightly touching her back. Far ahead, we could see our destination. A small ray of light pierced the deep gloom. We approached, the sudden pitch in light blinding me for a few seconds. A ladder, worn into the stone from age led to a grate far above. The hand- well, the hoof holds were treacherous at best. Luckily, I was a human, and Flick was a Pegasus.

She lazily ascended the narrow manhole… Or was it a ponyhole? Eh. She ascended lazily while I used my superior height to use the leverage of my back against one side, and my feet against the other. It was slow goings, relatively speaking. Flick looked like she was going to hit me again when I finally reached the top.

“Alright, the area around the grate is completely sealed. So we won’t have to worry about anything besides the noise.” I whispered. Flick nodded, not saying anything. She clumsily moved around my large figure, letting me take the lead with as much grace as possible in this situation. I readied myself, pushing my back hard against the wall. Spreading my fingers across the grate, I slowly began to lift. The problem with ancient structures like these is that, besides the stonework and decoration, not much was subtle. More so due to the lack of knowledge than a lack of care. The grate was flipping heavy. I maintained my endeavour, slowly lifting and angling so it would sit above its rim on the street above. With one last push, It heaved to the side. letting me flex my strained digits. Flick just grunted impatiently.

I slowly pushed the grate to the side, letting it open just enough so I could look around. I repositioned my legs, and lifted my head to the street level. Just as planned, there was a sizable thicket surrounding this derelict part of Canterlot’s street. You could tell it was part of the street from the gutter, but large thorns had overgrown the wall of this building, making it quite easy to stay concealed. Not to mention that the thorns kept away any prying eyes. Not that many eyes came prying into thorn bushes anyways.

I pushed the grate all the way open, climbing out and letting myself stretch. The hollowed out area was big enough for even I to stand in. Letting me swing my arms above my head with clearance. Flick followed suit, slowly arching her back, and letting her stretch her forelegs and wings. We glanced at each other, drinking in the awkward moment. We shifted our sight to another position after a few tense moments, daring each other to make the first move. I decided to shatter the strangely formed social ice, and began to replace the metal grate to its resting place.

“Where to now then? I don’t see an exit through these brambles.” said Flick, her tone was one of boredom.

I pointed to the wall beside us, the only structure on the street that was currently visible to us. The thorns curled over the destroyed road, leaving this part of the building concealed. And I knew how to navigate.

I slowly moved my hands over the stonework. The switch was very small. Which was odd considering that this was a Pony construct. It would be near impossible for a hoof to push the intricate mechanism. Perhaps it was made for a Unicorn?

I found the button, taking a quick breath. I gave it a sharp press with my thumb, the small pebble giving way, before clicking back into its place. The sound of old gears and stone grinding against stone could be heard below. I turned back to Flick, grinning at her shocked expression.

Slowly, the wall lowered, separating from the small awning below the boarded window above. What revealed to us was a large tunnel, darkness painting itself against the high sunlight filtering through the sharp plantlife. I backed up, waiting till the stone door had completely lowered. Flick just stared, her jaw agape in wonder. The stone stopped with a loud thud and a following click. I tapped Flick’s jaw shut, her teeth clattering together in a very comical way. I moved forward, leaving her standing in the thicket. The shadows inked the walls, leaving me alone in the shadows. My element was comforting, even if they weren’t as great a secret as they had been not a minute ago. Eventually, I could hear Flick trotting from behind, catching up to me in the tunnels.

Again, we found ourselves sloping downwards, the hidden tunnel more gentle in gradient. The inky blackness here was too great even for my keen eye. I let my hand slide across the newer tunnels, more for assistance in walking rather than feeling. The well built passage was fine, but it didn’t have the ancient appeal that the catacombs had.

We walked for what would have been half an hour, turning several times, each of which Flick would bump into the wall and squeak with fright. Apart from that, the only noise in the echoing dark was the sound of Flicks hoof steps.  Finally, after the seventh turn in the dark, i could see our destination. The light was faint, but in the solid darkness of this tunnel, it seemed almost too bright. the tunnel ended, leaving a small hole to jump down through. I had traveled this place often, and I knew the way was clear up to the drop. I ran ahead, leaving Flick behind without a noise. I reached the drop in no time, only looking back as I heard Flick whimper and begin to trot ahead to where I was. I slowly peered down through the wooden cover, the small cracks providing a sparse view of below. Thought there wasn’t much to look at. All I could see of the place below was the wooden floor-boards, and the slow flicker of a fire somewhere to  the side.

Flick finally caught up, panting in unrestricted terror, rather than exertion. She gave me a stink-eye, as she always did whenever I pulled something she didn’t agree with… Or, even when I did anything, to be honest. I just grinned, and poked a tongue out at her. She sat on her haunches, crossing her forelegs with a huff. I poked my fingers through the wooden holes, and lifted the trap-door up on its hinge, allowing flick to enter first.

She jumped down, no sound of her fall residing, due to her just flying down. Though the gap wasn’t too far. I carefully edged my way, judging the distance and positioning the trap-door before letting myself fall. With practice and precision that would make a Tibetan monk jealous, I fell and landed on the floor, soundlessly. The trap-door above made a small clat.

I found myself in a very familiar room. It was exactly where we needed to be. Flick just hovered there, a dumbfounded look on her face.

We were in Sampson's house.

Sampson was my fence, and one of the only ponies that truly cared for my well being. Half so because I was his best contact, and half so we had known each other for as long as I had decided to properly settle down in Equestria. He was my Fence, and I was his best. His straight forward attitude and talkative tendencies were some qualities which let him connect so easily. He would yap on about whatever stupid situation had ailed him that week, and I would listen and agree. He gave me the job, I come back a week later with the job finished, he would talk, I would listen. Next job. And that was our routine for the past 8 years.

We stood in his workshop. A great many shelves and work-benches overflowing with contracts, broken tools, and various bits and pieces kept as mementos from his more ambitious jobs. I identified a few lying about as ones from my jobs.

An open Fire pit roared as a homely flame kept the space warm. Although it was the dead of summer, Down in the Thieves Guild. Due to the tunnels ending as sewer exits of the great mountain city, the constant winds blowing through kept the place rather cold all year round. Despite any current temperature on the surface. A few pony sized chairs were loosely assembled around the flame, as well as a rather rugged looking chair built specially for me. None of which were currently occupied.

“But… wait…. I’ve been in this room so many times. And how did I never notice that hole in the roof-” Flick cut herself off as she looked at the ceiling. Where the wooden grate should have been, was now featureless stone, as the rest of the ceiling. “Of course, BUCKING MAGIC!”

She snorted in annoyance as she actually looked around the room for any sign of our quarry. “Sampson must be out at the markets. We should go look for him.”

I shrugged. He was normally here whenever I arrived. It was almost uncanny. But I guess he wasn’t specifically expecting me to show up. Lord knows how he did predict when I was coming, though I never gave it much thought.

Flick walked towards the large iron door, unlocking it with a swift motion of her hoof, and swinging the soundless hatch open. I had been to the massive underground city before. Many times before. But never via Sampsons house. The idea of entering and leaving his place without permission seemed wrong. But I guess if we locked it first, it wouldn’t matter. As Flick forwarded out into the silent town below, I removed my lock picking tools from my small hip satchel and got to work. The lock could only be re-locked from the other side if you had the proper key…  or the correct knowledge on these things.

I pushed a small button along the side of the door, deactivating the magical masks in the lock. With a subtle hum, the noise indicating that the runes had deactivated, I tried to recall what Sampsons key was shaped like. I had committed it to memory, if by habit rather than needing a reason besides now to know it. I pulled a few needle-sized hooks from the satchel too, moving close to the door as I began to move the delicate pins within into their correct positions. Slowly I moved my spike along the hooks, keeping them in position before springing the tumbler in the centre.

The lock gave a satisfying click as the three large lock-paddles sprung out. They were curved on one edge, allowing me to  pull the door closed after the fact. Maintaining my hooks positions, I pushed the small button again, before sliding my hooks and spike out from the lock. I gave the door a gentle tug, letting the momentum from my action to close the door proper. As the door came closed, there was a subtle flash, indicating that the runes had reactivated. I smirked. Too easy.

To my surprise, Flick had silently watched me do it. She had seen lockpicking before, but never with this much precision. She smirked back at me, pleased by my talent. I ruffled her mane playfully, the condescending action causing her to become angry again. She smacked me in the face with her wing, but I was prepared this time. I didn’t hurt as bad, but I still suppressed the girlish noise of pain.

The path ahead was dark, the blundering street had doors upon doors, all sealed by magic locks and boarded windows. Apparently, there was a time when no thief in the Thieves Guild feared theft from his neighbor, out of sheer communal respect for the trade. But as the less savory individuals trickled into the underworld of Canterlot, things got bad. For me, at least, things had always been bad.

The street was only lit by one nearby lantern, hanging above Sampson's door. The ire white-light did not flicker or wane in the gloom, holding a steady luminescence while seeming to amplify the dark beyond its grasp. The narrow path ahead was almost completely dark though.

We walked on, looking over our shoulders as practiced. The thugs down here were problematic. But if you kept an eye on your corners, you were fine. Especially if you had the reputation that I did. Coming to a Crossroad, Flick kicked a rock past the corner, waiting for anyone to spring to action… No pony did.

We continued on straight, till there was a door. This was no ordinary door though. It was a Door of Deception. It would detect the motives of those who sought to pass through before opening. Upon the door was a painted eye, the red smeared paint seemed to glisten in the dark. But the more peculiar feature of this eye was its animation. The painted symbol moved as it watched us approach.

   “Halt, ye Stranger and Feind of the darks yonder. What business have ye here that concerns the realm of Burglars and Thieves?” spoke the door. Its riddling voice always reminded me of something, but I could never put my finger on what. Flick spoke for us.

“We seek trade in the city yonder. Let us pass, for we are the scoundrels you seek.”

The door remained silent for a time while it examined us. It peered at Flick, before looking me up and down. These doors did retain memory, though I had never passed this one in particular. It examined my every detail. Looking over the bow and quiver on my back, my various satchels on my hip, my leather coat and breeches. It stopped at my face. I knew it was examining my eye with interest. All the other doors that I passed through always looked too. The painted symbol seemed to quiver. In fear or excitement, I know not. But it blinked, as if coming to its senses.

“Ye may pass. I sense the greed in your souls, and your deeds and company are welcome here.” The symbol began to shimmer and vanish before the door clicked, and swung aside for us. We forwarded through, holding our breaths as we did. I could- feel the door almost hold its breath too. I didn’t hesitate, waiting till Flick was clear before jumping through the opening. The door closed as I jumped through, my leg almost getting caught in its grasp. I knew not why the doors had such interest in my eye. But then again, I didn't know much about it myself

Beyond the door, we were greeted by the sound of many hooves, all passing about one another, though there was very little actual dialogue amongst the throng. Many merchants harked out their wares at almost all times of night, preferring to rest during the more common times in the day, when everyone was up and outside. Food, Fenced Jewelry, Lock picking tools, weapons, smoke bombs and teleportation orbs. You name it, you could probably buy it at the Thieves Guild. As for the stuff you couldn’t, thats where the Master Thieves came in to the equation. You pay them with a magically sealed chest, that would only open when the customer was satisfied, and could not be removed from the Guild Bank till both parties had reached an agreement. This ingenious magical system meant that even for a city of thieves, there was rarely any theft.

Ponies and other creatures dealing at this time of day would only ever whisper. And fewer still, the merchants only sat nearby, not actively selling their goods unless something came over to look. Stealth and secrecy were key at these times of day, so everything kept a minimal profile.

Only during the night, when ponies believed this place haunted did the true spirit of the underground markets come to life.

But for now. The silence despite the hundred or so dark figures moving about the stalls was… simply put, strange to witness. I had never gotten used to it.

Although the main focal point of this section of the city was the sea of stalls and shops, the huge hodgepodge of buildings that filled the huge artificial cavern sprawled atop one another, the poor constructs held together with gravity rather than ingenuity. The towering structures scraped up against the roof high above, leaning on one another for support. It looked more like a dragon of scaffolding, rather than actual dwellings. Some of the buildings were even furnished with clouds for their Pegasus inhabitants. Allowing a loft home without the worry of collapse. What few solid buildings did exist only held up on the bottom of the cavernous city area. the rest were a mess of slums and shanties all stacked atop one another.

Flick pointed to the sleazy tavern across the Market, its patrons making the only proper rowe of a city. We made our way through the crowd, keeping wings and hands attached to our pockets and valuables. We could see the regular pickpockets coming our way, but stared them down when they came close. Besides that, most of the other denizens kept their distance. They knew who I was.

The Under-city was mostly safe from the authorities of the surface, due to the expertly woven propaganda campaign the guild had devised. They would always have older ponies, or even just bards tell tales all over Equestria about the ancient under vaults. Roamed by Crystal Guardians that could eat an earth-pony stallion in one gulp. This kept the normal citizens well away from the entrances, and the Guards wary. The gurgling of the merchants at night helped perpetuate this story, the long echoing voices making quite a fearful noise when you first entered any of the entrances.

I saw movement to my right, the various ponies and creatures stepping aside to reveal some rather familiar faces. Tonights group of Thugs were regulars of mine. Shadow Bash and his two male junkies. They were almost never seen without each other, which made me wonder about their preference of gender.

I smirked as they approached, their looks of smug defiance told me that they had been drinking, and were in the mood to bully “The Ape” as they had come to call me. When they would finally learn was a mystery. The must not have seen Flick standing nearby either.

“Hey ‘Ape! what do you think you’re doing on our turf, huh? We told you never to come around here.” Said Shadow, his slight stumble told me novels about how drunk he was. His friends snickered, laughing in agreement at his ‘creative’ joke. The other ponies started to clear off, our history of battles had a very unsavory record. Especially since the Western Tavern incident. I had humiliated Bash quite a bit during that one scuff. This time would be no different.

I always kept a passive stance till I was physically berated. I never liked to hurt anything unless absolutely necessary. Their stench of unclean swarmed over my senses, the distinct flare of alcohol prominent on their breaths. Shadow Bash got real close, standing himself up on my chest so he could look me in the eyes. I considered kissing him, but he would probably enjoy it.

“Is something wrong, friends. You lot seem quite sizzled tonight.” I said cheekily. They all swayed ever so slightly, indicating they had been in the taverns for most of the day. Shadow Bash still swayed, despite his  extra support from my frame.

“Don’t get smart with me, monkey. I won’t tolerateh your inch’rushn on my turfff.” He slurred, his breath almost choking me to the point of tears. I held my breath, reeling my head back as I waited for what was about to come. I could feel it coming, the rumbling of his stomach made me cringe.

He belched, right in my face. I couldn't stand the smell! So I reeled back, moving past some stalls in one quick swoop. The three laughed as I retreated. But little did they know, I had left them quite alone with their worst nightmare. Heh… Night Mare…

I heard one of them shriek, as a flurry of snaps, sounding like a machine gun began to whir up, faster and faster. The other two ran away in any direction, while Shadow Bash just cowered. Flick was upon them. She quickly whipped her wings, smacking them in the face, eyes and ears. The others had fled, letting Flick deal with Shadow alone.

“Now mister-” *whip* “Shadow Bash-” *whip* “I thought I had made it very clear.” *whip*  “You are not to- DON’T BUCKING LOOK AT ME!!!!” *whip* *whip* *whip* “You are not to even TALK to Garrett anymore. You drunken buffoon!!”

“I’m sooooo-reeeheheheeeeey!” he cried, sobbing in a heap, more crying for his intoxicated delirium rather than for the furious ball of feathers that was Flick. She was so goddamn pissed. I was glad I was hiding over here.

“Now WHAT is all the Celestia-damned rebel over here then? WHAT are you doing outside the tavern Shadow Bash. GET BACK in there and get you slosh on.” I recognised that voice anywhere. Sampson had managed to find us instead. Though that wasn’t a very hard feat, considering the amount of noise we were making. Shadow Dash whimpered, before scampering back into the crowd. Tears of pain streaming down his messy face.

And before me was the legendary Sampson L Jepsen. His White coat, contrasted against the dark shroud across his shoulders. His short brown mane was well kept, relatively speaking, while his hardened features were only amplified by the large unlit cigar clamped tightly in his teeth. He gave Flick quite the stare, before scanning the surrounding stalls, probably looking for me.

I stood up, brushing my coat of dirt that had been so placed there by the recent thug. I watched Sampson as he stared back at me. He seemed to grumble, but nodded in approval. I nodded back, moving up to talk with them. Flick was a quivering mess of anger.

“You think they’d learn, but those BUCKING fools don't know when to quit. Do they even have a proper reason for being down here? Or are they just seeking refugee for being in one too many stupid brawl fights?!?”

“Alright, alright” Sampson cooed. “We need to use our inside voices again. Nothing can be done about them, honestly. Though you seemed to have traumatised them quite efficiently. Come-on. I’ve done my shopping for the day, and It looks like you have some kind of job stashed away for me. Lets go.”

The crowd had long resumed its normal procession. No noise came from them, if but a few gasps at the way Flick had reacted. They all went along, if keeping a few more meters away from us now. We headed back to the Door of Deception. Though I couldn’t complain. I never really liked the markets, even when locals were being rowdy.

“So what brings you two to my company then? Considering our professions, I would suspect a job….” Sampson, leaning back, gave Flicks Saddle-bags a good look.

“And by the looks of you satchel there Flick, we got ourselves quite the catch. Can I see blueprints there as well. Why if I hadn’t known better I’d say you were stepping up your game from the nobility jobs…” exclaimed Sampson, being quite Ironic. Flick puffed out her chest proudly while I laughed. Sampson gave me an inquisitive look, but I just smirked back.

“You have no idea.”