The 200-Story Mare

Glittering lights, fast cars, and every attraction that a pony could want to have.

Canterlot.

The city that never slept without the rich and famous posting on Manespace about it first.

When the sun started to go down, it caught the windows of the skyscrapers, and cast a whole flare of colors across the sky. Busy mares and stallions would be on their way home from work or on their way out to dinner with their families. The high society loved every one of their luxuries and never gave up an opportunity to enjoy easy living. Meanwhile, just outside the walls of Canterlot-proper, past the suburbs, and stretching down into the foothills was a basin of poverty that reached out into the grasslands beyond.

Dens of sin, villainy, and vice. Plenty of everything, so the discerning mare could have her choice.

Catching the red-eye out of Manehattan for a job, getting a front-row view from a mag-rail ride, really makes you realize just how far things have fallen for you: what kind of risks you're willing to take if it means you can put food on the table. It really helped a mare realize the risks of this kind of work. Sometimes you're hot as the sun, schmoozing and boozing at the finest bars, and rubbing elbows with famous folks like the Wonderbolts.

Then some days you're living in an apartment so ratty that even the roaches left to find a better place.

Everypony spent their time in the Canterlot slums if they're a Runner, and not just for business or pleasure. I'd spent mine what felt like a long time ago, and I can't say I remembered it fondly.

I had promised myself two things after that. The first was that I was never going to take a contract stealing from anypony's corporate headquarters, ever again. The second was that I'd never come back to the Canterlot slums.

This job had broken the second one clean in half. Meeting up with a few old contacts and some trusted faces, sneaking in to some old warehouse that had a bunch of server banks in it, covering our Line-Walker while she jacked in, and then blasting our way out with a few packets of data that the stallion who gave me the job wanted us to bring him.

And then?

"Ah don't like this, sugar-cube. Too exposed."

I turned and watch Applejack as she checked the magazine in her rifle for the umpteenth time, before stepping behind a table for a stand that, according to its signs, held sweets and candies during the day. The Earth pony adjusted her signature stetson and looked over her shoulder at me before her eyes were back on the surroundings: in the middle of an open-air market with plenty of windows and rooftops around.

"Me either, AJ." I reached under my coat and felt the grip of my pistol, just - assuring myself with the feel of it, "Our contact is late."

"Trixie thinks you all must be feeling nervous after that fight earlier." The group's resident 'mancer spoke up, "Trixie doesn't think there's any problem."

"I don't know." That voice, a mare too young for this work, "Seems fishy to me."

I looked back at Scootaloo as she ran a hand through her mane and watched her eyes darting from place to place. She was trying to see out into the shadows but standing under a street-light wasn't doing her any favors. She was a jumpy filly who I met after she'd pulled my description from a Lunar Guard report. She'd wanted to be a Runner and held me as some sort of idol.

I wasn't heartless enough to just tell the filly to buzz off once I was sure she hadn't been a cop, and instead I'd made the stupid promise that when she was older I'd help her get her foot in the door for work as a Runner. So now here she was: first gig and she'd been flying through some of the finest security programs bits could buy like they were just another amateur's work. But that firefight on the way out - your first kill can break you fast if you let it get to you.

I moved closer to her, "You feeling okay, kid?"

She smiled at me, relaxing a little, "Y-yeah, RD. I just -"

"Trixie is sure she feels fine. Why dote over her, hm?"

Three sets of eyes on the former show-mare as she brushed what I was pretty sure had been imagined dust off her shoulder. Out of all of us, I was surprised when I realized that Scootaloo was the only one really glaring at her. The younger mare tightened her grip on her and I put a hand on her shoulder, a wordless caution.

"If you've got something to say, then say it." Scootaloo was nearly gritting her teeth, "I know you want to."

Trixie shrugged, "Trixie has nothing to say. She's sure that Dancing Blades doesn't, either. At least, anymore"

Applejack squinted at Trixie, I frowned, and I saw as Scootaloo winced and scowled at her.

Dancing Blades had been the lost fifth member of the group. I'd been the team leader, Trixie had been our magic, AJ and Dancing Blades had been muscle if things got bad, and Scoots had been our Line-Walker for the job. Well now there were four of us waiting at the meet-up and Dancing Blades was an ash stain to be cleaned up by a janitor tomorrow morning.

"Oh, so its on me?" Scoots was getting angry, and I slowly moved between she and Trixie. Just in case.

"Face it. You are far too young for this. Trixie thinks you simply aren't right for this at all. Maybe out of synch."

"I'm out of synch?" Scoots shook her head, grip on her pistol tightening again, "Not a chance, show-off. I think one of us is, though. Cus' I know I was doing fine."

Trixie's eyes darted to the darkness and then back to Scootaloo. Applejack was starting to get even more nervous and I saw the mare's ears perk like she might have heard something. I could see something in Trixie's face. Something - something in the way she'd looked past AJ and I. Something in the way she'd looked at Scootaloo. I didn't look away  from her as I took one step more to put myself between the two of them in case things got hot - which looked bucking likely.

"What are you trying to say, Scoots?" I asked, eyes darting to Trixie's pistol tucked at her waist.

"I'm saying something's up, RD. I Walked that system way too well for them to know I was in there. And then Dancing Blades? I wasn't the only one who had a shot for that goon mage." As Scoots spoke, Trixie looked at her watch again, and then past me - again, "What's the matter, Trixie? Why didn't you toast him, hm? I'd seen your work. You throw spells almost as quick as RD can draw a gun."

Things clicked in place. The glances. Checking her watch. Our contact being late.

"Keep us here long enough, yet?" Even I nearly blinked at my own words cutting between the pair.

Trixie frowned. Why? Maybe hoping to play up her cover just another moment longer? It didn't work and her face turned scornful.

"Yes, Trixie thinks she has. The bits and job I was offered are far more than I could earn working for low-life wretches such as you!"

I went for my pistol, a quick motion of her fingers told me she went for magic. I flared my wings and jumped just as the ground underneath my feet lit up with a hex.

The air shifted and my ear-drums popped. A table started to flip towards me and I kicked against it, flapping my wings: sending the table back towards Trixie and sending me further away.

My sight, my hearing. They were gone and time felt like it was crawling. Right until I smashed down through a table and into the ground. The ringing in my ears was fading and that's when I heard the heavy bark of AJ's rifle firing on automatic. Somepony running, towards me maybe, over broken glass and splinters.

"Buck me!" AJ yelled the first words I could actually hear again, "I only winged her hat! The bitch!"

I tried to blink the light out of my eyes and Scoots was already over me, shaking me, "Come on, RD! RD, you gotta get up!"

Part of me wanted to bat the filly away. Part of me wanted to tell her that I was already way ahead of her. I sat up, pushing up off the remains of some poor vendor's table. It wasn't hard to spot Trixie and her ridiculous cape running off down the street. I grit my teeth and swore as I came into a crouch: starting to empty the magazine in her direction. She stumbled and nearly fell.

Fucking bitch, "I think I winged her." I called.

Scootaloo stood up now that she was sure I wasn't dead, and I heard tires squealing just before she started pelting me with brass: firing her peppy little 7mm off only a foot over my head.

AJ kicked over a table for cover, "Its her back-up!"

Paragon Design goons. The kind of rent-a-cops who wore all black and ball-caps like it was the clothing that made the guard. But even if they were a bit-a-billion losers, their bullets could still kill all the same as your's truly when they got lucky.

"Scoots, get to cover!" I yelled, waving with one hand for the mare to get down.

"I've got their heads down, don't worry RD!" She yelled back.

I looked over the table I'd taken cover behind while reloading my pistol. The car was stopped, with bullet holes from AJ's rifle filling the front grill and doors, and the front tires were shot flat. A pair of Paragon Design guards were crouched behind the open doors and one of them was trying to blind-fire a shotgun in AJ's direction.

Two guards - one as AJ caught one of them in the head when she peaked over her door - wouldn't be any problem. But then I heard a second car come roaring up from the opposite direction. I looked just as they came to a stop with their whole car leaning forward, and their doors flying open.

"Scoots, look out!" I jumped up from my cover and caught the younger mare with an arm-bar to her waist to tackle her down behind one of the other knocked over tables.

AJ had to reload and Scoots and I were still recovering. No bullets being sent out on our end meant the goons were sending more to compensate. They weren't really aiming but when you were firing on full-automatic, you didn't need to aim too much to suppress somepony.

"T-thanks!" Scoots stammered.

She was clutching at her shoulder, a small trail of blood staining her orange coat. I frowned and pulled her hand away: finding just what I expected. Nothing more than a deep graze. I patted her arm, and she winced and shied away a little at first.

"You're good to go, kid!" I yelled over the gunfire, "Now let's drop these losers!"

Scoots dropped the magazine out of her SMG and pulled a fresh one from her webbing. I pulled a new one from my holster and slammed it home. AJ turned to fire at the two new arrivals, and with her keeping their heads down, that left the third pony to Scoots and I. Weapons loaded, rounds in the chamber: I looked to Scoots. Scoots gave me the nod.

Then the vid-phone woke me up.