A shadow, clad in dark clothing from head to hoof and almost indistinguishable from its surroundings even under the full moon, landed on one of the grimy rooftops of Manehattan South and immediately started running forward. The target of mysterious stranger was closer to the center of the city – mansion of Duke Golden Glitter, rumored collector of artifacts of great value and former adventurer. Thousands of bits in gold and jewels, put together with some prissy nobles and a dozen lazy guards? Piece of cake. The only thing that could give very determined shadow some trouble was the new security system, announced by Locksmith Brothers couple of weeks ago. Before actually making it available for more general public, the company wanted to test its effectiveness. And what better way to combine that with getting some good publicity, that to install it (or, rather, more polished and effective version of said system) in residences of several ponies with good social standing? Of course, it could easily bite “safety providers” in the flank, should somepony break through their new invention, but Brothers were pretty confident in it, and with a good reason. Complicated locks, masterfully disguised safes of solid steel, set of alarms, rigged to sound the moment something goes wrong and even pressure plates, calibrated with astonishing precision to match the weight of the client. All in all, at first there probably wasn’t a day without a false alarm, but a bit after installation took place some very stupid and incredibly unfortunate soul tried to break in. Thief got caught almost immediately; his face, twisted in fear, occupied the headlines, and Locksmiths opened a bottle of fine vintage to celebrate the successful test-run, proudly chattering in their office. The shadow knew, for he was in the same room at the time and, well, tried to pinch golden pocket watch from one of the brothers. Achieving that, he patiently waited in the shadows, unnoticed, and after hours cracked open the nearby safe, which, as it turned out, contained schematics of some less important parts of the system. Being moderately great at what he does (and deluding himself into thinking that he was the best among his kind), thief had taken this as a challenge. So now he was running through the rooftops, rapidly approaching his target and quietly whistling a happy tune. Right until a passing bird felt the urge to empty its bowels right on said thief’s shoulder. Pony halted, muffled movements around his back giving him away as a pegasus, and barely suppressed the urge to take flight and beat some sense into the damn creature. Producing a rug from one of the countless pockets of his outfit, thief started to wipe away embarrassing stain, muttering obscenities under his breath. Sighing, the stallion of the night gave up after a bit, continuing on his path to the mansion.

“Damn, this better not stick,” – was the only thing he muttered in velvet baritone before vanishing into the darkness.

Ten minutes later the shadow reappeared a lot closer to the mansion, hiding behind a marble pillar and scanning his surroundings in hope of finding an easy route. Well, patrolling guards with lanterns attached to their armor, several lampposts on the sides of the main road and decorative fire pits scattered throughout the territory made a stealthy approach rather difficult. Still, the thief had enough skill and luck on his side to make it work, even emptying a couple pockets along the way, and with seeming ease approached the mansion itself. After that, though, things got a bit tricky – or, rather, would have, if the shadow didn’t have some strange contraptions on his person. Strapped to his legs, they allowed the stallion to scale a wall like it was nothing, rapidly climbing to one of the windows on the second floor. Which, as it turned out, was closed. Lips, unseen under the mask, curled in a confident smirk. Some bent piece of metal was pulled out, and after performing an incredible acrobatics feat by clinging to the wall only with his augmented hind legs (and with small aid from his carefully freed wings) he cracked the window open in under ten seconds. Carefully opening it, however, he became privy to hushed conversation.

“Yes, my love, yes! That was wonderful!” – trembling, quite high-pitched female voice almost squeaked.

“Didn’t expect that, did you?” – smug baritone answered, quaking a little itself.

In fact, the only puzzling thing was the absence of sounds usually associated with that sort of a discussion, and the shadow, while intrigued, decided that it would be best to get the general layout of the mansion first. So he took off his claw-like things, packed them somewhere, crawled to the door, gently pushing it open, and vanished again.

On the southern end of town, inside of a pitiful hole in the ground, which some called a pub, home or, in one case, “dat place where I and me bruthers sit”, we see the second of our heroes, an earth pony. Blood-red coat, amber mane, eyes of gold, blazing with fury, and an appropriate scowl. It was a small miracle, really, that drinks and patrons around her haven’t caught fire already. Set of leather tool belts, which was mare’s only piece of clothing aside from impressive looking googles, shifted, revealing her cutie mark – a burning cog. She was staring down a stallion twice her own size, dirt-brown coat and slightly lighter mane, who tried to shrink in fear and hide behind his rather big hammer.

“What have I told you to do, bloody idiots?!” – she shrieked, aiming her fiery gaze at the other stallion, who greatly resembled the first one, but was a bit smaller and much, much more calm. While his brother continued to shake in terror, he emptied his mug and snorted.

“Ain’t done nuthin’ wrong, Burnin’. Ya know that ‘Uge gets bad when bonked on the stupid ‘ead of ‘is. We just dumped poor bugger in the rivah. Not the first, not the last,” – his rough voice echoed through the pub, causing a few muffled laughs, which were quickly silenced with another angry glare from the mare.

“What bucking part of “lay low” didn’t you understand, dimwits?”

“Watah won’t tell nopony.”

That seemed to calm mare down somewhat, eliciting a sigh of relief from giant of a stallion in front of her. Now able to think instead of incoherently yelling at her subordinates, she sat into the metal chair behind her (imagine vaguely chair-shaped mass of cogs, pumps and steam to get the general picture), massaging her temples with a frustrated sigh.

“Why am I leading you anyway?..”

This time it was the initial target of her rage who answered. And his response caused almost all the patrons to wince – stallion in question was barely in control of his emotions anyway, and anxiety did nothing to mute his thunderous roar.

“Cause ya be da boss!” – he cried out, mood instantly changed to that of a pup, who was lost for all the five seconds and suddenly found his mother behind him. Mare only weakly nodded at that, facehoofing and lulling her mug in the free leg.

“That I am, unfortunately. All right, boys, time to do some planning!”

As per usual, the map of the city was brought, along with some more papers, by the third brother. Somewhere between a foal and an average stallion in size, this sickly-looking fellow smiled at his leader, sweat and overall unpleasantness dripping from him like water from an active goose.

“’Ere ya go, boss. And might I add…”

“You may not. Now shut up, sit somewhere and listen close. So, the plan. We are, despite of what some of you have done, still going to storm that mansion.”

While it might not had been perfect, the overall scheme – that is, rush in, cause a lot of ruckus, beat up some posh pricks, have their way with the mares and take lots of loot – was incredibly appealing to the gang. But some steps caused serious concern.

“Wait-wait-wait. So we’ze gonna get in ‘ere all sneaky like? How do ya say dat… An-der-ca-vah?” – after some consideration said one of the junior members, wrinkling his forehead in an attempt to think.

“Yes. Yes, we are. Any more questions?”

“Ain’t hidin’ our lot, Birnin’. Boys ‘ere will start ta wreak stuff half a minute after we get close,” – rasped the only other intelligent being in the crowd, middle of the Brick brothers, Big Brick. He was a lieutenant of sorts, seeing to overall wellbeing of the gang and managing most of the little problems, while his boss focused on the big ones. That, and the stallion was the voice of reason, always calm, collected and acting as middle-man between often irate mare and a dozen not very smart stallions. His big brother, Huge Brick, was the main muscle of the gang and acted with intelligence and stature of a three-year old. Very violent and bloodthirsty three-year old, but still. The last sibling, Slim Brick, was the gang’s main link to the criminal underworld of Manehatten – he knew all the fences, potential rivals, some of the Guards and most of the constantly changing sweet spots of the city, just ripe for the taking. He also was deemed unfit for field work due to lack of any kind of combat instinct, and thought of himself as irresistible, suave guy. Latter, as mare in charge had found out, was infuriating. Other guys were just additional muscle, too dumb to remember any sensitive information and thus quite safe to keep around. Some of them possessed an aptitude for picking simple locks and pockets of very inattentive people, but that wasn’t the way of “Da Lootaz”, oh no. They much preferred entering and leaving the stage with some flare and lots of wanton violence. Thankfully, their current boss also preferred to keep things simple, partly due to her own untapped wells of frustration and general malice towards ponykind and partly due to fear of her gang’s collective brain cell melting due to excessive thinking. Finally, there was the barmen – wise, old stallion, who also happened to be blind, which didn’t impede his ability to make drinks and kick flank in the slightest. He also provided pieces of conventional wisdom and a shoulder to cry on to the mare, who disturbingly often wanted to just leave the gang to its fate and walk away from everyday dangers of being killed and imprisoned to everyday dangers of blowing up and melting in a pool of acid.

“That’s why we aren’t going to disguise ourselves as servants, guards or, Celestia forbid, nobles. No, we’ll just don the merc getup and vanish afterwards. Everypony will think that it was a hit, so they’ll start looking for the mercenary band matching our description. Well, they’re not going to find any, and we’ll be hiding right under their noses,” – with notes of pride in her voice Burning finished explaining her ingenious idea. She doubted that anypony, aside from Big, will catch on, but he would be enough to explain their parts to the rest of the gang. And so the mare left her trusty subordinates, who were still trying to wrap what was unjustly called “brains” around the idea of supposedly sneaking their way in, to prepare for the coming storm in her usual fashion. Namely, by taking as many varied explosives (all of which could be operated by hoof, of course) as possible, as well as some gizmos of her own invention, including the apppropriately named “boomstik”, that not only made booming noises, but also propelled metal slugs several meters forward, until they collided with something in an often gory fashion. Operated by mouth and hooves, this thing was the parting gift of the mare’s father, who originally planned to use it for the greater good. Understandably, she wasn’t going to give anything like that to her gang any time soon, seeing how they were more likely to shoot each other or even themselves than the intended target, but “da boys” packed enough punch as it were. On her way to the main part of the pub mare bumped into Big Brick, the usual calm look on his face, but with unsettling clear undertones of uncertainty. Before he could begin, Burning raised her hoof.

“I am quite certain that this plan will work out as well as our plans usually do. So I’m definitely going to need both of you and most of our boys there, in case of fate screwing us over. We might never come back from this, and we certainly won’t leave unscathed – it isn’t some street rat, it’s a damn noble! – but the reward, according to Slim, is worth the risk.”

“Know all that, Burnin’. Just wanna make sure ya see the stakes.”

“Oh, do I? Well, I made the Celestia-damn plan, so I see them quite clear, all right?” – just before she started to went some of her constant frustration on well-meaning stallion, gang boss made a couple of deep breaths, closing her eyes in a state that was somewhat close to tranquility. Snapping them open a second later, she grinned, bumping her lieutenant in the shoulder and brushing past him.

“Let’s go show those inbred motherbuckers how to party, eh?”

“By yer word, boss,” – stallion smirked, shifting the wicked-looking broadsword at his side.

Main Shaft, coal Baron, who was certainly famous in certain circles and completely unknown to most of the world, shifted in a seat of his earth pony-pulled cab, looking in the window and lighting his cigar with a soft spark of a horn. Coat of white, stained with dull gray in a couple of places, with a jet-black mane and a magnificent moustache created a rather odd image, making the pony in question seem like an old photograph of himself. That wouldn’t be the first time gruff, down-to-earth stallion graced social gatherings with his presence, of course… But it wasn’t often that a celebrity of that caliber, even if his fame was only due to recent events, hosted a party open to everyone who knew about it (and had an appropriate title, of course), sending only a couple of invitations and expecting the rest of the guests to just materialize out of thin air. Which they did, marveled by such non-precedent affair. Rumor was that even one of the Princesses might make a visit, but it was most likely just a piece of gossip, seeing how the rulers had pending griffin (or was it zebra?) invasion to deal with. Anyway, Baron was quite annoyed that he needed to sneak into the mansion like a thief, uninvited and all that, but prospects of future business with the Duke helped to overcome that particular discomfort. Raising his cane, stallion puffed the cigar one last time and lightly tapped the cabbie’s back.

“Pull over, chap,” – voice of the unicorn was as gruff as his overall appearance, and the tone was permanently harsh.

Quite ungracefully jumping out of the cab (for Baron never particularly cared about elegance of movement) and tossing a bit over his shoulder, he trotted towards the mansion. Admiring the garden, which was a decorative masterpiece in its own right, and briefly noticing some politely bowing guards, he quickly moved to the front door of the mansion. Where the first obstacle appeared in the form of a visibly irritated and tribal looking zebra, who stood guard with a spear in his hoof. Spitting the cigar’s stub on the side, Main glared, and the look was returned with equal viciousness.

“Let me pass.”

“Or what, little pony? It’s late. Guests are inside,” – turns out, deep, guttural growl matched zebra’s appearance. Not batting an eye, Shaft enveloped his unexpected opponent in a telekinetic glow, lifting him a dozen inches from the ground with only a small grunt if exertion.

“Or I will grind your bones to dust, my good fellow, and feed what’s left to my pet Diamond Dogs.”

Seeing that threat as substantial (and having spent quite a bit of energy on this little stunt), he dropped zebra to the ground, and heard a chuckle. To Baron’s disbelief, guard approached him and casually tapped his chest.

“You have a warrior’s spirit! Good. It can’t be said for anypony inside. Aside from the Salvator.”

Before stallion could say a word, zebra wrapped his leg around Main’s shoulders, nudging him forward.

“Come. He must be bored from all the softness already. Ah, you profligates and your pointless parties…”

Allowing this sudden new ally to lead him, Main Shaft entered the mansion and saw exactly what he thought he would: mingling nobles of varying stature, trying to weasel something out of each other or just exchanging recent gossip, a couple of servants, doing their usual thing, and quite a crowd, presumably surrounding the host. After a bit of pushing and shoving, all done buy a very determined zebra, who seemed to ignore the titles of those around him (and let me tell you, there were a couple of crème de la crème whom he pushed away without a second thought), Baron finally caught a glimpse of the center of attention. Living to his namesake, deep yellow from head to hoof and with a modest (only by comparison) amount of accessories on him, Golden Glitter dazzled with bright attitude and winning smile more so than anything else. It took a second glance to notice quite a lot of scars on his mane, including incredibly wicked one across the right eye, which seemed oddly inanimate… And was, as it turned out after a bit of a closer inspection, replaced with a glass one of sorts.

“Ah, Otho! I see you brought us a new guest,” – smooth, calm voice with a spark of hidden amusement did much to soothe Main’s anxiety. He wasn’t afraid, of course, but merely concerned that the actions of the servant would somehow present him in bad light.

“True warrior, that one. If not in body, then certainly in mind.”

“That’s high praise, coming from one of your kind. Or maybe that’s just in comparison?..” – that statement forced other nobles to make a stunned pause, which thankfully turned into the sounds of conversation after a bout of heartfelt laugher from the host. Golden then focused his attention on the unmoving figure of Baron, still tightly squeezed around the shoulders.

“You are most welcome to enjoy the party, sir?..”

“Main Shaft. And, if you don’t mind, I would rather discuss something with you in private. Don’t worry, it won’t take too long…” – Glitter smiled, nodded and turned away from the gathered nobles, quickly giving excuses to most important ones.

“Of course, of course. Follow me.”

Otho decided to accompany them, spear tucked into some sort of leather harness on his side. As they ascended to what Main hoped was the Golden’s study, he could help but feel uneasy about the whole endeavor.

“Well, what can possibly go wrong?”

Quite a bit, as it turned out.

Author's Note

And thus it begins. Like I said, please comment, leave critique, be awesome in general and have a good day.