Prologue: The Deal
On the outskirts of Dodge Junction, past the many acres of cherry farms, lay a simple house. Its design was basic, almost to a fault. The one-story flat boasted two windows on its red-painted front side, with a blank wooden door set between them. Ponies would pass right by it, their eyes ignoring its total plainness the way one ignores a single tree within a forest. Most ponies would, anyway. The Earth Pony stallion currently eyeing the building with a skeptical gaze however, was not like most ponies.
The stallion looked upon the building before him, fighting the urge to roll his soft pink eyes. Instead, he adjusted his hat, allowing it to cover most of his close-cropped, chestnut mane. Casting a quick glance back at the orchards behind him, he confirmed that they were empty of possible witnesses before stepping out from the shade of a cherry tree. As he emerged into the sunlight, his dull, sickly grey coat seemed to ignore the light streaming down upon his thin, wiry frame. His tail, matching his mane in both color and length, flicked about nervously. His Cutie Mark, partially hidden by the small set of saddlebags he wore, was the image of a rolled-up blueprint.
Just like him. The stallion thought. Always overcompensating. Chuckling to himself, he strode forward, finally drawing level to the door, his gaze was drawn to the welcome mat. Or what would have been a welcome mat, if not for the large words NO SOLICITORS replacing the traditional sentiment.
Ignoring this, the stallion simply lifted a hoof and rapped thrice upon the door, before stepping back and waiting patiently. About a minute later, during which loud grumbles and shuffling about could be heard through the door, it opened, revealing another stallion.
This new stallion, with regards to his new visitor, was massive in comparison. His large, stocky frame was supported by a thick layer of muscles that seemed to tense with each breath he took. His dull red coat and purple mane gave the impression of a large, bruised fruit, supported by the small scars adorning his forelegs and withers. Atop his head sat a small, stunted horn, the only visible thing about him that seemed less than enormous. His Cutie Mark depicted a pair of cherry bombs sharing the same lit fuse. His soft brown eyes flitted down to the stallion upon his doorstep, and narrowed sharply, as an irritated sneer formed upon his face.
The grey stallion smiled. “Hey there, D. How’s-“ SLAM! The stallion sighed as the door shut in his face, cutting him off. Putting on a bored expression, he began again. “Come on D, let’s not do this.”
“Go. Away. Brain.” A gruff voice answered from within the house.
Brain grinned smugly. “So you do remember me.”
“Yeah, that’s why I closed the bucking door.” ‘D’ snapped back.
Brain rolled his eyes. “For pony’s sake D, I just want to talk.”
“We are talking.” D drawled in response.
Bringing a hoof to his face, Brain allowed his annoyance to creep into his tone as he continued, “I meant talking inside. You know I’m not just going to leave, Black Cherry. So let’s just-“ Brain was cut off once again as the door flew open, and the enraged visage of the so-named Black Cherry emerged from the building.
“Don’t you bucking call me that, Brain!” He growled. “You know I hate that stupid name!”
Gotcha. Brain thought complacently. “Because it’s a-“
“Yes, because it’s a bucking euphemism!” ‘D’ snapped angrily.
Chortling to himself, Brain continued, “Alright then, Dodge. Are you willing to talk now? I don’t plan on leaving, and it’ll look pretty conspicuous to anypony who comes by, seeing me waiting out here.” He smiled, relishing the moment as Dodge’s anger gave way to panic.
Dodge glanced from Brain to the rest of the orchard, quickly sweeping the area for anypony who might see his visitor, before turning and striding back into his house. Tossing a glance over his shoulder, Dodge snapped curtly, “Get in.”
Complying with a smirk, Brain trailed Dodge into the home, as the magenta glow of Dodge’s magic slammed the door behind him. He followed Dodge as the Unicorn led him into a small living room, empty save for a pair of plush chairs, a plain wooden coffee table, and a small fireplace.
Allowing himself to flop into one of the chairs, Dodge watched as Brain neatly seated himself on the other. “Alright Brain, what’s this about. Because whatever it is, I can tell you now I’m not interested.” He stated firmly.
Brain gave a winning smile. “Oh, I think you’ll change your mind once you hear what I have to say.”
“Then say it.” Dodge deadpanned. “Quit wasting my time, and get to the point.”
Brain’s expression fell, and he sighed in irritation. “I’m putting a crew together.” He said bluntly.
“Not interested.” Dodge said simply, pulling himself to his hooves. “Thanks for stopping by, always good to see old-well, I wouldn’t call you a friend, but-“
“Oh will you just quit it?” Brain snapped, crossing his forelegs as he glared at Dodge. “You can’t honestly tell me you’re not ready to get back in business yet, it’s been more than five years! When are you going to give up this bullshit and get back in the game?”
Dodge snarled in response. “This bullshit is the family business, and for your information I’m quite happy here. Cousin Jubilee’s got me set up with a nice, cushy job protecting the cherry orchard, and I don’t have to constantly worry about being shot, arrested, or executed. It’s not the most exciting of lives, but it’s safe, and it’s mine. So with all due respect Brain, get the buck out of my house.”
Brain listened to Dodge’s rant in silence, a small smirk upon his face. When he finished, the grey stallion calmly reached back into his saddlebags and withdrew three plain manila folders. Setting them down on the table, he said, “These are the profiles for the three candidates I’ve lined up. Give them a look-see, and if you’re interested, you know where to find me.”
With that, he got up from the seat, and waited for Dodge to do the same. The Unicorn wordlessly led Brain back towards the door, before opening it with his magic and fixing him with a flat stare. Sighing, Brain stepped forward, stopping in the frame and turning his gaze towards Dodge. “We’re going to do this with or without you Dodge. I came here because you’re the best at what you do, and I thought you wanted to make use of that. If you want to waste your potential just to prove me wrong, then fine. But if you want to go out there and do the only thing you were ever any good at, then let me know.” Dodge said nothing, save for intensifying his glare. Brain scowled, then trotted out the door, wincing as it slammed shut behind him.
As the door closed beside him, Dodge released the breath he’d been holding in a weary, drawn-out sigh. Sparing one last glance at the door, he turned away from it and stomped back down the hall, emerging into his kitchen a moment later. Using his magic to open the fridge, he scanned its contents, before his gaze settled on one of the many red-striped bottles that adorned the shelves. Snatching it in his magic, he popped the cork with a quick burst of telekinesis, before bringing it to his lips and taking a swig. As the amber liquid washed past his lips, he failed to stifle a grimace. “Always buckin’ brandy.” He groaned. “Would it kill ‘em to make some cider for once?” Nevertheless, he continued to drain the bottle, as he made his way back into the living room.
Plopping back onto the nearest chair, he grabbed the bottle with his hoof and released his magic. Taking another pull on the bottle, he sat back and sighed. Dodge considered allowing himself to drift off into a short stupor, when the folders on the table before him caught his eye. The plain manila folders seemed to call to him, causing his curiosity to burn more intensely with each passing moment. Couldn’t hurt to just look. His curiosity prompted. You aren’t agreeing to anything just by sneaking a peek. It goaded. Finally, Dodge relented with an aggravated grunt, and allowed his magic to envelope one of the folders and levitate it towards him.
Opening the folder, the first thing that drew his eye was the photo paper-clipped to the rest of the papers. It depicted what was clearly meant to be a candid shot of a middle-aged zebra mare, her striped mane cropped into a short crew cut as strict and regimented as the bearing with which she held herself. Her slim form seemed to be no larger than average, but rippled with muscle. Her Cutie Mark (or the Zebra equivalent, anyway) depicted a trio of swirls, giving the impression of a gust of wind. Lastly, her emerald eyes were locked in the direction of the camera. Clearly, whoever had tried to take this without her knowledge had failed to escape her notice.
A zebra huh? Not too hard to hide, I suppose. A good suit, a mask, and bingo! Smirking to himself, he moved to read the rest of the dossier.
Name: Zeroni
Alias: “Stripes”
Age: 35
Race: Zebra (Mare)
Place of Origin: Rustripe, Manecaland, Zebrabwe, Zebrica
Current Residence: Apt. 303, Bayview Housing, Lower Manehattan, Equestria
Occupation: Mercenary, formerly Sergeant in NZC
Recommended Role: Ghost/Medic
Bio: Born in a small tribe in Zebrica, Zeroni was the daughter of the village shaman. Raised to be her mother’s successor, she was trained in the art of alchemy and herbal medicine. However, due to unknown circumstances, she abandoned her village in favor of joining the National Zebrican Corps. After displaying exceptional service, including participating in the famous battle for Zenghardi, she was promoted to Sergeant and given command of a small special-operations unit. Ten years and twenty successful classified missions later, the infamous Zebrican Coup occurs, dividing the country into a bitter civil war. Likely fearing for her family’s safety, Zeroni abandoned her post and fled to her home village. She successfully managed to evacuate her family as well as several others, and flee to Equestria for asylum. However, due to the forced nature of their emigration, as well as the danger associated with returning, her family was forced to leave all their wealth behind when they fled. Bitless and lost in a new land, they wound up in the slums of Lower Manehatten. I contacted her with the offer of joining the crew and though initially hesitant, she accepted readily. Amazing what throwing a few numbers around can do, eh?
Side Notes: I saw the look of that shithole she and her family was staying in. From the look of it, every bit is going to go towards supporting them. Good for us, it keeps her motivated despite her usual “law abiding” behavior. Also, her name comes from her being a Sergeant, NOT being a Zebra. DO NOT mix it up.
As Dodge skimmed the rest of the dossier, which contained a more detailed account of her records and skill sets, he had to admit he was impressed. If these records held any truth to them, then the mare was clearly a specialist in stealth and subterfuge. Even better, her shamanistic upbringing apparently gifted her with a wealth of knowledge in the field of medicine.
Setting the folder down Dodge couldn’t help but acknowledge that it was certainly an impressive résumé. Still though, he thought skeptically, one good mare does not a heist crew make. With this in mind, he levitated the next folder up.
Upon opening it, Dodge felt his jaw drop open in shock. Wh-What the buck is that thing?
There within the pages of the folder lay the picture of what Dodge could only assume to be some sort of large, bipedal dog. It’s thick, muscular, frame was hunched over, and covered in a thick coat of sandy brown fur. Set in its face were two beady black eyes that shone with a sort of sharp intelligence that set Dodge’s teeth on edge. Confusion quickly building, he continued on, hoping the contents would shed some light on this strange creature.
Name: Worg
Alias: N/A
Age: 29
Race: Diamond Dog (Dog)
Place of Origin: Rex’s Cove, The Badlands
Current Residence: Rambling Rock Ridge
Occupation: N/A, formerly Chief Engineer for Rex’s Cove
Recommended Role: Technician/Weapons Specialist
Bio: Born and raised in the depths of Rex’s Cove, a gem-laden cavern on the southeastern coast of Equestria, Worg was found to be one of the few members of his species capable of semi-intelligent thought. Worg used this to quickly climb the ranks of the engineering clan, becoming Chief Engineer for Rex’s Cove’s gem mines before he reached his twenties. Too bad for him, he ended up shagging the wrong Alpha’s bitch, and soon enough found himself under heavy pressure to resign, before somepony, or somedog, made him. Enraged at what he saw to be an injustice against him, he spent his last day at work sabotaging the entirety of the mine’s mechanical systems. Given that he designed a vast majority of them, it’s no small wonder that he was able to set the clan back technologically more than 500 years in one afternoon. Either on purpose or through sheer dumb luck, he managed to avoid any casualties with this stunt. As a result, rather than a death sentence he found himself banished. The next few years are a bit hazy, or so he says, but eventually he found himself renting space from a smaller Diamond Dog clan located in Rambling Rock Ridge. Apparently he’s been spending his time developing some inventions of his that he never got off the ground, and from what I’ve seen, they’ll come in real handy.
Side Notes: Now I’m just going to assume you’ve never met a diamond dog before, Dodge. In short, they’re (relatively) intelligent dogs with a penchant for mining and a lust for shiny things. The best part though, is their less than moral business practices. They’re like an entire race of fences! As for our guy Worg, he’s surprisingly smart for a diamond dog, but he doesn’t like ponies much. Recommend not pissing him off. As for his alias, apparently it’s tradition for banished dogs’ names to be erased from any official records, as part of their exile. Bad for Worg, but good for us.
Dodge finished reading the intel, sparing a few glances towards the blueprints attached to the dossier, before huffing in exasperation. A Zebra I get, but come on! Part of this job is subtlety, about being inconspicuous. I won’t be able to do that with a… He checked the file. Six foot dog running around! Taking another swig on the bottle, Dodge allowed himself to calm down. Ah well, it’s not like the next one can be any more… Dodge opened the file, looked at the photo attached, and facehooved.
The source of his frustration was the image of a tall, sturdily built griffon. The front half of the griffon’s body was swathed in a thick coat of dark grey feathers which slowly gave way to tan plumage as it approached his chest. His beak, colored a shade of grey slightly darker than his chest, was set into a casual grin that didn’t quite manage to reach his amber-colored eyes. His rear half was covered in a short coat of fur whose tan color matched the feathers of his wings, and his tail bore a small tuft of fur at the end that was the same shade of grey as his plumage. Everything, from his build to his posture, gave Dodge the impression of a gruff, most likely military type. Steeling himself, he turned his attention to the attached intel.
Name: Gabriel Greymane
Alias: Hawkston
Age: 37
Race: Griffon (Tercel)
Place of Origin: Hawkston, Blackbeak Hold, Griffon Kingdoms
Current Residence: 4209 Sunnyside Avenue, San Farrier Valley, Las Pegasus
Occupation: Mercenary, formerly Royal Guard of House Blackbeak
Recommended Role: Enforcer/Crowd Control
Bio: A natural-born member of the Blackbeak Kingdom, Gabriel took up the family tradition of joining the Royal Guard. This didn’t turn out well when he failed to prevent an assassination of the local ruler, Lord Garfield Blackbeak XIX. He wasn’t directly responsible, but I guess they needed a scapegoat. Long story short, he was dishonorably discharged, and disowned by his family in an attempt to avoid disgrace. He took up mercenary work for the next few years, eventually marrying a former prostitute by the name of Silky Skies. Before you ask, yeah she’s a pony. Or was, given that she died giving birth to their child, a hippogriff, named Gail Force. Of course, the kid didn’t come without issues of her own. In case you didn’t know, hybrids like them always lead to complications for both the parents and the child, and Gail is no exception. She was born with a congenital heart defect, one that requires constant, and expensive, treatment. He’s desperate for coin, so I sought him out. From what I saw, he’s good. Very, very good. He’s got a way with ponies like you wouldn’t believe. I think you’ll be impressed with him.
Side Notes: When I say this guy is desperate, I mean it. When I mentioned the questionable nature of our endeavors, he said and I quote, “I will steal Celestia’s Sprits-damned crown if it will allow me to provide for my daughter.” Good to know he won’t let the job come second. Since he’s living in Las Pegasus, most jobs will be a bit of a hike for him, but he’s assured me this won’t be a problem. Apparently he’s got a niece living with him who can foalsit when necessary.
Ignoring the attached list of the griffon’s skills and professional history, Dodge tossed the folder away with a grunt of disgust. That’s just par for the course, isn’t it? A zebra sergeant, a Diamond Dog engineer, and a psychotic Griffon father. He gave a small, bitter chuckle. I guess Brain figures I’ll complete the set. Ain’t like I’m an epitome of normalcy myself. He mused, moving to take another pull on the bottle. To his disappointment, he found it to be empty. Sighing wearily, he set the bottle down on the table. As he did so however, he spotted a glimpse of white peeking out from beneath one of the folders. Curiosity again taking control, he gripped it with his magic and pulled. He was rewarded for his efforts as a single sheet of paper was lifted into the air before him. At first, he believed it to be a loose paper that had fallen loose from one of the dossiers. As he began reading the page however, he realized that this wasn’t the case.
Dodge,
The first line, no more than a single word, immediately told him that this was in fact a note from Brain. Dodge’s brow knitted in confusion. A letter? What the buck? His confusion was born of the fact that for as long as Dodge had known him, Brain never communicated on such a personal level. However casual his reports may be, they were always exactly that: reports. They were never more than clinical listings of strengths and weaknesses, and any illusion of personality was simply the product of Brain’s dry sense of humor. And if for whatever reason Brain felt a report was inadequate, he dealt with things in person. The meeting between the two was a prime example of this style of management. But never, in all the years that Dodge had known him, had Brain begun any correspondence with such a personal greeting. Understandably enthralled, Dodge shook of his surprise and began reading again.
Dodge,
I know that this may seem like it’s coming outta nowhere. You’re probably wondering what could be so important that I went back on my promise. Why after five years, I came to see you. I could tell you that I missed you, that I think you’re the only pony for this job, but we both know that’s bullshit. There are other candidates, ones that are younger, faster, and stupid enough not to question if it’s worth it. But for what I have in mind, I need ponies I can trust. As sad as it sounds, this means you. I’m not going to lie, Dodge. I’ve been keeping an eye on you. Get pissed if you want, but remember that I’ve seen how you’ve been living. Or rather, the lack thereof. You’re wasting away, Dodge! More than that, you’re wasting yourself. This is the only thing you’re any good at, Dodge. You know it, and you know that no amount of self-pity and booze is going to change that. Now I’m not going to force you into this, not after what happened with the others. I’m just giving you an option, a chance, to make something of yourself again. Take it if you want, you know where to find me.
Brain
Dodge read the note only once, and by the end, was sorely tempted to set the paper alight. A snarl had formed upon his face, which slowly grew smaller as he wrestled his anger down before he was forced to act on it. He levitated the letter down to the table, before sitting back and bringing his forehooves up to rub at his tired eyes. Lowering his hooves, Dodge cast his gaze down at the table, studying the items laid out before him. His gaze shifted from the letter, to the folders, before finally settling on the bottle.
I need another drink.
Brain sat hunched over his desk, sifting through the various mountains of papers with increasing frustration. File after file was lifted, then discarded, each one blank save for a large stamp reading REJECTED in bright red ink.
Giving a groan of frustration, Brain cocked a hoof back and tossed the unfortunate file in his grasp at the opposite wall. Wrong wrong wrong WRONG! He seethed inwardly. Two weeks, dozens of candidates and none of them are good enough! Brain propped his elbows up against the table, running his hooves through his mane in a futile attempt to quell his rising headache.
Suddenly, the rustling of his apartment’s doorknob caused him to snap his attention towards it, his eyes widening into the size of dinner plates. Oh no, oh sweet Celestia! They’ve found me! They’ve- The logical part of his mind took over, quashing those thoughts. No, it can’t be. There’s still time, I still have-
“Brain! Open up, ya jackass!” A familiar voice sounded out from behind the door, accompanied by a staccato burst of knocks. “I know yer in there, ya bashtard!” It called.
Getting up from his chair, Brain walked over to the door, confusion etched upon his features. Reaching up, he undid the multitude of locks that adorned his door, before wrenching it open, to reveal Dodge, The stallion wavered slightly on Brain’s doorstep, a drunken snarl on his face, as an empty whiskey bottle floated beside him in a flickering telekinetic grip.
The sight of the stallion before him caused Brain’s lip to instinctively curl in disgust. His mane was disheveled, and matted with dirt and sweat. His eyes were bloodshot and unfocused. His teeth were yellowed, and stretched into a grimace that allowed the harsh stench of alcohol to accompany each breath.
Doing his best to hide his revulsion, Brain said, “Dodge? What in Tartarus are you doing here?” Giving the swaying Dodge another glance, he added, “And why in Celestia’s name are you drunk?”
“That’s not important!” Dodge snapped, waving a hoof. “I’m here ta tell ya that I’m in.”
Brain stared, open-mouthed at Dodge for a moment, as the drunken stallion’s words hung in the air. “…Excuse me?” He said, finally. “What exactly are you talking about?” Dear Luna, his accent is back. How drunk is he? He thought.
“Whaddaya think I’m talkin’ about, ya mook? The job! You want me in yer crew? Fine! I’m in!” Dodge slurred, stamping a hoof for emphasis. Brain could only stare dumbly at him in response. Quickly losing patience, he added, “Well? Ya gonna tell me where to meet ya or what?”
Brain’s mind quickly snapped into action, considering Dodge’s offer. Sweet Celestia, he’s a mess! I knew he’s gotten into the drink since I last saw him, but now? I can’t use him like this! Brain frowned, casting a look back at the desk, piled high with other, failed candidates for Dodge’s position. Then again, this is exactly what I’ve been hoping for, isn’t it? It’s not like I have much of a choice… Sighing, Brain shook his head sadly. Nah, I can’t. I could trap him into it now, but that’ll only cause conflict eventually. Better to reject him now, than have him quit later.
So, steeling himself, Brain met Dodge’s gaze and answered, “D, I can’t accept you. Not now, not like this.” Dodge opened his mouth to retort, but Brain silenced him with a hoof. “D, come on now. You’re drunk.”
“I know!” Dodge replied, cutting in with a snarl. “I’m drunk. I’ve been drunk almost every night for five years, and I’m sick of it! I’m sick of having nothing better to do than drown myself in this stuff ‘cause it’s the only thing I can think of! I wanna be a part of something again, Brain. I… I wanna do somethin’ with myself!” Dodge’s expression fell with each word, until by the end he resembled a sagging, empty-eyed shell of who he was just moments ago. “I wanna matter, Brain.”
Brain sighed, giving Dodge a sympathetic frown. As he took in the sight of the broken stallion before him, he felt an honest pang of regret at having contacted him again in the first place. “Look D, I get what you’re saying, but this is just the drink talking, okay? You told me before, you have a life now. Back in Dodge Junction, with your family.”
“Ah, that’s bullshit, Brain.” Dodge grunted back, waving a hoof disgustedly. “I just said that ‘cause I was pissed. Hell, Jubilee only gave me that job ‘cause she was afraid of what I’d do without it. Fact is, you were right. The only thing I was ever any good at, the only thing I ever will be good at, was helpin’ you. I read yer letter, and-“
“Woah woah woah, that’s what this is about?” Brain asked incredulously, waving his forehooves. “That bucking letter? I didn’t mean anything with that D, I just-“
“It doesn’t matter what ya meant, Brain! You were right! I’m good at what I do! The best, even! You know that, I know that, hay, the bucking Royal Guard knows that!” Dodge grinned maniacally, recalling the results of his skills in the past.
Brain observed Dodge’s expression with a look of pity. “But you don’t like doing what you do, D. You’ve told me so. Why the sudden urge?”
Dodge’s smile faltered, collapsing as quickly as it had appeared. “I… I just… Look, you’re right. I really don’t like the work we do. It hurts ponies. I’ve done a lot of things that I wish I could forget, and this bucking stuff,” he gestured to the bottle, sloshing its contents about messily, “doesn’t do the job. The only time I can remember not feeling bad about the things I’ve done, was when I was doing them. I can’t keep sitting around, tearing myself down anymore. I need to make it stop, Brain. If that means I have to go back, if I have to hurt ponies just to feel anything again, then fine. I’ll do it. I’m willing to do this, Brain. You were the one who came to me, so whaddya say?”
Dodge’s question hung in the air, leaving a silence that only served to exacerbate the noise of gears turning in Brain’s head. This isn’t the drink talking. He realized, searching Dodge’s gaze for signs of weakness. To his surprise however, Dodge’s grim expression betrayed nothing but determination. He means every word. Brain looked back again, glancing at the other files. He swallowed heavily, and turned back to Dodge. “Okay.” He said, defeated. “You’re in, D. Welcome aboard.” He stuck out a hoof to shake, which Dodge accepted with a firm nod.
Turning back towards his apartment, Brain approached the desk and grabbed a blank scrap of paper and a quill. Inking it quickly, he scrawled out a few lines before walking back to the door and hoofing it to Dodge. “If by some miracle you remember this conversation, and you’re serious, then show up at this time and address three days from now. We’re getting the crew together, and we’ll discuss our first job, understand?”
Dodge nodded, grasping the paper in his magic. “I got ya, Brain. You won’t regret this.” He turned away and trotted down the hall towards the stairs. Brain watched him go, until suddenly the Unicorn stopped at the top of the stairs, looking back with a solemn expression. “And Brain?” He began, his tone softer than before. “Thanks for this. I mean it.”
Brain nodded back, and Dodge turned away, carefully stepping down the stairs and out of sight. Brain closed the door, moving back to his chair and falling into it with a sigh. His eyes scanned across the surface of his desk, before locking on one of the many folders, just barely poking out from beneath a pile of other failed prospects. Leaning down, Brain carefully pulled it out with his mouth, before setting it down on the small patch of clear space on the desk’s surface. Ignoring the bright red REJECTED stamp across the front, Brain flipped it open and began to read.
Name: Black Cherry
Alias: Dodge
Age: 44
Race: Pony (Unicorn, Stallion)
Place of Origin: Charlietown, Brayston, Equestria
Current Residence: Cherry Hill Ranch, Dodge Junction, Equestria
Occupation: Night Watchman, formerly personal employee (see attached)
Recommended Designated Role: Mastermind/Demolitions
Bio: Born in the ghettos of Charlietown, Black Cherry was born into the Cherry family. This large clan is known for the criminal tendencies of its city-dwelling members, and Black was no different. Starting out as a small-time thug, Black Cherry quickly rose through the ranks, after discovering the many applications for his talent in explosives in his criminal endeavors. (See attached Cutie-Mark story for detailed account.) Eventually, he caught my attention. Seeing as we were both up and coming in the criminal underworld, I selected him to become a member of my own squad. He, as well as three personally-selected ponies became what the press would dub the Hayday Thieves. We successfully robbed dozens of banks throughout Equestria, until one day, it all went wrong. (See attached Royal Guard report.) By the end of it, Dodge was on the run, and the others were dead. Lucky for him, his identity wasn’t compromised, but nevertheless he decided to abandon his life in Brayston. He moved away to the outskirts of Equestria, specifically Dodge Junction, in order to begin working at his cousin’s cherry farm. Five years later, and he’s still there. What little tabs it’s possible to keep on him have given the impression that he’s grown bored. Maybe he’s ready to get back to work, maybe not. Time will tell.
Side Notes: One thing to note is that Dodge seems to have become an alcoholic. Possibly linked to survivor’s guilt or a sense of apathy from the adjustment to such a casual lifestyle. Worst case scenario, it’s CMDD. Hope to Celestia it isn’t, but it’s important to keep an eye on him. Detailed psychological profile to follow, pending treatment.
Brain sighed and closed the file. He’s a bucking mess. He concluded, his gaze lingering on the bright red stamp on the folder’s cover. But right now, I don’t have any choice. I need this. So, resigning himself to whatever fate may lie ahead, Brain snatched a quill and parchment, and began to write.
Grey,
Got a crew together. We’re good to go. You’ll have what I owe you in one week. Details to follow.
-Brain
Rolling up the scroll, Brain slipped it into his saddlebags and hoisted them onto his back before heading for the door.
He had a letter to send.
