Loony

by totallynotabrony

Rating: teen
Tags: Spike, Comedy, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Romance, Original Character
Length: 45893

Arc is a heavy weapons specialist. Roxy is a lycan. They're married. And they fight crime.

Arc is a heavy weapons specialist. Roxy is a lycan. They're married. And together they protect Equestria from things that go bump in the night. Things your average pony doesn't know about. Things the Royal sisters want kept quiet.

Managing supernatural affairs is usually just another boring public service job, at least until an arms dealer turns herself in, claiming she wants to be good. After that, all Tartarus breaks loose. Arc and Roxy have to figure out what lunatic keeps blowing things up around the city before it's too late.

Editing and cover art by Dafaddah

Published 2014-04-04 21:50:02 UTC
Last updated 2014-08-16 15:17:16 UTC

2: Vodka and Mobsters

Tracy and Arc drove back to San Palomino in silence after dropping the lycans off in the forest. Stoically attending to their respective spouses together had forged a bond between them. Arc felt lucky to have such a friend.

Despite Tracy’s support, it would have made Arc feel better to be close to his wife. However, being anywhere near the forest during a full moon was dangerous. The pack had decided on it as a place to change because it was a protected national park that didn’t allow camping or visitors after dark. In addition, there were no hiking trails within miles of where the lycans were dropped off in the evening.

The subject of killing or maiming somepony was a topic the pack generally avoided discussing. None of them had become what they were peacefully.

Tracy dropped off Arc back at his house. Ordinarily on a full moon night, he would watch some TV and go to bed early. This month, instead, his new employment required him to visit a nightclub. However, it would have been better, Arc thought as he got ready, if the night out did not involve Hooviet mobsters.

He put on a new polo shirt. Roxy said it was a little too long for fashion, but tonight he was more concerned with perhaps making it harder to identify him through cutie mark or other means.

Collecting his keys, Arc got into his car and headed for the address he had been given. In the west, the sun hovered on the ocean, slowly dropping below the horizon. Arc’s lips drew a thin line across his muzzle as he saw it. This was the time when his love would start going through the agony of the change.

Miles away in the forest, the trees hid the fading light of the sunset, but the building tension as night approached was apparent. Roxy had to make a conscious effort to stop fidgeting. She leaned on a tree, trying to affect a casual mood. The rough bark on her skin was a helpful distraction, although in a few minutes not even that would work. Embarrassingly, the first indication of the coming change was a progressively annoying itch that spread all over her body.

A few trees away, Nita and Argyle sat together, talking quietly and scratching each other. Sketch had gone off by himself somewhere, as was his habit, although he never strayed too far.

Roxy almost prefered the burning sensation that followed the itch. She shifted her position from one hoof to the other, however her knees didn’t seem to want to cooperate, her joints stiffening. Her heartbeat picked up, pounding against her ribcage.

Breath quickening, Roxy carefully knelt. Her muscles had begun to spasm, and her spine suddenly arched involuntarily, wings flaring of their own accord and pitching her body forward. She grunted, her breath fast and shallow. The sudden spike of pain would have taken her to the ground if she wasn’t already kneeling.

Bones in her back audibly shifted and her wings twisted and shriveled. Roxy’s ribs compressed her lungs, squeezing her breath out as her bones began to deform. She endured the torture in complete silence, grateful for the change-induced paralysis that was the only thing preventing her from voicing her agony. The transformation swept through her core, the insides outpacing the skin as a lupine structure tried to force itself out of an equine shape.

Finally, she could breathe again. Her mouth opened as more teeth forced themselves out of her jaw and the others sharpened into points. Her eyes were narrowed into slits, but she was able to see Argyle and Nita nearby going through their own changes.

The last change was hair, although that was a comparatively mild prickling sensation as it took a darker, more earthy color, right down to her newly grown toes and claws.

She lifted herself off the ground, feeling slightly shaken from the experience. Her eyes turned to the two wolves nearby who were picking themselves up and shaking out aches. The male was huge. The female was much smaller, but she stood close to him, possessively.

Another wolf, an older male, emerged from the trees nearby. The four of them sniffed, reassured by the familiar smells of their fellow pack mates with whom they shared the night and the hunt.

They circled the area, noses to the ground in search of hidden scents. One of the wolves located a promising trail, and the pack moved off to follow it. The night was young, and they were hungry.

The sun was now down and the night began to move in. The sky darkened and on the highways, headlights were coming on.

In his car, driving the city streets, Arc checked the address he’d been given. Proficient and Harv had briefed him about the place. It was a newer bar, a block from the local baseball stadium. Arc had been told how to identify the Hooviet, who was rather unexpectedly named Joe. Arc had also been informed of who would be there to support him.

Tammy, the IT minotaur, was apparently coming, along with the wizard Harv had mentioned. He was named Granite. Harv described him as, “Older, skinny as a rail, and probably looking pissed about something.”

It was less description than Arc would have liked, but if nothing else he could ask ponies if they were wizards until he found the right one. Hopefully that wouldn’t cause a stir. It was a bar, after all.

Finding a parking spot a short distance from the building, Arc checked the neon sign on the outside and got out of the car. He walked slowly, his eyes moving.

It was a warm night, and front door of the bar was open. Modern music and a lot of it spilled out. As Arc walked up, the bouncer positioned at the door requested to see a driver’s license. Arc gave it to him while looking into the dark interior of the bar. On a weeknight it wasn’t very crowded, and the clientele was mostly older than the college students who probably frequented such a place on the weekends.

The décor was modern and stylish. It incorporated a lot of metal, especially stainless steel and copper. Not only did it look trendy, but it was probably easier to keep rowdy patrons from defacing it.

Getting his license back, Arc walked in. His eyes focused on a thin unicorn stallion who was two colors of grey and stood beside the bar. His cutie mark was a rather luminous, but solid-looking rock. Arc ordered a beer and went over to the pony who was almost certainly his contact.

Closer up, the older stallion didn’t look very healthy. His legs and fetlocks were bony, his shoulders and hips narrow. He might have been fifty years old, but Arc thought he looked seventy. And pissed.

Arc said, “Mr. Granite.”

Granite turned his head. “Mr. Arc.”

“I take it you’re the wizard?”

“And that means you must be the new guy. I hate new guys.”

Arc blinked. Instead of immediately replying, however, he took a sip of his beer and changed the subject. “So how’s the wizarding business? What separates that from regular magic?”

“Know-how and power. Magic just isn’t what it used to be, like back when Princess Twilight was a filly. Technology has changed things. Not that you’d know anything about it.”

Arc wasn’t sure if that was a jab at his youth or his status as an earth pony. He tried changing the subject again. “Is Joe here?”

“In the back,” Granite said. “The meeting is supposed to begin soon.”

Arc looked at him. “Is an interrogator coming to help me get the information out of him? I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Not an interrogator, just someone to drink him under the table so he’ll talk.” Granite took a sip from the glass in front of him. Arc thought it looked like water.

Arc was just about to ask about this designated drinker when the moonlight coming through the bar’s open door was suddenly cut off. A minotaur filled the doorway. Her shoulders brushed the sides of the door frame and she had to duck to get her horns under the top.

“That’s her,” said Granite.

The minotaur walked slightly stooped at she came over to them. As Arc’s eyes traveled up to her face, he realized that it was Tammy, from the IT office.

She nodded to Granite and looked down at Arc. “So you’re the new guy? Do you always bring a missile launcher with you when you visit the IT department?”

Thinking quickly, Arc replied, “Only on the first visit. I usually get quick and courteous tech support afterwards.”

She laughed and put out her hand. “Tungsten Tammy.”

They shook and Arc introduced himself. Seeing Tammy from up close, Arc realized just how much of her must have been hidden behind the computer desk. She had quite a bit of height on him, and even more on Granite. Despite her imposing presence, Arc noted gold earrings, understated makeup, and a well tailored dress that significantly softened her otherwise quite imposing presence.

Tammy gestured to the bartender and said, “The best vodka you have, the whole bottle, plus some glasses.”

Granite put down cash to pay for it. Once Tammy had her bottle, Granite gestured for her and Arc to follow him towards the back of the establishment. He approached a table where a bespectacled stallion in a brown tweed jacket was sitting.

Joe looked more like a rotund college professor than somepony who was involved with international organized crime. He looked up as the three of them approached. Despite Tammy’s imposing presence, his gaze went first to Arc before settling on Granite.

“If I’d known you were bringing friends, I might have invited some of my own,” Joe said. His voice carried a neutral accent. He didn’t smile in greeting.

Granite pulled out a chair and sat. “I wasn’t aware that you had many friends. Maybe you can make some new ones.”

Arc and Tammy followed Granite’s lead, sitting on either side of him. Tammy put the bottle on the table and arranged the glasses. With a grin, she poured each one full and distributed them. Arc decided that ordering a beer ahead of time had been a bad idea.

Granite picked up his glass and paused while Joe did the same. As Joe’s foreleg raised, Arc saw a watch slide out from under his jacket sleeve. It appeared to have a hammer and sickle on the face.

Granite and Joe took their first sip together, Joe drinking noticeably more. He lowered his hoof, but didn’t let go of the glass.

“This is about imports.” Granite put down his glass. “One turned up here in town.”

Joe gave him a hard look and raised his glass for another sip. He paused to swallow and asked, “Who?”

“Buttercup,” Granite provided.

Joe appeared to think that over. Tammy picked up her glass and took half of it in one pull. She picked up the bottle and filled her glass again, holding out the bottle to Joe who accepted a refill.

Arc took a sip of vodka. It burned down his esophagus like a shot of liquid fire. Straight out of the bottle, it was undiluted, and even properly chilled it tasted like paint thinner. None of the others had made faces while drinking it, however. Arc felt the blood rushing from to his scalp to the tips of his ears and wondered if the others could see. Having a white coat was definitely liability in this business. He had always been more of a beer drinker anyway.

“What’s Buttercup doing making deals around here?” Joe asked.

“She’s not; she turned herself in,” Tammy provided. She took another long sip of vodka. Joe matched her.

“Well, that’s interesting,” Joe said after a moment.

“What do you know about her?” Granite asked.

Joe shrugged. Tammy refilled his glass and her own.

“Any idea who she might know around here?” Granite tried again.

Tammy took another drink. After a moment, Joe lifted his glass. He paused, but then went ahead and drank. After lowering the glass back to the table, Joe said, “There’s a mare named Sisal Twist.”

Granite nudged Arc with one of his bony elbows and addressed Joe. “How do you spell that?”

Arc paid special attention as Joe managed to give the answer, although it was clear the alcohol was beginning to affect him. Despite that, Tammy refilled his glass and baited him into another sip.

“What else can you tell us about Sisal Twist?” Granite asked.

“She’s Hooviet. We’ve done business in the past.” Joe picked up his glass but then put it down again. Tammy took a sip but Joe didn’t follow her this time.

“How does she know Buttercup?” Granite asked.

“I don’t know,” Joe said. Arc couldn’t tell if his words were slurring or if a little bit of accent was starting to creep in.

Tammy took another sip. This time, she got Joe to mirror her.

Granite shifted his position slightly. “Do you know if Buttercup has some sort of warehouse or place where she keeps things?”

“No, I don’t.” Joe paused for a long moment. “Sisal might.”

“Do you know where we can find Sisal?” Granite asked as Tammy finished her glass and began to pour again.

Joe considered the glass in front of him as Tammy finished filling it, touching it with the tip of his hoof. He moved his hoof forward to embrace the drink.

“I asked you a question,” Granite prodded.

Joe looked up. There was a growing tinge of pink in his face. “What makes you think I know where to find her?”

Granite stared at him. “You didn’t say no.”

“Why do you care?” Joe’s tone rose from the subdued level the rest of the conversation had so far been conducted at.

Granite pushed himself up and leaned over the table, grabbing the lapels of Joe's tweed jacket in either forehoof. “Don't fuck with me. You know what happens!”

Joe let go of his glass, drops of alcohol sloshing over the sides. He leaned as far back in his chair as he could, but Granite held him tightly.

Granite breathed into Joe’s face, their eyes locked. After a moment, seemingly satisfied with what he saw, Granite let go of the Hooviet’s jacket and withdrew to his side of the table.

The outburst had drawn some stares, especially from Arc. He hadn’t expected the older unicorn to get physical, especially with seemingly so little provocation. He also didn’t know what Granite might be capable of, but Joe apparently did if the threat had been so effective.

Joe paused to collect himself, staring at the table for a moment. He sighed. “Sisal never gave me an address, but I once did a little searching on my own. I’ve got a phone number and a license plate.”

Granite nodded. Joe dug out his cell phone and awkwardly browsed through it. In a few minutes, he’d found the information he’d promised.

Arc realized that if he was going to have a hope of remembering everything he learned about this case, he was going to have to get a notebook. Memorizing a name, phone number, and license plate under the influence of only one drink was difficult enough.

Business finished, Granite got up from the table. “Joe, take some time to think about it. If there’s a way you can work this to your advantage, you know who to call.”

Joe’s eyes had started to glaze over. He didn’t give any indication that he’d heard. He looked at his mostly-full glass and then lifted it again. He looked up, the glass hovering halfway to his mouth.

Tammy picked up her own drink and toasted him, their glasses meeting with a clink that miraculously didn’t spill anything. They both drank what remained.

Getting up from the table, Tammy swayed. Arc and Granite quickly moved to brace either side of her and she managed to bounce off both of them several times on the way to the door.

“Does it take three of us to do this kind of thing?” Arc asked.

“Someone has to drink Joe under the table while at least one other talks to him,” Granite said.

“And I weigh like twice what he does,” Tammy muttered, gesturing vaguely at Granite. “What I drank would kill him.”

Granite didn’t reply. The three of them made it out the door and called a cab for Tammy. Getting her in the back seat when the taxi arrived was no easy task, but it helped that she wasn’t a rowdy drunk. Still, the cabby looked concerned about her horns and what they might do to the roof of the car.

When she was gone, Granite said, “Proficient and Harv said you might need to be shown the ropes.”

Arc nodded. “I learned a few things tonight, although mostly I just sat there.”

“‘When in doubt, keep your mouth shut’ is never a bad policy,” Granite said. “For a new guy, you seem to have your head on right. Just don’t screw up.”

“Thanks.” Arc reached forward for a shake. Granite muttered something under his breath as their hooves touched. A spark of magic zoomed up Arc’s foreleg and he jerked in surprise.

“You’re good to drive, just take it easy,” Granite said. He turned away.

Arc stood there for a moment. Was there really a spell to determine blood alcohol content? The magic hadn’t even come from Granite’s horn.

He tested his balance and found that it was quite good. Not that it would have been affected very much by a single beer.

Arc got back in his car and headed home. It had been an interesting evening, but a productive one. He’d have to talk to Harv and Proficient about what to do with the information that had been worked out of Joe, but that was a task for tomorrow.

He slept surprisingly well that night, although the early alarm Arc had set got him up before the sun.

Arc was habitually up early, although he’d pushed his schedule forward that morning to go for a canter before Tracy arrived to pick him up. Putting on a sweatband, he grabbed his house keys and stepped outside into the predawn darkness.

The neighborhood was quiet as Arc took off. Even the light sound of his hooves hitting the sidewalk was enough to mask the distant sounds of early traffic.

Twenty minutes later, Arc came back to the house sweating and breathing hard. His mane was dripping wet, although part of the reason he’d kept his style short was to keep it out of his eyes during exercise.

In the house, he checked the clock and hurried through a shower. He soaped everywhere that was necessary, paying attention to his positive parabola cutie mark just out of principle. He’d just gotten out of the shower and finished drying when Tracy pulled into the driveway. Arc got into the van, mane still damp.

“Good morning.” Tracy passed Arc a thermos of coffee, which he gladly accepted. He poured a helping into a travel mug that he’d brought from the house.

The two of them drove east, towards the brightening horizon. Arc measured the shadows with his eyes, mentally figuring the angle and trying to determine how long it would be until the sun rose.

They reached the forest as the morning sky finally decided to accept the sunrise, the colors shifting to a lighter shade of blue within a few minutes.

Tracy pulled to the side of the road and shut off the engine. She reached down between the seats and picked up the thermos. After pouring herself a cup, she offered it to Arc.

He nodded. “Please. It’s a good brew.”

“It’s from Haywaii,” Tracy said, filling his mug.

“The Army never saw fit to station me out there,” Arc commented.

“But wasn’t Appleoosa nice?” Tracy said. “You met Roxy there.”

Arc smiled. “True. I guess I never asked; how did you and Sketch meet?”

“Just a few local events.” Tracy paused to take a sip of coffee. “Of course, we met and were married before he was bitten. That was about two years into our marriage. We’re pretty close to fifteen now.”

“Yeah, I still remember when Roxy told me. I was down on one knee with a ring in my hoof and she said I had to know something important before I went through with asking the question.”

Arc paused, frowning. “I don’t like to think about what she must have gone through by herself. Even me just driving out in the morning to pick her up seemed to make her life so much easier. You and Sketch are lucky you had some stability before you had to deal with the changes.”

Tracy touched his shoulder and smiled. “But you figured it out. You and Roxy make a cute couple. Be sure you do something nice for your anniversary next month.”

“What am I supposed to get for the three year anniversary?”

“Crystal, I think.”

Arc nodded and took another sip of coffee. He and Tracy were silent for a few minutes as the sun continued to rise. The national forest east of San Palomino grew thick, trees dense enough to cast long shadows that slowly shrank as the morning went on.

The narrow road in the woods was little used. Arc and Tracy, passing through on a monthly cycle, might have been its most frequent travelers. For them, and their spouses, the remoteness was appealing. It certainly made for beautiful morning scenery.

Speaking of scenery, Roxy awoke that morning with a facefull of dirt and rabbit blood. She rolled over, wiping her face and blinking at the sun that filtered through the trees.

Beside her was the rest of the pack. Apparently this was where they had decided to sleep. Roxy didn’t know exactly where she was, but it usually ended up being only a short walk from where she had changed. Her animal side was surprisingly courteous that way.

Although, in direct contrast to that was the rabbit carcass that was littered across the ground in small pieces. It didn’t look fresh and smelled terrible, probably being scavenged carrion.

Roxy got up, ignoring the churning in her stomach. The other three lycans were already stirring. Like her, they were similarly covered in dirt, with leaves and twigs in their manes.

Roxy oriented herself with the sun and headed for where her instincts told her the road was. In only a few minutes the forest thinned to reveal Tracy’s van. Roxy spread her wings to brush some dirt off herself as she stepped from the trees. The flight muscles were stiff after being newly regenerated. She must look terrible, considering she’d just spent the night as a feral wolf. Every morning after a full moon Arc had to face it. He seemed to have adjusted, however.

Arc got out of the van as the pack approached, opening the side door to get a duffel bag with supplies in it. Tracy had the same for Sketch, who was a few steps to the side of Roxy and equally as disheveled.

There was a third bag in the back of the van. Arc gave it to Argyle, who opened it with Nita.

Roxy gave her husband a weary smile that cracked some of the dried blood on her lips. She wiped a careless hoof across her face and accepted a one quart polycarbonate water bottle from him. Unscrewing the lid, she unceremoniously dumped the whole thing over her head. Arc then gave her a towel from the bag and she quickly scrubbed herself dry, taking extra care with her face.

Once everypony was clean enough to get in the van, they loaded up. Nita and Argyle got in the back. Sketch sat in the front seat and immediately reached for the thermos. After pouring himself a cup, he offered it to Arc, who took it and passed it to the back seat. He’d already had his fill and Roxy didn’t drink coffee.

The ride back to the city was quiet. In fact, Roxy spent most of it with her eyes closed. She was usually lethargic after a night in the woods. Arc gently ran his hooves over her wings, straightening feathers and massaging knots in the muscles. For an earth pony, he was very good at preening, and Roxy smiled to let him know she appreciated it.

Roxy didn’t manage to drift to sleep during the ride and still didn’t feel rested when Tracy stopped the van in front of her and Arc’s house.

“See you next month,” Tracy said. Roxy smiled and waved. The van drove away. Nita and Argyle lived further north, towards Los Pegasus. Sketch and Tracy would drop them off closer to their car.

In the house, Arc made breakfast for himself while Roxy showered. She was not hungry. In fact, she didn’t feel like doing much of anything, but she couldn’t very well call a sick day on the same day every month. So the two of them had evolved a routine, a familiar ritual that reminded them both that their time apart was over, if only for another thirty days.

In the bathroom, Roxy took her time to brush her teeth and wash thoroughly. After having a shower and drying, she scrutinized her reflection carefully. Her hooves were a little heavy in applying makeup today, but she left it.

She and Arc met briefly in the hall, trading a smile and a kiss. They lingered in close embrace, scent and touch and body heat re-establishing the sense of normalcy broken by the monthly event. They only let go when they both felt the other was ready. Arc loved the little smile she gave him in that wonderful moment: it signaled they were both ready to face the day.

“Long day today?” Roxy asked.

Arc shrugged, the shirt he wore to work wrinkling slightly. “It might turn into that, with the things I’m working on.”

“I remember you telling me about the missile launchers.” Roxy’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Have fun with that.”

Arc nodded and smiled. “Oh, I will.”
Roxy pulled him close for another kiss before they both left the house for work.

3: Another Day at the Office

The Military Weapons Branch was a department of military intelligence, despite most of its employees being civilian. Arc had worked for MWB since leaving the Army. As he had been instructed by the Shades, he didn’t let it slip that he would soon be moving on.

His wife being a lycan and him holding a security clearance, Arc already had the qualifications necessary to move from weapons analysis to supernatural weapons analysis. There was, by and large, no difference between the two other than the fact that he couldn’t tell his coworkers about his new assignments.

That was actually easier than it sounded. Arc had a cubicle of his own in the office and the hard tile floors made it easy to tell if anypony was approaching. He could go all day and not see anypony else if he wished.

Arc’s cubicle was made of three walls coated in fabric and arranged in a square. He’d oriented his desk facing the empty fourth side of the box. The desk was old and battered, having probably been around since before Arc was born. It was at odds with the new office chair, which was surprisingly comfortable for government furniture.

The surface of the desk held two computer monitors, one for unclassified browsing and one for the secure network. A matching keyboard and mouse were arranged in front of them with a pad of sticky notes and a few pens off to the side.

On the front of his desk was a nameplate. Arranged to either side of it were several decorative coins, most of them cast of brass and bearing the crossed cannons of the Royal Artillery Corps. Arc had gotten them from friends in the Army and also from units in which he had served.

Tacked to the wall was a chart bearing the names and pictures of all sorts of different hats. Arc knew them all by heart even if he didn’t wear hats himself. The poster had been left there by the cubicle's previous occupant, but Arc never had the heart to get rid of it. Now he wonded if he should bring it to his new office when he got one.

Personal touches aside, this space was for business and was where Arc did his work. The beauty of his job was that it was largely devoid of regulation. He received tasks through e-mail and replied with his results the same way.

Arc put his ID into the computer’s card reader and typed his password. With a secure card, he then did the same for the classified computer.

His first stop was e-mail. There were a few small queries, and Arc made short work of answering them.

In his downtime, Arc was expected to work on long-term assignments. Projects on deep subjects and in-depth weapons systems were taken care of through collaboration with other analysts.

Before opening the projects folder on the shared drive, however, Arc reached into his shirt pocket and took out a small notebook. The pages were still crisp, as it was brand new.

He opened the cover and glanced at the short list of information he’d written down, the things he’d gotten from Joe the previous night. There wasn’t any of it he could act on here in the MWB office, however.

When his e-mail was taken care of, Arc perused a few news websites. Current events were always important to his job. Arc mostly focused on foreign news. It could give him an indication of potential conflicts. Recently there had been more rumbling between Minos and the Gryphon Empire. The governments themselves had not begun hostilities, but several idealist and ultra-national groups had skirmished across the border. To Arc, that meant he should be on the lookout for weapons smuggling and other clandestine activities.

Worryingly, both Minos and the Gryphon Empire were calling on Equestria to come to their aid. Choosing to benefit either side would have consequences. Even brokering peace would be a challenge. The Princesses would have a difficult time of it, Arc thought.

He also noticed some national and local articles. Crime was up, although that was nothing new. A house had burned down in south San Palomino. Somepony had been busted trying to sneak into the local Navy base. As a coastal city with pleasant weather, San Palomino was a large hub of the Equestrian Navy.

It seemed like a good time for a cup of coffee, so Arc got up. Speaking of the Navy, as he came out of his cubicle, he nearly bumped into a female sailor who was walking by. The two of them jerked to halt, avoiding a collision.

Gunner’s Mate Seabreeze was an active duty military liaison to MWB. Like Arc, her job involved the study of weapons.

“Good morning, Mr. Arc,” the unicorn mare said, stepping to the side to let him pass. She adjusted her charcoal mane and blue uniform blouse, the sleeves of which didn’t quite cover the colorful tattoos that decorated her forelegs.

The process of freeze branding the skin to get rid of natural pigment and then getting a competent unicorn tattooist to insert new color had always sounded unpleasant to Arc. Seabreeze, however, had used her golden coat as a canvas to depict a myriad of designs including stars, waves, and ocean creatures.

Arc nodded to her and went on his way. Seabreeze was good at her job and polite, but not particularly amiable. However, the first two attributes were probably more important than the last one.

Getting his coffee from the office kitchenette, Arc returned to his workstation. Standing beside the cubicle as he returned was Seabreeze, and in her hoof was Arc’s notebook.

Concealing a sudden shot of panic that went through him, he said, “I was just looking for that.”

She gave it over. “I think you dropped it when we almost ran into each other.”

Arc nodded. “Thanks.” Mentally, he was kicking himself for being so careless. However, as the sailor walked away, his thoughts grew suspicious. Had he simply dropped the notebook? Flipping through the pages revealed nothing new. The information written on the first page hadn’t changed. It was what Joe had provided and was rather vague without context. He had no proof that she had even looked at it.

Still, a possible security breach had to be reported. It was that way in the military and at MWB, so Arc reasoned that the Shades would also want to know about a potential compromise.

He sat down at his desk. He had phone numbers for Proficient and Harv, but didn’t think it was a good idea to discuss such matters on an unsecured line. E-mail wasn’t possible without having their addresses, not to mention there was no telling who might be reading it – his bosses, some higher level of government agency, or a nefarious hacker.

Arc took out his notebook and wrote Get some way to communicate securely. Be it horseshoephone, Batmare Signal, or telepathy, this was a problem that needed to solved sooner rather than later.

Speaking of problems, at that moment Roxy was having a few of her own. It was a struggle trying to get enough privacy to analyze samples from Buttercup. The genetics lab where she worked had a steady flow of business. A lot of it was contracting from the San Palomino Police Department, although there was the odd paternity case thrown in.

Roxy had a docket of samples to process each day, and if she worked quickly she could open a gap for covert testing. The Shades hadn’t yet gotten things organized for her to switch jobs, and until she had a more private lab, she had decided to take her chances.

It actually wasn’t that hard to slip in some other samples. Nobody could tell one pony’s tissue from another at a glance. The real problem was making space for Buttercup’s tests and not getting her results mixed in with anypony else’s.

As she was looking over the centrifuge for separating samples, Carbon Lattice came into the room. Carbon was stout, although not overly tall, with a pinto coat. He had heavy brows and an unusually pointed snout. Like Roxy, he wore a lab coat, safety glasses, and nitrile gloves.

“A few of us were going out to lunch,” he said. “Want to come?”

Roxy smiled. “Sure. The usual time?”

Carbon nodded. “I was thinking the new bistro with a view of the beach. I hear good things about it.”

He was always finding places that served expensive food in small portions. Not that Roxy held that against him. Carbon said goodbye and left the lab.

Roxy turned back to her work. Genotyping was not an easy or fast process by any means. Arranging the chromosomes was difficult enough. Actually taking a peek inside to determine traits required specialized equipment and significant research.

Working quickly, she managed to obtain basic results on Buttercup’s sample by lunch. She had thirty two pairs of chromosomes, just like a regular pony. A very powerful microscope could actually make the chromosomes visible, although that wouldn’t help sequence the DNA.

Roxy’s own genetic code showed no irregularities. Whether her wolf self would was unknown. How she could transform into a different body and not show some sort of irregularity in her DNA was a problem of a question.

Not that magic could be expected to hold up to science, but it seemed almost unbelievable to Roxy that her body appeared completely normal to any tests. Then again, being singled out as a lycan every time she went to the doctor would make medical care a literal nightmare for her.

She finished cleaning up after testing Buttercup’s sample. There simply was not time to sequence every bit of her DNA to search for what might cause Buttercup’s reaction to the moon. Then again, would there be anything to find? Perhaps there was something else that caused her disorder, like Roxy’s own condition.

Magic genes? Sure, why not? Roxy chuckled to herself as she shed her lab coat and washed up. Although, as she thought about it, that idea provided an interesting possibility. DNA coded a pony’s physical makeup. What if there was some way to test a pony’s magic code? Could it be like a second, underlying set of genetics?

Roxy was still pondering it as she met up with the lunch group to carpool to the restaurant. Carbon sat beside her during the ride. Occasionally he would glance her way, although he never asked if there was something on her mind. Roxy wasn’t sure what she would have told him.

The restaurant turned out to be quite respectable. Carbon ordered something that Roxy couldn’t pronounce. It was good, then, that she simply took his suggestion on what to order for herself. Most of the group did.

Being a lycan in a restaurant was always interesting. As night predators, they were more driven by scent than ponies. The blend of aromas coming from the kitchen held at least as much of Roxy’s attention as the conversation at the table. She made a few notes of seasonings to try herself. She’d discovered the ability to recognize individual spices from memory when looking for them on the rack at the grocery store.

The food, when it came, was even more memorable.

By contrast, a grand feasting experience was not what Arc was looking for as he entered a diner near the MWB building. He’d stayed busy that morning before going out to lunch, calling Proficient and Harv to ask for a meeting.

As Arc came in the door, he picked a booth away from the windows and sat so he could see the rest of the diner. A quick check revealed nopony else present that he had seen before. Arc’s eyes kept moving.

Anypony could have been carrying a sidearm under their clothing, although Arc saw no obvious bulges. He observed a backpack resting on the floor next to two ponies. It didn’t look full, and at any rate wasn’t large enough to conceal a compact submachine gun, much less an assault rifle.

So, the most dangerous threat in the room might have been pistols. Good to know. The booth might stop the bullets, but Arc had already charted an exit back through the kitchen if it came to that.

Neither his Army training nor the recent Shade indoctrination had made him any more paranoid than he already was. Arc just thought it was a good idea to be prepared.

Proficient and Harv showed up before the waitress came to take Arc’s order. Arc started thinking his message to Harv before the two of them sat down.

Harv held up his hooves at the mental outburst. “Whoa, calm down. Someone looking at your notebook is not the problem of the century.”

“I thought I should say something; better safe than sorry,” Arc said out loud for Proficient’s benefit.

“Good idea,” Proficient replied. “We’ll look into it, and you would do well to continue to monitor the situation.”

“Although I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” Harv added. “You’re keeping your notebook intentionally vague, right?”

Arc nodded. He certainly would be paying extra attention to that from now on.

“Since we’re here,” said Proficient, “I thought I would offer to let you interview Ms. Buttercup. Perhaps you could get some perspective on her weapons operation.”

“But lunch first,” cut in Harv. He spoke his own mind, although Arc was thinking the same thing.

The food was average, but at least it came quickly. Arc hurried through the meal, although truthfully it didn’t matter that much. He could probably get away with taking the afternoon off MWB. It was doubtful anypony would notice him missing from his cubicle and if they did, what would they do—fire him? If anything, that would make the transition to working for the Shades easier.

After lunch, the three of them got into the government sedan that Proficient and Harv seemed fond of and drove to a facility across the city. Arc had never been there before, but it was located a few blocks from the library where Roxy had met a dragon.

They took blood at the front desk. Arc briefly wondered if Granite the wizard was actively holding up the process of building him into barriers out of spite.

Upstairs, Arc was introduced to Market, who he thought looked more like a free-spirited college student than a prison warden. However, she certainly had the hardware. The belt she wore was outfitted with a wicked-looking baton and hobbles.

“If you really want to meet her, I’ll bring her out,” said Market. “I have to warn you, though, after the full moon last night she’s going to be pretty uncooperative.”

She showed the three stallions to the interrogation room and they waited while Market went down the hall. Arc looked at Proficient and Harv. “How do you want to do this?”

“I recommend you get some practice,” said Proficient, gesturing to one of the chairs at the table in the center of the room.

“I’ll stand here see what I can pick up,” added Harv.

Down the hall, Arc heard a door open and then what sounded like a short struggle. Some choice words were exchanged. He was just about to step into the hallway to see what was going on when Market returned, practically dragging Buttercup.

Buttercup’s mane was wild and she tugged at the hobbles Market had slapped on her fetlocks. Market shoved her down to sit in front of the table, locking her in place with a chain through the back of the chair.

Arc walked around the table and sat across from Buttercup. She stared at him through the unkempt strands of mane that fell into her eyes. Arc opened his mouth to speak, but she suddenly spit on him and demanded, “Who are you?”

Arc glanced down at the saliva on his shirt and decided not to touch it. He took out his notebook and a pen. Buttercup continued to stare at him, appearing to grow impatient as he took his time. “I asked you a question!”

Arc nodded. “You did. But I’m not the one locked up.”

Buttercup shifted slightly, testing her bonds. Market stood behind her, watching closely. Arc went on. “I’d like to know how that HU-7 ended up in your apartment.”

“Well, it’s a free country, isn’t it?” Buttercup said.

“Not for illegal weapons,” Arc replied. “But you weren’t alone in this. What does Sisal Twist do for you?”

Buttercup leaned back slightly. “Who told you about her?”

“Do the weapons belong to her?” Arc asked, ignoring her question.

“Of course not!” Buttercup’s tone was adamant.

Her sudden shift in attitude was interesting, Arc thought. He made a note and asked, “How do you get them into the country?”

“Magic.” Buttercup’s lips turned up slightly. Her displayed emotions so far had been like a roller coaster, and Arc wondered if she was really that unstable or merely feigning it. Of course, the possibility existed that she was telling the truth about the magic. Arc wrote that down.

However, as the conversation continued, he didn’t really learn anything. Buttercup’s answers were vague and often rude, when she replied at all. Not many questions were answered reasonably. After fifteen minutes, Proficient called a halt to things and Market dragged her prisoner away.

Arc’s notebook had a few new entries, but he felt frustrated. Maybe if there was more evidence, he could have forced something out. Regardless, he was no trained interrogator.

“You did well, keeping your emotions in check,” Proficient said with a smile.

“Better yet, you got her thinking,” added Harv. “Most of it was pretty convoluted but I pulled out a few interesting things. By the way, what’s RDX? Some kind of explosive?”

Arc nodded. “It’s generally used by the military. It’s the primary component of C4. Why? Does she have some?”

Harv shrugged. “Maybe. I would venture to say yes. She only briefly touched on it with her thoughts when you mentioned weapons. Tough read.”

“Speaking of weapons.” Arc flipped open his notebook. “At work I found some matches to the serial number on the HU-7 from Buttercup’s place. It’s from Gryphon Empire stocks, and was probably transferred to Al-Nestra. I haven’t figured out how it ended up here, though.”

“I wasn’t aware of any other connections to terrorists like Al-Nestra,” Proficient pondered. “I wonder if Buttercup was working with them or if the missile simply passed through her hooves.”

“More importantly,” said Harv, “We now have to worry about the possibility of terrorists here in San Palomino.”

“Al-Nestra is caught up in the conflict between Minos and the Gryphon Empire,” Proficient speculated. “Could they try something in an attempt to influence us?”

“An attack to warn us to mind our own business or perhaps a false flag to pin the blame on their enemies is not outside their capabilities,” Arc said.

The three of them were quiet for a moment at the ramifications of what they had discovered. Market came back just then, appearing slightly winded after dealing with Buttercup. She looked at the expressions the three of them wore and asked, “Who died?”

“With luck, no one,” replied Proficient. “Thank you for letting us meet with Ms. Buttercup. We should be going now.”

They got on the elevator and took it down.

Simultaneously, a few blocks away, Roxy was ascending the narrow staircase at the back of the library.

She had finished paging through the book Spike had lent her and had returned to see if he had found any new material.

The dragon was sorting a few books when she appeared, but he quickly put on a smile and greeted her. “Good to see you again.”

“Hello. I’m finished with this.” Roxy took the old book out of her purse and hoofed it over. Spike glanced at it before passing it off to a breezie to reshelve.

“Did you find anything else that could help me?” Roxy asked.

“I’m afraid not, however a contact of mine in Haycago has something that might help.” Spike paused briefly in recollection. “It should arrive within a few days.”

“Thank you. Could you call me when it comes in?”

“Sure. Gray could find your number in our records,” Spike replied. He didn’t not appear to notice the slight annoyed expression that Roxy quickly hid. He asked, “Was the book you returned helpful?”

Roxy nodded. “It was a little light on information about Loonies, but I picked up the basics. I was going to go talk to Buttercup after this to see if I could learn more.”

Spike frowned. “As I understand it, yesterday was the last day of her two-week honest period.”

“I know what changing feels like.” Roxy paused, then added, “She does have at least one good half.”

“Good luck.” Spike nodded to her.

Roxy smiled. “Thanks for the books. I’ll be back.”

She made her way down the stairs and emerged behind the librarian desk. She interrupted Gray, who had a mix of herbs arranged in a suspiciously arcane fashion. He jerked in surprise as she opened the door, scattering his procedure .

“Sorry.” Roxy stopped. “I hope that wasn’t too important.”

“Just a simple charm.” Gray swept his hoof over the ingredients and sighed. “I’ve been trying to learn a few things but it’s not going very well. Most ponies have a little magical ability even if they aren’t unicorns. They can at least understand basic spells or get goosebumps when a ghost passes nearby despite not realizing what they’re feeling. Some of the more gifted can throw around quite a bit of power. Me, I’ve got nothing. I can’t even fly that well. Spike says I’m like a magical black hole.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Roxy said.

Gray shrugged and forced an upbeat tone. “Spike theorizes that maybe it also means I’m less affected by harmful magic. I guess silver linings, right?”

“I suppose.” Roxy nodded to Gray and headed for the exit. Outside, she made the short flight to where Buttercup was being kept.

Market looked up from her desk as Roxy came in. “Busy day. Your husband was here earlier with some others.”

It was news to Roxy. “Oh? What did they talk about?”

“Arc was asking about the weapons.” Market shrugged. “They might have gotten the information they came for.”

“I’d like to speak with Buttercup again,” Roxy said.

Market nodded and got up. “All right, I’ll bring her. Go wait in the interrogation room.”

The two of them left the office. Roxy had her thoughts to occupy her as waited for Buttercup to appear. It was a little strange knowing the mare she had met the previous day would effectively be a different pony now. While she waited, she took a seat.

Market’s steady hoofsteps and Buttercup’s dragging ones came down the hallway. The two of them came through the door.

Buttercup looked terrible. It wasn’t just her careless hair, wrinkled feathers, or the hoofcuffs. She wore an expression that was part anger, part spite, and all unfriendly.

Market pushed her forward, aiming to put Buttercup in the chair on the other side of the table from Roxy. Buttercup suddenly sidestepped and threw up her hooves, projecting a small burst of sparks into Market’s face with a pop.

Twisting out of reach as Market flinched back, Buttercup kicked her in the torso and sent her to the floor. Roxy had already started to get up, but Buttercup jumped across the table and knocked her backwards.

Roxy got her hooves up to protect her face, but Buttercup bore down on her neck with the hobble chain. Kicking, Roxy rolled to the side, her wings pressing hard against the floor and managing to create some space between the two of them. It was enough for a swift hoof to Buttercup’s stomach, which Roxy followed by throwing her hind legs over Buttercup and reversing their positions on the floor.

Buttercup threw the hoofcuffs up, but Roxy ducked her head and caught the blow on her cheekbone rather than her neck again. Her lips pulled back at the pain, but her teeth were bared in offense. Her hooves found Buttercup’s throat as a growl began to rumble in her own.

Market’s hoof came down on Roxy’s shoulder and pulled her back. Buttercup gasped as Roxy’s hooves came away from her airway. Market rolled Buttercup over and put a knee in her back to keep her down.

“Are you okay?” Market asked, sparing a glance for Roxy.

Roxy touched her face. “Maybe.”

Market got up and took Buttercup’s bridle lead in her teeth, dragging the uncooperative inmate back to her cell.

“Come back and see me again!” called Buttercup, straining at her bonds. “We’re just getting started! Maybe you’ll finally learn something!”

It bothered Roxy how her comments to Buttercup’s other half about trying to understand her condition had been so twisted by her evil side. She also realized that whatever the good Buttercup knew, the evil one could exploit.

Roxy had picked herself up and straightened her feathers by the time Market returned. She peered at Roxy’s cheekbone. “I think you’ll be okay, although that looks like a bruise coming.”

“What made her do that?” Roxy wondered. “Did she do anything like that when Arc was here?”

Market shook her head. “No, I think she didn’t want to face three stallions and me. With just the two of us she might have thought she had a chance. I’m kind of ashamed to admit that I didn’t see her little trick coming.”

Roxy remembered the small display Buttercup had fabricated, like a magic firecracker. Apparently she was a Loony who also had some magical ability. That seemed like a terrible combination.

“I suppose we’re lucky that you had a few tricks up your sleeve, too,” Market said. “You shrugged off that smack to the face like it was nothing.”

“It didn’t feel like nothing.” Roxy moved her hoof to touch her injury again but decided against it.

Market shook her head. “I’m going to be more careful next time. Why don’t you come back on another day? For now, just go home to your husband.”

Even if she was arguably the stronger of the two, the comfort of being close to Arc sounded very soothing. Roxy said goodbye and went downstairs. Arc would be worried about her, as well he should be. Roxy was not used to feeling vulnerable, but she had somepony to turn to.

Her mood had improved by the time she stepped out of the building. Flapping her wings to clear the sidewalk, Roxy turned to go back to where she had parked. Gaining altitude and having a look above the nearby building, Roxy looked west and a column of black smoke caught her attention.

In the distance, the faint howls of emergency sirens carried through the air. Roxy came to a stop, staring, as a very bad feeling took hold of her. She turned, and with a beat of her wings flew off at top speed.

4: Blowing Up

Arc was almost home when his phone rang. There were laws against taking a call while driving, but at least he already had the phone set in a hooves-free holder. He tapped the screen. “This is Arc.”

“It’s Tammy. You need to get to the south entrance of the Navy base.”

Arc frowned. He saw the street where he would turn to go home. Instead, he used the intersection to turn his car around. To Tammy, he asked, “What’s going on?”

“There was an attempted gate crashing. It was a car bomb.”

Arc’s teeth clenched. That was something that happened in far away foreign countries, not here at home. He asked, “Do we know who did it?”

“No details yet,” Tammy said. “That’s why you need to go investigate. You’re nearby and you know something about explosives. Granite will meet you there with credentials. I’ll forward the address to you.”

Arc thanked her for the information, if not the tasking. Tammy hung up.

All the way to the base, Arc gathered his thoughts, bringing to mind everything he knew about improvised explosives. His job in the Army mostly involved precise, targeted demolition. Occasionally he'd been called to destroy enemy weapons. He may not have been a forensics expert, but he was confident in his ability to add something to the investigation.

Unfortunately, it meant he wouldn't be home for dinner. He touched his phone again, calling Roxy. There were three rings but no answer. Arc left a short message. It wasn't the first time work had kept them apart.

Heading to the base, Arc tried to remember the layout. The south gate was near the piers for smaller ships like destroyers. Had they been the target?

The crowd of emergency and law enforcement vehicles around the gate made the street impassable when Arc arrived. He left his car at a nearby farrier shop and walked closer.

Granite met him before anypony asked what Arc was doing there. The older stallion was wearing a Navy Investigator hat and carried a badge on a cord around his neck. He had the same items for Arc to wear, plus an identification card with his picture on it. Arc wondered how such a fake had been put together so quickly.

“What’s the situation?” Arc asked him, getting outfitted.

“A car showed up to the gate and the driver got out instead of pulling through. It was a gryphon. He started to fly away and just then the car exploded.”

“What was the point?” Arc asked. “Any follow up by another group once the gate was penetrated?”

“No idea. Some Shade somewhere is probably working on a motive. Here on scene it’s up to us to gather evidence.” Granite turned to survey the gate and the wrecked guardhouse. Pieces of metal and concrete were strewn about. The car, what was left of it, sat in a smoldering heap in the middle of the street. Medical ponies were tending to the wounded.

Granite turned back to Arc. “Go talk to the guards that were on duty at the time, those that are still alive.”

“What about the evidence?” Arc asked.

“It's not going anywhere.”

“What about the driver? You said he was a gryphon?”

“The guards shot him.”

“There goes some testimony,” muttered Arc.

“Not necessarily,” Granite said. Without another word, he moved away. Arc turned towards the gate.

He showed his fake badge and ID. They were apparently very good fakes. The armed sailors guarding the area scrutinized them carefully and let him through. After the attack, the guards had to be on edge and Arc noticed that the safeties were off on their assault rifles.

There wasn’t much left of the car, but more of the front remained than the rear. That indicated a trunk bomb, which was not uncommon. Simply putting the bomb in the trunk instead of hiding it elsewhere might also indicate that the builder had never intended for it to sneak by security, instead targeting the gate itself.

Again, there was the question of motive. The timing was unusual, as there were fewer ponies around to attack in the late afternoon. There were also far more valuable things on base to damage than the gate. Was the intent to force traffic to another gate? With more ponies clustered there, would there be another attack soon?

The base security team should already be considering all possibilities. Arc shook his head and went on with his job.

EMTs from the city and medics from the base were tending to the wounded. Most urban bases had emergency service sharing agreements with the local city. It was too bad that it had been put to the test.

Arc managed to get time with a few of the sailors, but he learned little that he didn’t already know. The car had pulled up, the driver departed, and then the explosion.

He shifted his attention to the remains of the car. The gasoline had caused a fire, and soot blanketed much of the area. Water the firefighting crews had poured on it had dampened the road and spread the grime everywhere.

Smaller pieces of metal and other debris were scattered around the twisted remains of the car. Arc was careful not to interfere with any of them. He had nothing with which to collect samples, but that was best left to somepony with access to a mass spectrometer for testing chemicals. Distorted timeframes presented by CSI: Mareami aside, a modern electronic mass spectrometer could actually produce results fairly quickly–especially if they already knew they were looking for explosives.

He saw Granite over by an ambulance. There was a sheet on the ground, covering something lumpy. Some blood had begun to seep through the sheet and the tips of two broad raptor wings were splayed out.

Granite sat close by, a look of deep concentration on his face. The paramedics that stood around appeared to be giving him odd stares.

As Arc approached, Granite got up. He turned and met Arc a few steps from the body.

“Is that the driver?” Arc asked.

Granite nodded. “He’s not talking.”

“He’s dead.” Arc thought that was quite obvious.

Granite gave him a look and then glanced at the crowd of ponies standing around. He tilted his head for Arc to follow and the two of them walked away.

“Did anypony ever tell you about ghosts?” Granite asked.

“No.” Arc had only learned about lycans a few years previously. He was still learning. Not every creature from pop culture was real, and not every real creature was a feature in pop culture. There wasn’t exactly an encyclopedia for everything from the underworld.

“Not everypony becomes a ghost when they die,” Granite said. “There are things I can do to speak to the dead regardless, but not here in public.”

Arc shifted his pace a little to put a little more distance between the two of them. “So…what do you talk about with dead ponies, or in this case, gryphons?”

“Well, in this case I’d ask him why he did it and who he was working for. It would sure as Tartarus make the investigation easier.”

“Have you done a lot of these?” Arc asked.

Granite shrugged. “I would say too many, but I get results so they keep sending me.”

Arc thought for a moment. “Speaking of Shades, why are we here? It was a car bomb, not a zombie outbreak or something.”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Granite said. “Buttercup, locked in her cell, was aware of the attack. She mentioned it to Market Outlook. That’s reason enough.”

“She knew?” Arc frowned. “When I was talking to her the other day, Harvest Peach said she was thinking about RDX, an explosive.”

“I know him.” Granite nodded. “What she thought could be related.”

Arc wondered if this could have been prevented. If they’d just gotten more information from Buttercup, maybe the car bomb would never have been detonated.

Granite was apparently thinking the same thing, however he appeared to be doing a better job of hiding his emotions. Arc wondered how long he would have to work this job to develop the same control.

Outside the crime scene, Arc took off his badge. There was a brief sparkle of magic and it changed to a different design. This one had a lighthouse flanked by the sun and moon.

Granite saw Arc looking. “It’s an multipurpose fake badge. Maybe they’ll give you one.”

The two of them parted ways. Neither had managed to find very much on their own, but some Shade would get them access to the official reports of the incident.

Arc kept the false credentials, just in case. They were not fancy magical multipurpose, but they could come in handy again in the future. He stowed them in the glove box of his car and drove home. Between the extra travel time and investigating the scene, he was hours later than normal.

At the house, Roxy had spent the afternoon and early evening worrying. That was out of the ordinary for her. Becoming a lycan and being granted all the superequine abilities that came with it had been a tremendous boost to her self confidence, but between the fight with Buttercup and seeing the attack at the base on TV, she needed a little time to come to grips.

She didn’t know any sailors stationed in San Palomino, but it was a disturbing fact that the bomb could have been planted at MWB, or at any base Arc had been during his career in the Army. Worse, right in the thick of the action was where her husband had probably gone, based on the voicemail message he’d left her.

Then again, she was probably overreacting. This was nothing like the year-long deployment when Arc had gone to Camelstan. Roxy would see him tonight.

She picked out some ingredients to begin dinner. Guessing Arc would be late, she decided to take the time to prepare Vegetable Wellington. While there were no leeks in the refrigerator, she doubted Arc would miss them.

After preparing the veggies and pastry, Roxy placed it in the oven. As she washed up, her calico cat, Dinah, came into the room.

The cat had been a college companion of Roxy’s and had willingly been adopted by Arc when he and Roxy moved in together. Dinah was getting older now, but was still more than spry enough to leap to the counter.

Roxy dried her hooves and gave the cat a friendly rub behind the ears. She opened the fridge and took out a small package of chicken liver that she’d gotten from the international grocery store. Dinah always appreciated a treat.

Unwrapping the package, she placed it on a plate. Dinah happily dove in. Roxy chuckled. “Not going to wait for me?” She opened the fridge to get a piece of leftover bread. Dinah made room for her to dip the bread in the liver leavings.

The two of them enjoyed the snack in silence. Blood was not the kind of thing Roxy went out of her way to consume, but as a lycan she rationalized the flavor as something she should not be afraid of. Besides, common foodborne pathogens didn’t seem to work on her anymore.

After Dinah had licked the plate clean, Roxy rinsed it. She checked the oven and curled up in a chair to read the newspaper. After forty-five minutes, dinner was done–and smelled great!—but Arc still had not arrived.

Roxy transferred the Wellington to the counter to cool. She thought about calling Arc, but he was probably busy. His schedule with the Army had sometimes been erratic, and she told herself that she should be used to it.

She sat down in front of the TV and flipped through some channels. The evening news was over before Arc arrived.

Roxy was waiting at the door to the garage when he came in. She gave him a smile and pulled him close for a kiss. He accepted the gesture gratefully.

They stood close for a moment before Roxy pulled back with a concerned look. “What happened?”

“There was a bomb at the Navy base. Apparently Buttercup knew something about it.” Arc paused, his eyes focusing on her cheek. “What happened to you?”

Roxy waved a hoof. “Oh, Buttercup hit me.”

Arc touched her withers, his hoof moving to the side of her face. “Are you okay?”

“It’s nothing. It’ll probably be gone by morning.”

It was true that Roxy didn’t keep bruises for very long; they both knew that minor injuries disappeared as if by magic. Still, she could tell that Arc was concerned.

Attempting to take his mind off of it, Roxy led him towards the kitchen. She began to reheat dinner. Continuing the conversation, she said, “How could Buttercup know about the bomb? She’s been locked up for the last few days, and she wouldn’t plan something like that during her good time of the month.”

“I don’t know, but I’d say that it certainly proves she’s guilty of something.” Arc opened the cabinet to retrieve place settings, although his eyes didn’t leave Roxy’s face for more than a few seconds.

“That may be, but her giving herself up shows that at least half of her wants to change.”

Arc snorted. “If that's so, why did she wait all these years to do something? I think good is a relative term when it comes to that mare.”

Roxy's eyes narrowed, and she crossed her forelegs. “I’m going to try to figure out what makes both sides of her tick, and I’m going to have to visit again.”

Arc paused in what he was doing and gave her a look. “Really?”

Even though Roxy’s pony body didn’t have effective hackles, she felt a prickle on the back of her neck. “I’ll certainly be more careful next time. But no one can make progress with Buttercup if they don’t reach out to her. Somepony has to talk to her.”

“Yeah.” Arc noticed that Roxy's lips were set in a tight slash across her muzzle. He glanced away and resumed arranging silverware. “I just wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

It was perhaps the best thing he could have said to defuse the situation before an actual argument had broken out, and they both knew it. Roxy sighed inwardly, unhappy that they had come so close in the first place. Her instincts had been ready to go full Big Bad Wife on him.

They ate dinner quietly. Arc did break the silence to give her a smile and a compliment. “It’s good.”

Roxy smiled back.

Later that evening, when they were both in bed, Roxy lay awake as Arc’s breathing grew deeper and more regular.

The two of them held different opinions on a lot of things, but Buttercup was a whole other level of controversy. Arc didn’t think it was wise to associate with a criminal, while Roxy wanted to keep searching for Buttercup’s good side.

Roxy fell asleep, still turning over the issue in her mind.

There were no crises that night and both of them slept well. In the morning, the issue had been temporarily forgotten.

Arc went out to exercise while Roxy showered. He came back sweaty and she passed the bathroom off to him. While he was cleaning up, she made breakfast.

After eating, they went out the door to work, parting with a kiss. Arc drove to MWB.

In the office, he checked his e-mail and was thinking about getting some coffee when Seabreeze appeared in the doorway of his cubicle. She didn’t cross the threshold uninvited, as was the unspoken office rule.

“Mr. Arc, do you know anything about the car bomb at the base yesterday?” she asked.

The question caught Arc by surprise, but he answered, “What makes you think I know about that?”

She shrugged. “The Navy Investigators are doing the investigation and put a call to MWB for resources. I got tapped to help. I figured that you would be a good place to start for explosives.”

Arc nodded. “I’ll send you an e-mail with my list of website resources.” He paused, an idea coming to him. “I would be interested to see what you learn. If you keep me in the loop, I might be able to help more. It’s not like I have a lot happening on a normal day.”

Seabreeze laughed. “Must be nice getting a civilian salary and leaving at noon. Okay, I’ll see what they’ll let me tell you.”

She left, and Arc considered the situation. Seabreeze had no reason to suspect his knowledge of the car bomb. Even if she had read his notebook the other day and found out about Sisal Twist, that by itself shouldn’t have tipped her to him using fake credentials to slip into the attack scene.

Arc was worried about her involvement, however he wasn’t sure if he had a good reason to be. His job was built on facts, rather than feelings. He spent a few minutes staring at his hat poster, but there were no answers to be found there.

Later that day, Arc met with Proficient and Harv. He considered bringing up his concerns about Seabreeze again, but found that the information they brought him was much more interesting.

The phone number and license plate that Joe had attributed to Sisal Twist had been processed and a related address found. It was in south Unicorado, across the bay from San Palomino. The house was located in an upscale neighborhood, despite being on the same peninsula as the naval air station, aircraft carrier piers, and amphibious training area.

Interestingly, despite being across the bay, it was within two miles as the seagull flies of where the attack had taken place. Arc wouldn’t have been surprised if the smoke was visible from the house.

“So who’s up for a trip to Unicorado?” Harv asked.

“We’re just going to go to the house of a known weapons dealer?” Arc questioned.

“We’ll be careful,” Harv assured him.

Arc looked at Proficient, who shrugged.

So they went to Unicorado. Proficient drove the three of them across the bridge to the peninsula, and then south along the boulevard that paralleled the coast.

When they arrived in the neighborhood, it was late afternoon. Proficient stopped the car a few blocks from the address. The houses in the area were all as large as their parcels allowed, shouldering against each other for room. Most had tile roofs. All had docks out back, and some were equipped with more than one boat.

Proficient popped the trunk and the three of them went around to the back of the car. There were a few NAG Sauer pistols with government serial numbers.

“Know how to use one of these?” asked Harv.

Arc gave him a look. “I can field strip it and put it back together in forty seconds. Blindfolded.”

Harv’s eyebrows went up, but he didn’t reply. He hoofed the gun over. Arc tucked the pistol under his shirt. He wished he had a jacket or something to cover it.

Arc glanced at the other thing in the trunk, the green tubular thing. They should really do something about that HU-7 instead of just carrying it around.

Proficient closed the trunk and they walked the rest of the way to the house. It was finished in white stucco with a natural clay tile roof. It was neither the biggest house on the block nor the smallest.

Arc spotted a pier behind the house. There was no vessel, but a few ropes and boat fenders were present.

Harv stopped at the front door and stared at it for several seconds before glancing up, looking at the second floor windows. He said, “I’m not getting anything. No one is home.”

The window inset in the front door was made of opaque glass and the shades were drawn on the windows.

Arc gestured to the door. “It’s too bad we don’t have any clear tape to put on the frosted glass so we could see through.”

“It wouldn’t work,” Proficient said, carefully studying the door’s window. “Most high-end applications actually put the frosting between two panes of clear class to prevent that sort of thing.”

Harv tried the doorknob and it turned without resistance. He paused, and then let go of the knob. “No way we could just get in that easily. You don’t have a house like this and forget to lock it.”

“Is it a trap?” Arc asked.

“I’m not going to open the door and find out,” replied Harv.

The three of them left the front door and headed back to the car. They hadn’t got there when the house exploded.

5: Hello, I Want You Dead

It had not been a productive day for Roxy. Well, she’d gotten her work done, but her personal projects had lagged behind. Part of the reason for that was Carbon.

He’d ended up working closely with her that day, and they’d managed to clear quite a few tasks. The two of them got along quite well, although perhaps too well if it encouraged him to keep hanging around and keeping Roxy from doing the research she wanted.

Carbon had never shown the slightest hint that he was interested in being anything more than a friendly colleague. That made the situation more annoying, because Roxy could find no legitimate reason to push him away.

After work, she’d gone to see Spike and gotten a pleasant surprise. The book from Haycago had come in. It was only about one hundred pages, but it was entirely focused on loonies.

“This is great, thanks,” she told Spike.

He nodded and smiled. “No problem. I live to serve.”

“Maybe you can help me with something else,” Roxy said. “I’ve looked over my DNA as well as Buttercup’s. Neither of us seem to have anything out of place. According to tests, we’re totally pony. I was wondering if there was some way to determine, scientifically or otherwise, a being’s complete physiology.”

Spike pondered that. “I might be able to find something. You said ‘scientifically or otherwise?’ I think our local wizard might be able to help with that. I believe Gray has his contact information on file.”

“Thank you so much.” Roxy said goodbye to Spike and went downstairs to see Gray.

He greeted her. “Did you get the book you needed?”

“Yes, thank you. Spike said you could help me get in contact with the local wizard.”

Gray frowned. “Granite? That’s probably who he meant. I mean, he’s the most well known wizard around here.”

He began to search through the cards in a rolodex. Roxy asked, “Are there a lot of wizards?”

“Not really. I mean, wizards and witches combined, I’ve only heard of maybe a dozen. There are a lot more practitioners than that, but very few really make a career out of it.” Gray shrugged. “Very few are adept enough to.”

“I’m looking to research the physiology of paraequine beings. Is Granite skilled in that field?”

Gray paused. “Not that I know of. Granite’s not really into researching that paranormal stuff, from what I've heard. Kind of odd for a wizard, don’t cha’ think? He’s more of a badass. Like I said, he’s well known, and for a good reason.”

Roxy frowned, but not having met the stallion, she couldn’t judge how helpful he would be. If he came recommended by Spike, that was good enough.

Gray found the right card and copied the information onto a sticky note. He hoofed it over. “That should be what you need.”

Roxy took it, giving the writing a glance. “Thank you. I’ll see if he can help me.”

She left before Gray could ask any awkward questions. At some point, Roxy might have to give him the time to get them out of his system. Or strangle him. Either would probably suffice.

Roxy headed down the street to the prison. The book she had just received might help shed some light on Buttercup’s condition.

Market wasn’t expecting to see Roxy, but had her wait in the interrogation room while she fetched Buttercup.

Wrapped in hobbles and a bridle, Buttercup looked well restrained. Today, she did not appear to be out for a fight, but that didn’t change her attitude. She still looked a mess, and the expression on her face was even uglier.

“I thought you wouldn’t come back, bitch,” Buttercup sneered.

Roxy ignored the comment, laying out her notebook. Buttercup prodded her again. “Hey, fleabag. I’m talking to you.”

Roxy looked up. Buttercup grinned. “Yeah, I know what you are. Took a little while, but I figured it out.”

Pausing for a moment, Roxy said, “Fleabag? Is that what you shop with at flea markets?”

Buttercup blinked, the comment putting her off balance.

Roxy went on. “You know about me. I’d like to hear more about you. I’m working on a project to learn about loonies. Can we talk about your family history?”

Buttercup’s lip curled. “No.”

“I just want to get to know you.” Roxy wondered if anypony had ever said that to Buttercup before. Perhaps not. Several seconds passed before Buttercup replied.

She sat back in the chair, gazing at Roxy levelly. “I was put up for adoption on the day I was born. How’s that for a start?”

Roxy wondered what time of the month it had been. Had her mother been uncaringly casting her child aside, or had she been trying to save her daughter from her own personality swings?

“Do you know anything about your family?” Roxy asked.

“Never met any of them.” Buttercup frowned, but said, “Probably a good thing too.”

“Why’s that?”

“What do you think happens when you put more than one evil pony in the room?”

Roxy made a note. “So you acknowledge that you’re evil?”

Buttercup faltered, but quickly came back with, “Reality can be a bitch, like you.”

“You know, that’s actually less insulting to a lycan,” Roxy said.

Snarling, Buttercup jerked on her restraints as she tried to go across the table. Her sitting position and a quick grab from Market kept her from coming out of the chair.

“You think that makes you any better than me?” Buttercup locked eyes with Roxy as she was forcibly restrained by Market. “You think that because you weren't born this way you can just laugh off what I say?”

“I wouldn’t need to if you wouldn’t say hurtful things,” Roxy responded. “I’m trying not to let anything come between us. I want to help you.”

“It would help a lot more if you were housebroken and properly trained to fetch,” Buttercup said, a grin working its way onto her lips. “I’ll bet your master would approve. Do you like it when he takes you for walks on a leash? Or when he pets you?”

Market jerked Buttercup away by her bridle lead. “I think it’s pretty clear which one of you needs to be on a leash.” Roxy heard the prisoner still tossing insults all the way back to her cell.

It was mildly reassuring that Buttercup seemed to be running out of motivations and was now only acting ornery because she felt like she had to. At the same time, Roxy was frustrated that more progress hadn’t been made.

Leaving the building, Roxy got into her car to drive home. The dashboard briefly illuminated as the engine started. In digital letters, the car requested an oil change. Newer cars decided for themselves when they needed to be serviced, and the seemingly random times made it more difficult to plan for. Roxy grumbled and made a mental note to call the dealership to schedule an appointment.

In another car that was traveling north on the Unicorado Peninsula, Arc, Proficient, and Harv were vacating the scene of a recent house explosion.

The pistol Arc had put inside his shirt was pinned between his back and the seat. He shifted slightly to keep the slide release from digging into his pelt.

It had been mostly quiet since they’d gotten back into the car. Arc felt strange, almost as if he had a fever. He noticed that he was breathing fast and had broken into a sweat. It had been a while since he'd felt like this. It brought back some memories. He didn't want to look like a nervous rookie, but he just couldn't just stay quiet. “Did somepony just try to kill us?”

“No,” Harv deadpanned. “That was just an excessively warm welcome. With fireworks.”

“There’s no evidence that it was targeted specifically for us three,” Proficient said. “However, yes, I think so.”

“How did Sisal Twist know we were coming?” Harv wondered aloud. “You don’t blow your house up for just anypony trying to get in the front door.”

“I see three options,” Proficient speculated. “One, somepony tipped her that we were coming. Two, she knew we would pick up her trail and come eventually. Three, she’s trying to get attention by blowing up parts of San Palomino. Maybe it's all three. The question remains: why?”

“It sounds awfully longsighted for a criminal,” Arc commented.

Harv glanced at him. “Bad guys are some of the most inventive ponies you will ever meet. Figuring out their next step before they figure out yours is the challenge.”

That was true enough, Arc supposed. All was fair in war, as he had seen while on deployment. He just hoped that it wasn’t a war coming to San Palomino.

Arc looked out the window for a moment as the car kept moving. The bridge back across the bay came into view. He asked, “Where are we going?”

“An incident like this requires us to file a formal report,” Harv explained. “The sooner the better. It’s important to have quality information and to file it correctly.”

The lecture on procedure and bureaucracy was slightly surprising coming from Harv, but Arc did understand debriefing.

They arrived back at headquarters and Arc once again had to give a blood sample to get in. Down in the depths of the building, they accessed a computer terminal for report writing. Proficient and Harv coached Arc on what to put in the report.

“Whoever ends up reading it might send it back with a request for more detail, so it’s best to put down everything the first time,” Harv advised.

Arc wasn’t sure how much more detail he could get out of arrived at house, picked up a gun, walked up to house, walked away from house, house blew up.

Speaking of the gun, he reached back to adjust so it would stop gouging him. Proficient saw him. “I suppose you’ll need a holster.”

“Can’t I just leave the gun in the trunk?” Arc asked.

“I suppose you could, although most of us prefer to be armed when somepony is trying to kill us.” Proficient shrugged.

“You’re just going to give me the authority to carry a gun?”

“Government exception,” Harv provided.

Arc had been armed every day he was overseas. However, those weapons were designed to be carried effectively and visibly. For this job, procuring a secure, ergonomic holster for carrying a pistol concealed was a must. A loose gun was uncomfortable and unsafe. Actually obtaining a holster for a gun he had just received–in the liberal city of San Palomino–wasn’t going to be the easiest thing.

Related to being issued a sidearm, there was paperwork to do. Even underground secret agencies kept a tight grip on dangerous weapons.

By the time the pistol checkout applications and after-action reports for the bombing were filed, Arc was late for dinner again.

He was climbing the stairs out of the basement with Proficient and Harv when they encountered an older mare named Sapphire Shores. Her mane was long and brushed straight, covering her neck. Other than being named after an old-timey musician, Arc didn’t know much about her. He was aware, however, that she was in charge of the San Palomino Shade office.

“Gentlecolts,” Sapphire said, nodding to the three of them. They paused to speak with her.

“Ma’am,” Proficient replied with a nod of his head. “I expect you’ve heard what happened.”

“I suspect most of San Palomino knows about it by now. The house is crawling with reporters and even a few news vans. The SPPD have cordoned off the area. We’ll have somepony of ours take a look into the investigation, if we can find the resources.”

Sapphire shook her head. “You know we’re stretched thin. The offshore annex is barely able to keep up. With the new tasking that might come out of this gryphon-minotaur scuffle, I expect that this building will also pick up business.”

“Don’t we deal with just the internal affairs of Equestria?” Arc asked.

Sapphire looked at him. “You were in the Army, right? You know better than most that the countries of the world aren’t isolated anymore. If a war breaks out overseas, we’ll still feel some effects here. Which reminds me, the lab tests came back. The gryphon that blew up the car at the base the other day did it with TNT in the trunk. That’s a trademark of Al-Nestra bombs.”

Sapphire shook her head in annoyance. As her mane tossed, Arc briefly saw a set of symmetric creases in her neck.

“I need to get going,” Sapphire said. “Good talking with you.”

When she was out of earshot, Arc asked, “What’s the offshore annex?”

“It’s just like this building but underwater,” Proficient said. “Believe it or not, most of the work the San Palomino office does actually takes place out there. The world is mostly ocean, after all. It’s a good idea to pay attention to it.”

“Why do we have this building as a headquarters, then?” Arc asked, gesturing to the walls.

“Equal opportunity,” said Harv. “They have to cater to non-seapony employees.”

It was the first time Arc had ever felt like a minority before. He said, “So everything in San Palomino that happens on land takes a backseat to what goes on in the ocean?”

“The offshore annex is a priority facility,” Proficient explained. “The only one we have on this coast.”

“So if we get the second choice of resources, what does that mean for our investigation?” Arc asked. “Who’s going to investigate Sisal’s house?”

Harv frowned. “Us, probably.”

That was not what Arc wanted to hear. He thought he had been recruited for this job because he was qualified for it.

The three of them walked out of the building. Arc checked his cell phone. It didn’t appear to work at all inside the walls of the Shade Headquarters. Calling the home phone number got him to voicemail. Roxy apparently wasn’t home.

As he finished his call, his phone beeped with a voicemail of his own. It had only just been received after being in the signalproof building. Arc listened. It was from Roxy. She was going to be late for dinner.

It wasn’t as if Arc couldn’t cook for his own food; Roxy was just so much better at it. It was too bad that he would have to fend for himself this evening, but there were leftovers.

Roxy reflected on that as she drove to a meeting. She liked putting together meals, but her current task was more important.

She’d called Granite with the number Gray had given her. He’d been busy with his lawyer, but said he needed a break anyway and told her to come. Roxy figured the lawyer must not charge by the hour.

The office was downtown in One Equestria Plaza. The building was one of the tallest in the skyline, and its distinctive pointed roof set it apart from the rest. Roxy found parking and walked inside. The lobby was marble and four stories tall, with a water feature that ran down most of one wall. The doorways carried the same point as the roof and the trimming around them and on the walls was golden.

Roxy crossed the lobby and got on the elevator. She flicked an ear. Even the music sounded expensive.

Several floors above, she reached her destination and disembarked. Across from the elevator was the front door of the law offices of Pants & disLee.

Opening the door, Roxy was greeted with a plush lounge and a reception desk which was not currently occupied.

Two pairs of hoofsteps came from down the hallway, just barely audible on the thick carpet. Into the room stepped two stallions, only one of which looked as if he belonged there.

Fancypants, as he introduced himself, was immaculately groomed with a carefully managed mane and a trim mustache. Roxy estimated that his suit was probably three times as expensive as Arc’s nicest one. His hooves had a better shine than Roxy’s.

“It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” Fancypants smiled but did not show his teeth. He took her forehoof in both of his and bringing it up to his mouth, kissed it. His eyes widened slightly as his lips touched her limb. Despite his opulent clothes and the summer season, his hooves felt cool to the touch. A light cologne hung around him.

“Now you see why I wanted a break,” grumbled Granite. “He can’t even come close to acting like a normal pony.”

“Neither can you, wizard,” replied Fancypants, appearing completely unperturbed by the comment.

Granite turned away from him to face Roxy. “So what is it you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Spike suggested that I speak to you about magic,” Roxy began. “I’m trying to determine if there are testable indicators of somepony’s supernatural traits like there are for physical traits. You can think of it as ‘magic genes.’”

Granite considered the idea. “I wouldn’t be surprised if something like that exists, although I’m not the best authority on magical theory and study. Let’s talk and see what I can contribute.”

Fancypants escorted them to an opulent conference room with high-backed chairs. The three of them took up just one corner of the table.

Roxy spread out her notes and explained what she knew so far. That was honestly very little, but she got the point across. “Being able to test for something like this would enable us to determine characteristics, maybe even distinct abilities and aptitude.”

“I think it’s an interesting idea,” Granite said. “I know that there’s already some evidence that traits like these are inheritable, like from a father to a daughter.”

“I’m not exactly sure what it means for me,” Roxy admitted. “I don’t know if my kids could be born as lycans or if my husband’s normal traits would be dominant.”

Fancypants sat up a little straighter. “Forgive me for asking, but why did you marry a mortal before you knew the answers to questions like that?”

Roxy paused, staring at him. “Well, love had something to do with it.”

“Oh.” Fancypants folded his hooves and leaned back. “That’s all well and good for the first fifty years or so. Then he’ll die.”

Roxy’s hooves were flat on the table and her wings lifted slightly from her back. Her teeth clenched tightly, lips parting slightly.

Granite turned his head to Fancypants. “You’re getting a little out of touch with the public.”

Fancypants frowned. “I suppose. That was insensitive of me.”

“You’re absolutely right it was,” Roxy spat. “I married a wonderful stallion and lifespan was the last thing on my mind.”

“I suppose quality is more important than quantity if you’re limiting yourself to just one of the two,” Fancypants mused.

Granite stood up. “I’m going to get out of here before somepony has to clean blood out of the carpet.” He glanced at Fancypants. “See you tomorrow.”

Roxy continued to glare across the table at Fancypants for a moment longer before grabbing her notes and following Granite out of the room. The two of them exited the office, and Granite pushed the elevator button.

They got on the elevator when it came. As the doors slid closed, Roxy muttered, “Who does he think he is?”

“A vampire that’s a couple of centuries old,” Granite replied.

Roxy stared at him for a moment before turning to face the doors again. “I don’t care. I’m not going to let anypony talk about Arc that way.”

Granite shrugged. “Good luck. Just don’t pick a fight you can’t win.”

Roxy’s eyes slid sideways to him. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, somepony like Fancypants outclasses you on just about every level. He’s got a lot of life experience. He’s a lawyer, so he’s good at verbal altercations. He’s an older vampire, so if you tried anything physical you’d get your ass hoofed to you.”

Granite turned to face her. “Look, I can tell that you’re young, in every sense of the word. You might as well learn now that the hierarchy has a whole lot more levels than what they teach in school. Fancypants could take you out, I could take him in a fair fight, and there’s probably something out there that could take me. Just keep your head down and try not to get noticed.”

The rest of the elevator ride was spent in silence. The two of them parted company at the street and Roxy went back to her car. She sat for a moment behind the wheel and took a deep breath.

Roxy started the car and drove home. Arc was there when she arrived, although he was still sorting through the mail, so he had apparently just gotten home himself. They met with a hug in the kitchen. He seemed curious about why Roxy clung to him a little longer than normal, but didn’t ask.

Roxy made a quick dinner of stir fry. For conversation during the meal, she explained to Arc her theories about the magic traits. He was no expert in life sciences, but over the years had managed to pick up enough about genetics from her to understand.

“So for most of the population, those genes would be blank?” Arc asked.

“That’s a good question.” Roxy thought about it for a moment, remembering what Gray had said about most ponies having at least trifling ability, even if it wasn’t obvious.

“This sounds like it could be a big deal,” Arc said. “Being able to test for this.”

“Well, if we can figure out how to,” Roxy noted. “And if we can make sure somepony else hasn’t already done this research. Trying to figure out if you have a unique idea is hard enough. Trying to find if there’s been similar project when all the notes are classified makes it nearly impossible.”

Arc smiled. “You still came up with the idea independently. I’m just happy to see you excited about something.”

Roxy nodded. “I was hoping I could use this research to help Buttercup. If there’s some way to identify what’s wrong with her, maybe we can figure out how to change it.”

Arc couldn’t really argue with trying to cure Buttercup, although his feelings about her hadn’t changed.

A silence settled over the table. Arc put down his fork. “I should tell you: I was nearly blown up today.”

In terms of changing the subject, that was about as effective as anything. Roxy’s silverware clattered to the plate. “What?”

“We went to visit Sisal Twist’s place. It looked like a trap and so we left before it happened.”

Arc had told her about a few of the scrapes he’d been in during the war, but they’d both thought things like that were in the past. Roxy reached across the table to touch his hoof. “Please stay safe.”

It was not a tone she took with him often. Arc felt like he had kicked a puppy. Putting himself in danger was one thing, but he couldn’t just think of himself. He turned his hoof over to clasp hers. “I will.”

Roxy let out a breath softly and her face relaxed. Arc did not pull away, prolonging the touch for as long as she wished. Their eyes met, and both of them leaned forward.

The kiss was a familiar contact but by no means an uninteresting one. Pausing for breath, they both leaned into each other, foreheads together and enjoying the intimate feeling a warm nuzzle, eyes closed.

“I love you,” Roxy said gently.

“I love you too.” Arc matched her tone.

The phone rang. Both of them groaned in annoyance. Arc was closer, and leaned back to pick up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Am I speaking to Arc?” It was a female voice.

“Yes,” he replied, not recognizing the caller.

She went on. “You should have died today.”

Arc paused, his brows furrowing. “Who is this?”

“Take a guess.”

“No really, who is this?”

“Sisal Twist.”

Arc made frantic hoof movements at Roxy to get a pen and paper. He said, “Why did your house blow up?”

“Why were you there?”

Arc paused, and deciding he had nothing to lose, said, “I asked you first.”

“Really? I nearly murder you and that’s your comeback?”

Sisal seemed rather amiable about it, and that worried Arc more than anything. It sounded like she was enjoying herself.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting your call,” Arc said. “Give me some time to think up something snappy.”

“Time isn’t something you have,” Sisal said. “You’re not a princess - literally speaking, anyway - so you won’t be exactly difficult to kill.”

“What do you have against me?” Arc asked. It seemed like the obvious question.

“You’re in my way. I just thought that if I called and told you to leave town tonight it would save us both some hassle.” She snorted.

“It sounds like you don’t care either way.”

“You want to die, Arc? Because not even the diarchs can save you.”

“Did you just rhyme?” he asked. The conversation up to this point had been bordering on the ridiculous. Despite the threats, Arc could barely believe what he was hearing. Was this really a criminal mastermind?

“What if I did?” she said.

“Are you being serious?”

“Do you think me killing thousands of ponies is serious?”

Arc wanted to say “yes,” but Sisal’s tone was clearly rhetorical. At any rate, she hung up before he could reply.

“What was that all about?” Roxy asked.

Arc put the phone down and looked into her eyes. “I'm sorry, love. I don't think playing it safe is an option any more.”

6: Undersea

It was a long wait before the Shade-designated bomb squad finished surreptitiously clearing the area. The precaution was not frivolous. When somepony was threatening to kill you, it wasn’t a good idea to make it any easier for them.

Arc and Roxy had spent the past few hours in their house, staying away from windows. It reminded Arc of being in a flimsy bunker. Roxy felt like she was in a cage.

The bomb squad knocked on the back door, signaling that the job was done. After checking through the window, Arc opened the door to meet them.

“No bomb,” reported the leader, who was a rather short creature with claws and angular features. He and the rest of the crew were gremlins. They’d worked carefully, not wanting to excite the neighbors should they be spotted, although not even Roxy’s senses had detected them while they worked.

“Thanks for checking,” said Arc.

“No problem. Finding things and taking them apart is what we do. Call us if you ever need anything else.” The group of them departed, disappearing into the night without using a car or any other visible means of transportation.

Now that the house was clear, Roxy made a call on her phone. It was clear that the house phone was known to Sisal, and if she knew Arc’s name his cell might be known as well.

Although that didn’t mean Roxy’s phone hadn’t also been compromised, it might have been marginally less likely. At any rate the message she was passing along was coded.

Proficient and Harv arrived within a few minutes, driving the same government car they'd made use of before. Their residences had also been searched and cleared, although neither had been personally called by Sisal.

Arc and Roxy had each packed night bags and got in the car. They didn’t know where they would be taken.

The talk while driving was light. With the incident, they all realized that a long night probably awaited them. How it would turn out was anypony’s guess.

In the back seat, Arc and Roxy’s hooves slid closer together. The two of them shared a glance and then intertwined fetlocks. The best way to get through this was to support each other.

In a few minutes, the car arrived at the Shade headquarters. As both Arc and Roxy went through the process of being blooded-in, Arc noticed that the guards on duty seemed to be exactly the same ones who were always there in the daytime. He didn’t have time to ponder that, however, as he and his wife were escorted down the hallway to a room where neither of them had ever been. The sign over the door read “annex.”

The room that was revealed behind the door was small. Another door on the other side of the room faced the entrance. Sapphire was already there, her hooves crossed and a sour expression on her face. She looked as if somepony had awakened her in the middle of the night.

“I hope you understand the seriousness of this,” she began. “Threats to Shades are not to be taken lightly, nor is the fact that somepony managed to figure out your home phone number.”

Harv raised one hoof. “It’s not like Arc gave Sisal Twist his number and said, ‘call me, maybe.’”

“Regardless, we’ll need to set up some protection.” Sapphire tossed her head towards the door, the one that hadn’t been opened yet. “This will work until something has been established.”

Proficient, standing closest to the door, grasped the knob and opened it. Beyond lay another room, although it seemed to be out of sorts with the building. The slightly inclined concrete floors and walls along with the lighting were different from any that could be found in the headquarters building. The air that billowed out was chilly and damp.

Black and yellow hazard stripes around the entry illustrated that something wasn’t quite standard. It took a moment for Arc and Roxy to realize that the edges of the doorway were slightly irregular, not being perfectly rectangular or straight lines.

Proficient anticipated the question. “In case you’re wondering, yes, this is a literal door through space.”

“Where does it go?” Roxy asked.

“A place about a hundred twenty kilometers west of here,” Harv said.

Arc frowned. “That’s the ocean.”

“Mostly, yes,” Sapphire agreed. “The offshore annex is located there, off the south end of Hoofleson Island.

Arc pointed at the door. “You’re telling me this leads to our underwater headquarters - the offshore annex?”

“The dry part of it,” Proficient said. “Equal opportunity and all.”

“It’s the best impromptu safehouse that we have,” Sapphire added.

Proficient gestured, beckoning. Arc and Roxy clasped hooves and walked towards the door.

“Don’t touch the edges,” Harv warned. “It’s bad for your existence.”

Everypony took a careful high step over the threshold. Sapphire lingered at the edge, looking as if she wanted to join the group, but instead waved goodbye and closed the door.

“So this is the annex,” Proficient said. “It’s understandably a little bit cold and wet. We’re approximately one hundred meters below the ocean on an undersea shelf at the sound end of Hoofleson Island. The water above is protected as part of the Navy bombing range on the island. That, plus the depth, keeps any recreational divers from stumbling upon the facility.”

“One hundred meters?” Arc echoed.

“It’s very secure. As Sapphire said, it’s the best safehouse we have.”

“Anyway,” said Harv, “If you’re going to be here for a while we should probably introduce you.”

Further into the room, the concrete walls gave way to a glassed-in reception area where a bearded stallion in a pea coat sat behind a desk. His work space was personalized with a few small nautical decorations, including a model of a submarine inscribed with the words silent service.

He stood as the group approached. Proficient introduced them. “Roxy, Arc, this is Deckplate.”

He offered a hoof to both of them to shake, revealing that silent service was also engraved on a bracelet around his wrist. “Nice to meet you,” said Deckplate. “I’m the chief air-breather around here.”

“Are the rest of the employees here seaponies?” Roxy asked.

“Mostly.” Deckplate shrugged. “We get odds and ends from all over. Come on, I’ll show you around.”

Proficient and Harv said goodbye and went back through the door. Deckplate took Arc and Roxy into another room, or perhaps compartment would have been more accurate. All the construction was heavy and partitioned with steel. Everything felt slightly damp to the touch.

“This is where you’ll be staying,” Deckplate said, leading them into a small boxlike room with two single beds and a rack of shelves. There was little else in the way of anything.

“Is there any place to work out?” Arc asked.

“Or to fly?” Roxy added.

“There’s some exercise equipment around, here and there.” Deckplate didn’t seem perturbed by the claustrophobic environment, and also didn’t seem to notice that his guests were not reacting the same way.

Arc and Roxy left their bags in the room and followed Deckplate to other parts of the facility for something to do. It looked like there wasn’t much to do in terms of entertainment, other than maybe being uneasy about the crushing ocean above.

They came to a heavily reinforced steel hatch which Deckplate struggled with for a moment. As it cracked open there was a slight change in pressure and a noticeable hiss of air escaped.

“Here’s the work center,” Deckplate introduced, closing the hatch behind them.

The area beyond was familiar to Arc, as it was clearly an office full of cubicles. However, there were no floors, just water. The computers and other equipment were heavily waterproofed, as their users were all seaponies.

Other than the obvious fishy differences, for the most part they seemed like regular office employees. Business casual was in effect, although a few went more dressy with jackets and accessories. All the clothing was soaking wet, of course, but nopony seemed to mind.

Deckplate checked his watch, a sealed diving model. “It’s getting towards morning, so the day/night shift supervisors are probably turning over right about now. I’ll take you to meet them.”

Using what appeared to be a system of interlocking piers that rose above the water, they went into a room off the main work center. A secretary waited behind a desk. She nodded to Deckplate. “I heard that we would be hosting some guests indefinitely.”

“That’s right.” Deckplate introduced them. “This is Brandy.”

There was a significant height difference between the ponies on the floor and the seaponies in the water. Arc and Roxy had to bend over to shake hooves. Brandy’s touch was cold and wet, although that was pretty much par for the course on everything at the annex.

“I think Kai and Sela are just about done with their meeting,” Brandy said. “You can go in.”

Deckplate knocked on the office door behind Brandy and escorted Arc and Roxy inside. The office had a few more decorations than the rest of the work center. It also had a window, however it revealed nothing but black ocean.

Kai was the oncoming supervisor. He was well dressed and groomed, somehow managing to stay looking neat in the water. Sela was his counterpart in job, if not in appearance. Her dress was a little more lively and colorful.

There was another round of hoofshakes as they were introduced. “We’ll set you up with workstations so you can do something productive while you’re here,” Kai promised.

“And a phone to call in sick to your jobs,” added Sela. “Deckplate, would you be so kind?”

“Sure,” Deckplate nodded. “Assuming the phones work. Something’s always happening to the cables.”

After the brief introduction, Deckplate took Arc and Roxy back to their quarters. Since the call from Sisal and everything else that had happened, both of them just wanted to get some rest – if cold wet separate beds under the ocean could be depended upon to provide.

Deckplate left them alone. With the light off, the compartment was absolutely black. At least it was fairly quiet, the only sound a faint hum of distant pumps.

The quiet was actually uncomfortable for Arc. He had, after all, learned to sleep through artillery fire. Roxy heard him restlessly shifting on his bunk.

Breaking the silence, Arc asked, “Is it just me or did a few of those seapony stallions look a little strange? Not fat, but like they were smuggling a basketball?”

“Well…” Roxy considered. “With seahorses, the males carry the young.”

They were both silent for a moment. Arc said, “I don’t think I’m going to ask for confirmation.”

“It’s an interesting biological possibility, but I don’t think I want to know either,” Roxy agreed. “I suppose the bottom of the ocean is a unique place to visit, for all the new things it offers, but I don’t know how long I want to stay here.”

After a moment, Arc said, “So we were talking about taking a cruise sometime. Is that off the table now?”

Roxy laughed. They both managed to rest easier after that.

Deckplate woke them in a few hours for breakfast and to call in sick. After completing their calls, Arc and Roxy joined him at a cramped table in the dry part of the facility.

“What’s on the menu?” Roxy asked.

“Well, the kelp is the freshest you’ll ever get,” Deckplate said. “Everything else comes in a can.”

Seaweed was not Arc’s idea of breakfast, but Roxy was willing to be a little more adventurous. She did refuse to eat some of the preprepared items, although Arc thought it was more palatable than MRE’s.

Proficient and Harv showed up with a briefcase as they were finishing the meal. The two of them, plus Arc and Roxy, had a conference to discuss the events of the previous night.

Taking out some documents for reference, Proficient explained the phone call. “The number was traced to a radio autopatch operating in the VHF band. These are mostly used by amateur radio operators to make calls on the phone system. Unfortunately, we can trace to the repeater, but after that the call gets lost out on the airwaves. There’s a slim chance that government sensors might have picked it up, but it will take some time for us to surreptitiously look through their mountains data to find it.”

“So Sisal Twist has a radio,” Arc said. “Does that tell us anything?”

“A specific frequency is required to connect to the autopatch,” Proficient said. “Unfortunately, radios that operate in the VHF band are very common. Boaters, police, military, and a lot of civilians have them. We might try looking through the government radio license database to see if Sisal turns up.”

“Does she have a boat?” Arc asked. “I noticed that she had a dock behind her house.”

“We’re already checking that,” Harv assured him.

“Where do we go from here?” Roxy asked. “What else can we check?”

“I’m still wondering how Sisal managed to find us,” Arc said.

“Those are both good questions,” Proficient allowed. “You could probably borrow a computer while you’re here for research – on projects of your own if you have nothing else to work on. As for how Sisal figured it out, we have a few theories but nothing solid yet.”

“So you want us to sit here and do nothing,” Arc observed flatly.

Roxy glanced at him, thinking the same thing but glad that he had said it.

“We take protection very seriously,” Harv replied. There was an edge in his voice. Proficient did not seem as personally involved but nodded in agreement.

The two of them got up. Harv produced a plastic grocery bag. There was some fresh fruit, peanuts, and a few odds and ends of candy. “We brought you some snacks. The food down here sucks.”

At least they were making the “sit on your hooves until we give the all clear” order more bearable. Harv added, “Try not to let the seaponies beg anything from you. They love crunchy stuff. They don’t get much of that down here where everything is soggy.”

Proficient and Harv had also brought a newspaper and left it with the snacks. They said goodbye and went back to the surface.

Arc and Roxy sat down to read the paper. Barring any other contact with the world above the waves, it would have to do. Her wings had a wider span than his hooves, so she held it for both of them and they settled down to read it. Unfortunately, the news was all bad. On the front page was an article about the car bomb at the base.

The details were still thin, but apparently somepony had leaked that it looked like an Al-Nestra bomb. The gryphons of Al-Nestra had already issued a statement claiming they were being framed by minotaur rivals, who had replied, essentially, “That’s what you want everyone to think.” The governments of Minos and the Gryphon Empire were also getting in on the act and it looked like one more hostile event or trade of blame could set the two countries into an all-out war.

The news didn’t get any better on the next few pages. There was a piece covering Sisal’s exploding house. Roxy gave Arc a hard, but momentary, look. He inclined his head slightly. The two of them silently decided not to talk about it.

There was nothing much interesting in the next few pages and Roxy folded the paper. “That didn’t spend as much time as I hoped it would.”

“They’ll let us use the computers,” Arc suggested.

“I suppose I could try looking for similar genetic studies to mine,” Roxy suggested.

“Need help?” Arc asked.

Roxy didn’t, but smiled. “You can help me type.”

Deckplate pointed them to a side room that held a few waterproof workstations. A few seaponies were already there. One introduced herself to Arc and Roxy as they dragged one of the computers away from the water to use.

“Hello, I’m Doria,” she said. “What brings you here?”

“Temporary assignment,” Arc said, helping Roxy set up the computer.

Doria observed how closely and intimately the two of them were sitting. “So where are you from?”

“Where we’re living now or originally?” Roxy asked.

Doria shrugged.

“We usually work from the office in San Palomino,” Roxy replied. “I’m originally from Appleoosa.”

“I must admit, I don’t know much about that place.” Doria laughed.

“I’m from Trottingham, near Diamond Lake,” Arc put in.

“I haven’t been to any lakes,” Doria said. “Freshwater seaponies are weird.”

The computer was started now and Roxy began searching. Feeling obligated to continue the conversation, Arc said, “I haven’t met any.”

“They’re…” Doria glanced around a lowered her voice. “They’re a little like the hillbillies of the underwater world.”

Arc’s lip twitched as he attempted not to laugh. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Of course you would know more about hillbillies, right? Like ponies from Ponyville?” Doria said.

“What do you know about Ponyville?” Arc asked.

“Peanuts come from farms near there.”

“How did you know that?”

“Whinny Carter was a peanut farmer and he was from Ponyville.”

Arc frowned. “How do you know about Whinny Carter?”

Doria gave him an odd look. “Well, I studied Equestrian history in school. I’m a citizen, too.”

“Sorry.” Arc hadn’t stopped to consider exactly where international boundaries lay. He fumbled awkwardly for a moment and then asked, “Would you like some peanuts?”

7: Cleanup on Aisle Nope

Time seemed to pass differently underwater. Arc’s office cubicle hadn’t given him a view of the sky either, but at least he was attuned to his building’s ebb and flow of traffic throughout the day. He had figured that taking a new job meant that he’d have to get used to a new system. He just hadn’t been planning on it being underwater.

Even Roxy’s voice sounded different to him. Somepony had explained that it was due to the necessary higher air pressure and a gas permeability spell to protect “air breathers.” Arc wasn’t a diver but had heard of effects like the bends that could arise from a pressurized environment.

Speaking of diving, the few windows around the office didn’t reveal much of the sea bottom. At one hundred meters deep, only faint blue-green light penetrated from the surface.

At least Arc was used to long waits in inhospitable climates, although the annex was the complete opposite of what he’d endured in Camelstan. Roxy seemed to be faring worse. Arc could see the tension in her shoulders and flight muscles as she sat in front of the computer. The two of them had so far used their downtime to learn a few things.

The Shade Network was the intranet that connected offices around the country. There was a wiki of sorts that was updated with articles as they were published. A few specialized sites hosted specific topics. There was also an e-mail client.

It was frustrating that there were only ten thousand or so pages. It was no World Wide Web and compared to the internet, finding something seemed incredibly difficult.

Roxy struggled through keywords, managing to find snippets of useful data, but nothing of value that she could read digitally. Arc was supportive, occasionally making suggestions drawn from his experience with unwieldy military systems.

Doria provided conversation, although not much of it was helpful. She processed acoustics, which actually involved looking at graphs of frequencies more often than listening. The undersea sensors could detect a much greater range than ears could hear.

Arc and Roxy decided to take lunch when the computer’s time said it was noon. There hadn’t been any kind of lunch rush among the seaponies around them. It looked like life under the sea was less structured and regulated.

They got up from the computer. Doria said, “Oh, are you going to lunch? I think I’ll come with you.”

She led them to what was apparently the lunch room. A stallion stood behind a griddle making simple things like omelets and veggie burgers. Kai and a few other seaponies waited for orders. Others simply ate what they had brought. Hot food was apparently in enough demand to warrant a cook in the underwater work center.

“Jiffy’s a pretty good chef,” said Doria, gesturing to the griller. “This is about the cheapest way to get land food down here.”

“I’ve noticed that the closer the restaurant gets to the water, the more expensive the food is,” Roxy said. The three of them submitted orders and put their cash in a box beside the grill.
“Like the twenty dollar burgers from the oceanside restaurant at the Hotel Unicorado,” Arc added.

Roxy smiled. “Staying there was your idea for a honeymoon.”

“It’s always weird talking to surface ponies,” Doria noted. “Everypony is always so fascinated by the water. I think a lot of seaponies wouldn’t mind seeing all the stuff on land, but nopony ever does. We get the same news and TV and such, but it’s like watching through a spyglass.”

“I never thought about it like that before,” Roxy admitted. “From now on I might have a different opinion of having a nice relaxing lie on the beach.”

“Ugh, the beach,” muttered Doria. “The sand is sticky and hot, and if you dry out you lose your tail. I couldn’t imagine such dry skin. That’s on top of the swimsuits that look uncomfortable and the sunburns.”

“Swimsuits are to keep sand out of where you don’t want sand,” Roxy replied.

Arc grinned. “And she looks good in one.”

Roxy rolled her eyes and gave him a playful swat with her wing.

Just then, Jiffy called, “Order up!” Arc stood and went to get the burgers. He returned to the table and distributed them. While the sandwiches looked rather plain, Doria was right in saying that Jiffy was good at what he did.

Kai came over, having finished his own meal. “Roxy, Arc, I received an e-mail from Sapphire a few minutes ago. Apparently you’re both needed for something topside.”

“Both of us?” Roxy asked. Arc was the one that seemed to be in more danger. Sisal had even called him by name.

“She didn’t go into detail, but your escort should be here shortly.” Message delivered, Kai turned away.

Arc and Roxy were more than happy to pack up in preparation to leave. Deckplate came out of his office and waited with them beside the door to the outside.

“So how does this portal thing work?” Arc asked him.

“We have some very specialized entomologists,” Deckplate began.

Roxy frowned. “Insect experts?”

“Right. They use reality bugs to create holes in space.”

“Reality bugs?” Arc repeated.

Deckplate nodded. “Like termites, but they eat the universe. With careful control, you can use them to build shortcuts.” He gestured at the door.

As if on cue, the door swung open to reveal Granite. His eyes landed on Arc and Roxy. “Come on. Both of you have things to do.”

The greeting was rather brusque, but it was an invitation to leave the underwater headquarters. Arc and Roxy happily accepted the offer to cross through the doorway and back into the warmer air of San Palomino.

Granite led them down the hallway and past the security desk to the front door. Reminded of entry procedures, Arc said, “When are you going to build the new spell that includes us in it?”

“When I can,” Granite replied, pushing open the front door and exiting the building. “It takes time to gather everything I need. Plus everything else going on recently has put that on a back burner.”

“I thought you were a freelancer,” Arc said. “You seem to be covering a lot of the same jobs as the average Shade, like investigations.”

“I’m officially a contractor.” Granite showed them to an older sedan with civilian plates. “That just means I get more things on my terms. It’s the only way I would agree to the job.”

There was a small bouquet of flowers in the backseat of the car. Granite gestured to them while his passengers were getting in. “Those are for you, Roxy. They’re from Fancypants.”

The tag attached to the flowers was an apology note.
Mrs. Deoxyribonucleic,
I beg your pardon for what I said. I periodically need to remind myself to be more considerate. It is my sincere wish that this will not affect our future interactions.
-Fancy

“Who’s that?” Arc asked.

“A vampire,” Roxy replied. After consideration she added, “We had a disagreement the other day.”

“He doesn’t call himself Fancy for nothing,” said Granite. “Personally, I would have just let it go and assumed everypony involved would forget. What’s the old quote? ‘Do not meddle in the affairs of wizards, for they are subtle and some shit.’”

It hadn’t sounded like a joke, but Arc and Roxy traded smiles as they belted in. Granite started the car and they set off. As he pulled into traffic, he said, “We’re going to the train yards north of the base. They found a dead gryphon there. He might be a terrorist.”

“Is there a terrorist cell here in San Palomino?” Arc asked.

Granite shrugged. “Maybe. You saw the car bomb. I think we all know the implications of that. We don’t need these idiots playing their cat and mouse games here.”

Roxy tapped Granite on the shoulder. “That reminds me. I need to go home and feed my cat.”
“We could also take the opportunity for a shower after spending the night in the annex,” Arc added.

Granite muttered something under his breath but asked, “Which way?”

Going home didn’t take them more than an extra hour out of their way. Arc and Roxy hurried through showers and Dinah got her cat food. Granite waited impatiently but quietly.

Back on the road, Granite pointed the car towards the rail yard that served the port. He didn’t take a direct route, maneuvering through a few curves that were unnecessary. Arc noticed, assuming he was checking for a tail. Arc wondered if that was how he had been tracked, resulting in a phone call from Sisal.

Granite flashed a badge to the rent-a-cop and went on through the front gate. The train yard was cluttered with moving cargo and it took a careful watch to stay out of the way of locomotives and forklifts.

Since the rise of containerized shipping, bulk cargo had fallen out of favor and the warehouses along the waterfront used to store it had been repurposed for other things. Apparently, that included dumping bodies.

There was a familiar-looking car already outside. Inside, Proficient and Harv stood over a bloodstain on the floor, both of them looking impatient.

“The cleaners have already gone over the scene,” Harv said. He gestured to the still-sticky floor. “Most of it is gone.”

“It was quite a job,” Proficient added. “The mess was spread around. Whoever this gryphon was, he was probably tortured.”

Arc frowned. “Over what?”

Proficient gestured with a hoof. “That’s what you’re here to find out.”

“We’re going to gather anything we can from the area,” Granite said. “The forensics team did what they can. We’ll do the rest.”

Arc and Roxy shared a glance. “What do you expect the two of us to do?” she asked Granite.
“You’ve both got talents,” he said. “Figure it out.”

Granite began to unpack a kit he had brought from the car. Arc and Roxy stood together for a moment, taking in the scene.

The bloodstain was near the corner, away from the door. The concrete floor was chipped and scarred from years of use. A few broken scraps of crates and small leftover piles of material were scattered around.

Roxy wrinkled her nose at the smells hanging in the air. The fresh blood was the heaviest, but the old building had many layers of odor.

Arc took a step closer to the blood. He didn’t focus on it, instead looking for anything around it that might help.

He looked for white scars on the concrete but didn’t find any. This corner of the warehouse had not been recently traveled, and it didn’t seem that the area had been prepared for the killing.

Roxy approached the blood, stooping to have a closer look. There was a lot of it, and it hadn’t puddled neatly at a single point. Small droplets had splashed in a scattered pattern away from the main pool. Whatever had happened, it wasn’t over quickly or cleanly.

She moved into a crouch to get closer, slowly moving her attention outwards along the floor. A few tracks of drops were arranged in definite arcs, as if thrown from the blade of a knife.

Within a few feet was a about a spoonful of a white granular substance, much of it ground into the floor. Roxy reached out to it with a wing, brushing up a small amount with the tips of her feathers.

Arc knelt beside her. Roxy raised her feathers to her nose. “This smells like some sort of chemical substance. Maybe like a fuel.”

“Anyone have a lighter?” Arc asked. Granite looked up from his work and tossed over a cheap butane lighter. Putting a flame to the powder produced an easy burn. The small amount was quickly consumed.

“What do you think it is?” Roxy asked.

Arc said, “If I had to guess, RDX.”

“That’s something,” remarked Proficient.

“Does it prove that Sisal Twist is working with terrorists?” Roxy asked.

“It shows that there’s a connection,” Harv replied. “Although ‘working with’ might be a bit of a stretch if she had one of them brutally murdered.”

Granite had finished his preparations and came over. Arc and Roxy moved away to give him space and conferred their findings a few feet away. It seemed likely that a particularly violent murder, or maybe even torture, had occurred. As the location didn’t look prepared, the act might not have been premeditated.

The evidence only raised more questions. Was it a meeting gone bad? Was that how the white powder got spilled? The two of them watched Granite work, wondering if perhaps he could answer some of those questions.

A thin haze of smoke was rising out of an earthenware bowl that sat between Granite’s forehooves. His horn glowed and he appeared to be directing the growing cloud. It spread out over the blood, leaving an herbal scent in the air. If nothing else, it made a nifty air freshener.

Harv stood looking bored. Proficient was near the wall, although he was not about to lean on it with his expensive jacket. Arc and Roxy were close, both intent on whatever it was that Granite was doing.

It came as a surprise when four ponies with weapons walked in.

The newcomers ran the gamut of body types and one was a mare. They shared the same color of bandana, however, positioned somewhere on their bodies. Their guns were not the best, but still dangerous enough.

Granite briefly looked up from his work in annoyance, but turned back to it. Proficient stood straighter, a worried look on his face. Harv was suddenly wearing an expression of concentration. Arc and Roxy both turned to face the threat, hooves meeting as each took an identical step forward.

Harv put his hoof out towards the four aggressors. “I take it you didn’t see the car with government plates outside?”

“Shut up,” one of them replied, although Harv’s friendly demeanor seemed to catch them by surprise.

Harv kept talking. “We’re federal agents. People know we’re here. Turn around and leave now. You’ll still be wanted, but not for anything more serious than assault.”

That put a few seconds of silence in the air, but one of them finally said, “That’s not what we were paid to do.”

“Shut up!” the mare hissed at him. She gestured with her gun. “Hooves in the air where we can see them.” She aimed her gun at Granite. “You over there! Hooves in the air I said!”

Arc could see the situation degrading. It was true that no plan ever survived first contact with the enemy, and that applied to the enemy just as much. However, uncoordinated adversaries with guns might actually be more dangerous.

Harv took a few steps forward. “Look, if I were you I wouldn’t annoy Granite when he’s working. He's not the patient type.”

The mare stared at him in disbelief. “Are you ponies deaf!? I said hooves up!”

Harv smiled as if they were having a pleasant chat about the weather. “I know you were paid to come kill whoever you found in this building, but is the money really worth it? When you take contracts from shady people like Ms. Twist, you get into situations like this.”

“How did you know that?” demanded the stallion closest to Harv. The mare rolled her eyes and seemed about ready to explode.

Harv paused. “Oh…you’ve got a rat in your group.”

The stallion looked at the mare in confusion. She merely growled at the news and raised her gun to take aim at Granite.

Harv sighed “Tsk, tsk!”

Without even looking in their direction Granite tilted his head to the side, sweeping his horn in a wide horizontal arc, a flash of magic knocking over the entire group of gun toters.

Harv dove out of the way, rolled, and came up with his gun in his hoof. Proficient already had his own weapon out. They took aim while the four attackers were down. Arc had pulled out his own gun while Harv was still in the air. Old reflexes die hard.

One of the stallions on the floor recovered more quickly than the others and raised his pistol. Granite’s horn flared briefly with a spark of magic and the cartridge in the chamber exploded without the bullet leaving the barrel. Shocked, the stallion dropped the ruined gun.

Granite went back to his work as if nothing had happened.

Harv walked up to the mare, and kicked away her weapon. “You’re lucky he didn’t get annoyed. This place was already a bloody mess!” He brushed an area of the floor off and sat down on his haunches. “So, do you come here often?”

Roxy raised an eyebrow at his interrogation technique. However, there were more important things to do. Taking out her phone, she called headquarters. Tammy answered the call and Roxy passed her a request for more Shades for backup. She explained the situation, making sure to note that it was under control.

“We’ll get someone to take them into custody,” Tammy said. “If Harv is there, he probably already learned a lot from them, but we’ll do a deeper interrogation back at HQ.”

Ending the call, Roxy turned her attention back to the scene. Harv and Proficient had already removed the weapons from the floor and stood watch. Granite, seeming unperturbed, had gone back to studying the blood. He hadn’t reacted to the entire scene with very much excitement, not even showing strain in taking out four ponies from halfway across the room, a feat of telekinesis that very few unicorns could manage.

In minutes, another car and a van had arrived with enough Shades to secure four detainees. Arc said, “I wonder where they will be taken.”

“Hopefully somewhere worse than where they’re holding Buttercup,” Roxy replied.

Cleaning up took a while. Getting all the evidence accounted for - and then washed off the warehouse floor - took painstaking effort. It was evening by the time the job was finished.

The five of them retired to a Mexicanter restaurant east of the train yard that sat in the shadow of the interstate. It was a small place that advertised seaweed tacos as its star item. After recently visiting the bottom of the sea, however Arc and Roxy opted for something else.

There was little to no conversation. Not that they could talk about anything. They might have been doing well just to stop focusing on the bloody scene in the building.

It was after the waitress had taken orders that Roxy’s phone rang. She saw that it was Tammy and answered it.

“I’ve got good news and bad news,” she said. “We intercepted a transmission from Sisal Twist and got a recording.”

Roxy told her to hold. To the table he said, “Tammy has a recording of Sisal.”

Granite pulled a thin chain from his pocket. It looked like a long necklace. He laid it in the center of the table and motioned for Roxy to put the phone down in the center. Then, Granite spoke a few words under his breath and announced, “We’re secure. Just touch the chain to listen.”

Tammy had apparently been through this before. After getting the go ahead, she played the tape. The recording was scratchy, but Arc recognized it as Sisal’s voice.

“…not afraid of you and I won’t tolerate any more of this. We’ve had unforeseen setbacks and if I get any wind that you had anything to do with it, you’ll be just as dead as the last gryphon. You know what I want and as long as you keep doing what I say I’ll make sure you get what you want. The bomb tomorrow is going to be public. I think you’re going to like…”

“Sorry,” said Tammy. “That’s all we got before the satellite passed over. It was a VHF signal going through commercial encryption. It may have been going to an autopatch again; we’re still looking into it.”

“Did we get a location?” Arc asked.

“Vaguely somewhere in the San Palomino bay area. Sorry, but pirating signals from military systems doesn’t get the best results.”

“When was this recorded?” Proficient asked.

“Two hours ago,” Tammy said.

“Great,” muttered Harv, checking his watch. “We have less than six hours until midnight.”

“I’ll call again if I learn anything else,” Tammy promised. After a moment she added, “Good luck.”

9: Smoke and Mirrors

After a few minutes, the mare who might have been Smoke Screen finished her cigarette, daintily removing the spent filter from her fancy holder and going back inside the building. From their position down the street, Arc and Roxy kept watch.

It was troubling that they couldn’t keep an eye on both sides of the building without splitting up, and neither of them was willing to discuss that.

They stayed in the car together, time passing slowly. A few hours dragged by, broken suddenly by a call from Harv at three in the morning.

“Our lead didn’t pan out. Proficient and I are heading your way,” Harv informed them. “We should be in position before the strike team gets there.”

Sure enough, a nondescript car approached a few minutes later, disappearing from sight and parking on the other side of the building. Both potential exits were now covered, but there was still the matter of waiting.

As the time ticked on, the wait grew more uncomfortable. Arc shifted position several times. His tail just couldn’t find a comfortable position. Roxy’s wings were going through something similar, unused to long hours of being pressed to a seat.

At a few minutes to four, the show began. A delivery truck pulled up in front of the building, blocking the garage door out front. The back door of the truck flew open and a crowd of heavily armed ponies in black piled out, promptly setting up a door breach and forcing their way into the target building. Pegasi covered the air, establishing a cordon over the roof.

Arc, who had seen compounds cleared before, waited for shooting, or at least shouting at prisoners to comply. The seconds passed with nary a sound.

A long minute passed before Harv called. “They’re done. The building is empty.”

Arc and Roxy started to get out of the car when she stopped and said into the phone, “Did they sweep it for bombs?”

“Of course,” Harv replied.

Thus assured, Arc and Roxy headed down the block to get a closer look. The inside of the building was largely empty, although it was apparent that vehicles had been there recently. How recently was a good question.

A few pallets were stacked in one corner. Arc gave them a look. A few had circular indentations in the wood, as if barrels had been stacked on top. Roxy, standing beside him, wrinkled her nose. “It smells like fuel.”

Arc knelt, shifting a few of the top pallets aside. One near the bottom was stenciled 34-0-0.

“Fertilizer?” he muttered. A moment later, his eyes widened. “They built an ANFO bomb – diesel and ammonium nitrate.”

Proficient was standing nearby and quickly called headquarters. Harv walked away to talk to the strike team, approaching a mare with a light olive coat who held a customized assault rifle. They appeared to know each other. After a few seconds’ conversation, the mare directed her team and they all filed out of the building.

Harv came back. “They’re going to get to work tracking where the bomb might have gone. We’ll stay here and check if there’s anything else at the scene of value. I just talked to Granite a few minutes ago and he should be here soon to examine anything magical.”

Roxy turned her head, hearing a phone begin to ring from the small enclosed office space on one wall. She and Arc headed that direction.

The phone was still ringing when they got there. After a moment, Arc picked up the receiver. “Evil headquarters. How may I help you?”

“You think that’s funny?” asked a familiar voice. The signal quality was somewhat scratchy and halting, but he knew exactly who it was.

Arc pressed the speaker button so everypony else could hear. “Ah, Ms. Sisal Twist. How nice to speak to you again.”

“You’re being very cordial for somepony who I’m going to kill,” she replied, completely ruining the moment.

Arc paused, but asked, “How are you going to do that?”

“It’s not difficult to track you, even to the underwater station. You’re as good as dead.”

“Hmm. Come to think of it, we already slept with the fishes.”

Despite the situation, that got a giggle from Roxy. Arc couldn’t help laughing with her at his own joke. Sisal apparently didn’t think it was all that funny and spat, “Just wait. Things are about to go from bad to worse for you.”

There was a click from the other end. To Arc, it sounded like the call wasn’t so much ended as terminated. He put the receiver down.

“Good job at staying cool under pressure,” Proficient complimented, “but now we have confirmation of a security breach. She somehow knows how to track you.”

Arc’s good mood instantly plummeted. “Maybe that’s why this place was empty. She knew I was outside.”

Proficient gestured to both Arc and Roxy. “I think it would be a good idea if both of you took a less active role from now on. We’ll have you helping Tammy with research or something.”

Speaking of, Tammy called just then. “Once we identified the building, I was able to get the phone monitored. Again, we got a call through an autopatch. This time, however, we’d had time to set up direction finding equipment in anticipation of another call.”

Tammy’s voice was upbeat as she delivered the good news. “The radio call was made from a narrow cone originating from the repeater to give us a line of bearing, and once I can correlate that from national assets, we should be able to get a range and area.”

“Plain language?” Harv asked.

“If everything is as precise as it should be, we can pin down where the call came from to within maybe a half a kilometer.”

It wasn’t perfect, but it was big step forward. Arc, however, added, “But that doesn’t help us find the bomb.”

“It’s true,” Proficient acknowledged, “and Sisal may have moved since making the call, but it gets us closer. We’re still gaining; we just need to close the gap before anypony dies.”

“Then we should be helping,” Roxy pressed. Arc nodded in agreement.

“You will be,” Harv soothed. “But you can’t be in a sensitive position or it could give us away. We’ll have to figure out how Sisal can track ponies, but that takes second priority to results.”

Operational security was something drilled into military members and also their spouses. Small, seemingly insignificant pieces of information could be slowly gathered and combined to form a larger picture. It was frustrating to know that some small error had been made but not having any idea what it might be.

Granite, when he arrived, offered a theory. “Once you have a piece of somepony, a magic user could figure out how to follow them. Hair is used often enough, but hoof shavings, body fluids, or really anything could be a source.”

“Where would Sisal have gotten something from me?” Arc asked.

“You didn’t notice anypony pulling your tail or cleaning your shower drains, did you?” Granite asked.

“Maybe somepony combed Buttercup’s place really well?” Harv suggested. “Arc carrying that missile launcher around could have brushed something off for somepony to find.”

It was not a certain explanation, but so far the best theory that anypony had proposed. Arc asked, “How do we stop it?”

Granite shrugged. “Take out Smoke Screen or wait for the spell to wear off. Once a sample gets separated from you, its usefulness declines until it’s worthless. Until then, I can come up with a blocking charm.”

He spent a few minutes working on the spell in a corner, muttering quietly and combining a few ingredients. In the end, he presented Arc and Roxy each with a small pebble.

“Are you sure this will stop Smoke Screen?” Arc asked, eyeing the stone in his hoof.

Granite gave him an offended look and turned away without replying.

“So what now?” Roxy asked. There was only so much to do in the empty building.

“I have some blast calculations on ANFO,” Arc offered. “I could stop by the MWB office and get them.”

“That would be helpful,” Proficient acknowledged. “Do you feel safe traveling alone?”

Arc touched Roxy’s foreleg. “I won’t be alone.”

The two of them left, heading for the borrowed car. Roxy paused on the sidewalk, reaching down to pick up a cigarette butt.

“Is that Smoke Screen’s?” Arc asked.

“This was where we saw her standing. If she smoked it, I might be able to lift DNA.” Roxy frowned. “Although she was using a cigarette holder so her lips didn’t touch it.” She shrugged. “I’ll test it anyway. Can’t hurt.”

The two of them resumed their walk to the car, Roxy finding a tissue in the glove compartment to wrap the cigarette filter. Getting in, Arc paused just before he turned the ignition key. “If Sisal knew I was out here…why did she vacate the building and run instead of coming out for a confrontation like she says she wants?”

“You’re worried about why she didn’t kill you?” Roxy asked flatly.

“Us,” Arc clarified. “I’m thinking about both of us.” He put his hoof on the seat and Roxy took it, both of them enjoying a comforting touch.

The sun was rising over the eastern horizon as Arc started the car. The two of them drove north, heading for MWB. It was still early when they arrived, but Arc knew that ponies would be around, particularly the military employees.

Roxy waited in the car while he went in. After a night of sitting in a car, Arc knew he probably looked unwell, fitting with his sick day story from the day before. At the early hour, however, he didn’t encounter anypony he knew on the trip from the front door access to his office.

In his cubicle, Arc sat down at the desk, signing into the classified computer. He knew where to find the blast calculations and was quickly looking at diagrams and charts of potential explosive effects.

There came the distinctive sound of military dress shoes on the tile floor outside. Arc hesitated, and then turned his attention to the unclassified computer that sat dark and powered down.

The polished steel shoes, and the mare wearing them, stopped in the entryway of the cubicle. Seabreeze looked at Arc in surprise. “Mr. Arc, I heard you were out sick.”

Arc nodded. “I hope I get better this weekend.” He gestured to the computer he was pretending to use. Seabreeze couldn't see the screen. “I just came to check my email. There are a few things I’m working on that I need to keep up to date.”

“Like those ropes?” Seabreeze asked.

“I’m sorry?” Arc said.

“Sisal twist, the kind of sailing rope. I saw that the other day when I was trying to figure out who your notebook belonged to.”

“Yes,” Arc responded after a long moment. He shook his head. “Sorry, I’m still a little bit under the weather. It’s like working through a fog.”

Seabreeze nodded. “Let me know if you need any more information about ships. It’s in my job description.”

She started to turn, but Arc said, “Speaking of your job, I thought you had been taken away from here to work on the explosion at the base.”

“Yeah, nights.” Seabreeze sighed. “I’m actually just here to check my own email. The rest of the time I’m at the base on guard duty. I don’t mind carrying a gun, but I feel a little bit underutilized.”

Arc could relate. “I suppose we all feel that way sometimes.”

“I suppose so. Have a good day, Mr. Arc.” Seabreeze walked away.

Arc went back to his computer. He made some guesses on the size of the bomb based on what he had observed and what could be expected to fit in a small truck. That, combined with the effects of a certain amount of ANFO gave him an idea of what the bomb could do. It was not pretty.

Worse, they still had no idea where the vehicle carrying the explosives might have gone. Figuring out how powerful the blast could be might help narrow that down.

Arc printed out his findings and, after a moment to regret the security violation, carefully folded the papers and put them in his shirt pocket. This was a little more important that protocol. After securing his cubicle, he walked out of the building and back to the car where Roxy waited.

“I found something that might help,” Arc said, getting into the car.

Roxy nodded. “Good to hear. If we stop by the lab, I can get started on processing Smoke Screen’s cigarette. It should only take a few minutes to get started and I can follow up when I go back to work.”

Arc started the car and they traveled to Roxy’s workplace. She’d hoped to get there earlier than most, but the morning was already growing later and Roxy had to manufacture many of the same excuses Arc had used every time she met somepony she knew inside the building. In particular, she encountered Carbon in the lab.

He looked up from his work as she came in. “I didn’t know they would let you in here while sick.”

“You and I both know that this place cares more about cases cleared than how we do it.” The two of them had talked in the past about how some of the management did business.

Carbon shrugged. Roxy went by him into the next room. Checking to make sure she wasn’t being observed, she got the tests started and put the cigarette away where it wouldn’t be noticed upon cursory inspection.

Coming back out, Roxy gestured over her shoulder to the room. “I just wanted to make sure everything was in place.”

Carbon nodded and said goodbye. Roxy left, going back to the car to find Arc struggling to stay awake. Despite Granite’s supposed cloaking device, he did not feel particularly comfortable dozing off in such a public place.

The two of them headed back to Shade headquarters. There seemed to be more activity than usual today. Some ponies were actually visible in the hallways. The threat of a bomb had apparently put all employees on high alert.

They took Arc’s blast calculations to Tammy. She showed them a computer program that could help.

“Something I got from the Air Force,” she said. “It calculates the effects of bombs on buildings. I’ll have to recalibrate it so it doesn’t think we’re using third-world structures.”

With the inputs, the program generated a map of areas where the most damage could occur. While it was unlikely that Sisal had used similar calculations in planning her attack, the results provided some idea where a bomb would cause the most destruction.

Unfortunately, it didn’t do anything to narrow down the splotches of red scattered across the map of San Palomino.

“Do you have anything else you can give me?” Tammy asked. “We can’t check everywhere. The bomb’s supposed to go off sometime today, right?”

“Maybe Buttercup can tell us,” suggested Roxy after a moment.

“Is driving over there to talk to her a good use of our time?” asked Arc. “She could give us nothing, or lie to us and make it worse. A lot of lives could be riding on this.”

Roxy spread her hooves. “Well, what are we doing around here? There isn’t anything else we could be doing!”

“And instead of finding something, you want to talk to a criminal?” Arc said, matching her tone.

“She’s more than that,” argued Roxy. “I’m trying to help her help herself.”

“Help herself to your face again?” Arc shot back.

Roxy’s voice rose even further. “I can handle myself!”

Tammy grabbed the two of them by the scruffs of their necks and pulled them apart. “Look, I don’t really care about your fight, just get out of my office.” She gave them a shove towards the door.

Arc and Roxy both left, pausing in the hallway to face each other again. Neither was able to look the other in the eye.

“Look, Roxy, I... I just hate feeling this way.” Arc lowered himself wearily to his haunches and was finally able to seek her gaze. “It's just that we're supposed to be protecting ponies form this sort of thing happening and... we're failing.”

Roxy saw the anguish in Arc’s expression and his dejected attitude. She approached and sat down next to him. Leaning over she nuzzled her husband. “Sorry,” she murmured.

Arc let out a long breath. “Yeah, me too.”

“I didn't mean to be so dogged.”

Arc barked out a laugh. “Actually, you’re right. We have to follow any lead no matter how slim.” He kissed her on the nose and the two of them got up. “Right now, Buttercup is the only one we have.” He took out his car keys.

Roxy nodded. “Let’s go.”

10: Hooviets Hate Baseball

Arc maneuvered the car into a parking spot near the holding facility and shut off the engine. It was now late morning and the bomb still had not been located.

Arc turned in his seat. “How do we want to do this?”

“Do you want to talk to her or shall I?” asked Roxy.

“Maybe I could try to shock her into something,” Arc pondered. “We need information ASAP.”

“But you don’t want to overdo it,” Roxy cautioned. “I know how to talk to her.”

“Together?”

“Together.”

They got out of the car. Market was waiting for them inside and escorted the pair upstairs.

“I heard what was happening,” Market said. “Sounds serious.”

“It’ll be just serious after we find the bomb,” replied Arc. “Right now I would say the situation is desperate.”

Roxy couldn’t disagree, although she would have described it less colorfully. She and Arc took a seat in the interrogation room while Market went to get Buttercup.

The prisoner appeared, looking as disheveled and shackled as always. Spotting two visitors at once, both of whom looked like they meant business, a wary expression crossed her face.

Buttercup sat, her eyes going between Arc and Roxy. “Looks like you didn’t stop the bomb.”

“Not yet,” Roxy was quick to point out. “We found were it was assembled, though, thank you for that. They’d moved it with a truck, however. We need to know anything else you can tell us.”

“Where is Sisal likely to employ it?” Arc asked.

“In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve been caged up for half a week,” Buttercup spat. “And it’s not like she told me all her plans.”

“We might make some guesses based on information about her,” said Roxy. “Is there anything in San Palomino that Sisal particularly disliked?”

Buttercup shrugged. “Places of authority. Sports. The whole city, basically, and the fat, dumb Equestrians that live here.”

“She doesn’t strike me as being very nationalistic,” noted Arc. “Sisal is Hooviet, right?”

“But I thought she does crime,” said Roxy. “She’s after personal gain, not personal vendettas.”

“That’s right,” Buttercup confirmed.

“But putting a bomb in a city sounds like terrorism,” replied Arc.

“I don’t know what makes her tick.” Buttercup rolled her eyes. “If she’s bombing ponies, then there’s a reason for it. Maybe it’s just a bonus for her.”

“But what’s her real goal then?” questioned Roxy.

Buttercup moved her fetlocks, making them more comfortable in the cuffs. “I’m not her personal assistant.”

“If setting off a bomb in a civilian population isn’t the goal, it’s still a huge distraction,” suggested Arc.

“And that leads to the question ‘a distraction from what,’” agreed Roxy.

“Maybe stealing something; I don’t know.” Buttercup’s voice had picked up a little bit of edge at admitting ignorance.

“You still know more than us,” Roxy assured her. “Tell us a little bit about Sisal.”

“For example, the last place she would be on a Friday,” added Arc.

“Are the Horseshoes playing tonight?” asked Buttercup. “That would draw a crowd. Plus, no one would notice another truck in the parking lot.”

Arc and Roxy traded a glance. He said, “A bomb that size could definitely do a number on a stadium.”

“How many hundreds do you think it will kill?” Buttercup grinned. “Maybe thousands?”

Seeing the disgusted looks from Arc, Roxy, and Market, Buttercup shrugged. “What? I’m evil. Those numbers might be even higher because I remember hearing about a parade scheduled for tonight. I might go myself if I wasn’t locked up.”

“How do you know about the parade?” Roxy asked.

“Regardless of what else you judge me for, you can’t fault me for liking baseball.”

“I think we should call this in,” said Arc. Roxy nodded and both of them got up, heading for the door.

Roxy paused and turned back. “Thank you, Buttercup.”

The prisoner looked taken aback. She turned back around to face the table. “Find the bomb and screw Sisal.”

That was exactly what Arc and Roxy planned to do, although perhaps not as colorfully. The two of them left the building, Roxy dialing her phone.

On the other end of the line, Tammy was able to run down more information about the parade. The so-called San Palomino Summer Spectacular was not an official holiday, but that didn’t stop crowds of party-seekers from parading through the streets to reach the stadium. With so many ponies, the potential death toll could be horrific.

“We have some time before it starts,” Tammy said. “While baseball isn’t really my sport, my guess would be that the bomb would probably go off near the beginning of the game for maximum impact.”

“We’ll get there as soon as we can,” Roxy assured her. “Please send as many Shades as you can to help.”

Tammy said that she would and hung up. Arc steered the car towards the stadium.

It was only early afternoon when they arrived and the parking lot was nearly deserted. As important as the parade and ballgame might have been to some ponies, those that held daytime jobs wouldn’t arrive to the evening game for hours.

The main parking areas were across a four lane divided highway from the stadium. A bomb detonated there would have much less impact. However, if Sisal was only using it as a distraction, that was still more than do the trick. More deadly and harder to plan for would be if the bomb truck pulled up along another street and detonated close to one of the stadium’s walls.

Within half an hour of driving around, Arc and Roxy agreed that they had a good feel for the area. They hadn’t spotted anypony or any trucks that looked suspicious. Based on Tammy’s prediction, however, it could be hours before anypony arrived.

They got lunch at an oatburger cart. It wasn’t a great choice, but they couldn’t afford to leave the area until the bomb was found.

Standing out of earshot of the vendors, Arc and Roxy ate and discussed strategy. Arc had more experience with hostile operations, but he was an artillery pony, not some sort of special operator. They both agreed that it was a game with stakes they couldn’t afford to lose.

Roxy looked with distaste at the rest of her oatburger and dropped it in a trash can. “I don’t feel much like eating.”

“I know what you mean,” agreed Arc, but finished his lunch.

“Maybe there’s something more appetizing.” Roxy turned to look back at the small group of pushcarts that they had just visited. They sold various things, from a la carte meals to snacks. Her eye fell on a dessert cart that bore a painted sign identifying it as Haytalian Shaved Ice.

Sweets didn’t sound great either, but at least it would go down easier. Arc and Roxy each ordered a small cup of shaved ice from the old unicorn who ran the cart. Both of them just asked him for the daily special.

They took a walk, eating shaved ice and continuing to survey the area. More ponies were beginning to arrive, among them a carload of Shades.

Proficient, Harv, and Granite were the only three that Arc and Roxy had met before. The others dispersed, taking strategic positions to monitor the incoming crowds.

“The bomb squad should be here in a few minutes,” said Proficient. “They might be able to do a little to help find the damn thing, but at this point we’ll take anypony we can get.”

“Why not the police?” asked Roxy.

“In a city this size, they get bomb threats every day,” Harv explained. “We can say we’re the national police or somepony to give ourselves credibility, and for small situations we can pull it off, but eventually the real agency would learn of it. I mean, it’s kind of what they do.”

“What if we had Shades inside to help us with that kind of thing?” Arc speculated.

“We do,” Proficient assured him. “The trick is manufacturing the clues that a non-Shade agency would have collected to also arrive at a warning of a bomb. The backstory is the hardest part and we don’t have time.”

“Thousands of ponies could die,” Roxy protested.

“Thousands of ponies die every day,” Granite broke in. “And that’s nothing compared to what might happen in the aftermath of supernatural stuff being revealed to the world.”

“Unfortunately true,” Proficient lamented. “The number one job of the Shades, the directive that comes before everything else, is to keep the two sides of this world wholly separate from one another. And some days, it’s even harder than it sounds.”

A couple of black SUVs pulled up. They screamed government, but apparently other accommodations hadn’t been quickly available. Ponies, many of them large, burly stallions, began getting out. The mare Harv had spoken to at Sisal’s garage was among them. They all wore plainclothes and dispersed into the growing crowds in the parking lot.

Just then, all the Shade’s cell phones began to ring. Answering, they all found themselves listening to Tammy.

“I set up this massive conference call for reporting. There wasn’t time to get radios for everypony. Keep your phone on and coordinate with each other if you see something suspicious. If I get anything from my end, I’ll pass it along.”

There were a couple of replies. Everypony was careful not to stand too close or there might be feedback through the network. The connection with so many phones had created a scratchy, noisy signal, but it was better than nothing.

With a quick conversation, Arc and Roxy split. Staying within sight of each other, they began to work their way through the thickening crowd. Roxy took to the air, where there was less traffic and a better vantage point.

The first parade vehicles had begun to arrive. There was nothing that looked like a truck that could be carrying a bomb. The convertible sports cars with waving beauty queens in the back seat certainly didn’t fit the bill.

The parking lots and surrounding streets had begun to fill up with ponies. Arc looked around, his mind analyzing the area like a target. A simple bomb would kill or maim plenty. A truck-sized device possibly packed with shrapnel or other additives would be unthinkable.

Roxy glanced through the crowd, thinking about the effects if they failed to stop a detonation. Controlling panic alone would be more difficult than even treating injuries. This had to be stopped. They couldn’t fail.

Picking through the crowd, the two of them reached the street corner. Ponies were already crossing to enter the stadium. Out of the mass of bodies, there was one familiar face. Both of them stared.

Arc and Roxy found each other on the street corner, staring across the street and towards a service truck parked by the wall of the stadium. Neither of them dared take their eyes from that direction lest they lose sight of their target.

“That looks like Smoke Screen,” Arc muttered.

“Dressed down from earlier, but that’s got to be her,” Roxy agreed.

The mare was barely visible through the crowd, but she was working near the truck. Doing what, neither of them could tell. Today, she wore a black t-shirt and a red plaid skirt. There was a somewhat mismatched fedora on her head.

Arc reported it on his cell phone. He made sure to note the hat and Smoke Screen’s overall description.

“Don’t get close until I get there,” warned Granite. “No telling what she’s doing.”

Forced to wait, Arc and Roxy continued their watch. Their stares didn’t waver, but their hooves managed to find their way to each other.

More ponies kept blocking their view, and some of the larger parade floats put Smoke Screen out of sight entirely. When the witch disappeared entirely, it took several seconds for either of them to realize it.

Trading a quick glance, Arc and Roxy started across the street, dodging ponies and vehicles. On the opposite sidewalk the view was better and it confirmed what they feared: Smoke Screen was gone.

The truck was still there, however. Despite the obvious threat of the bomb and whatever else Smoke Screen might have placed in the area, somepony had to approach.

Arc wanted to tell his wife to stay back; that he would handle this. However, if the bomb was as big as he thought it was, she would have to go a hundred meters or more to be out of the danger zone.

Roxy caught him glancing at her and knew immediately what he was thinking. She squeezed his hoof a little tighter. They were in this together.

Granite arrived just then, slightly out of breath. He glanced at the truck and made a gesture for Arc and Roxy to stay where they were. He started walking forward, head bent and appearing to probe the air with his horn. About halfway there, he paused before advancing more slowly. Walking a few steps sideways, he continued to approach the truck, this time from an angle.

He stopped just a few steps away and appeared to be concentrating, his hooves spread slightly. A tense minute passed as Arc and Roxy watched. Around them, a few ponies may have noticed Granite, but few paid him any mind.

Still appearing deep in concentration, Granite took another step forward and extended a hoof. He hesitated for a few seconds before touching the side of the truck lightly. If they hadn’t been paying attention, Arc and Roxy would have missed a thin shimmer of magenta that washed over the vehicle.

Shoulders slumping, Granite turned around and nodded. Quickly striding forward, the two of them joined him beside the truck.

“Tricky fucking spell,” Granite muttered. “Designed to be a lethal barrier. It took a lot of power and I’ll bet we’ll find a few artifacts inside the truck that were energizing it.”

“It didn’t look like it took much to disable it,” Roxy observed.

“The most effective spells don’t waste energy on being flashy.”

“What would have happened if somepony else tried to approach?” Arc asked.

“If you’d touched the truck, you’d be dead,” Granite explained.

“Is that why you touched it?” Arc asked. “To make sure it was down?”

Granite gave him a look. “Smoke Screen is powerful. I’m good.”

The three of them moved around to the back of the truck. The large door was padlocked shut. Granite studied it for a moment before pulling the chain he’d used earlier. As thin as it was, he was able to wrap it around and through the padlock several times, pulling the chain tight to put tension on the assembly.

“One of you get up there and kick it as hard as you can,” he ordered.

Slightly confused at the unexpected request, Arc grabbed a hoofhold and climbed up where the door was secured. Bracing himself, he stomped down on the lock where Granite held it securely.

“Harder,” Granite said, leaning back to put his weight on the lock. He’d wrapped the chain around his fetlocks for grip. Again, Arc gave it his best shot and this time the padlock broke.

Granite stumbled backwards but quickly regained his balance. He glanced at his hide, ignoring a little blood from where the high tension chain had cut him, and moving to remove the remains of the lock.

Opening the latch, he slid the door up. Inside the truck were several barrels and a cluster of electronics. Upon quick inspection, there was nothing that would obviously disarm it. There wasn’t even a helpful clock counting down.

Now that he was actually faced with the bomb, staying there was the last thing Arc wanted. However, if there was anything he could do, he had to take his best shot.

Leaning over the barrels, he quickly spotted the detonators. They were wired to a central control box. The trigger, perhaps a timer or a remote control, wasn’t apparent.

Several faces arrived just then—Proficient and Harv, along with a shorter creature that turned out to be a gremlin, concealing his face beneath a Horseshoes hat.

“What do we got?” asked the gremlin. He easily climbed into the back of the truck. Arc got out, not wanting to interfere.

The gremlin ran his long-fingered hands over the electronics. Scampering across the tops of the barrels, he checked around the walls of the truck for anything that might be hidden. Satisfied that he understood the workings, he returned to the controller. Grabbing a fistful of wires, he ripped them out.

Nothing happened and everypony breathed a sigh of relief. The gremlin got down from the truck and received pats on the back from everypony. Grinning, he folded the wires and stuffed them in his pocket.

“We’ll have to get somepony to dispose of this truck,” Proficient said. “Good job all of you, but we aren’t done until everypony who was responsible is in custody.” Into his phone, he announced, “The bomb’s been defused. Keep pursuing Smoke Screen.”

“We have eyes on her now,” somepony reported. “Moving in.”

The tension relieved by the defusal suddenly ramped up again. Everypony listened closely for news. In a few moments… “Got her. We’ll bring her to the truck.”

Two large stallions from the strike team appeared through the crowd, dragging along a mare who did not appear pleased. One of them had a hoof clamped over her mouth. It was surprising that bystanders weren’t trying to stop them, but perhaps they assumed that nobody would be so blatant as to kidnap somepony in broad daylight and that the situation must be about something else.

“This is her,” one of them said. “Thanks for the tip about the fedora.”

“This isn’t her,” Roxy protested. “Different pony.”

“She’s not even wearing a fedora; that’s a trilby,” Arc added. “Don’t you know anything about hats?”

Awkwardly, the two stallions let their captive go. She ran.

“Bet she’ll never wear a hat again,” muttered Harv.

11: Trigonometry Only Gets You So Far

The parade crowd continued to shuffle into the stadium, oblivious of the Shades and the bomb truck they had just defused.

While nopony deserving was in custody as a result, stopping a weapon from killing a lot of innocent civilians was definitely a victory.

“We should have a Shades-only pub for celebrating moments like this,” Harv suggested.

“An excellent idea,” Proficient seconded.

“I think I’d rather celebrate myself to sleep,” Roxy commented, yawning.

“Me too,” agreed Arc, mirroring her yawn. With the bomb crisis, neither of them had slept the night before.

“Ya see Prof, that's what we've got to look forward to when we find our own special someponies,” said Harv.

One of Proficient’s ears tilted sideways. “No offense, you two, but you look like a pair of plastic bookends left out too close to the hearth. Go get some shut eye.”

Arc and Roxy nodded gratefully. They climbed into one of the Shade agency vehicles and pulled off into the night. It was a fight to stay awake on the drive home. Arc parked the government car in the driveway. Showers for both of them were quick, and they were in bed before the sun set.

Sleep came nearly instantaneously, but not before a kiss. Tired as they both were, it still carried on for several long, enjoyable seconds. Roxy snuggled in closer and pecked him once more on the cheek. “And that's for not failing. Good boy.”

He was so quiet she thought he might have already fallen asleep, but then she heard him whisper: “Woof, woof…”

They fell asleep smiling.

It was a pleasant beginning to spending more than twelve hours comatose. Even in the late morning the next day, neither of them were keen to get up. Being the Saturday after stopping a bomb plot was the perfect excuse to lie in a warm bed, cuddle, nibble each other’s ears, trade long lazy kisses and talk about absolutely nothing of any consequence to anypony but them.

Early that afternoon, they were both out of bed but still relaxing. The phone wasn’t ringing and it was easy to forget problems outside the walls of their house.

However, the last meal for either of them was a meager food cart lunch the previous day.

“I feel like going out,” Roxy decided, looking inside the fridge.

Arc let out a mock sigh. “Fine, I’ll put on some pants.”

They were both dressed for public quickly, although not too extensively. Going out to the garage, Roxy paused in front of her car. “Oh, that’s right; I need an oil change.”

“We can drop it off and get lunch while we wait,” Arc suggested.

The government car was parked in front of his side of the garage, so Arc got into that instead of his personal car. They already trusted him to take it home, so he was not worried about a few more miles out of the way.

He followed Roxy to the dealership. A few minutes after that, they were on the way to lunch. Arc suggested a Neighponese grill that was only a few minutes away.

At the restaurant, conversation never really took off. The time they waited on the food was mostly spent with their hooves touching across the table. As hungry as they both were, neither of them interrupted eating with words, either.

In fact, there wasn’t much said at all until they were both finished and waiting on the check when Roxy’s phone rang.

She glanced at the screen with some confusion. “It’s the lab.”

“On Saturday?” Arc asked.

Roxy shrugged and answered it. “Hello?”

It was Carbon. “Roxy, somepony broke in. There’s a lot of things smashed in our room. If you’re able, you might want to get down here.”

“Do they know who did it?” Her expression caught Arc’s attention.

“No idea,” said Carbon. “The police are here. They say the video from the security cameras went to static.”

“I’ll be there,” Roxy told him.

“That didn’t sound good,” Arc observed.

“I hope it’s not as bad as it might be,” Roxy replied.

As soon as the bill was paid, they headed to the lab. Security wouldn’t let Arc inside without credentials. He waited in the car while Roxy went to survey the break in.

She met Carbon at the door to outer room of their combined workspace. A few police officers were standing around, although none of them appeared willing to dig through the biomedical debris on the faint chance of turning up a clue.

“I’ve already told them what I know and checked my projects for anything missing,” Carbon shook his head. “I can’t imagine who would do this.”

Stepping into the room, Roxy was appalled by how thorough the mess was. Cabinets were open, contents spilling out. Countertops had been swept clear. Bottles were open and spilled. Expensive equipment was damaged beyond repair.

Her heart sank as broken test tubes crunched under her hooves. She headed into the back room. A police detective was there, looking about as bewildered at the destruction as Roxy.

There were a few questions she had to answer. Roxy gave her name and some basic information about her job. Checking through everything that had been ruined, she found a docket for tests she had been in the process of running. It was difficult to tell which projects would still be viable and which had been contaminated. Likely all would have to be redone.

The one Roxy was most concerned about, however, wasn’t on the list: Smoke Screen’s cigarette. Even after a few minutes carefully searching the small room, she couldn’t find it anywhere.

But truthfully, that didn’t surprise her very much. In fact, it was beginning to make a lot of sense. How would somepony know which room was Roxy’s workspace? Why, they had probably dropped a conspicuous object with a tracking spell on it, hoping that she would find it.

Smoke Screen had probably not specifically intended for Roxy to find the cigarette butt and take it to her lab, but Roxy would bet that Smoke Screen knew she was being watched and purposely left some bait, if nothing else just to see what the Shades would do with it.

Reporting to the police officer that nothing seemed to be missing, Roxy went out into the hallway. Carbon was still there, leaning on the wall.

“It’s discouraging, isn’t it?” he said.

“Yeah.” Roxy nodded.

“I don’t know why somepony would just wreck things like that.” Carbon’s voice shifted to a grumble. “We’re working on things that effectively benefit the whole world. Destroying that kind of knowledge is not only wasteful, but senseless.”

“Your work must different than mine,” Roxy joked. Neither of them were supposed to be experimental researchers, and Roxy certainly wasn’t as passionate about the drudging day to day tests she did.

Carbon summoned a smile. “I suppose. I might be taking this too seriously.”

Roxy said goodbye to him and began to navigate the police tape to head back outside. Her phone rang and she paused to answer it.

It was Arc, and his voice was not pleasant. “We might have a problem.”

Roxy began to walk more quickly towards the exit. “What’s going on?”

“I just got a call from Tammy. She somehow learned that a sailor went missing. This sailor is somepony that I work with at MWB.”

“I’ll be out in just a minute,” Roxy told him.

Arc hung up the phone. Gunner’s Mate Seabreeze’s disappearance coinciding with Roxy’s lab being vandalized made it appear that Sisal Twist’s operation had not been set back at all by the failure of the bomb at the stadium. Or perhaps this was instead their retaliation to it.

Roxy arrived and got in the car. Arc started the engine and they headed for Shade Headquarters. The possibility of a kidnapping was a crisis, but it was hard to feel the same way about it as the bomb plot. It was true that Arc knew Seabreeze, but not well. It was also only one pony in a large city, not hundreds.

Plus, Arc told himself, it wasn’t the first emergency he’d endured this week. Maybe he was already becoming jaded by the job. Or perhaps just desensitized.

When they arrived, no one at headquarters seemed too concerned about one sailor, either. Arc and Roxy went to Tammy to get more information.

Seeing Tammy there Saturday evening after spending so long supporting activities all day Friday meant that she might be working as hard as anypony.

“Do you sleep here?” Arc joked.

“No, but that might be easier,” Tammy grumbled. “I’ve been asking for help but admin hasn’t found anypony yet. This is what I get for taking a salary job.”

Going to business, she turned her computer screen to show her guests. “I was able to get a few security camera feeds. Based on intercepts, I can account for where Ms. Seabreeze was up until about two hours ago.”

Grainy black and white video showed somepony who was apparently Seabreeze patrolling an empty pier. Tammy had pulled up a digital map to locate where.

Based on body language, it looked like the job wasn’t very stimulating despite the guard kit she wore. Seabreeze had said as much to Arc. As they watched her pace back and forth, the video flashed with static.

“And that’s the end of it,” Tammy said. “When the video cut out, she disappeared.”

“The security cameras at my lab also had problems,” Roxy noted.

“I think it’s become clear that everything Sisal Twist has done is centered at or within a few miles of this Navy base,” Tammy noted. “We have to figure out what she’s after.”

“Is there some way we can track Seabreeze?” Arc asked. “Hair or something?”

Tammy nodded. “I think so; I’ll ask Granite. But where are you going to get some of her hair?”

Arc paused. “Well…I can search her cubicle.”

“You do that.” Tammy turned to pick up the phone. “I’ll have Granite meet you at the base.”

Leaving the building, Arc and Roxy got back in the car and headed for MWB. After going through security and making up an excuse for being there so late on a Saturday, Arc made his way to the office.

It took him a moment to remember where Seabreeze’s desk was. The cubicle was unadorned, containing only a few pens on the desk. There was a black uniform jacket over the chair, apparently left there for cooler weather. As much of that as there was in San Palomino, anyway.

Arc hesitated before touching any of somepony else’s things. Remembering that he’d recently done worse with fake IDs and lying to security, he picked up the jacket and looked through the lining. Sure enough, there were a few hairs that matched Seabreeze’s color and length. Sticking them to a piece of tape for safekeeping, Arc replaced the jacket and left the office.

When he came out of the building, the sun was getting towards twilight. There might be an hour or two of daylight left. Back in the car, Arc and Roxy headed to the meeting with Granite. Tammy had given them a place outside the gate to rendezvous.

Granite had credentials for them both, although he noted that Arc already had some.

“Left them in the other car,” Arc explained.

Granite muttered something about being prepared and got into the government car with Arc and Roxy. The three of them approached the gate.

“We’re here about a sailor’s disappearance,” Arc said as the guard examined their identification. He found the authorizations satisfactory and waved them through.

It wasn’t difficult to find the empty pier where Seabreeze had been. Arc didn’t see anything significant about the area. Perhaps that was part of why she hadn’t seemed thrilled about guarding it.

Down the way were a few destroyers and some auxiliary ships. A few miscellaneous warehouses and service buildings holding who knew what backed the piers. It would be nice if these didn’t have dead bodies inside like the train yard warehouse.

“Tammy said you had a sample of hair?” Granite asked.

Arc produced it and gave it to him. Granite took it and knelt, unpacking his kit. Arc and Roxy waited and watched, for all the good it did them.

The tracking spell seemed like an amalgamation of leaves, strange trinkets, and perhaps some actual magic input. It was difficult to tell.

Arc tried a joke about some of the ingredients. “What are you making over there, the Koltucky Fried Sweet Potatoes secret recipe of eleven secret herbs and spices?”

Granite gave him a look. “Screw you.” After a moment he added, “And it’s not eleven. The real recipe is different.”

“How do you know that?” Roxy asked.

“You spend enough time with Shades, you learn these things.”

After a few more minutes, Granite produced a piece of quartz with an eyelet that he hung from the chain he always seemed to be carrying. He dangled it in front of him, carefully watching it. After a moment, the crystal seemed to sway all by itself and pull like a dog tugging at a leash.

“Just a simple direction finding spell is all I can do right here,” Granite said. He pointed in the direction the crystal did. “She’s that way.”

It was almost directly at the setting sun: west across the bay.

“Out to sea?” Roxy muttered.

“How far?” Arc asked Granite.

Granite shrugged. “Like I said, it’s just a simple spell.”

“Well then, we’ll triangulate it,” Arc decided.

“Math?” Granite asked.

Arc smirked. “We all have our talents.”

Opening a compass app on his smartphone, Arc took a bearing in the direction the crystal pointed. The three of them got in the car and drove up the wharf as far as they could go in a straight line, Arc carefully observing the direction. Stopping there, he took another bearing on the crystal.

With some quick calculations, he figured the distance, if not the exact location. “It's about a mile from the pier where we were. The bay is less than two miles wide at this point. I’d say they took her to Sisal’s boat.”

“We don’t know anything about the boat,” Granite reminded him.

Arc nodded, frowning.

“What about the seaponies?” Roxy said. “If anypony could quickly find a boat given a vague set of coordinates, it would be them.”

“We don’t have anything else to go on,” agreed Granite.

So they called upon the seaponies.

12: A Shot In The Dark

“That’s racist,” said Doria. She’d been summoned from the Annex to help with the search for Sisal’s boat.

“If it’s true, is it still racist?” asked Granite. “I knew Cheezpuffs would work for seapony bait.”

Doria glared at him, but took another mouthful of the crunchy treat from the bag that had been bought from a gas station.

Arc, Roxy, and Granite crouched near the edge of the seawall in the twilight of the setting sun. Doria was under an overhang, hidden from anypony who might happen to go by.

Back to business, Doria said, “We have some leads on boats that could be the one we’re looking for. It’s a little more difficult with some Gryphon and Minotaur ships in the bay for a visit right now. Give us a few hours and we might be able to narrow it down.” She wiped some orange “cheez” dust from her lips. Wadding up the empty snack bag, she threw it at Granite and dove beneath the water.

“What do we do while we wait?” Arc asked.

“Give me a little time,” Granite replied. He went to his kit again and began conjuring up another spell. It was slightly surprising that he could work in the fading sunlight, although perhaps he had memorized things to the point that he didn’t need light to rummage among his spell ingredients.

“What are you doing now?” Roxy asked.

“We know Sisal or somepony from her crew has been here,” Granite said. “It won’t hurt to look for residual magic. Maybe I’ll even pick up Smoke Screen’s signature.”

“You can tell that there’s something distinctive about her magic?” Arc asked.

“It was on the truck. There was a little at the garage. If she’s done anything nearby, I can pick it out. If anypony else has done magic, I’ll at least be able to detect it.”

Granite’s brow furrowed in concentration. Based on work and ingredients, this was apparently a more complicated spell than before.

Giving him space, Arc and Roxy stood together near the edge of the water. Forelegs around each other, they watched the sun set. It was a rather exposed position, but Arc didn’t see any potential sniper nests nearby, and the setting sun would soon shroud them in darkness. Bringing it up wasn’t worth concerning his wife.

Roxy could feel the tension in his body, and realized she had some of her own. The warm sunset was nice, but they were both still far from relaxed.

True to Doria’s words, there were a few unfamiliar ships around. The Gryphons and Minotaurs weren’t fighting each other here, and hopefully nothing would happen to change that.

“Here we go,” Granite announced. He stood up and unceremoniously threw a hoofful of powder into his face. Coughing, he blinked through the dissipating cloud.

“What was that?” Arc asked, eyebrows raised.

Granite gestured to his face, eyes beginning to water. “Just a little bit of perception enhancement. There are a lot of ways to crack the magic nut. I could use something external, like the pointer from the last spell, or I could use my own senses with some enhancement.”

“Why not use that all the time?” asked Roxy. “If it gives you more awareness?”

“Because right now it’s all I can do to keep from overstimulating myself.” Granite’s eyes were nearly squeezed shut, and he visibly reacted to the slight breeze that stirred the air. “Damn. I think I made the mix a little too rich this time.” He took a deep breath. “On the other hoof, Smoke Screen’s definitely been here.”

Eyes still closed and horn glowing slightly, Granite pointed down the wharf back towards where Seabreeze had been grabbed. “We don’t even have to go back to where we started. I can read it from here. It’s some sort of mental magic. Smoke Screen might have put your sailor to sleep or something.”

“The place where we started is over a kilometer down the waterfront,” said Arc. “You can tell from that far away?”

“Like I said, this batch is a little bit much.” Granite abruptly turned towards the seawall and bobbed his head, throwing a little bit of magic from his horn. A measure of water obediently leaped from the surface of the bay and splashed his face.

Blinking, Granite wiped his fetlock across his face and turned back to Arc and Roxy. “The seaponies will find out where your sailor is soon. They kidnapped her for some reason, and I’ll bet before this is over Sisal and her gang will be back to this base. You two stay here for that. I’ll call somepony and get a ride. My work here is done.”

He started to turn away but Arc said, “Wait a second, how do you know? Couldn’t you stay here and figure something else out?”

Granite stared at Arc. “What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know; something!”

“Exactly. And I can do that better elsewhere. Have fun, you two.” He turned again and walked away, leaving Arc and Roxy alone with each other.

“Well, at least he left us in good company,” Roxy said, brushing a wing over Arc’s shoulder.

Arc smiled. “He sure did.”

They stood for a few minutes and watched the horizon grow darker. The sun was fully down and twilight was starting to fade into night.

Ruining the moment, Roxy’s cell phone rang. She paused for a sigh before answering. It was Carbon.

“Roxy, I’m glad you answered. I was doing some digging and I found something strange at the lab.”

That got her attention. “What is it?”

“It looks like a big chunk of shaped glass or crystal. It was wrapped in cloth and buried outside our window.”

Despite talking through the phone, Roxy made a face of confusion. “And how did you find it?”

“Well, I’ve been spending a lot of time at the lab trying to put things back together. I saw some fresh dirt outside and wondered why it was disturbed.”

“But why were you outside?” Roxy asked.

“I’ve been trying to figure out the who/what/why of the crime,” Carbon admitted. “I was just having a look at everything, including the outside of the window.”

“You aren’t the police,” Roxy reminded him. “Did you tell them what you found?”

“Sure. They didn’t know what to make of it either.”

“Well, thanks for telling me.”

“Sure. Have a good night, Roxy.”

Arc had caught most of the conversation and traded glances with Roxy after she hung up. “That sounds a lot more important than he realizes.”

Roxy nodded. “I’m going to call it in.”

She dialed Tammy and explained the situation.

Tammy, apparently still at work despite the late hour, assured her that Granite would be tasked to take a look at whatever Carbon had found.

She asked Roxy, “Who is he, by the way?”

“He’s somepony I work with.” Roxy gave her Carbon’s full name.

“Hmm, we may have to keep an eye on him.”

“He hasn’t done anything wrong,” Roxy pointed out.

“I understand,” Tammy soothed. “Just keep an eye on him and report if he finds anything else. We may make the decision to read him in to the organization if that is deemed beneficial.”

Ending the call, Roxy put away her phone and turned to Arc. “The idea of recruiting somepony else feels almost as weird as joining up in the first place did.”

He nodded in agreement. They both glanced at the skyline. It was almost completely dark now, and the moon hadn’t risen yet. A few sodium vapor security lights lit the piers with pink light, but even just a few feet over the edge of the seawall, the water vanished into blackness, the waves heard more than seen.

It was appropriate, then, that the sound of a helicopter reached them long before it appeared ou of the night.

Aircraft had been operating from the naval air station across the bay. Only a few miles away, their lights were clearly evident. The chopper that came swooping down on the wharf was blacked out.

Arc grabbed Roxy’s fetlock and hauled her down behind the car. Either they weren’t spotted or the aircrew were not concerned about them.

It soon became clear why. The helicopter flared into a hover over a lone destroyer moored down the way. Several ponies dropped out, landing on the ship’s deck. Machine guns rattled, muzzle flashes lighting up from within the helicopter’s doors.

Arc would have thought it was suicide for a small group to try attacking a Navy ship, but your average terrorist didn’t have the advantage of aircraft or fire support.

The helicopter kept the ship’s security forces at bay. Working quickly under fire, the ponies that had landed on the deck finished their work and then scrambled back aboard the chopper. The aircraft lifted into the air, cables trailing from the belly down to the deck of the ship.

A tightly focused explosion detonated, small enough that Arc almost mistook it for a malfunctioning grenade. The flash over the ship’s missile tubes alerted him that it was something else.

Gaining altitude, the helicopter pulled a few of the missile tubes free, lifting them clear of the ship. The metal that had previously held them in place had been neatly taken care of with small, strategically placed charges. Still firing guns to keep the ship’s crew pinned, the helicopter turned laboriously with its load and began to fly away.

It was the perfect time to have a missile launcher in the trunk, and Arc was already going for it before the helicopter had even finished its lift.

Opening the trunk and grabbing the HU-7, Arc checked the battery and slapped it into its plug. Removing the tube covers, turning on the power switch, and flipping up both the primary and secondary sights, he hoisted it to his shoulder and stepped from behind the car.

The helicopter had already vanished into the night. “Tell me where to look!” Arc called, sparing a hoof to gesture at Roxy. “I can’t see it!”

She was slightly stunned at seeing the missile launcher come out, but recovered quickly, turning towards the sound of the departing helicopter. Concentrating as well as she was able, she raised a hoof and pointed, based on what her sensitive ears were telling her.

Arc lined up the weapon on her cue. Squeezing the trigger halfway, a small light lit up on the rear sight and the launcher sounded an electronic buzz to indicate that it had locked on. Adjusting his aim a final time, he fired.

The missile popped out of the tube, its rocket motor igniting to begin its supersonic journey to the target. The light of the scorching exhaust was blinding, but that was nothing compared to the explosion that blossomed in the sky a moment later. Burning and breaking up, the helicopter fell into the bay. A slick of fuel remained on the surface of the water, still on fire.

Arc was slightly stunned that he’d instinctively remembered the translated manual on how to operate an old Hooviet missile and had actually hit something with it. Roxy was somewhat stunned herself, and for exactly the same reason.

Remembering where he was, Arc turned stiffly and carefully placed the empty tube into the trunk. “I can’t believe I just did that!” he said, looking decidedly paler than usual, quite a feat for a white pony.

“I think maybe we should get out of here,” Roxy suggested.

Arc nodded and they got in the car. Remembering the situation, Roxy quickly dialed HQ.

It took more than a little explaining, but by the time the whole story had been transmitted, Arc had found a dark place to park, away from the scene of the attack. Roxy hung up the phone after securing a promise that help was on the way. The two of them sat there for a moment in the darkened car.

Roxy put a hoof on Arc's shoulder. “Arc, are you okay? That was…” she had to look away for a moment. When she turned back she saw an unreadable expression on his face, and his eyes were wide.

“I’ve never done anything like that before,” Arc replied. “Not many walk away from a helicopter crash, especially after being shot down into water. Not only that, but I’m pretty sure it was illegal.”

“You had no choice, love. They would have gotten away with the most dangerous haul I can imagine.”

“Maybe,” speculated Arc. He paused and took a deep breath. In a different tone, he said, “I wonder if this is the endgame. Stealing weapons from the Navy could have been their plan all along. And with us stopping it...”

There were a few more moments of silence as the two of them had time to come to grips with the situation.

“In that case, we’re awesome.” Roxy grinned.

“We do make a good team,” said Arc, matching her smile. “Whether husband and wife or spotter and shooter.”

Roxy leaned across the car and kissed him. “Call us whatever you want. I’m just happy to be with you.”

13: No Boom

As Arc and Roxy sat in the car, her phone rang. She straightened up and gave Arc’s hoof a squeeze before answering.

It was Granite. “I investigated the thing your friend found outside the lab. Sure enough, it’s got surveillance spells. None of them are obvious enough to lead me to Smoke Screen right now, so I’m heading your way to see what I can do.”

It was nice of him to help. Roxy told him where they were and hung up.

A few minutes passed as Arc and Roxy sat together in the darkness, leaning on each other. Sirens could be heard in the distance, although emergency services would only be able to treat the wounded that Sisal’s raiding party had left in their wake. As for the attackers themselves, chances were slim that any had escaped the watery wreck of their downed helicopter.

Having been through helicopter training himself, an ordeal that involved being turned upside down in a metal box under water, Arc could imagine what it must have been like. Deciding that he should probably think about something else, he searched for a new topic.

“It’s nice to just sit here,” Arc said. “Nothing happening at the moment.”

“I never thought just having the opportunity for a few quiet minutes would feel so good.” Roxy leaned closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

“A vacation for our anniversary is sounding better and better,” Arc murmured.

They didn’t get too much more time together, though. It wasn’t long before Granite arrived, stopping his car facing theirs. Arc and Roxy met him in the glare of headlights between the two cars. Surprisingly, he wasn’t alone.

“He wanted to come,” said Granite, tilting his head towards Carbon.

“What are you doing here?” Roxy exclaimed.

“Something wasn’t adding up,” Carbon said. “I called you about the big piece of quartz I found and then this guy shows up asking about it. I could only assume you’d sent him, but I still have no idea who he is.”

“You gave him a ride here and he doesn’t even know you?” Roxy asked.

Granite shrugged. “He’s part diamond dog. I figured you two were close.”

“How did you know that?” Carbon demanded.

“He’s what?” said Roxy, near-simultaneously.

Arc asked, “What’s that got to do with anything?” He frowned. “Wait, how is that even possible?”

Granite raised his eyebrows and looked back and forth between Roxy and Carbon. “Well, damn. You two have some talking to do.” He turned to Arc. “It’s magic.”

Arc rolled his eyes. “That’s it?”

Granite gestured for everypony to get in the car. “We’ll go over it later. Right now we have a boat to catch.”

After everypony was in, Granite headed towards the wharf. Quietly to Carbon, Roxy said, “A diamond dog?”

“It never came up in conversation,” muttered Carbon.

There was more activity around the base as they got closer to the water. The presence of a passenger car filled with unarmed ponies did not raise a lot of suspicion, but Granite had his investigator ID ready to show.

There was a boat with security markings waiting by one of the piers. Proficient and Harv were aboard, apparently having arrived with the boat.

“Who’s this?” Proficient asked, indicating Carbon.

“Dog,” said Arc helpfully.

“Half,” corrected Carbon.

Proficient and Harv nodded. Apparently no further explanation was needed.

Turning the boat, the group of them headed into the night. The sounds of activity at the docks carried over the water, but out on the bay the noise was muted. The outboard motor was louder.

“Where are we going?” Carbon asked.

“The seaponies flagged a boat they believe is holding a hostage and may be the operations center of the arms dealer that’s trying to blow up San Palomino because she hates baseball,” said Harv.

Carbon’s mouth dropped open in uncertainty and not a little surprise. Roxy said, “Yeah, we really should talk later.”

Another few minutes brought them within sight of a large yacht anchored by itself. A few lights were lit aboard. The helipad at the stern was empty.

Doria appeared on the surface of the water as Proficient throttled the boat back. She waved to them and came over to the side. “Hey, there you are. I was expecting more guns, though.”

Worried, Arc asked, “Are we going to need them?”

“I thought that was implied,” said Doria, “this being a bad guy holdout and all.”

“We’re much closer than the strike team,” Proficient said.

“Well, it might not be a problem,” said Doria. “I don’t think there are a lot of ponies aboard, although I did hear what sounded like a fight a little bit earlier.”

“Well, let’s get this over with,” said Granite.

Proficient maneuvered the boat closer to Sisal’s yacht, aiming for a boarding ladder at the stern. Granite went up first, pausing on the helicopter pad for a quick look around before advancing to a door in the superstructure. He stopped there, standing close to the wall, and gestured for the others.

“I hope this thing doesn’t blow up, too,” muttered Harv as he climbed out of the boat. Arc and Roxy glanced at each other and then went up the ladder. Neither was going to prevent the other from going into danger alone.

Proficient adjusted his tie as he stepped out of the boat. Carbon, uninvolved up to this point, stood quietly on deck.

“Hey, take me with you!” called Doria, waving from the water. “I can help!”

“Won’t you lose your tail if you dry out?” Arc asked.

“A few minutes won’t hurt,” said Doria. “Plus, it’s a boat, not the land.”

“Yeah, but what are you going to do to the bad guys, flop at them?” said Granite.

Doria huffed. Granite said, “Look, if you want to see the boat, just give us a few minutes to clear it, all right?”

Turning back to the door, Granite tipped his horn towards it. The lock clicked and the door slammed open. Granite went through, calling, “Come on!”

Arc glanced at Roxy, raising his eyebrows inquiringly.

“If you’re confident, go ahead,” Roxy said. “I’m with you.”

The two of them entered the door. The interior was well-appointed, as one would expect from such a large yacht. Carpet muffled their footsteps as the two of them moved forwards.

The maze of passageways below deck were difficult to navigate with any sort of efficiency. Arc and Roxy got turned around and had to double back, going down another set of stairs in a different direction.

They entered what was apparently the galley. It was dark, but the dim light from down the passageways at either end illuminated the stainless steel surfaces. Arc noticed some water on the floor and paused to examine it. It seemed like something wet had slid along the floor.

Roxy stepped around the island in the center of the room and opened a door, suddenly interrupting a confrontation that appeared to be some strange variant of a Mexicanter Standoff.

On one side was a furious looking sailor with soiled uniform and a military-issue Mareretta pistol. On the other was an unfamiliar unicorn mare spitting curses in Hoviet and menacing Carbon and Doria with a gun of her own.

Roxy’s entrance broke the moment and the mare holding two hostages swung her weapon to point at Roxy. “Stop where you are!”

It was a voice they knew. She’d called them to taunt and deliver threats. This could only be the illusive Sisal Twist.

Roxy, when a gun was pointed at her, did stop. However, only long enough for Arc in the darkened kitchen to grab a small cast iron skillet and cock his foreleg back.

“Duck!”

Roxy hit the deck a fraction of a second before the metal pan flew over her head on a collision course with Sisal’s face. The unicorn slapped at the projectile with magic, the gun firing by reflex.

The bullet went wild somewhere overhead. With a split second to react, but knowing Arc was behind her, Roxy snapped her wings for thrust and shot towards the gun, grappling it away before Sisal could refocus her magic.

And before she could even look to see where the gun had gone, Sisal was bowled over by the strength of an earth pony hoof slamming into her skull.

Arc landed on top of her, following through. “You tried to kill my wife,” he hissed through clenched teeth. Sisal didn’t respond, her eyes still rolling.

Roxy got up, glancing at the gun in her hoof. She turned to the sailor, apparently Seabreeze, and offered it. “Here, you probably know more about this than I do.”

Seabreeze shot her a distrusting look, but accepted the gun. Her eyes shifted to Arc, who had rolled Sisal over and brushed mane down into her eyes so she couldn’t see to use magic.

“That was so cool!” cheered Doria, standing up on her tail and gesturing with her hooves.

“We stumbled in here and got caught up in things,” Carbon admitted.

“Is everypony okay?” Arc asked. Sisal groaned. Arc glanced at her. “You don’t count.”

“Mr. Arc,” said Seabreeze slowly, “why are you here and what’s going on?”

Arc looked around at his wife, the injured Hoviet who had tried to kill them all, the confused sailor holding two guns, the half-dog genetic researcher, and the seapony who looked nothing like the stylized tattoo on Seabreeze’s foreleg. He said, “I could tell you, but it’s going to sound really loony.”

“What’s loony is that I let you live so long,” Sisal muttered into the floor.

“Shut up,” said Arc and Roxy.

Sisal began a low chuckle. “Hey baseball fans, what time is it?”

Arc got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He instinctively checked his watch, although that didn’t really tell him what she was talking about.

Sisal barked out a laugh. “I said I was going to kill you! Any last words?”

Arc and Roxy shared glances. She leaned against him, placing a wing over his withers.

Seabreeze looked perplexed. “What is she talking about?”

There was a snort at the door and Granite shuffled in wearing a smug look. “Was anypony here expecting a yacht-shattering kaboom?” He casually dropped a pile of detonators on floor in front of Sisal's face. Her leer was replaced by rage.

Harv and Prof entered the room, each dropping several more detonators onto the pile. Granite asked, “Did we miss anything?”

Harv looked intently at Sisal. “No, we didn't,” he replied with a grin of his own.

Proficient clapped his hooves. “Well, that about wraps things up.”

14: Unexpected, but not Unwelcome

There wasn’t much time to plan, but Carbon insisted that he host an event in honor of everypony saving the day. Even still, the food was good and the drinks were plenty.

It certainly fueled the social aspect. The group had gradually formed a rough circle to talk over what went right and what could have gone better.

Tammy still couldn’t find help to cover her work and Doria couldn’t make it to Carbon’s house, but most everyone else directly involved in the case was there.

Carbon was not in the work clothes that Roxy usually saw him wearing, but was still as sharply dressed as ever. He had warmed to the situation and was already swapping magical genetic theories with Roxy.

The two of them had already decided to pursue further study of Lunar Behavioral Duality. Maybe, just maybe, it might be possible to cure ponies like Buttercup.

Roxy had gone to see Buttercup earlier in the day. The meeting carried its usual air of confrontation, but Buttercup had at least seemed pleased to know that Sisal was canned. Roxy would have to talk to her again in a few weeks and thank her properly.

Amid the other guests at the get-together, Seabreeze clutched her drink and stayed quiet. It was the first time Arc had ever seen her out of uniform, but her mane was still up and she didn’t appear very relaxed.

Being kidnapped hadn’t been good for her, although the battery of military and law enforcement ponies debriefing her, not to mention the evaluations by physicians and psychiatrists, had apparently run her nerves almost as ragged as the actual event.

She’d made the decision to tell an altered version of events, one that preserved her job, kept the Shades under wraps, and didn’t paint herself as too much of a hero. In the end, her name had been kept out of public reports, and she was still in the Navy but contemplating an additional position with the Shadows.

Granite was also not in the mood to talk. While Sisal was now locked up, Smoke Screen was still out there somewhere, and he seemed to take that personally. Unlike everypony else, he only drank water. His morose expression looked like he was trying to light the carpet on fire with his mind. Apparently he was actually just staring, because he probably could have pulled it off if he really wanted to.

“Come on, it’s just a missing piece of the puzzle,” Harv said, attempting to console him. “We got everything else that we found to fit together. Sisal’s locked up. The gryphons and minotars are backing off because the terrorists inciting violence lost their source of weapons.”

“They certainly are less effective without her support,” Proficient added. “They couldn’t have pulled off the stadium bombing themselves. At the same time, Sisal couldn’t have put together enough henchponies to steal high tech missiles from the Navy without their numbers.”

“Henchponies?” asked Roxy. “Is this a spy thriller or something?”

“Better,” said Harv, grinning.

Granite let out a sigh and relaxed slightly. It wasn’t a laugh, but the joke appeared to have loosened him up somewhat. “Not the craziest case I’ve ever seen, but a hell of an effort by some rookies. I think some congratulations are in order.”

Proficient nodded. “Indeed. Arc, Roxy, we couldn’t have done it without you.”

Granite took out two metal badges that featured a lighthouse flanked by the sun and moon. They had unique numbers and he gave them to the two newest members of the Shades.

The crowd was small, but the applause was genuine. Under the appreciation, Arc and Roxy stood close, hooves together and intertwined.

It was good to feel accepted by the group, although they were more important to each other. Husband and wife, partners, mutual support. Coming together, they kissed, ignoring the others cheering.

“Huzzah!” called a voice from the doorway leading into the kitchen.

“Princess on deck!” yelled Seabreaze, shooting up from her seat and bowing low as everypony turned towards the newcomer. The crowd of Shades hastily bowed, some spilling their drinks in the process.

Princess Luna nodded. “Please be at your ease, –” her horn glowed and she waved a hoof, “– and let us spare the rug of our good Carbon Lattice from further injury."

Carbon’s eyes grew wide as dinner plates. “P... Princess Luna’s in my house!” He began to hyperventilate.

“Your majesty,” said Proficient, “welcome to our little investment ceremony. We are both grateful for your presence, and surprised.”

“Pish-posh, mage. I simply wished to thank you all personally for the services you have so competently rendered to your fellow citizens and the crown. In our estimate, you have already saved several hundred of our little ponies’ lives. My sister and I are most grateful.”

Everypony bowed again, with the exception of Carbon whose tongue hung slightly out of his mouth while his coat seemed to be in the process of changing color. As he rose from his bow, Granite’s horn glowed and a small sphere of energy appeared around Carbon’s muzzle. A moment later the stallion’s breathing slowed and his color resumed its more natural tint.

Luna moved forward to stand in the middle of the group. “I also wished to tell you that your efforts may have a much more far-reaching impact on our kingdom and even the world than you might think. The arms supplier you thwarted was part of a major effort to destabilize Equestria and our closest neighbors. We are uncertain who is behind these efforts, and what they stand to gain, but we do know that the parties responsible have a marked preference for the employment of Loonies, as you call our children of the night.”

Prof and Harv exchanged glances. Princess Luna turned to Roxy, who was still clutching Arc's foreleg.

“Make no mistake, these ponies are dear to us, and we wish to encourage Ms. Deoxyribonucleic in her efforts to ease their plight. You will be given those resources you need to progress your investigations.”

Roxy gulped and bowed, humbled by the recognition, thankful for the support, and impressed that the Princess had so precisely pronounced her full name.

She turned her gaze to Arc. “As to you, –” she raised a dark eyebrow, “– do try not to make it a habit of shooting down aircraft within our cities.” She leaned closer and whispered in his ear. “Our thanks for taking such good care of Roxy, she deserves a good stallion at her side, and thou hast measured up."

Leaning back she then turned her focus on Seabreeze, who had stood at attention the entire time despite the princess’ entreaty to be at ease.

“Petty Officer Seabreeze, we have seen the unease that the need for obfuscation of these events has placed in your heart. Thou art a gallant member of our armed forces, and know that your assumption of this burden is appreciated, as your distress in doing so is a credit to your character. Please consider it a direct order from the crown in your capacity to assist the Shades in their work. Your are herewith absolved of any charges of perjury related to your testimony to the crown’s law enforcement and courts of law in this incident.”

Seabreeze visibly relaxed. Luna smiled brightly and she scanned the room, looking each pony in the eye.

“Our duties are such that we must now depart. Again, my little ponies, huzzah!”

Without a sound, the Princess of the night disappeared. Nopony moved.

Carbon's eyes were still wide as dinner plates. “P... Princess Luna was in my house!” He began to hyperventilate again.

His assertion broke the tension, which dissolved into laughs and gasps as ponies started breathing again. They fell into groups, each discussing what the Princess had told them.

Arc and Roxy sat on their haunches next to each other and gazed down at their new badges. And then, ignoring the jubilant crowd around them, kissed again. This time there were no interruptions.

Author's Note

A big thank you to my editor Dafaddah, without whom this story probably would not have been possible. He's a pro.

1: Full Moon

It was another of those glorious days that made San Palomino such a great place to live, with its southern Equestrian sun and heat tempered by a mild breeze off the ocean. It was perfect for driving with the windows down. Arc glanced to the side, watching buildings and traffic go by as the breeze ruffled his short maroon mane. The weather, however was not what was on his mind.

Arc sat in the back of a sedan with government plates. He turned his head, looking past the front seats at the two stallions up front. They hadn’t said much since picking him up. After showing up at his office and asking him to get in the car, they’d whisked him away to an apartment near the waterfront to investigate a crime scene. All in all, it was not a usual start to a new job.

The two escorting Arc were Proficient Efficient and Harvest Peach. Proficient had an immaculate horn and navy blue coat with a wavy blonde mane, plus a constant smile. His coloring was accented with a grey suit jacket, although even then he gave the impression that he was dressing down. His cutie mark was a suave-looking alligator wearing a polo shirt. Harv looked a little rougher around the edges and wore his green mane in a low maintenance style over his peachy coat. He gave the impression of a country pony, right down to the peach cutie mark.

Proficient stopped the car outside an apartment building and the three of them got out. Arc paused to take a look around. Except for being their destination, the building was not particularly interesting: a white ten story tenement with small touches of adornment, but nearly indistinguishable from the ones to its left and to its right. Nearby were the city cruise ship docks and some algae boats tied up at secondary piers. A few seagulls drifted in the wind.

The trio went into the apartment building and took the elevator up to the fifth floor. Down the hallway they stopped at an apartment door. Proficient unlocked it with a key from his jacket pocket and they went inside.

The place was small and sparsely furnished. The walls were plain with no evidence of ever having pictures hung on them. There was just enough decoration to make it evident that somepony lived there, and that they were probably a dull and uninteresting pony. It was clean, though, seeming to be perfectly sterilized. A heavy smell of bleach permeated the air.

Harv glanced at Arc and gestured to a door. “Have a look in the bedroom, rookie.”

Arc nodded and crossed the front room, concealing his distaste at being referred to as the new guy, even if it was true. He pushed open the door and stepped in.

The bedroom was windowless. It had a simple bed with plain sheets. A few feminine items were in view on top of the dresser. What drew Arc’s attention was a green tube about a meter and a half long that rested on the mattress. It had a few instructions and warnings stenciled on it with yellow letters in another language.

Arc turned around and marched back out. Pointing a hoof, he demanded, “Why is there a HU-7 surface-to-air missile launcher in here?”

“It wouldn’t fit in the closet?” Harv offered, one eyebrow raised.

More seriously, Proficient answered, “This apartment belongs to Ms. Buttercup, a weapons smuggler. She turned herself in last night.”

Arc frowned. “This arms dealer–she–went to the trouble of sneaking a missile launcher from the Hooviet Union and through Equestria’s border security just to give herself up?”

“A missile launcher among other things,” said Harv. “Buttercup is a Loony, which means her personality fluctuates between moral and immoral based on the phases of the moon. Half of every month, she’s an evil international weapons supplier. The other half she’s like an angel.”

“That’s oversimplifying things, but you get the idea,” added Proficient. “With your wife’s situation, Arc, I’m sure you understand how these moon curses can go.”

Arc’s eyebrows lifted with interest. “So this is based on the moon. How does a pony get it?”

“It’s a family affliction,” Proficient replied. “One might call it hereditary, passed down through the generations.”

“We asked your wife to take a look at that aspect of it,” Harv added before Arc could ask.

Arc chuckled. “I just started working for the Shades and it seems like Roxy and I are already a good fit with the organization. You guys didn’t secretly hook us up, did you?”

Proficient politely laughed with him. “We certainly didn’t, although your wife being a lycan and you holding a security clearance certainly made the two of you ideal candidates.”

“Speaking of qualifications, I was meaning to ask,” said Arc. “This is the first case the Shades have put me on. Where do I go from here?”

“Why don’t we grab that missile launcher and talk on the way?” suggested Harv.

Arc nodded and went back to the bedroom. He hesitated for a moment before stripping the top sheet from the bed and wrapping up the tube with it.

It seemed odd and somehow wrong to come into a stranger’s apartment and unmake their bed, although what made Arc even more uncomfortable was encountering foreign weapons inside Equestria. He figured he would get used to it, just like he got used to his wife turning into a wolf once a month.

Which reminded him—tonight was the full moon.

Arc hefted the thirty pound missile launcher onto his back. Proficient held the apartment’s front door for him and locked it after the three of them had exited.

After leaving the building, they got into the car, Arc putting the HU-7 in the trunk. Proficient took a moment to check his reflection in the rear-view mirror before starting the car and pulling away from the curb.

“Anyway,” said Harv, continuing the conversation from earlier, “there’s a lot of options working for the Shades. You’re still officially employed by the Military Weapons Branch, but once we get the administrative stuff done and your exit choreographed, you can come to our office full time.”

Arc frowned. “Why do I have to choreograph quitting my job at MWB?”

“It has to be set up so it looks believable,” Proficient said. “A sudden transfer would draw attention we don’t want. It’s not easy to just join a secret group like the Shades. Plus we’ll have to clear a desk for you. It’ll all be a lot of paperwork to do; you’re a government employee, you know how paperwork goes. In the meantime, just keep working with MWB and moonlighting with us.”

Holding two jobs at once—one legitimate and one covert—did not sound like Arc’s idea of fun. “How long do I have to keep up the charade?”

“Probably no more than a couple of months,” Proficient said. “Although you knew when you accepted the job that the real charade was never going to end.”

That was true, Arc thought. Once you knew about lycans and everything else that went bump in the night, it became a constant effort to keep the knowledge under wraps.

“But you should be good at keeping things under wraps,” said Harv. “You were in the military, right?”

“What are you, a mind reader or something?” Arc asked. “That’s pretty much exactly what I was thinking.”

Harv turned his head to look at him. “Yes, actually.”

That was not the kind of thing one heard every day, and Arc did not reply immediately.

“It takes a little getting used to,” Proficient said to fill the gap in conversation.

“And what are you?” Arc asked him.

“No special abilities for me,” Proficient said. “I’m just good at keeping secrets. And I might add, it’s considered impolite to go around asking Shades what they are.”

Arc was reminded of the old saying you learn more by listening than by talking. At least there might be a little bit of leniency because he was the new guy and didn’t know better. However, that might depend on how many telepaths he encountered.

“I heard that,” said Harv.

Arc grinned. “Good.”

Harv favored Arc with the first genuine grin he'd shown since they'd met. Proficient chuckled.

“So I noticed that your cutie mark didn’t have anything to do with mind reading,” Arc said.

Harv shrugged. “My special talent actually involves fruit. The telepathy thing is just more useful.”

“There are a lot of us in this business who are out of our element,” Proficient added, glancing in the rearview mirror at Arc. “I can tell that you’re one of them. But don’t worry, you’ll find your place eventually.”

The rest of the drive into central San Palomino was quiet. Proficient steered the car towards an unmarked high rise office building that was primarily colored beige. It was in heavy contrast to the sleek glass and steel skyscrapers that decorated much of the skyline. They entered a garage below the building, Proficient waving at a bored-looking security guard.

After finding a parking spot and collecting the missile launcher, the three of them went inside. The lobby was plain, with bland tile floors and more beige on the walls. A mare and a stallion sat at a reception desk. They both looked intently at the visitors.

“He’s with us,” said Harv, pointing a hoof in Arc’s direction.

“He still has to do the blood test,” said the stallion. As he stood up from behind the desk, Arc got the impression that he might have been a linebacker in a former career.

This was not the first time Arc had visited the Shade office, and he shifted the missile launcher to a better balance as he gingerly held out a foreleg. The security guard—for that was what he was—placed a small device on Arc’s fetlock. Even though Arc had braced for it, he winced at the stab of a small needle taking a blood sample.

Shade offices had ways of recognizing who belonged and who didn’t. Arc had once overheard a conversation about spells, although he wasn’t yet sure if the security was entirely magic-based. Until he was officially granted access to the building, he would have to endure a painful stick every time.

The large stallion consulted the device as it processed Arc’s blood. In a matter of seconds it came back with a positive result and the stallion nodded. “You can go.”

Arc took a moment to lick down the spot of red on his white coat. Being light-colored was a constant battle to stay clean.

Proficient and Harv led him away from the desk and down a hallway that was as dull and beige as the lobby. They turned a corner and stopped at a door marked IT. Proficient turned the handle and went inside.

The room was darker than the outside hallway. The walls were lined with banks of computers and the air conditioning vents provided a steady background thrum. A desk in the center of the room did little to conceal a hulking minotaur behind two flat screen computer monitors. She looked up as the door opened, her face and brown coat illuminated in the glow of the screens.

Proficient said, “Tammy, could we please get a copy of Buttercup’s case file?”

“Sure.” Tammy nodded, turning away from the paper and pencil she had been using to instead begin typing at her computer. She spared a glance for Arc. “Who’s this?”

“Arc,” he introduced himself. He shifted slightly, thinking about offering a hoof to shake, but Tammy seemed busy. She didn’t comment on the missile launcher.

The light reflected on her face flickered. Tammy said, “The case file isn’t in the system yet. You’ll have to go down to the archive and get the hard copy.”

“Thank you very much.” Proficient nodded and smiled. He led Arc and Harv out of the room. Arc frowned as he exited, wondering why a case file would be put to paper before being electronic. Did they write with old typewriters?

He glanced at Harv expectantly, but the stallion didn’t seem to have heard. Arc repeated his question out loud. “Why are we going after a file in the archive?”

“The electronic systems are part of a national network, but only so much can go out,” Proficient replied. “Not only would it be impossible to transmit everything we collect, but in the day and age of advanced cyber espionage, we have to stay low profile with our bandwith. I doubt they could break our encryption, but the key is not being noticed at all. As you’re probably beginning to learn, that’s the whole theme of this separate, secret world that’s jammed in alongside the regular one.”

“Okay.” Arc nodded. “But I was trying to ask Harv.”

“Were you?” Harv asked. “Sorry. As part of the barrier spell on the front door, I asked the wizard building it to put in a telepathy blocker for me. Inside this building is the only time I get any peace and quiet.”

“The wizard?” Arc asked.

“Yeah, he works for us doing freelance jobs. I’m sure you’ll meet him eventually.”

Arc decided not to ask anything further. He already had enough to learn.

The three of them took a set of stairs down two levels, Arc pausing to move the HU-7 from against his withers to lower on his back. Down a long hallway, they were met with a high security door. There was an electronic combination lock on which Proficient spent several seconds dialing in the combination.

The lock opened with a click and Proficient hauled the heavy door open. Beyond was a dim room filled floor to ceiling with records. Beyond the stacks, it was hard to see how far the room extended. The smell of old paper came wafting out the door.

“We keep everything the San Palomino office has ever done right here,” Proficient explained as the three of them entered. “We’ll send out topical reports online, so if somepony elsewhere needs more information we can do the research and get back to them.”

“Yes, it is inefficient,” Harv said.

Arc looked at him. “I thought you couldn’t tell what I was thinking inside this building.”

“I don’t have to. Everypony thinks the archive system is inefficient,” Harv replied.

“We’re the government; what’s efficiency?” Proficient chuckled. “But the paper archives are also the best security system we’ve got. You can’t hack in and quickly download things.”

There was a shuffle of steps from back in the Archive shelves and a stallion stepped into view. He was thin with thinner ginger hair and wore a sweater vest.

Proficient stepped forward to shake his hoof. “Hello Staple.”

Staple nodded. “Good day. What can I do for you gentlecolts?”

“Could we get Buttercup’s file?” Proficient asked.

“Of course.” Staple started to turn, but paused, looking at Arc. “Is that an EPE you’re holding?”

“An HU-7, actually,” Arc corrected.

Staple shrugged. “I’ve never been good with hardware.” He shuffled away.

In a moment, he was back with a thick folder. Buttercup’s name was written on the front with black marker.

Proficient accepted it from him with a word of thanks. Staple waved goodbye as the three of them departed the Archive.

“Let’s find somewhere quiet to review this,” Proficient suggested, leading the group back up a few flights of stairs. They found an unused conference room and took seats around the table. Arc set the missile launcher down in the chair beside him.

Despite the thickness of the file, there was surprisingly little information that Arc could use. Most of it detailed Buttercup herself, and had very little about her smuggling activities or the weapons she dealt in. He looked up from the paperwork. “Where’s the rest of her stash? Nopony deals in just missiles.”

“What we found in her apartment was the extent of the things we recovered,” Proficient explained. “There’s more out there, but not even Buttercup knows where. However, she did tell us who might.”

Harv helpfully added, “It’s the Hooviet mob.”

Arc leaned back, pushing the files on the table away from him. “So who handles the case now that we’re dealing with organized crime? The Royal Guard, maybe?”

Harv pushed the files back to him. “No, you take care of it. It’s your first case, after all.”

“Really?” Arc gave him an incredulous look. “I don’t know anything about the Hooviet mob, and MWB sure as Tartarus doesn’t give me jurisdiction to deal with civil crimes.”

“Good thing MWB doesn’t own you anymore,” said Proficient. “Now that you’re a Shade, you operate anywhere in Equestrian territory.”

“What if this criminal group has foreign links, like in the Hooviet Union?” Arc asked.

“Then we’ll contact our Hooviet counterparts,” Proficient provided.

Arc paused, thinking about what the Hooviet version of Shades might be called, but instead decided to focus on something more important. “I still don’t know anything about how to handle criminals.”

“We wouldn’t want to throw you to the sharks all alone, even if the Shades do typically give the individual more freedom to operate than your typical law enforcement agency,” said Harv. “We’ll set up a meeting and send you with a few others.”

“Not you guys?” Arc asked. He gestured to Harv. “Mind reading strikes me as a useful tool for interrogation.”

Harv shrugged modestly. “I can’t be everywhere at once. Besides, there are plenty of quality ponies working here. Odds are good you’ll get what you need.”

Proficient checked the time. “Speaking of getting what you need, Arc, I believe you’ll want to be home early tonight?”

Arc checked his own watch. “Definitely. Full moon.”

“I suppose we’ll continue tomorrow, then.” Proficient stood up. “Come on, we’ll escort you out of the building.”

“Hang on,” said Arc. “What am I supposed to do with this missile launcher?”

At the same time, but on the other side of San Palomino in a different government facility, Arc’s wife Roxy was asking a related question. “Why did you leave a missile launcher in your bed?”

Buttercup sat on the other side of the table, looking frail and overwhelmed. Being locked up had not been good to her, and she’d only been there for a few days.

The light in the room was good, and both mares had no trouble seeing each other. As it happened, they were both yellow pegasi, although Buttercup’s shade was lighter. Roxy’s blue mane was also more recently groomed. Even after only one day of incarceration, Buttercup appeared disheveled. Her cutie mark was a simple flower, while Roxy had a test tube crossed with a crescent moon.

“Putting that weapon there was the proof I needed to convince everypony that I was guilty.” Buttercup’s eyes didn’t meet Roxy’s, or those of the other mare sitting in the room.

A mare named Market Outlook sat at the corner of the table between the other two. She was slight, with a pale orange coat and a blue mane in a precise braid. The mark on her hip was a graph plot. Market was also happened to be the jailor, with Buttercup as her charge and Roxy as her guest. Around Market’s barrel was a utility belt with cuffs, bridle, and keys.

“We would have just taken your word that you were selling illegal weapons.” Market’s hooves were folded, her brows concerned.

“I wanted something that would keep me here,” Buttercup replied quietly. “I’ve decided that I need to be locked away. Tonight’s the full moon, and I can’t be free until the new moon.”

Roxy’s eyes dropped for a moment to a report about Loonies on the table in front of her. It was remarkable how the seemingly innocent mare could turn into a criminal mastermind when the moon was waning. It was the opposite of what lycans went through. The full moon was when Roxy was at her worst.

“What you have isn’t well understood, but you can help us. Maybe we can find a way to help you,” Roxy said. Buttercup nodded, although she wouldn’t meet Roxy’s eyes.

The conversation lulled and drew to an end. Market pushed her chair back from the table and stood. “I think that’s enough for today.”

She helped Buttercup to get up. There was a tinkle of chain from the hobbles and wing wraps she wore. Market walked with her, leading her out of the room and down the hallway.

The building’s décor was best described as functional, although for a facility that was, for all intents and purposes, a prison, it wasn’t particularly harsh. In fact, it was outfitted more like a maximum security dormitory rather than a jail.

Roxy followed as Market escorted Buttercup back to her cell. After the cuffs came off, Buttercup sat down on her bed and stared blankly at her lap, forelegs folded.

Market backed out of the room and closed the door securely. She turned towards the other end of the hallway and gestured for Roxy to follow.

The two of them shortly arrived in Market’s office. It was sparsely furnished, although more colorful than any of the cells. The desk was made of particle board but had a reasonable quality veneer on the surface. The only personal touch was a battered pewter tankard, which sat at the corner of the desk, half full of lukewarm water.

“Thank you for helping me out,” Roxy said as Market gestured her to a chair.

“It’s what I’m here for,” said Market. “Although if you want specific information about Loonies, I’m afraid I haven’t encountered many before.”

There weren’t enough lines on Market’s face for her to have had too many previous jobs. Roxy asked, “What did you do before?”

“I was a valkyrie, punching the clock in Valhalla. I decided to retire a few years ago.” Market gestured to the office. “This has been a change of pace.”

Even in her brief employment with the Shades so far, Roxy had heard more surprising things. Not many, though. She opened her notebook and returned to the subject at hoof. “I’ll ask you if I think of anything else about Buttercup’s case. She was very cooperative and answered most of my questions.”

“There was one thing that seemed strange to me,” Market commented. “Odin has this saying: ‘Don't leave your weapons lying around; you never know when you may suddenly need them.’ If Buttercup wanted to do something to get herself arrested, why did she only put one weapon on display? Why not just direct the Shades to where the entire stash was being kept?”

Roxy paused. “That’s an interesting question. Maybe my husband, Arc, will know something about that.”

Market nodded. “If you want to know about illicit weapons, we’ve got some Hooviets around that sometimes cooperate with us.”

“They sell arms and you haven’t busted them?” Roxy frowned.

Market waved a hoof. “No, they’ve always been careful to just be a go between, a friend of a friend. I first met this particular group when I was in Minos. I’ve seen them in action and they’re very slippery.”

“What were you doing in Minos?” Roxy asked.

“Well, with only three valkyries on duty at any given time to cover the whole planet, you go where they send you.” Market shrugged. “It was a weird time, what with the Moose Island incident and everything else that was going on. It’s part of why I retired.”

Market put on a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I try not to think about the past, especially in front of other ponies.”

“It’s okay.” Roxy closed her notebook and stood up. “Thank you for the visit.”

Market said goodbye and Roxy let herself out of the office. She took the elevator down to the lobby, which isolated the cells from the outside world. Passing the security desk where she had given a blood sample to be let into the building, she walked outside.

The afternoon was still warm, and Roxy spread her wings. Her car was parked nearby, but her next destination wasn’t far at all.

This part of the city was older, but still full of thriving small businesses. The jail was inconspicuously situated between a movie theater and a deli. Roxy’s aerial perspective gave her an overview of the area.

A few blocks away stood a weathered library. The front doors were sturdy with brass hardware, the metal polished from countless hooves over the years. Roxy landed on the sidewalk and entered.

The interior was dark compared to the sun. Crossing the large hall filled with shelves of books, Roxy stopped at the librarian desk that spanned the back wall.

A young pegasus stallion with a raincloud cutie mark, glasses, and an unkempt blonde mane over his silver coat greeted her. “Hello, Mrs. Deoxyribonucleic.”

“Good afternoon, Gray. You know you can just call me Roxy.”

“Sure, I just thought it would be nice to take the extra effort.” Gray smiled.

Roxy nodded. “I came to see Spike.”

“Yeah, he’s upstairs.” Gray tossed his head towards the ceiling. “When I brought him lunch, he said he’d found the book you wanted.”

“I’ll just get it from him and be on my way,” Roxy said.

Gray hadn’t moved from where he had been talking to her. “Busy day, huh? What with the full moon and all.”

“Yes, it is.”

“What’s it like?” he asked.

“Excuse me?” Roxy raised an eyebrow.

“What’s it like to be a wolf? Does if feel different from being a pony?”

She considered for a moment. “Well... having paws with toes makes walking feel very different, I guess. I don’t actually remember very much, because at the full moon I basically lose my mind.”

The answer seemed to disappoint Gray. He tried another question. “How about eating? What's it taste like to eat flesh?”

Roxy’s jaw clenched as stared at the young stallion. He shifted nervously under her glare. “Er, I mean, when I ask the gryphons they just laugh and say it tastes like chicken, whatever that means.”

His nervous chuckle died when he saw she wasn't laughing along with him.

Gray’s face flushed and he muttered an apology. He quickly unhooked a velvet rope and ushered Roxy behind the desk. She stalked past him and opened an unmarked door that led to a dim staircase.

Closing the door, she took a deep breath. Putting the matter with Gray behind her, she started up the stairs. At the top, there was a dusty room with bare lightbulbs hanging from the rafters and shelves of old books all across the floor. Roxy paused. “Hello?”

From behind a set of shelves at the other end of the room, a dragon emerged. “Hi there! I was wondering when you’d show up. I told Gray Cloud to be on the lookout. Come in.”

He was taller than a stallion, yet appeared somewhat stunted. His body was purple and green, colors that separated easily from the faded books.

At his invitation, Roxy approached. Up close, she could see the individual details of Spike’s scales and the fangs that pushed past his lips. A diamond bracelet hung from around his wrist.

He gave her his full attention. “It was an interesting topic you asked me to look up.”

“I hope so,” Roxy replied. “I don’t know very much about Loonies.”

“Then it’s good that I have exactly what you need. Now where…oh, there it is.” A few tiny breezies appeared beside Spike, lifting a faded leather-bound book.

Spike took the book in his claws. The breezies fluttered away gently. Roxy saw a few more of them idly watching from nooks and crannies around the room.

Spike peered at the cover of the book for a moment and then handed it over. Roxy glanced at the book, seeing what might at one time have been an embossed title. She stowed it in her purse. “Thank you.”

“You are most welcome.” Spike smiled. “Remember that the library has a two-week checkout policy, even for books from the Super Special Section.”

Roxy grinned. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks again.”

She went back down the stairs and traded nods with Gray before heading back outside. A short flight later, she was back at her car and heading home.

Arc was there in their suburban one-bedroom house when she arrived. He met her at the door between the garage and the kitchen with a smile.

They kissed briefly and Roxy dropped her purse on the kitchen counter. Arc put a hoof around her withers and the two of them stood close, just enjoying being together.

“How was your day?” Roxy asked.

“A little strange,” Arc replied. “You?”

“Same.”

They kissed and nuzzled again, enjoying each other’s touch a little longer this time. Both pulled back, and for a moment there was an uncertain pause where the encounter could either conclude or intensify.

“Everypony will be here in half an hour,” Arc gently reminded her.

Roxy nodded and leaned forward for another quick peck on the cheek before disengaging. She headed for the bedroom.

Arc opened the refrigerator to inspect the selection of leftovers. Even cold, he had a hard time deciding between Tofu Marsala and Lemon-Dill Watercress. Roxy was, to put it rather bluntly, a heck of a cook. Arc for his part was pretty good at washing dishes.

He selected the container of tofu and put it into the microwave to warm. From the hallway, he heard Roxy go into the bathroom.

Roxy had put down her purse and mane ties, moving to the bathroom to remove her makeup. She stopped in front of the mirror and took a breath to steady her hooves before picking up a tissue. Now that she was home, her mind had turned from work to more personal matters, like the impending full moon night.

Emerging from the bathroom a few minutes later, she returned to the kitchen to find Arc sitting down to dinner. Roxy wasn’t hungry, although she did sit down at the table across from him. Her forelegs crossed and uncrossed, hooves moving to have something to do.

Arc gave her a smile and did not draw attention to her fidgeting. The full moon, although more stressful for her, still gave him plenty of worries.

Finished eating, Arc got up and went to the sink, rinsing his dishes. Over the sound of the flowing water, Roxy heard a vehicle pull into the driveway. It was one she had heard before. Her ears tipped that direction.

“They’re here,” she said.

Arc shut off the water and listened for a moment. After a second, he shrugged and took her word for it.

The two of them exited the front door, Arc locking it. A minivan was parked in the driveway. The mare in the driver’s seat waved as they approached. Arc and Roxy got in the back.

There were already four ponies in the van: Sketch, Tracy, Nita, and Argyle.

Sketch and Tracy sat in the front; it was their van. They were older than the rest, although only by about a decade. They both were artists and had no foals.

Nita and Argyle were about as unlike as could be, but that didn’t stop them from dating. From what Arc had heard, they had met in the woods under a full moon.

Tall and heavily built, Argyle had to contort himself to let Roxy and Arc into the van. Waiflike Nita had no such trouble. She grinned and poked Argyle’s shoulder. “Aren’t you glad you came to Equestria, the country of huge cars?”

“Ya, ya,” Argyle muttered. “Back home ve did not drive, ve drank. Quality Germane beer.”

“Not my favorite, to be honest,” said Arc as he and Roxy got into the middle seats.

Nita giggled and put a hoof on her coltfriend’s chest. “Don’t offend him.”

“No offense intended,” Arc replied. “After getting back from a year-long tour in Camelstan, I would have drank anything–maybe even Germane beer.”

“Hey now, no fighting!” called Tracy from the front seat as she pulled back out onto the street.

“Yes, Den Mom,” replied Roxy with faux condescension.

“And don’t you forget it,” Tracy ordered. “Somepony has to keep this wolfpack in check.”

Sketch grinned. “You’re doing a fine job of it, dear.”

The six of them drove east, heading towards mountains for forests. Roxy and Nita made small talk to pass the time.

“I’m thinking about switching colors,” Nita said. “If my mane needs to be redyed every time I change, now is a good time to try something new.”

“But if you went with another color, you’d need something besides black outfits to match it,” Roxy pointed out.

“You’re lucky you look good natural. Anyway, it’s my shtick,” Nita explained. “Working at my secretary job, I can’t just suddenly be normal. Ponies who came in would be confused and think my boss hired somepony new.”

“Goth problems,” Argyle quipped.

Nita hit his shoulder. “I told you; I had nothing to do with the fall of the Roamane Empire!”

Argyle shrugged. “Vell, ponies keep saying that I look like a local.”

“The accent doesn’t tip them off?” asked Nita with raised eyebrows.

“Accents don’t mean anything,” Roxy put in. “After I learned to hide mine, nobody has suspected me of being from Appleoosa since.”

“I always thought it was sexy,” said Arc, turning to her with a grin.

Roxy paused. “Isn’t that the first thing you said to me when we met?”

“Does it still work?”

“Oh, you,” she laughed, eyes rolling.

The conversation was good for everypony’s mood. Arc made sure his wife’s hoof was never far from his own. He saw her relax, and that put a smile on his face.

The trip away from the city took nearly an hour and ended on a narrow dirt road that was thick on either side with trees. The evening sun, if it could have been seen through the forest, hung low and nearly at the horizon.

As the van came to a stop, the casual chatter faded away. Arc opened the sliding door and everypony got out. Sketch, Argyle, Nita, and Roxy stepped away from the van, all four of them looking to the forest with a mixture of resignation and some underlying eagerness.

Roxy took a few steps back towards Arc. The two of them leaned closer for a kiss. Her wings came forward to brush his neck.

She lingered close to him, her nostrils flaring as she inhaled his scent. Their eyes met. She smiled. “See you in the morning.”

Turning, Roxy joined the others and they disappeared into the forest.

Arc turned, moving back to the van. He and Tracy got in. The two of them shared a bond of common hardship, stoically attending to their respective spouses. Arc saw his own anxious face reflected in the rear-view mirror. Leaving their spouses behind this one evening per month left them both feeling useless.

However, there was something Arc could do this evening, something productive. He could go meet the Hooviets.

8: Like Finding a Needlebomb in a Citystack

Everypony smiled politely or sipped water as the waitress walked away with their order. It was a one of those poorly lit, vinyl upholstered, aluminum tabled, greasy spoon restaurants beloved by law enforcement and other shadier denizens of the late night. Harv said his uniformed cop friends came here all the time.

As soon as the waitress was out of earshot the Shades resumed their planning session. Proficient had taken charge of the coordination while Roxy was acting as scribe. The backside of one of the paper placemats had been turned into a scribble of notes.

“Coming here instead of ordering in was a stupid idea,” groused Granite.

“Hey, we were going stir crazy in that smelly situation room,” said Harv. “Not to mention a change of scenery will hopefully help us come up with some new ideas.”

Granite grumbled something under his breath.

“We’re going to need national level support for this,” continued Proficient. “I’ll be in talks with Canterlot to get us assets–” his eyes grew wide and Roxy flipped over the placemat with notes just as the waitress came back “–and isn't just this the best weather we've ever had?”

The waitress eyed Prof over her horn-rimmed glasses, placing their starters, an onion ball and some cheese drenched nachos, onto the table. With a final glance over her withers she walked away, back to the kitchen entrance.

Granite rolled his eyes. “Good cover, Prof! As if the weather in San Palomino ever changes, and as if those chair-warmers in Canterlot would ever get off their asses and get here in time to do us any good!”

“There’s still a lot of local support we have,” put in Harv. “We have our local bomb crews plus all the other Shades we can bring to bear.”

Roxy had managed to cover nearly the entire paper with writing. She said, “I should go talk to Buttercup again. She has to know something.”

“Somepony has to look for the bomb,” said Arc.

Proficient motioned to them. “We need to split up to cover more ground, but you two should stay together.”

While that suited Arc and Roxy just fine, it was nice to hear it coming from somepony else. Roxy said, “Buttercup might have an idea where Sisal is going to plant the bomb. She said it was going to be public.”

“A city of more than a million ponies has a whole hell of a lot of public,” contributed Granite, gaining volume as he got a bit hot under the collar. Everypony winced at the outburst.

“Um, pardon me, but shouldn’t you report this to the police?” the waitress asked. All eyes turned to her.

Harv pointed his hoof. “Mind your own business, go away, you saw nothing, these aren’t the droids you’re looking for.”

Proficient stared daggers at Harv, whose blush showed that he had heard his partner’s thoughts loud and clear. Prof pulled out his badge and showed it to the waitress.

“Ma’am, we are the law." His smile was sweet enough to have been poured over pancakes at breakfast. “And we're investigating a case, so we would appreciate your discretion. It could jeopardize the work we've already done.”

Harv grinned in turn. “That and the fact that Granite here just cast a spell on you. If you do blab about this to anypony then every customer who comes in here for the next two weeks is going to be a really poor tipper.”

That was just about all the random weirdness the poor mare could take. She hesitated, but then set down the platter of food and hurried away.

Harv quickly grabbed a taco. “I don't think she's in the mood to serve us anymore. No tip for you!” he said to her departing back.

“We’d better take this and go, then,” observed Proficient with a sigh.

In the parking lot, there was a quick final discussion. Proficient hoofed his keys to Arc. “You and Roxy take the car. Harv and I will ride back to headquarters with Granite to get another. Go about your business and keep everyone informed if you learn anything.”

The others took off in Granite’s car. Arc and Roxy got into the government sedan. Arc put the keys in the ignition and paused. Turning his head to Roxy, he leaned across the car for a kiss. She eagerly met him in the middle and for a moment neither was thinking about the monumental task that lay ahead.

They parted with a smile, both feeling reinvigorated. Since learning of the latest threat the tension everyone was feeling had mounted, and sometimes little bits of pressure had to be relieved.

Arc started the car and pulled into traffic, heading for where inmate was being kept. He asked, “What’s the plan for getting Buttercup to talk?”

“I can’t just walk in and ask her about the latest bomb. I don’t think she would respond well.” Roxy frowned. “At the same time, I don’t want to wait too long in the conversation. She might get violent.”

Arc glanced at her. “I’ll come with you.”

Roxy shook her head. “No, I don’t want Buttercup to be distracted.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” Arc argued.

“And I don’t want a lot of ponies to die because we didn’t find the bomb,” Roxy countered.

Arc went silent for a moment. He asked, “Can I listen? I’ll put my phone on mute.”

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” Roxy conceded.

They formed their plan on the way to the prison. Arc parked at the curb and called Roxy’s phone. She answered the call and then put the phone in her purse. Arc muted his cell’s microphone.

Roxy went into the building. Upstairs, she was greeted by Market. “It’s a little late, isn’t it?”

“It is, but I have a good reason. I think Buttercup might know something about a bomb that’s scheduled to go off tomorrow in a public place.”

Market’s eyebrows went up. “Yeah, that’s a good reason. Let me get her.”

Roxy sat down in the interrogation room and waited. There soon came the familiar sounds of a resistant prisoner coming down the hallway.

“What?” Buttercup demanded as Market shoved her into the chair.

Roxy opened her purse to take out her notebook. She left the purse open, lying on its side. Opening her notebook, she said, “I was hoping I could ask you a few questions about Sisal’s associates.”

“The ones she screws or just the ones she has sex with?”

“Do you fit into the former category?” Roxy asked.

Buttercup hesitated for half a second before putting on a smug expression and asking, “Isn’t that the name of the game? Screw unto others as they would do to you?”

“I can help you do that,” Roxy proposed. “I think both of us want to take down Sisal.”

“What are you going to do?” Buttercup scoffed.

“We could stop the bomb she’s planning to set off tomorrow.”

Buttercup’s eyes narrowed. “What bomb?”

“You didn’t know?” Buttercup had so far displayed an impressive knowledge of Sisal’s operations.

“Well, it’s not like she keeps me updated!”

Roxy raised a calming hoof. “Her plans may have changed. We found a dead gryphon in the train yard today. Perhaps that had something to do with it?”

For the first time, Buttercup looked unsure. “Are things really falling apart for her?”

“If you say they are.” Roxy gestured across the table. “You know more about what’s supposed to happen than I do.”

Buttercup went silent for several seconds. Her eyes came up to meet Roxy’s. “Are you trying to be friends with me?”

“I’d like to be.” Seeing an angry cloud pass over Buttercup’s expression, Roxy quickly added, “Mostly we just want the same thing: to screw Sisal.”

Buttercup considered that. “What can you guarantee me?”

“Beg your pardon?”

“What can you give me?” Buttercup asked. “What do I get for helping you?”

“It’s not her job to negotiate,” broke in Market. “That privilege is also something you have to earn by cooperating with us.”

“Just give me something I can use, and I promise that if nothing else you’ll get the satisfaction of putting a thorn in Sisal’s side,” Roxy said.

“What’s a promise worth?” Buttercup sneered. “Can’t put that in the bank.”

It was lucky Roxy had been learning to work her way through frustrating conversations with Buttercup. She paused to calm herself, and then replied, “A promise's value depends on the pony making the promise. I take it not very many of the promises you've been made were kept?”

For a moment, Roxy thought Buttercup was going to come across the table again. However, the moment of tension seemed to pass. Buttercup’s eyes dropped to her lap. “It won’t be easy to find her. Everything she has is protected.”

“Protected how?”

“Armed guards and magic. Sisal has a lot of dumb muscle, but there’s also a witch who is on the payroll.”

“Who’s this witch?” Roxy asked.

“Some self-important harlot who calls herself Smoke Screen. She dresses like it’s Nightmare Night every day. She’ll do anything for money.”

It sounded like Buttercup had a history with her and Roxy quickly steered the conversation in another direction. “Do you know anything that we could use to find Sisal’s hangouts despite the protection?”

“Ley lines.”

“I’m sorry?”

Buttercup looked impatient. “If you’re setting up a long-running enchantment, it helps to have a source of power like that nearby.”

Out in the car, Arc sat up a little straighter. He’d been sitting and watching the sun set, but now his attention was focused. Ley lines were something he had heard of. As he understood, the lines crisscrossed the planet and flowed with natural magic. If Sisal had truly located her operation on top of one, it could be a clue as to where to look for it.

Arc started the car and drove the few blocks to the library. It was probably getting close to closing time and he hurried inside after parking. He carried his phone along, the volume turned down.

The thin bespectacled stallion at the checkout desk looked up as Arc approached. His nametag read Gray. “Hello. Can I help you find anything?”

“Can I talk to Spike?” Arc asked.

“Who are you?” Gray asked.

“My name is Arc. My wife has been in here before taking out books related to loonies.”

“The only pony I can think of who’s been interested in those books is Roxy.”

“She’s my wife,” Arc confirmed.

“Oh.” Gray seemed to take another look at Arc and his tone changed. “Okay, go on upstairs. Spike’s there.”

He unhooked the velvet rope and pointed Arc to the stairs. Upstairs, he encountered the dragon Roxy had told him about.

“Hello,” Spike greeted. “Is there something I can help you with, Mr…?”

“Arc.”

Spike nodded. “What are you looking for today?”

“Do you have maps or something of local ley lines?” Arc asked.

“We do, although I’m afraid they aren’t as clear-cut as you were probably hoping for.” Spike looked around as breezies began carrying books from around the library. He motioned Arc to a desk and spread a few of the texts out.

Spike pointed out a few diagrams. “Ley lines are not easy to locate. Many ponies sense them subconsciously, but keeping track of them takes a lot of effort. Not many ponies want to walk cross-country looking for something they can’t see. There aren’t many definitive maps, but a lot of guesses that are probably pretty close. What most ponies agree on is that there is an intersection of several major lines here near San Palomino.”

“Where should I look?” Arc asked.

“It depends on whose map you’re using,” Spike replied. “If you tell me why you’re looking, I may be able to narrow it down.”

“You’ve heard that we’re looking for Sisal Twist?” Arc said. “A witch named Smoke Screen may be helping her, and that magical assistance may be powered by ley lines. We’re looking for a facility where Sisal could be assembling a bomb or preparing to set that weapon off in a public place.”

Spike blinked. “Oh wow. Hmm.” He glanced down at his books of maps. “In that case, I have a few options for you. We can either assume this facility is as well hidden as possible, or it’s positioned to facilitate ease of access to a public center. For the first case, I’d suspect a location up north, near Miramare; in the second, a place closer to Vista City.”

“That helps a lot,” Arc said. “Can you tell me anything else that might be useful?”

“I’ve heard of Smoke Screen before,” Spike said. “She’s a bit of an eccentric mercenary with low morals, or so I hear. Gray would know more; he follows the gossip.”

Spike lifted the pile of books. “If you take these to Gray, he can make copies of the maps for you.”

Arc thanked him again and went downstairs. Gray made the copies without comment. Arc asked about Smoke Screen.

“I’ve heard she looks good and is always dressing up,” Gray replied.

“How powerful is she?”

“Well, there’s no Top 40 for magic users, but she’s pretty far up there.”

“So if she’s powerful, why is she working for someone else and not doing her own things?” Arc.

Gray shrugged. “You can’t magic money, I guess.”

After getting his copies, Arc left and got back in the car to return to the prison. The sun had finished setting. By the sound of the conversation through the phone, Roxy was almost finished with Buttercup.

Arc got back to the parking spot in front of the building a few seconds before Roxy came out the door. He showed her what he’d found.

Roxy turned on the light inside the car to read the diagrams. “This looks really valuable.”

She pulled out her phone to snap pictures. It took a few minutes to send them in an e-mail attachment along with a description of the interview with Buttercup, but Tammy confirmed receipt and distributed the information to the rest of the Shadows on the case.

Proficient called shortly to coordinate. “Speakerphone, please. I’ll put us in conference call and add Granite and Tammy.”

After everyone was assembled, Arc and Roxy went through what they had learned in detail. Granite muttered something that sounded like “money-grubbing harlot” when Smoke Screen’s name came up. Proficient and Harv had also run down a few leads, most of which concerned the waterfront.

At this point, nothing was certain. Roxy wanted to believe everything Buttercup was saying had been the truth, but every clue had to be followed.

Proficient divided up the tasks. “Harv and I will go to the docks. Arc and Roxy will follow their lead in Vista City. Granite, you go to Miramare.”

“Miramare, like from the movie Top Fun?” Harv chuckled.

“Actually, the Top Fun party school moved to Appleloosa a few years ago,” Arc said.

“How do you know that?” Harv asked.

“I was there in Appleloosa during my artillery days. Top Fun is right across the street.”

“It’s a miracle he noticed me at all,” Roxy said with a smile.

“Interesting,” Proficient broke in, “but back to the topic at hoof, there’s a strike team from Canterlot on their way here. If we find a suitable target, they’ll take it down. They’ll be here in another few hours. If you find something you think is suspicious, keep it under observation and wait for backup.”

Everyone consented to the plan and the call ended. Task at hoof, Arc started the car and headed for the ley line convergence in Vista City.

He was accustomed to acting on orders, although through furtive sideways glanced at Roxy, he could tell that she wasn’t. Having a set task given by someone else lent purpose, Arc knew. Despite aiding resolution, he hadn’t missed being ordered around when leaving the Army.

They drove south into Vista City. It was largely housing, although the south end of the Navy base extended into its jurisdiction, as well as a large transoceanic ferry terminal. Despite the division, it was still only a few miles from downtown San Palomino.

At night, with only a vague map copied from a book for guidance, it wasn’t going to be easy to figure out which building in a city of tens of thousands of ponies was the one they were looking for.

“Like finding a needlebomb in a citystack,” Roxy provided. Both of them got a chuckle out of that.

They cruised for a while longer, searching in a grid pattern around the vicinity of the ley line intersection. It might have helped if they could pinpoint the exact location of the lines, but as Spike had indicated, they weren’t easy to find.

Of course, there were always the times when luck just happened to show up on its own. As the car passed a building with tall garage doors, Roxy pointed to a unicorn mare smoking near a side door. “Look.”

Her cigarette was in a long holder. Her mane and makeup were done heavily and perhaps excessively. Her dress was black and frilly, like a character in any given Flim Burton movie.

“She looks like she’s dressed for Nightmare Night,” Arc commented.

Roxy glanced at him. “Is it really going to be this easy?”

“I can’t think of any other reason why a mare dressed like a stereotypical witch would be hanging around an industrial building built over a ley line so late at night.”

“Good point.”

Arc drove a few blocks away and parked behind another car in a position where they could watch the front of the building. In a few minutes, the mare who might have been Smoke Screen finished her smoke and went back inside. Roxy called it in.

Tammy answered the call and listened to what they had found. She said, “Granite is probably still on the way to where he’s going. I haven’t heard that Proficient and Harv have found anything significant. You might have the best lead going, so you’ll need to stay and observe.”

They relayed the address to Tammy, who said she would look into what the building was for and who owned it.

After that, there was nothing to do but wait. It was already past midnight and simply sitting and staring at the building was going to get old fast.

A few minutes passed. Roxy shifted in her seat. “What do you want to do for our anniversary next month?”

Arc looked at her and smiled. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a vacation.”
She nodded. “Something relaxing.”

“After this, we’ll need it,” Arc agreed. “At least we seem to have a solid lead now despite our sources.”

“I think Buttercup wants to help,” ventured Roxy. “She’s opened up a little and isn’t trying to attack anymore.”

Arc muttered something that even Roxy’s sensitive ears didn’t catch.

A few more minutes passed before Tammy called back. “The building is rented. To figure out who’s renting, we’ll probably have to go down to the company office and look at their paper records in the morning. I did get a layout of the building, though. Bad news—it has garage doors on the other side as well. Unless the two of you split up, you won’t be able to watch both sides for vehicles leaving.”

“Anything that can help?” Roxy asked.

“The strike team’s inbound. They should be there by four a.m.”

“Don’t we have a team on this coast or something?” Arc asked. “Quick response usually doesn’t involve flying all the way across the country.”

“Luckily we don’t have a lot of call for it,” Tammy explained. “Situations where mass civilian casualties are expected are a rare exception.”

That was good news, although dealing with one of the rare exceptions still felt like the crisis it was. After ending the call, Arc and Roxy settled in to wait. It was going to be a long few hours.