The Grey Arbiter

Chapters

Red Bow
How To Hunt A Ghost
Honor Among Sleuths
Apex Predators
The One Good Thing
An Illustrated Guide To Pony Repair

Red Bow

Chapter One

Red Bow

Applejack sat opposite me, chewing on a small bundle of her straw-golden mane. Her being brought an almost unwelcome radiance to The Settle Inn, a dingy bistro on the outskirts of Ponyville, its gloom rivalled only by Black Bean, the dejected owner.

There was a noticeable colour gradient running through the establishment, so the place looked somewhat inviting from the outside, as did most things under the seemingly perpetual sunshine of Ponyville. Following the brightness gradient further into the bistro, darkness quickly advanced until you reached the tables at the back wall where lamp light was necessary to see further than your nose, as though sources of natural light were being consumed by the furnishings.

This was where I usually conducted business.

I saw no need for an office; the flow of work was never grand enough to necessitate a desk and chair. It had crossed my mind at one point that perhaps my small trickle of clients remained so because I insisted meeting here, or if not here, somewhere equally drab. Mad Star's place, for instance, was my temporary office whenever I was in Canterlot. One name change away from a carbon copy of The Settle Inn.

Still, I didn't need more work. I charged handsomely, but not unfairly, and it was enough to keep me living a modest lifestyle since I wound up here. Besides which, more work would raise my profile higher than I'd like, which would earn me the attention ponies I would rather keep a comfortable distance from - a distance of several light years, ideally – who might decide my activities are far too irritating to be allowed to continue.

I listened to her tale of woe, which I knew was garnished with a small serving of hyperbole. I was growing tired, not of her white lies, but of situations like hers, and the frequency with which they manifested. Hers was of a lost sibling, and as she told it, I heard echoes of my own life. I've known the pain of losing loved ones, in no small measure.

It was a Wednesday, I think, in the dead of winter. Snow was piled so high on branches barely able to sustain the mass growing upon them. I beat them out of the way while precariously traversing the icy path up to my one-bedroom flat. I had lost count of the miles I drove from my parents house, with whom I had spent the greater half of November. Suffice to say that it was cold and dark by the time I rolled up to my flat.

Eagerly had I awaited the prospect of a proper meal after eating the mess they dare call food served up in greasy little service stations by equally greasy staff. At that time, I had forgotten that in my absence, wind blows, sun shines, and meat goes off. I remembered this fact when I entered my flat, and the wall of eye-watering aroma invaded my nose.

I regarded the food with equal measures of disgust and intrigue when I opened the fridge. If evil had a smell, it was emanating from there. I promptly disposed of the bio-hazard masquerading as meat, as well as any food in proximity to it, in case the mere stench had somehow promoted bacterial growth.

I opted for a less solid comestible in the form of Jameson's, with ice, and slumped in front of the T.V. I cycled through the channels for few minutes before settling on The Phantom of the Opera. Shortly, I was mumbling my own rendition of the soundtrack, convinced that I was a better singer than Gerard Butler. Had I known these were to be my final moments on Earth, I doubt my evening would have gone any differently.

Maybe I would have watched Close Encounters of the Third Kind instead.

I must have fallen asleep on the sofa while the opera phantom serenaded me, because that was my last memory of home. Smashed, alone, and hungry. Something stirred me from mid-way through my REM cycle that night, something that stimulated my body to produce enough adrenaline to kill a small animal. Despite my normal inability to function as a human being in the first half-hour of waking, I was alert, my senses heightened. Immediately I recognised that I did not wake in the same place I fell asleep. I was in a damn forest.

I walked, because that was all there was to do, while I racked my brain for some small sliver of information that might explain what happened. Initially, and the theory I now subscribe to, I thought I had been kidnapped. I also thought I might have been the victim of some sadistic game show, and men with cameras and microphones would pop out at any second, chortling heartily at their deeply unfunny prank. Now I find this unlikely.

After all, it's been five months.

Hours passed me by, and I had made no progress. I began to think I would die in the realm I would later come to know as the Everfree. It's simultaneously the most natural and most unnatural landmark in Equestria. It oozes and heaves and sweats like a living thing. A great, greedy mass, gradually consuming more and more of the surrounding land in its insatiable hunger. The Everfree is not a forest, any more than I'm a pony.

In the dying light of the late afternoon, I happened upon a hut I had first mistaken as a hunting lodge. I briefly reflected on the good fortune I had not to get shot by trigger-happy aristocrats, despite how admittedly feral that stumbling through dense woods had made me appear. Slightly nervously, I approached the door, and noted it for it's strange proportions.

Stepping back a few paces, it then struck me the whole hut was cramped, hardly large enough to house two people, let alone their hunting equipment. It was like someone had pimped out a child's playhouse with a working fireplace and double glazing. Smoke rose and danced from the chimney pot before being ushered along by the increasingly chilling wind. Someone was inside, and I wanted to be inside too, even if it meant I hit my head on the crossbeams holding up the roof whenever I stood up. If I couldn't deal with that, the icy fingers of the wind and the monsters concealed in undergrowth would be more than willing to play host to me.

I reached for the crude knocker upon the door before something stayed my hand. Perhaps it was the faint but invasive odour of vegetable matter seeping from under the door. It was a smell more pungent where I stood in front of the door than it was anywhere else. Whatever the exact combination of scents and sights was, they made me feel uneasy, almost threatened. Suddenly, the invitation to take my chances in the forest looked rather appealing.

I was on the precipice of turning away and embarking upon another quest to find civilisation when I heard her voice for the first time. The owner of that voice was one I would come to see in unique light. She would become a friend, someone I enjoyed spending time with, the first I would turn to in my times of need. Her name, as I would learn, was Zecora.

“Do not be shy, wandering one.” the voice from beyond the door commanded. “Come inside, for light of day is almost done.”

The suddenness of her words after several hours of hearing nothing but the incessant chattering of birds and rustling of leaves served as the spark that ignited all the tension and fear that had been piling up inside of me since my arrival.

“Er, okay, miss.” I replied.

There was no response, so I willed myself to take the stranger up on her offer, despite protests from my common sense. I decided common sense would do me no good in uncommon circumstances, and had done my best to silence it.

Pushing the door open steadily, I had to duck at least two feet to get my figure through the frame. It was like a mad scientist had used a shrink-ray on the place. The interior was shrunk in much the same way – fireplace, crockery, chairs, tables, all common household furnishings, only much smaller. While entering, I picked up a vase containing what I presumed to be flowers local to the area and held it in my palm for a while, taking note of the weight and size of it.

Then, as the owner of the voice entered the room, I dropped it.

I put my hooves together, trying to interlock fingers that didn't exist when I used this form, while I pondered Applejack's story in silence. I had already decided whether or not I would help, and was using this time to mentally collect myself. It was hardly a request I could refuse, let alone charge for.

The ECMB is little more than a rabble of unicorns that specialise in a specific type of magic called anti-magic plus an unreasonably rigid approach to their methodology, hence their name, the Equestria Counter-Magic Bureau. To their credit, they are extremely good at what they do, which is use magic to solve crimes where magic had played a part. In crimes where magic was not used, they and the rest of the various organisations that exist to keep the law are about as effective as a chocolate fireguard. The papers were always full of unsolved crime stories.

This is what spurred me down the path I currently find myself on, for better or worse. I recall one night as I lay awake thinking I could probably do the ECMBs job better than they could do it themselves – without magic, to boot.

I hardly slept that night. Too many thoughts occupied my mind, each one like a separate voice ringing in my head. How they argued, those voices. Some encouraged me, some chastised me. Others simply didn't care.

It seems the encouraging voices won the debate, because the following morning, the fire of my convictions were stoked and burning hot in my chest. I opened for business as a P.I, the only one in Equestria as far as I know.

I still carry each voice with me, and each night I hear them, arguing still. Once or twice I thought about getting psychiatric therapy in an effort to shut them up, to allow me nights where I don't hear them bickering. Like every good male of a species, I pushed the thought to the back of my mind, continually putting it off until the last possible second, until I realised it was in my interests to keep them around.

After a few weeks of being mentally berated by the voices, I wound up in hospital. I recall my visit to the burns unit was caused by judicious application of soldering iron to my skin.

Earlier in the week I took on a job from a divorced mare, Feather Dance. Mother of three, owner of a two bedroom flat, divorced to one Azure Bolt. A hat-trick that produced the (justifiably) most scorned mare I ever had the displeasure of meeting.

Azure Bolt had divorced her two months beforehand and had moved to Whinnyapolis. I could hardly blame the guy for running away, Ms. Dance radiated so much anger it would have overloaded a Geiger counter. I could blame him for not coughing up a bit of the alimony he owed since he left Ponyville.

Ms. Dance, as she told me, heard my name from a spa pony during idle chatter. I don't know how my name came up there, but I raised an eyebrow hearing that she could find the spare bits to have a hooficure when she could barely afford a mane trim for her increasingly feral-looking offspring. I knew better than to comment, however. I'm not stupid enough to bite the hand that feeds me.

She told me he owed 1,500 bits, half of which would cover my fees. She offered to add a bonus of 100 bits if I broke some of his ribs in the process of collecting the alimony. I declined, knowing it would be up to Azure Bolt to decide if he wanted to make trouble for me.

I wasn't looking for trouble, but it found me anyway. When I explained to him I was there to collect alimony, he got mildly pissed. This elevated to severely pissed when I mentioned Feather Dance by name, and he attacked me with a soldering iron. He managed to plunge it into my skin three times before I found a monkey wrench on the worktable and hit him as hard as I could in the kneecap.

I delivered a second blow to his chest. I felt it depress as the wrench made contact with his sternum, causing him to fall to his knees. I raised the wrench for a third strike when he finally conceded.

He gave me the alimony, as well as another, smaller bag. Inside was fifty bits, and he politely requested I never come back.

After delivering the money to Feather Dance, and collecting my fee, I went straight to the hospital. The wounds had been cauterised as soon as they were made, but I figured there was no harm in making a visit anyway. I was told I had semi-severe second degree burns, deep partial thickness burns. The doctors offered me a skin graft, but I decided I didn't need the expense, not to mention I didn't like the idea of having skin from my ass relocated to my chest.

It was while the doctors were arguing about the best self-administered treatment that I realised the true nature of the debating voices in my head. They were helpful. Constantly they reminded me of what I was capable, of what was impossible, of what didn't matter. Like the contentious doctors, they argued until they reached an answer that was probably close to the truth, and suggested a course of action with that truth in mind.

Every night from that moment, I listened avidly to the voices.

I froze like a rabbit in headlights. Water from the dropped vase pooled around my feet and seeped into my already battered shoes. My face and hands were a mess of grazes and cuts from thorny vegetation, but I didn't feel it. My palms were clammy, but I didn't care. All things ceased to exist, all but two entities. The zebra and I.

We watched each other for a time, never breaking eye contact. I don't recall what I was thinking, perhaps I lacked the mental capacity to comprehend what was taking place. The zebra, though, it's eyes were intense, focused, but calm, like it was simultaneously reading and critiquing a book. This may not have been far from the truth.

I had not yet found the courage to speak, and so when the zebra was satisfied it had learned all about me from looking, it spoke.

"One such as you I did not expect. Your mind, your form does not reflect."

Her voice was melodic, hypnotic even. I tried to speak, but couldn't decide what I wanted to ask first. I just moved my mouth, making throaty, sighing noises in place of words.

"You're talking." I managed to say. "How are you talking."

"You seem stricken, confused, what's to be done? Perhaps too long you've been in the sun." she said. "Come, and sit, while I fix a brew. It shall fix what sent your head askew."

I couldn't place my emotions. Fear? Anxiety? Confusion? Delusion? A mixture of them all churned inside my head, compounding as a burning flare in my mind, rendering me catatonic. When I walked to the sofa, it was like I was watching myself, a silent observer to my own actions over which I had no control. From the doorway, I saw myself walk, and sit. Cardboard movements. My eyes, seemingly fixated upon one spot on the wall.

The zebra returned from a smaller room adjacent to the main room, a wooden bowl in it's teeth. It placed the bowl in front of me. The zebra said something in her unique fashion.

I watched myself take the bowl in both hands. I moved as though a cut-out figure had been given working muscles and ligaments, bringing the bowl to my mouth. I wanted to shout, scream even. I wanted, more than anything, to not be here at this precise moment. I felt the liquid against my lips. Viscous, bitter, dark as coal.

I swallowed.

I looked down. Dregs of whatever made up the brew lay glistening in the light of the cabin. Better, I thought. I felt good, like a post-coital cigarette.

"Your eyes have changed, this is good. Perhaps now, we may be understood." it said.

"Who are you?" I asked. I surprised myself with how mellow I sounded.

"My name is Zecora, this is my abode, into which you have unknowingly strode."

"Why are you talking like that?" I said. "In fact, why're you even talking at all? This doesn't make any sense."

"Zebra do not speak from where you come? Consider you're no longer where you come from."

"I guessed as much. I think I'm a long way from home." I sighed.

Zecora pursed her lips. "This land is Equestria, home to pony kind."

I shrugged. In a land where zebra can talk, it was probably best to take everything at face value.

"Ah, but, I have something to which you may be inclined."

The elation from feeling that I was making a difference was rather more ephemeral than I would have liked. It was a month after I had began my work and, after ponies began to understand what my work entailed, I had my business running slowly but profitably. Many of my first clients were mares suspecting unfaithfulness on their husbands part – it was easy work, but not the child's fantasy I had envisioned of subduing petty criminals before disappearing into the night.

I recall a promiscuous husband was the subject of my third ever client. His name was Ink Spot, and his wife suspected he was seeing another mare. This turned out to be the understatement of the year, as Mr. Spot was juggling no fewer than three other mares while still finding the time to service his own wife and walk his children home from school. I hardly blamed him, in fact, I envied his energy.

Other clients included suspicious bosses and their employees claiming time off work due to a physical ailment. I groaned internally at these jobs, as it invariably involved me stalking the ponies in question until they started picking up heavy stones in their back garden, but I couldn't refuse the work.

Some of my customers were so shifty you could hear the jangle of fake watches and jewellery as they shuffled about through dark corners and narrow alleyways – they were usually asking for something not-so-legal, which I wasn't above rejecting, given the inefficacy of the police in such matters. The last type of client usually got me mixed up in some larger game that I was not overly fond of being included in; a game that involved unsolved crimes, murders, and situations that smelt like off-milk.

The latest misdoings that had my attention, and the attention of the ECMB, were missing ponies cases. Though I hated to admit it, these type of cases are better left to the police, who have the resources to conduct large searches. But my clients interests are my own, and since I was particularly fond of Lyra Heartstrings, I agreed to track down her brother, from whom she hadn't heard from since he promised to come visit her five days ago. She gave me his home address and a a note I was to give him should I find him.

It didn't take long for me to discover his fate.

I stared up at the apartment complex, an imposing building on the outskirts of Seaddle. It was one of many such buildings that stood together in a great concrete line, visible from the train I rode into Seaddle station. A quick flash of my ECMB card to the landmare gained me entry to the complex in seconds. ECMB agents had become feared individuals around these parts after they hit the headquarters of a notorious crime ring operating out of a building not far from where I stood.

I came up on the door to Reed Hearstring's flat after a few minutes of climbing stairs. I pressed one ear against it, only hearing my quiet breaths amidst the silence.

“Mr. Heartstrings?” I said. There was no reply.

“Reed? My name is Anon, I'm a private investigator. Are you there?”

I waited a few moments for a reply. When none came, one quick buck to the door was enough to break in. The wood splintered and showered the corridor.

I let the door swing on its hinges while I stood outside, waiting for the sound of panicked hoof-fall from within. When all was quiet, I made a cautious entry.

He lived in a three room flat. Bathroom, bedroom, living area combined with an open-plan kitchen. It was a neat little flat that I wouldn't mind owning myself. Upon the kitchen counter-top stood a percolator of coffee, steam rising from the spout. I was halfway done processing the implications of a fresh pot of coffee when an unfamiliar male voice spoke from behind me.

“Don't make a move, don't make a damned move. Don't speak either.” he said. I heard the faint hum of a charging spell, and did as I was told.

“Why can't you freaks leave me alone? I got nothing now. Nothing! You took it all from me.” he said. His voice was unsteady, and he sounded tired, barely able to manage the spell he was a hair's breadth from using. I turned my head slightly, and slowly.

“I told you not to move! You want to speak?” he said. I nodded. “That's a new trick. I figured the lot of you were a bunch of mute fucks.”

“I'm not who you think I am.” I said. “My name is Anon, I'm an investigator. Lyra hired me to find you.”

“My sister sent you?” he said. I couldn't tell if he was surprised or not.

“That's right.” I said. “There's a letter from her in my left coat pocket. You gonna let me get it without blasting my head off?”

“Turn around first, let me see your hooves.” he said, and I did. He had the same mint coat as Lyra, and similar streaks of white in his unkempt mane. I guessed he'd been awake for at least twenty-four hours, judging from his bagged, twitching eyes.

I showed him my hooves. Seemingly satisfied, he motioned for me to take out the note.

“Drop it in front of you, then walk back to the far wall.” he said. Like a good dog, I obeyed.

“Is this how you treat all your guests?”

“Shut up.”

He picked the letter from the ground and opened it. From what I could see, there weren't many words on the note, and a few of them looked like numbers. He reread it several times before focusing on me again.

“Looks like you were telling the truth.” he said, and the glow around his horn faded. He seemed as relieved to have ceased the spell as he was knowing I wasn't here to hurt him. He folded the note and slid it into his coat pocket.

“Expecting someone else?” I asked.

“It's none of your business.” he replied. “I can handle myself.”

“That's what everyone says. What is it then? Loan shark?”

“Like I said, it's none of your business.” he restated. I thought aggravating him further might be unhealthy for both of us, but I kept going.

“They'll find out, you know, that you have a sister. Maybe you can protect yourself, but you're gonna drag Lyra into this sooner or later.” I said. Something in his eyes changed. The weariness that existed before had been stripped, and his mouth contorted into a snarl I didn't believe ponies could manage. He approached me, and in an instant, I was on the floor, tenderly cradling my jaw.

“Don't ever threaten my sister.” he said, rubbing his hoof.

“It won't be me you gotta worry about.” I said, rising to my hooves. “What should I tell your sister then? That you're fearing for your life? That there are ponies out for your blood?”

He kept his glare for a few more seconds before the fury left him. He walked around to the kitchen area, picked up a pen and a notepad, and began writing.

“Give her this.” he said, passing the note to me. It was folded, but the ink had bled through the paper a little. It was much shorter than Lyra's note. I didn't much like being reduced to a glorified delivery colt, but it was inconsequential. I had found Reed Heartstrings.

“Why do you need me to do this? There is such a thing as a mail service.”

“Too dangerous.” he said, shaking his head. “They'd intercept it, and Ly-”

He never did finish that sentence. Perhaps he tried to, after his frontal lobe was violently removed from his skull and repurposed as an interesting new wall paint. I had never hit the deck quite so quickly in my life. Parts of grey matter littered my coat and mane.

I dared a glance upwards and saw the single window had been blown in, glass covering Reed's spasming body. Half his head was missing, some of it on me. I tasted bile in my mouth and forced myself to swallow.

I waited for half a minute before I risked getting up. I shook off the fragments of skull and singed hair and pressed myself up against the outside wall, next to the broken window. I could hear dogs barking some twenty feet below me, and the wind gushing through the window.

I exposed my head for a brief moment so that whoever was outside could see me before pulling back. Nobody attempted to blow my head off, so I looked out again. There was nobody in the streets below, nobody on the rooftops. It was as though I were the only living thing for miles.

I took Lyra's letter from Reed's still corpse and left via the fire escape on the other side of the building. I walked a convoluted route through Seaddle, terrified that I might share Reed's fate if I let my guard down for even a second. The comfort of safety returned to me when I finally boarded the train back to Ponyville. I read Lyra's letter:

Reed,

I hope this note finds you well. You should already have met Anonymous, the one who gave you this. I hired him to find you after I heard nothing from you following your last letter. I know you'll say I'm mothering you, and it's not my business, but if there's a problem, I'll help you if you let me.

Now if you're in some kind of trouble, I don't know how much use I can be, but if you're ever going to accept anyone's help, it should be Anonymous's. He's done a lot for a lot of ponies, I'm sure he can help you too. His address is 38A Tia St., Ponyville.

I love you brother, stay safe.

Lyra.

I refolded the letter and stared out of the window, watching the passing scenery. I was bad at delivering bad news, so bad that I thought about finding a new line of work where I could bear good news. How do you tell a mare that the brother she loves and cherishes had half his head taken off? I didn't know, and I even thought briefly about lying to Lyra, telling her I hadn't been able to locate Reed. I stopped thinking about it, and read Reed's note.

Lyra,

I got your letter. Things aren't going so well. We can't see each other for a while. Anonymous can't help. Remember that I love you, always.

Reed.

I refolded the note. All I remember is feeling that somehow I'd dodged a bullet with this job.

Lyra had asked me to find her brother, and I had. When I next met with Lyra, she didn't feel like doing much discussing. For her sake, I gave a modified version of the story, saying the spell struck him in the chest and he died instantly.

I gave her Reed's note. She held it in her hooves for a moment, turning it, fiddling with it, deciding whether or not to read it. She thanked me, before promising the payment of my fee. I left the Settle Inn, sparing a glance at Lyra through the window. Her head was buried in her hooves on the table, her shoulders quivering. The note, I noticed, was unread.

That was it for Mr. Heartstring's case. His death made regional news once or twice, which was reported as collateral damage during a gang war, or possibly aggravated burglary. They made no mention of a source. Last I heard, the investigation was still ongoing, but quickly progressing nowhere.

A couple of weeks later, Applejack approached me. I wouldn't have said it to her face, but a situation like hers blows away the cobwebs that develop in my mind when I've been doing more menial work for clients. A cold shower, in a manner of speaking; long overdue. This was the first time someone I cared about had come to me asking for my services, and the first time someone I cared about had gone missing.

“You know I could never say 'no' AJ, after all you've done for me.” I said, uncrossing my imaginary fingers.

Applejack had offered me some crude lodging in Ponyville when I first arrived. For a ten bits per week, she gave me a bed on the barn mezzanine plus breakfast with her family every morning. She even paid for an advert in the local paper for me when I mentioned I was setting up my own business. If not for her, I'd probably be foraging for nuts and berries in the Everfree right now.

She looked down at her empty coffee cup, flicking her eyes up at me every so often, possibly internally debating whether or not to say what she was about to say.

“I heard about Lyra and her brother, and its just...” she paused. “It makes me think the worst things are gonna happen.”

“Don't talk like that AJ.” I said, reaching my hooves over the table to take hers. She gave a slight smile at the gesture and met my eyes. “Let me do the worrying, after all, it's my job right?”.

“Ah wish ah could.”

My last statement wasn't strictly true, worrying is not my job. My job is getting things done, the polar opposite of worrying, but I had to say something. I brought my hooves back and leaned on them, bringing myself closer to Applejack.

“It's normal to feel like that.” I said. “Honestly, I'd be more worried if you said you were doing fine.”

“Ah bet all this is just so routine fer ya.” she said, with a hint of venom. “How'd ya do it? How do ya take it all in yer stride? It's like ya can turn yer emotions on and off like a lightbulb, so no matter what ya see, it don't affect you none.”

I thought for a bit. Maybe what she referred to is a uniquely human quality. I leaned back into my chair, producing a loud creak that prompted a glance from Black Bean. I was a little offended that Applejack presumed me to be at peace with my line of work. I'm the arbiter of bad news, and not the kind with a silver lining. All the time I witness the sinister side of Equestria, and the acts of those that dwell within it.

The reason I can continue doing what I do, is that I stand in a unique position. I'm not a part of this world, but forced to live in it. As a result, I have the luxury of emotional detachment, which suits my work better than a tailor.

That luxury has disappeared now. Applejack is more than a client to me. She's my most fierce, and perhaps, my only friend in this world. Certainly I couldn't name others who mattered equally or more to me than her. Not even Zecora, to whom I also owe a great deal.

“It takes a certain mindset.” I finally said. “I don't know if I was born with it, or I accidentally cultivated it, but it's there.”

Applejack squinted at me for a few seconds. I felt nervous.

She shook her head. “Y'know, sometimes ah wonder if ah know ya at all.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ah mean, ah've known yer fer, what, five months? And fer one a' those months, we saw each other every day. Ah thought ah knew yer inside and out.”

I knew what was coming, and I was powerless to stop it.

“Tell me Anon, durin' all that time, were you ever once honest about who ya were?”

“I never lied to you AJ. You know that.”

“That ain't answerin' the question and ya know it. Please Anon, who were ya before we met?”

I let the question hang for a moment.

“We all have our secrets. This one is mine.” I said, in a finalist tone that made it clear I wouldn't be answering any more questions on the subject. Applejack seemed to pick up on it, and sighed, from both disappointment and fatigue. Sorry, AJ. You're my best friend. I owe you so much, but I don't owe you the story of my past, I thought.

I rapped on the table in an effort to dispel the tension.

“I guess Ponyville PD is on this?” I asked.

Applejack brought her hooves together in her lap and shifted her weight around. I made an internal reminder to play poker with her more often, since her tells were about as obvious as a clown fight.

“Ah filed a missin' pony report with them.” she sighed. “Ah know y'all think they're a buncha morons, but they got eyes in their heads. That's all they need ta help find Applebloom.”

I prevented myself from sighing as my empathy kicked in again. It's too much to ask of Applejack to not talk to the police just so I don't have to work around them. Besides, they were mostly useless, probably couldn't find the ground if they fell over. They'd want my help.

“That's true.” I said.

I took out a notebook and stuffed a fountain pen in my mouth. I still can't get over the indignity of the accepted writing method, preferring whenever I can to use my hands, even to the point of accepting the brief pain associated with transforming. Due to my lack of practice, my mouthwriting is atrocious, but improving.

“Question time?” she asked, knowing she was right. I've done minor investigative work for her in the past, just silly things like looking for Big Mac when he's been in town too long, so she knows my 'interview' format, as it were.

“Yeah.” I said. “Start from the last time you saw Applebloom. Things like what she was wearing, what she said, who she was with.”

“Well, it were yesterday, in the afternoon. Could have been four or five. Ah was out in the field as usual, buckin' apples, towing the cart, you know how it is. Applebloom came up to me askin' where her helmet was. Ah told her it were probably in her room where she left it. She thanked me and sped off, to her room ah guess. Ah could see Scootaloo leaning on the fence next to the barn. She were wearin' a helmet also. Ah didn't think nothin' of it, so ah just went back to buckin'. That was the last time ah saw her.'

“Do you know where they were going?”

“Ah didn't, at the time. When Scootaloo got back about three hours later, she said they went to Zecora's hut. They said they got lost in the Everfree on the way, and when they went ta turn back...” Applejack stumbled on the last word, trying to dam the tears welling at a resurfacing unpleasant memory.

“Take your time.”

She coughed loudly, and then quietly, attempting to recollect herself. She swiped the napkin under my cup and dabbed around her freckled cheeks, eyes and forehead.

“...she wasn't there no more. Gone, Scootaloo said. Didn't know how long she'd been gone after she started back here.”

I took a moment to consider the situation. Frankly, those fillies got what they deserved by wandering around in the Everfree so close to twilight, but I quickly silenced the part of my mind responsible for that thought. Ponies do go missing in that place, though. It's like the Everfree actively tries to corrupt your senses and rob you of your composure, leading you deeper in, inexorably, to your demise.

“So, Scootaloo was with Applebloom when she went missing?” I asked. She nodded. “Did they ever make it to Zecora's?”

“Scootaloo said they turned tail before they even came close.”

“And you told the police this?” I asked. She nodded again. “Did they send out a search party already?”

“Not yet. Said they needed ter bring in more police officers from surroundin' towns if they were gonna search the Everfree. They set off at nine.”

I glanced at my watch. It was eight-thirty.

“So I'm gonna be part of this search party?”

“Yeah. You'll come with Twi, Dashie and me.”

A pair of touristy-looking ponies with more money than sense took seats on the table next to ours. The screeching of the chair legs on the floor made me wince, as did their inane babbling when they finally got comfortable. I motioned that Applejack and I should probably leave now, lest we be forced to share our delicate conversation with the newcomers.

I produced a couple of bits and placed them on the counter in front of Black Bean, who seemed appeased by the undeserved tribute. I thought briefly about leaving an anonymous note on the bar table suggesting he stop poisoning his customers with WD-40 masquerading as coffee, before remembering that he knows my terrible mouthwriting. I thought better of it.

Together, we stood outside for a brief period. The wind had picked up since we had entered the Settle Inn, making Applejack's mane whip gently against the window. I took a deep breath and cast my eyes skyward. I thought I could see Applebloom's profile reflected in the clouds. Applejack turned to me, expecting me to deliver a nugget of wisdom.

“I'm sorry, about earlier. My life before I met you was...” I searched for the right word. “Unstable. That's as much as I can say about it.”

Applejack bowed her head slightly and exhaled.

“No Anon, ah'm sorry. It's got nothin' to do with me. I shouldn'tve asked.” she said. “Still friends?”

“Still friends.” I said. We shared a short hug. “So, are we gonna meet with Twi and co. now?”

“Yeah, they're waitin' in the centre a' town.”

“Are they up to speed?”

“Ah told them everythin' late last night. Bless those two, they started straight into the Everfree not five minutes after ah told 'em. Didn't matter none in the end, could only search for an hour 'fore the sun set. We never did reach Zecora's hut, and there were no sign a' Applebloom.”

“Did you do anything after getting back?”

“Tried to sleep, couldn't sleep. Partly because ah was so worried, partly because it didn't seem right. Twi and Dashie agreed that we should search again come mornin'.”

Assuming there's anything left to find, I thought.

My attention was drawn to the large number of cupboards, drawers and cages pushed to the edges of the room. She began tearing through them, with little care, seemingly a single goal in mind. She held various tidbits I didn't recognise in her hoof, examining them, before unceremoniously throwing them aside.

She held another small trinket in her hoof, examining it in the same way as the others. It was small and metallic, simply decorated. She closed the drawer it had been in and walked over to me, not bothering to step around the mess she created.

"This land's inhabitants are kind and content, but will be easily frightened by the form you present." she said. "Take this relic, it will change your form, to their image you will conform."

"You're saying, if I use this, I'll look like you?" I asked. She nodded. "Can I ever change back?"

She nodded again. "All you like, no need to abstain. Be warned, however, its use will cause terrible pain."

We walked back to the town square without saying another word to one another. I've talked to Twilight Sparkle and Rainbow Dash only on two occasions, and I would have liked to keep it that way.

It's not often I meet ponies that are stronger disaster magnets than I, and just as like-poles of magnets repel, we've naturally kept distance from each other since the day I rolled into Ponyville. Now from across the paved slabs, I could see them standing, conversing. Their voices bounced through the air with distinguishable cheer, but their eyes betrayed the unrest they had experienced the night before.

Applejack waved as we came within conversation distance from each other. As I came to a stop, Twilight and Rainbow Dash regarded me with a faint air of discomfort, probably because they know my preferred dwellings and the kind of company I usually keep. I deigned not to comment on it.

“Anon.” Dashie said, offering a slight nod. “It's been a while. Up to much?”

“Just the usual.” I replied. “Princess Twilight. I heard you subdued a dragon the other day. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Twilight said. She seemed happy that I mentioned her title.

They both knew, to some extent at least, the nature of what I did. They were never keen on hearing the details, nor was I to disclose them, but they knew Applejack trusted me enough to come asking for my help. That alone was enough for them to extend their own trust.

Our search party was composed of an alicorn, a pegasus, an earth pony, and a human disguised as an earth pony. With such a small search force, we'd have trouble finding snowflakes in winter, even with the help of police pulled in from here to Appleloosa. Fortunately, I already knew where to begin, and I was anxious to start.

“Not much of a search party.” I said. “More of a search get-together.”

“The police are helping too, you know.” Twilight said. “They're going to form a half-mile long line and sweep the forest.”

“How many?” I asked.

“Thirty or so.” Twilight said. I sighed, it wasn't enough. She seemed to know it too.

“Well, lets go.” I said, starting towards the forest. “Daylight's burning, as they say.”

“Wait, hang on.” Applejack said. “We ain't supposed ta start 'till nine, police said so. We're meant to be part a' the search line.”

“They won't find anything, it'll be a miracle if they do. Plus, a formation like that takes hours to advance just a few miles.”

They looked at me like I'd just punched their sainted mothers.

“It's the best chance we have at finding Applebloom!” Dashie said. The others concurred.

“No, Dashie, it isn't.” I said. “I have a better idea: we go straight to Zecora's, fast as possible. She knows the forest, she'll be more helpful than the police. Might even turn out that Applebloom stayed the night there.”

They looked ready to object until I finished talking. They looked at each other. Dashie and Twilight shrugged, looking at Applejack. It was only fair the final decision lay with her.

“Alright, I get yer.” Applejack said. “Lead the way.”

With that, we all donned our saddlebags and started the walk out of town.

It was midday by the time we found the trail that leads to Zecora's hut. The edges of the path had blurred into the general chaos of the forest floor, making it difficult to tell there was even a path at all. Applebloom wouldn't ever have found it in the night, but I kept that detail to myself. Applejack didn't need more stress.

The trail, as I recall, extends for about 150 meters, with a distinctly gnarled tree where the trunk has grown at an angle almost perpendicular to the ground about halfway down. It terminates in an imposing wall of undergrowth, beyond which one would find Zecora's home. A keen observer would be able to see plumes of smoke, originating from Zecora's fireplace, winding around the leaves that form the forest canopy.

I saw no smoke as we passed the near-horizontal tree, though I wasn't looking at the sky. I, along with everyone else, was looking for any sign that Applebloom might have come this way.

Before long, we reached the thickets and brambles denoting our destination was no more than 10 meters away. The normally animated forest was quiet, until Twilight blew a hole in the greenery, and birds erupted from the trees. I moved through the hole first and waited for everyone else to clamber through the same passage.

“That's strange.” I said, knowing that strange usually meant bad. My gut wrenched and I felt my carotid artery produce few heavy pulses.

“What's strange?” asked Twilight, who came through the hole straight after me.

“There's no smoke coming from the chimney.” I said, with an involuntary dip in volume.

I paced towards the cabin, trying my best to avoid sticks and leaves. I made my way on to the wooden porch and tried to glimpse inside through the window, but the curtains were drawn.

“Maybe she's out?” said Twilight.

“And left the door unlocked?' I asked, pointing to the large gap between the door and the doorframe.

“Why would she ever need to lock the door? I doubt anyone would come this far to burgle her house.”

“Maybe.” I said. “Take Dashie, go around to the back door. When you hear me kick the door in, you do the same.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

Twilight relented, motioning for Dashie to follow her. I gestured for Applejack to come closer.

“What's happening?” she asked. I put drew my hoof across my mouth like a zipper. I counted to three in my head.

One

Two

Three

I nearly knocked the door off its hinges before I burst into the cabin. While I was checking the corners, Applejack came in from behind me. Twilight and Dashie similarly kicked in the back door. Shortly, the four of us met in the main room. Apart from the creaking of the floorboards as we shifted our weight around and our semi-laboured breaths, the cabin was silent.

After a few seconds of exchanging clueless glances, Dashie grunted loudly and kicked the sofa.

“What the hell was all that for!? You damn near gave me a heart attack!” Dashie said.

“Sorry, Dashie, I couldn't be sure.” I said.

“Sure of what?”

“That nobody was in here.” Twilight said. I stifled a smile at the fact that Twilight understood my worries. I felt proud, like how a teacher might be proud of a student that solved a hard maths problem.

“I don't understand, where's Zecora?” Dashie asked.

The place had been ransacked, to the point where it was almost unidentifiable as Zecora's hut. There were ashes in the fireplace, only slightly warm as I pushed my hoof into the centre of the pile. Upon the table two mugs, smashed, much like the rest of the room.

Underneath the table, I spied something that didn't belong there.

“Zecora's gone.” I said.

“You know what I mean. Where is she now?”

“Fucked if I know. Could be she was out foraging or something when this happened. If that's the case, could be hours before she gets back.”

“And what in tartarus happened here then?” Twilight asked.

“Seems like someone was looking for something.” I said.

“Who?”

“I don't know. I wonder if they found it though.”

I noticed Applejack pacing around the cabin, making very deliberate steps and wearing a look of sorrow that might turn to despair at any moment. I decided to share what I found under the table with her, as we had come to look for Applebloom, not indulge in some guesswork about who did this to Zecora's cabin.

“Applejack?” I said, waiting for her to acknowledge me. “She was here. This is her bow, right?”

I dragged the length of pink material out from under the table. Bringing my nose down to the floor, I could smell Applebloom's earthy scent upon it, crimson hairs clinging rebelliously to the fabric as a foal clings to its mother.

Applejack caught a single glimpse of the bow and turned away, pulling her hat down over her eyes. Her shoulders rose and fell in time with her whimpers, heralding the onset of sobbing. Twilight and Dashie quickly went to comfort her. I succeeded in containing my own grief, partly because I was used to situations like these, but mostly because I knew that by no means were we at a dead end.

The events of last night began to unravel in my head, like a celestial spinster was aiding my thought processes. Applebloom was here. Zecora had prepared two cups of tea for herself and Applebloom. Some time later in the night, someone came. Zecora heard them outside, and knew she only had a few seconds. She knew I'd come to visit sometime during the month, and left clues.

Two mugs, one for her, one for Applebloom.

The bow, she'd never take it off. The fact it was here and not on her head was significant. Why was it there? Why? Think, Anon, think. What happened here?

I instructed us to form two groups of two. Twilight and Rainbow Dash in one group, Applejack and I in the other. The unicorn and pegasus would scout the surrounding area for any piece of information that would give us a lead, however tenuous. Applejack and I scoured the interior of the hut in a hunt for similar information.

After twenty minutes of searching, I stepped outside for some air, hoping that when I went back to it, I'd be looking at the place with a new pair of eyes. The clouds blocking the majority of the sunlight had dispersed now, allowing light to pierce the forest canopy. Dust danced and spun in its rays as the wind meandered around the trees and bushes.

We'd been searching the hut for only a few minutes before the most obvious observation struck me. There were a lot of muddy hoofmarks on the floor, more than two ponies could produce even if they danced a salsa. From the number of them, I guessed there had been no fewer than four, possibly five ponies here at one point. They were also still quite moist, so they had been made very recently.

Zecora had unexpected visitors, that much is for sure. They were probably also unwelcome. The hoofmarks are erratic in intensity and direction, did a fight occur? Zecora must have been here then, no way she's out foraging. The visitors overpowered her, one was probably a unicorn. With Zecora subdued and Applebloom of no danger, they ransacked the place.

What were they looking for? You don't come out this far without a big incentive. Money? Zecora trades rather than buys or sells, there's no money here. Besides, there are easier houses to burgle. Why pick this one? There was something here they knew Zecora was in possession of, something they wanted badly enough to traverse the Everfree at night for. Something like my transformation device? Maybe. I could see a pony wanting that.

Did they find what they wanted? Would they have done anything differently if they had or hadn't? What became of Zecora and Applebloom in either outcome?

Applejack emerging from the cabin broke my train of thought. She stood beside me, looking at me briefly before lazily surveying the forest. Though she was by no means a stranger to hard work, her bagged eyes told of her emotional fatigue.

“Y'know how we'd used to sit on the fence around the field and watch the town?” she asked.

I did remember. During lunch breaks we'd teeter on the fence to the orchards, looking towards the town.

“I'd always complain my back hurt.” I replied.

She snorted a laugh. “Yeah, but ya really hammed it up. Could've served it to a gryphon.”

“Feeling nostalgic yet?”

She looked skyward. “I wanna go back to that time.”

“I thought you always said I was a bad worker. You'd have to take me back on.” I said. “Damn, that'd mean I'd have to move back into your barn as well.”

“Ah, you've been spoiled by town life, you'd move out again in no time.” she laughed. Good laugh, came from the diaphragm. Not like Rarity's insipid tittering.

I knew I'd probably never work for Applejack ever again. Our lives, my life in particular, had changed irreversibly, and I didn't want the Apples, the few souls I actually cared about in this world, to be associated with my work.

I was smirking a little following our dialogue. It wasn't often that Applejack and I could spare the time to make conversation with one another. I always loved how easy it was to talk with her, one of the many good things I forfeited when I left Sweet Apple Acres.

My smirk disappeared quickly. A patch of earth now illuminated by the cones of light penetrating the canopy had caught my attention. It was loose earth, and I immediately feared the worst.

“Anon?” said Applejack. “What's wrong?”

I pointed to where the soil had been disturbed. Her breaths became shorter and more frequent as her pupils ever so slightly dilated. The patch of earth in question was about ten meters from the back door, and about two meters inside of the tree line. I trotted quickly towards the loose soil, which spanned an area of about one and a half square meters.

I formed a crude shovel with my hooves, attacking the ground with a ferocity I can't explain even now. It didn't matter how hard or fast I dug, because it wouldn't change what I found down there. Soon, my hooves made contact with something other than dirt, rock or root. I cocked my head to look at Applejack. She looked ready cry. I felt the same.

Reaching into the ground with both hooves, I grabbed an arm and strained to pull it above ground. As it surfaced, a pang of guilt followed the relief I initially felt. The arm was white and black.

After we regrouped, I showed to Rainbow Dash and Twilight the body in the ground. They didn't say, but I suspected they too were relieved it was Zecora that suffered this fate rather than Applebloom. The four of us scoured the area surrounding Zecora, looking for, and hoping we wouldn't find, a second burial. We didn't, which gave us hope, but not much.

Jesus fucking Christ. They killed Zecora. Why? What could have justifed that act? God, they didn't even bury her properly. These fucking amateurs. They left so much physical evidence that even the police could find them if they pooled their brain cells. Hoofmarks, a dead body, hairs. They should count themselves lucky that there's no such thing as DNA profiling in Equestria.

Christ, what about Applebloom? Why didn't they put her in the same grave? There's only one grave. Maybe they kidnapped her? For what reason?

Amateurs. Inexperienced. Not used to this kind of thing. They had the stomach to kill Zecora, but a foal? I wouldn't kill a foal, I bet they wouldn't either. Yes, they couldn't kill Applebloom, their consciences wouldn't allow it. It's a safe bet they kidnapped her. Where did they go afterwards? I need more time.

Twilight, who had left 'i'm-here-for-AJ' duty to Rainbow Dash for the time being, walked over to me. She must have seen my eyes glazed over, looking intently at one spot on the ground but not registering the visual information.

“What are you thinking?” she asked. I blinked once and lifted my eyes to see her mirroring my gaze. I gave her a blank look that meant I only half heard. “You had a serious face on, I was asking what you thought.”

“It was my thinking face. I ought to hang a 'do not disturb' sign around my neck.”

“Well you're disturbed now. C'mon, you're meant to be good at these things, what's on your mind?”

“I'm trying to get the order of things clear in my head.” I replied. “I think Applebloom was foalnapped, or she'd would have been buried with Zecora. The killers, after burying Zecora, probably headed to the nearest town.”

“Ponyville.”

“Exactly.”

“They won't stay there for long.”

“No.”

“Where will they go?”

I didn't know. “Who knows. Anywhere with a train station, probably. I'd guess that's how they're planning to leave, if they haven't already.”

“And they could be anyone.”

“No, think about it. It'll be obvious who they are. It'll be two or three stallions, medium build, judging by the number and size of the hoofprints. One or more will be unicorns, for sure. One or more have brown coats.

“How'd you know their coats are brown?”

“I found brown hairs in the hut, might look chestnut in the light. Last I checked, Applebloom had a yellow coat, and Zecora had black and white. If they're really stupid, they'll still be caked in mud too.”

“So they'll be easy to find?”

“With time, yes.” I said. “Too bad we don't have much of it.”

We were sitting on a nearby felled tree, watching the hut as we spoke. Twilight flinched and faced me.

“What? Why the time limit?” she asked. I sighed, bowing my head slightly. I didn't have the courage to look at her face when I explained.

“The odds you can find someone who's been foalnapped decreases substantially after a period of four days. After then, I doubt the even the ECMB, with all their resources could find her. Oh, fuck me, I just made Applebloom a statistic.” I rubbed my eyes, they felt sore. “Fuck.”

“Don't be so hard on yourself. Celestia knows the situation is hard enough.” she said.

I was anxious to divert the subject. “How's AJ doing?”

“Not so great.” Twilight said. We both directed our attention towards Applejack. She and Dashie were lying against the side of the hut, talking. We couldn't hear what they were saying.

“She's tough. She'll be okay. For now, at least.” I said. “She could do with some good news.”

“Couldn't we all?”

“Well, this massive breadcrumb trail is pretty good for us.”

“What?”

“You never read Hansel and Gretal?” I said, before my gut twisted for the second time in less than ten minutes.

This is a speed-bump I sometimes run into, confusing things that exist on Earth with things that don't in Equestria. Normally this is never a problem, but in the wrong context, it could reveal me. In this context, there wasn't a worse pony to which I could have accidentally mentioned Hansel and Gretal.

“No.” she said. “You mean a trail of clues?”

My shoulders, that I had unconsciously tensed after my mistake, gradually relaxed and a feeling of relief washed over me like a cool breeze. I nodded, and Twilight seemed to understand.

“Yeah.” I said. “I'll be visiting the train station when I get back, see if I can't find a station manifest or an eyewitness who might've seen them.”

“Oh good grief. I'm gonna have to deal with the press and police when I get back.” she said. “Guess that leaves it to you, Dashie and AJ.”

“No, the police are gonna want to talk with Dashie and AJ. It'll just be me.”

“They're gonna want to talk to you as well.”

“I can't afford to waste time answering inane questions. We have to find her as soon as possible. The police can take my statement after I've found her. Hopefully the gibbering retards won't drool on the pad while they write.”

Twilight made a short, sighing laugh. “You know, I once read about the distinction between law and justice. They say you get the law in this world, and justice in the next, that law is the imperfect attempt to realise justice.”

“Sounds about right.” I said. “Where are you going with this.”

“Sometimes I look at you, and wonder what justice would look like if it had form.”

I laughed. “You think I'm an arbiter of justice from the next world? Princess, you've been out in the sun too long.”

Twilight gave me the hard eye for a few seconds, before turning away. Her gaze drifted over Applejack and Dashie. Applejack looked a little perkier now. They both looked ready to leave.

“Well, maybe you can't, or won't see it, but you're a good pony. If you were anything less, we wouldn't be having this conversation.”

Christ, from the next world? Sure, why not. Arbiter of justice? That's a good joke.

We reburied Zecora in a neater grave, fitting her proportions so she could lie naturally rather than in a contorted mess. Now she was resting a couple of meters from the back door of the hut, beneath the twisting trees and fallen leaves. A quiet funeral, buried in familiar ground.

Twilight set about appeasing the press and the police when we got back. Applejack, Dashie and I got pounced by a couple of police officers eager to waste our time. I was able to weasel out of that one using my fake ECMB badge. It struck me how much respect police gave to anti-magic agents.

We agreed to spend the rest of the day pursuing our own avenues of investigation before meeting to exchange information at Twilight's castle that evening.

Well, they agreed.

I had no plans to waste more time with a group meeting. I knew that with every passing minute, the odds of Applebloom being alive were dropping. I knew that I could find her faster than those three could. Speed was everything.

I went straight to the train station to confirm my suspicions. The station manager was more than helpful once I convinced him I was an ECMB agent. I told him I was looking for two or three ponies with a yellow filly in tow that boarded a train here sometime after eight last night, producing a picture of Applebloom while I talked. He didn't recall, but he called in the on-duty conductor from last night, who remembered seeing such a trio.

The first, as he described, was an average built chestnut unicorn, bearing a cutie mark of a six-tooth cog and a jet-black mane. The second was a similarly sized earth pony, with a a coat of white and a silvery, gently spiked mane, though the conductor claimed not to have seen his cutie mark.

The third passenger he described perfectly as Applebloom, though she was asleep upon the earth pony's back.

I asked if there was anything else unusual about them, specifically referring to the state of their hooves and coats, to which the conductor replied they looked as though they'd been dragged through a hedge backwards.

They bought tickets to Canterlot.

On the train, I finally had time to think about how all of this came to be. Why did they kill Zecora, and what were they looking for in her cabin? I glided my hoof over the stud in my ear. A relic like mine would certainly be desirable, something that the wrong kind of pony would kill for. I thought there must have been other objects of worth hidden in Zecora's hut, disguised as worthless pieces of tat to the untrained eye, and perhaps something like that could have been their target.

My mind wandered to the personality of her killers. They had the conviction to end Zecora's life, but not Applebloom's, going so far as to risk exposing themselves by taking her near Ponyville, even if it was late at night.

Amateurs, I thought.

I guessed it was probably an unsavoury job they took up for a sum of money. I've encountered ponies like the ones I was tracking before, and they fall into one of two categories. Either they desperately need the money for one reason or another, or they owed favours, and this was how they were going to repay them. Neither type is inherently evil, as I myself have mused while dispensing my own form of professional justice upon them. I didn't much care though. I was going to find them, and make them suffer, because they killed Zecora and took Applebloom.

Now I was alone, with only my brooding to keep me occupied. My darkest thoughts surfaced and compounded in the forefront of my mind.

The train squealed as it slowed and entered Canterlot station. They must have had a 15 hour head-start on me, but they'd need more than that to disappear completely. My first port of call was the Bull & China, a little establishment on the south side of Canterlot run by Mad Star, or Maddie.

He wasn't a friend exactly, Applejack is a friend. However, I knew I could ask him for help and not have it come back and bite me in the rear sometime in the future, as long as I paid him well.

The Bull & China is of little worth in and of itself, as anyone can tell by spending more than thirty seconds within its walls.

The last time I was in there, Maddie shooed away two ponies before they even opened their mouths. He could tell just by looking if an individual was worth his time. Only ponies that know what Maddie provides are admitted, and if you have to ask, then you have no use for what he provides, nor is it your business to ask. Things that money can't buy, Maddie sells. I once told him to use that as a strapline.

It was a brief walk from the station to the Bull & China, a journey spent throwing glances in every direction, as if I might find those ponies by accident. No such luck visited me that time, and soon I found myself looking up at the sign to the cafe. Its name was decorated with bulbs that turned on automatically when it got dark – at least that would happen if they weren't all broken. I guessed repairs weren't at the front of Maddie's mind.

I entered the cafe and was met with profound silence, broken only by the bell above the door. There were no customers, and Maddie was nowhere to be seen. A percolator of coffee was perched on the counter top, still warm. I could hear quiet clattering from the kitchen.

I took a mug from behind the bar and poured myself some viscous black liquid, waiting for Maddie to emerge from the saloon style doors that led to the kitchen. I raised the mug up to under my nose before setting it down on the counter top, having drunk none. I knew it was impossible to make coffee smell so bad, but Maddie found a way.

“It's rude to keep customers waiting Maddie.” I said.

The gentle clanging of pots and pans ceased, and I heard hoofsteps coming from the kitchen. He made as grand an entrance he could, as though he were the king of his small world. Being he was the proprietor, it made sense.

Maddie was a pretty large earth pony, but not fat or 90% muscle. He was like an average pony scaled up about a third. You could be forgiven for thinking he was a relative of Big Mac. His coat was a fiery orange, his black mane cut short. Upon his flanks was a cutie mark of a five-pointed black star, circled by a red ring.

“Well if it ain't Anon.” he said. “To what do I owe the displeasure?”

“I've got some work for you.”I said. He didn't seem to hear me.

“I've been reading, y'know.”

“No, really?”

“I know right? Crazy.” he said. “There's some interestin' things in Canterlot archives. Every dirty little government secret, all in one place. It's an information broker's paradise.”

“Too bad it's not open to the public.”

He shot me a slight smile. “Y'know, it took me a long time, but I finally managed to get one of my crew in there. Slight little feller, slips by real easy. Could've had me a peek at anythin'. Tax records, city plans, census data. There's probably a record of which hoof Celestia uses to pick her nose.”

He rapped a few times on the counter top.

“Get to the point Maddie, I'm an impatient pony.”

He dragged his hoof along the counter. Nails on a blackboard.

“Lets just say, someone's been telling fibs.”

I smiled absently. If any pony were ever to discover my false identity as one of their own, it would probably be him, which is why I tried my best to limit the size of the information file on me he undoubtedly keeps. Perhaps he was bluffing about infiltrating the Canterlot archives, but if he had, his dossier on me would be so thick you could flatten daises between its pages.

“Well.” I said. “Takes one to know one.”

He didn't say anything for a few seconds, then let go a hearty laugh. It echoed eerily throughout the place.

Am I funny to you, Maddie? Fuck you. You come poking your snout into my past I'll kick your fucking teeth in.

He recovered from his bellowing, wiping a tear from his eye as he did. “It's been too long Anon. What you been up to then?”

“You just got done with a massive spiel saying you knew everything about me. Or did I mishear?”

“I prefer to hear it from you. You got a good voice for tellin' stories.”

I sighed. “Read the papers much?”

“You know I do.”

“You read about the Heartstrings case?” I said. He looked off to one side and tapped his chin with one hoof. “Couple of weeks back.”

“Oh yeah, heard his head got ripped to shreds.” he said. He barely finished talking before his eyes widened. “Holy shit, that wasn't you was it?”

“Of course not. It was a spell that did it. Do you see a horn coming out of my head?”

“How'd you know it was a spell?”

“Because I'm still finding pieces of his skull in my mane.” I said. “I was standing as close to him as we're are now.”

Maddie wrinkled his face. He looked like a purse. I was sure I heard one of his goons say that. I doubted anyone had the courage to say it to his face.

“Know what you are? A damned death magnet. I've noticed wherever you go, someone usually dies.” he shook his head. “Anyway, come on, what's this work you got for me?”

I took the picture of Applebloom out of my coat and passed it over the counter.

“This filly. I need to find her.”

Maddie examined the photograph with the same detachment a microbiologist would examine bacteria in a petri dish.

“She would have rolled into Canterlot late last night in the company of two stallions.”

“Uhuh, and what what do they look like?”

“One earth pony, brown with with a black mane, six-tooth cog as a mark. The other is a unicorn. White with silver mane, dunno the mark.”

Maddie paced over to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of cider. I didn't recognise the brand.

“Just find this filly then?” he said, opening the bottle.

“Yeah.”

“That's it?”

“Yeah, and then tell me where they are.”

“Ain't gonna be cheap.” he said. “A lot of my crew, they don't much like this kinda work. Money is the only thing that motivates 'em.”

“A thousand.” I said. “Half now, half after I get the filly.”

“1,500.” he replied.

“1,250.”

“1,300.”

“Done. Half now, half after you deliver.” I reminded him.

He put his hooves up and nodded. I wasn't particularly keen on parting with a sum of money like that, but these were desperate times. Maddie left me alone in the seating area after I wrote him a cheque for 650, inviting me to take a seat and help myself to some complementary beverages while he made the necessary preparations. I took a cider from the fridge and planted myself in a chair that threatened to collapse with the slightest weight.

Where did they go? Think, Anon. They were hired to do this, almost certainly. What would they do after they finished the job? Did they have a contact here in Canterlot? What about Applebloom, they must have a reason for bringing her here.

Could they not decide what to do with her? Did they need someone else to make that decision? I'd guess they took her to whoever was paying them. Morons like them need someone they can look up to, someone who can make hard choices. Yes, their contact will decide what's to be done about Applebloom.

My train of thought was interrupted when Maddie squeezed through the saloon doors from the kitchen, and I realised I hadn't so much as touched the free cider, probably to my benefit. He took a seat opposite mine.

“It's done.” he said. “I got twenty of my crew on the job. If that filly so much as sneezes, we'll know.”

I nodded my approval and made an ill-advised start on the bottle.

“So.” he said. “Don't you wanna share your troubles with daddy Maddie?”

“The less you know about me, the better. For both of us.” I replied. “Besides, I can pay professionals for counselling if I want it.”

“You are paying me.” he said, patting me on the knee. “C'mon Anon, don't you trust me?”

Despite the cheeky grin, I couldn't tell if he was joking or serious, but I decided it would be better to humour him and stay on his good side rather than piss him off and make a potential enemy of him in the future. It was obvious that he didn't want me as an enemy either, so it was unlikely I would regret throwing him a small bone.

“This job I'm doing is a favour.” I said. “That filly I'm looking for is the sister to a friend. She was abducted.”

“Shit, I didn't know you had friends.”

“Write it down in my file now or you might forget.”

He raised both eyebrows and rubbed his chin, as though he were surprised I had divined he kept a dossier on me.

“Anyway, the ponies that took her, they also killed one of my other friends.”

“This all sounds very unprofessional Anon.”

I laughed. I wanted to torture those ponies for no reason other than to make them suffer, and then I would kill them. Their motives meant little to me. Perhaps, I thought, if I didn't kill them too quickly, I'd find out why they did it.

“No, it isn't. But I take my violence very seriously. Is that not good enough?”

“You gonna kill 'em?”

“Why not tag along, you can find out first hoof.”

“Really?”

“No.”

“You might regret sayin' that. One's a unicorn, I recall you sayin'. Gonna be a tough fight, might be glad of some help.”

“I don't plan on it being a very long one.” I said. “Besides, there are more ways to fight than just head-on. You should know that.”

“Well.” Maddie said. “Don't say I didn't warn you.”

I was cantering. I didn't canter often, as I preferred to plan so that I'd never find myself in a situation that required me to move quickly. For me, cantering was an admission of the fact I hadn't properly planned whatever I was doing, and I'd found myself wanting for time as a result. Unfortunately, events beyond my reasonable control had developed that required me to act with haste.

Maddie and I had been conversing for little more than thirty minutes before we were interrupted by one of his mooks bursting through the door of the cafe. He came bearing news that ponies like the ones I described had been spotted, and they were moving. Not towards the train station, or even anywhere they could find a form of transport.

They were heading to the north, in which direction lies a handful of cart trails leading to neighbouring towns, and the mountain that looms over Canterlot. I knew I could catch up to them before they reached the city walls if I cantered, at which point I could follow them. I also knew I couldn't take two ponies, let alone a unicorn while I was myself a pony. In my human form, I stood a chance if I took the unicorn by surprise, and then overpowered the earth pony with superior strength.

There would be bodies tonight. I didn't know if it would be mine or theirs.

The skies had darkened since I entered the Bull & China, threatening to open the heavens upon the city. It wouldn't last though. The weather ponies would scramble their pegasi any moment, and the clouds would be obliterated, allowing rays of sunshine to touch every dark corner. I figured I had ten minutes before light returned to the land, at which point, tailing my enemies would become difficult.

I followed Maddie's grunt, Stoke, through the crowds, not bothering to apologise to the ponies we ran down in our urgency. My breathing became heavy and deep, not just because of physical exertions I wasn't so used to, but at the prospect of catching up with the ponies that killed Zecora.

Stoke came to an abrupt halt as we came within a few minutes of the north city gates. He turned to me briefly, and pointed down the street.

About ten meters from where we stood, I saw them. I saw the chestnut unicorn with the six-tooth cog, and upon his back was Applebloom, sleeping soundly. I was overcome with an unusual concoction of feelings: relief that Applebloom lived still, happiness that I had found her, and rage at her kidnappers. They combined to further reinforce the flight or fight response that was running strong in my veins.

“Those the ones?” Stoke asked.

“Yeah.” I said. “That's them.”

“Happy hunting.” he said, and he began ambling back the way we came.

My targets had walked about five meters further, and I might have lost them in the crowd had I taken my eyes off them for but a second.

I still remember the feeling. It was as though the rest of the world ceased to be, and was replaced with visions of only the silver and chestnut pony, with Applebloom unconscious on his back. Gradually, colour and sound returned to the city, and I found myself motionless in the chaos of Canterlot, still staring at my targets as they were receding into the background.

I regained my senses and began following them. I trotted until I was only a couple of meters behind them, and then slowed to match their walking speed. She was so close, that I might reach out and take her hoof, but I knew it would be impossible.

I stayed as close as possible, trying to eavesdrop on their conversation, but it became lost in the background noise of the city. After this I put a few more meters distance between me and them, in case Applebloom were to wake and reveal me.

I tailed them closely for no more than two minutes before we came to the northern gates. Beyond which, there was no cover to be found among crowds, and it would be obvious that I was following them. Though it wrenched at my heart, I stopped under the gate and waited. If I could somehow divine their destination by the direction they were walking, I could tail them from as far away as I liked with no chance of being discovered.

I watched them for as long as possible, until they were out of sight. They took a right turn straight out of the gates and followed the city walls for about one-hundred meters, before taking a sharp left, disappearing behind a range of small hills. I knew all this, and still had no idea where they were going, or what their planned to do.

I looked left and right. I didn't know what I was looking for, or what I needed, but I needed it badly. Everywhere, tourists blighted the streets, obscuring anyone or anything that might be of use. I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, until I realised tourists were the most useful thing I could ask for, specifically, what they undoubtedly had in their possession. I grabbed with both hooves the first pony I found that had a camera around their neck.

“Excuse me.” I said. The pony flinched. Perhaps he expected me to mug him. “I need a map of Canterlot, do you have one?”

“Well sure mister.” he said, fishing it out of his saddlebag. “They got a bunch of 'em at tourist information. It's down by-”

“Thanks.” I said, swiping it from his hooves and running out of the north gate. His protests echoed in the streets.

I had cantered fifty meters along the length of the north walls before I stopped and unfolded the map. It was a very touristy map, highlighting specific areas of Canterlot like hotels, restaurants, and nice views of the city. I wasn't interested in anything within the walls of the city though.

I found the northwest corner of the map and squinted at the writing. The map showed the only noteworthy place in the direction my targets were heading as the crystal caverns, a huge cave network that ran deep into the mountain and under Canterlot. I'd heard stories of ponies venturing into those cursed caves and never coming out.

The only reason I would go into that place of my own volition if is I needed to disappear and never be found, a place of perfect privacy. An ideal meeting point, then, for ponies of a less legal persuasion.

An ideal place to hide a body.

I clumsily refolded the map and clamped it between my jaws as I cantered along the length of the north wall. To my left, when the hills dipped, I could see the ruins of old settlements, and the marks they made upon the landscape. Collapsing drystone walls. Ruins preserved for their cultural and archaeological significance.

Beyond these lay the colossal doors to the caverns, embedded in the foot of the mountain; a relic of times when these ponies fancied themselves as lords of nature, controllers of the darkness that resides within the caves. Perhaps they were justified in that notion. After all, they managed to tame cloud and lightning. Even the sun and moon were at their whim. Here stood a mere cave they could never hope to control. It must have been a bitter pill to swallow.

As I stepped through the crumbling homesteads, a curtain of light lifted across the land. The pegasi had cleared the skies, lifting the shade and the cover it provided. It also illuminated fresh hoof-prints left in the mud and grass, two sets of them, running in parallel with each other. I followed those tracks, which pointed the direction of the mountain.

I came up on a small crest which marked the end of the ruins. As I scaled it, I could see the flatlands between myself and the entrance to the caves. At this distance, they were little more than brown and white blemishes that tainted the landscape. I was only a couple of minutes behind them.

I waited, and watched the figures to enter the smaller door to the caves before cantering across the plains to where they once stood. I hugged the base of the mountain all the way to the doors, where I took a moment to recover.

I peered in carefully, seeing little more than the heavy darkness that promised to take you, and a faint glow, most likely an illumination spell from the unicorn reflecting off the perfect geometry of the crystalline rocks. I could hear their muffled voices too, reverberating throughout the structure, though I could discern no words.

I glanced around myself briefly, looking for anyone that might have tailed me here. I doubted Maddie was below sending one of his mooks to see what had got me so riled, but looking around the plains, I could see only nature. In the skies, the weather pegasi were finishing their meteorological duties, and returning to Cloudsdale. The day was transitioning into twilight now. It would be dark when I came out of the caves, if I came out at all.

I was about twenty meters inside, following the light of my targets before I felt it safe to transform. I took the map, unfolded it, and crumpled it into a ball before putting it back in my mouth. I bit down on it hard while I twisted the cylindrical stud in my ear, and did my best to remain silent throughout the brief but maddeningly painful transition from equine to human.

When my senses returned to me, I spluttered quietly and held my head in my palms, waiting for the lingering dizziness to end. I stretched my arms and legs, my knees clicking, echoing in the cavern loudly. Fortunately, the sound of my creaking joints paled in comparison to the clopping of hooves that rung in the cavern, and I began stalking them.

The cavern was akin to a hall of mirrors, each rock face reflected both sound and light, so that it was difficult to determine the true location of those two ponies. I had been walking, feeling the walls along the way, when the sound of hoof-fall stopped. For a moment, I was sure I had been discovered, until I heard the two ponies conversing. This time, I could hear them clearly.

“Think we're deep enough yet?” asked one. “Hard to tell distance in this place.”

“Twenty meters was probably deep enough.”

“She said to go at least a hundred meters in.”

She?

“Fuck what she said. She ain't here, and I can see why. This place is just wrong. Plain fucking wrong.” one replied. “Besides, any further and we might get lost. Do you wanna get lost? In this place?”

There was a loud silence for a few moments. They were close, very close, probably no more than ten meters between us.

“Alright. Here is fine I guess.” one said. “So, how do you want to do it?”

“Don't talk like I'm gonna be the one to do it.” one said. “It's not right. I can't. I won't.”

“I already dealt with the fucking crazy zebra. I did my part, now it's your turn. Spells are faster and cleaner anyway.”

“What if the ECMB finds out? I'd be a dead pony.” the unicorn said. “Can't you, I dunno, find a rock or something?”

“And what? Smash her head in?” he said. There was another period of silence. “Holy fuck, that's just sick. There's somethin' wrong with your head.”

“They never said there'd be a filly! They were pretty fucking clear. One zebra, alone. Get the list, get out. If I'd known this was gonna happen, I'd have told 'em to get fucked.”

“I know what they told us. Don't you get it? We're in the same boat. I've bailed my share of water.”

I could have sworn I heard a sniff. “She's just a filly. She probably doesn't even remember our faces.”

“It's our lives, or hers. They'll kill us if we don't.”

The ultimatum filled the cavern, lending to the gravity of the situation. Minutes, or so it felt, passed before a reply.

“Fine.” the unicorn said. “Fine.”

The cavern was enveloped in darkness once again as the illuminating spell ceased. A few seconds later, a weaker light shone from the same direction, accompanied by a quiet, electrical humming.

I knew that sound, the sound that preceded an attack spell, which I have been on the receiving end of more times than I would have liked. I had perhaps three to five seconds before Applebloom died, and through my inaction, it may as well have been me who killed her.

There was no time to plan, or to consider the outcomes of my actions. The only thing I could do in my small time window was rush them. I stood from my crouched position and began to run through the cavern. The earth pony had heard my footfall, and turned to look in my direction. The unicorn had not noticed me just yet, instead focusing on his spell and on the unconscious filly in front of him.

As I came ever closer to the light, I saw the fear manifesting on the earth pony's face. I felt powerful, unstoppable even. The earth pony shook the unicorn with both hooves, begging him to turn around.

He did so, just in time to feel my foot connect with his neck. I felt the hairs, then the soft tissue, followed by his oesophagus. Finally, I felt the tiny crack of bone, and I was sad. The swiftness of his demise was too great, too kind. Unfortunately, there's no easy way to keep a unicorn subdued without the help of another unicorn, and so his fate was necessary.

Behind me, I could hear panicked breathing and uneven clopping of hooves. The earth pony had run after witnessing his partners death, into the darkness that he thought would conceal him. I walked after him slowly, carefully listening to the racket he made. Short breaths, loud swallowing, horseshoes on rock.

After thirty seconds of our game of cat and mouse, the clopping stopped. I kept walking, quiet as humanly possible, towards the sound of the last hoof-fall. Sure, it was easy enough to stop the sounds of your hooves, but the sound of deep breathing is impossible to suppress. I could hear him now, and though the cave was pitch black, I knew he was within arms reach.

I stretched my arm out, finding a lump of mane. The earth pony it belonged to began screaming. I dragged him back to where his partner lay dead, the glow of his horn now dissipating into nothingness.

There's a little known fact about unicorns concerning their horns. Providing the horn remains intact, one can stimulate the nerves inside to produce spells, even if its been liberated from its owner. This is purely theoretical however, as determining exactly which nervous pathways are involved in producing specific spells is nigh on impossible, but it is possible to continuously stimulate the neurons inside the horn to generate low-level lighting.

To this end, I repurposed the dead unicorn's horn as a biological torch. I didn't bring anything resembling a sharp object with me into the caves, so I found myself improvising with a few jagged lumps of crystal rock in the sickly green light of the horn.

Shrike, that was his name, though I had asked him nothing. Perhaps his talkativeness was because of the shards of crystal buried in his thigh and shoulder.

I held a third piece of crystal in my hand. An igneous rock. When broken, the pieces can form edges with a thickness of three nanometers. I recall surgeons sometimes used obsidian scalpels in place of tempered steel.

I drew another piece of crystal over his leg, leaving a long, shallow, and messy cut. How he screamed. I didn't know if I was enjoying it, or if my body was so flooded with hormones that I felt good regardless. The sensation was there, though. That was all that mattered. It was as though I were in a Skinner box, and each painful, tormenting cut rewarded me, conditioned me to associate the pain of another with a positive stimulus.

I was preparing to make another cut, this time to remove his left eyelid, when he whimpered to himself.

“Why?” he coughed. “Why?”

“Why?” I asked.

He brought his bowed head up to meet my eyes. The stench of fear all around him excited me. Both our hearts were beating so quickly you could almost dance to the beat. This was the first time I spoke.

“You can speak?” he asked, through a waterfall of tears. “Why are you doing this?”

“Shrike. That's your name, right?” I said. “Let me ask you something instead Shrike: why'd you do it? In the Everfree, there was a zebra that you killed and buried in a shallow grave. Why did she need to die?”

“It was part of the job.” he said. “I swear I was just doing a job. Let me go. That's all you gotta do just please let me go.”

“What job?” I asked, unable to keep the anger out of my voice. “What job? What were you looking for in that cabin?”

“A list.”

“A list of what?”

He hesitated. I removed the shard in his thigh and replaced it in his right hoof.

“Names!” he screamed. “I don't know what its for, I didn't recognise any of 'em. I was just told to find it and give it to my contact. Let me go. Please, just let me go.”

“Zecora and Applebloom had to die for a fucking list?” I said. “Is that what you're telling me?”

“Who?” he said.

Wrong fucking answer.

I gripped the crystal shard tight and raised it above my head, before burying it in his shin. He screamed so loudly that it continued to echo throughout the cavern for several seconds.

“Zecora! The one you did kill, and Applebloom, that filly over there that you were going to kill! All over a god damned list?”

“I'm sorry.” he blubbed. It seemed he ran out of tears. His eyes were bloodshot. “I was just doing a job, I swear. I had to, or she was gonna kill me.”

“She?”

“I don't know. I don't know!” he said. “I never heard her name, and I never saw her without a cloak on. It's her. She's the one you want.”

“Really?” I said. “Well that's a pity, since she's not here. Guess I'll have to settle for you. Maybe your broken and bloodied corpse will send a message.”

“Please.” he said. “Please, don't kill me. I have a wife, two foals too.”

I laughed. “That's a pity as well. You've seen my face, you know my voice. You know I care about that little filly. There's only one way I can guarantee my safety now.”

“Please don't!” he whined. “I swear I won't tell anyone!”

“I know.” I smiled at him.

“I told you, it was just a job! I was just doing a job!”

“So am I.”

I plunged one final piece of crystal into his right eye. God, how he screeched. I thought he might bring the whole cave system down upon both of us. I wedged the shard in a little more, probably far enough to stab his medulla oblongata. A mixture of blood and other fluids erupted from the area once occupied by a functional optic organ, replaced by an irregular piece of rock. In time, his screaming stopped, but it continued to wail through the cavern long after he expired.

I knelt for a while, supporting my arms on my thighs: exhausted, but satisfied. I understood what I just inflicted on Shrike, and reflected briefly on the irony of his namesake and the particulars of his death. I could find not a shred of regret in my heart, nor an internal voice condemning my actions, despite knowing full well what I forced him to endure.

As I would come to realise, I had undergone more than just one transformation that day.

I found Applebloom still unconscious on the floor having dispatched Shrike. Unharmed, and luckily, oblivious to what had just occurred.

Next to her, a few feet away, lay the unnamed unicorn with the cog mark. His eyelids were still open as he stared at my feet, and a line of saliva connected his slack mouth with the ground. There was no longer a need for my human form, and so I twisted the tiny stud in my right ear. The hormones coursing through my body did a lot to numb the pain, and I was able to keep the vocals accompanying it to a level below deafening.

I passed the horn over her from head to tail, checking for open wounds. Her kidnappers had been remarkably gentle with her, not so much as a bruise or scuff on her yellow coat.

“Applebloom?” I asked, gently shoving her with my hoof. “Applebloom, wake up.”

She didn't respond. I pondered for a moment, before covering her nostrils with my hooves. After a few seconds, she coughed and spluttered back into consciousness. She took quick and shallow breaths and tried to back away, eyes fixated on me.

“Hey Applebloom? It's only Anon.” I said. “You remember me, right?”

The scuffling stopped and Applebloom regarded me with fear, followed by confusion.

“Anon?” she asked. “Is it really you?”

“See for yourself.” I said, passing the glowing horn around my face so she could see me clearly.

“It is you!” she said, launching herself into me.

She knocked me back with so much force that I hit the back of my head on the ground, but I didn't mind. Partly because I was too happy, partly because there were still excess endorphins being pumped around my body, dulling pain quite effectively.

“How'd you find me?”

“It's what I'm good at.” I said, sitting back up and returning her affection with a hug. She broke it off abruptly, I thought, for a moment, she was scared of me.

“Those other ponies, are they here?” she asked. “They scare me.”

“No, you'll never be bothered by them ever again.” I said. She wrapped her hooves around my neck, finishing the hug she thought was owed.

“How did ah get here?” she asked. “Ah was at Zecora's, and then those two ponies turned up and... ah don't remember. Why can't ah remember?”

I didn't know how to tell Applebloom that Zecora had been murdered in cold blood, and that she almost shared the same fate.

“How about we get out of this cave first?” I said. “I'll tell you all about it on the train back to Ponyville.”

“We ain't in Ponyville?”

I shook my head. “We will be soon, though.”

Together we sat in the train carriage. In front of us there were empty seats, and we could've seen the scenery pass by if the daylight was still with us. Instead I saw myself and Applebloom reflected in the glass, and I regarded myself with surprise.

I was tired. Bags under my eyes, partially drooped ears, and my mane had become a little wiry, like an old toothbrush. Upon further consideration, my fatigue was understandable. It was an early start, an effect of conforming to Applejack's farm work schedule, and though I had no need to get up so early, old habits die hard. The whole day was spent walking, and when I wasn't walking, I was thinking, or cantering.

The events of the last couple of hours had almost finished me off, the last little prod that knocks down the exhausted boxer.

I tried various tricks to keep me awake, eventually settling for watching Applebloom in the reflection of the window. She looked worried, which I could understand. Everything I've said to comfort her, she knows it's all talk, things that you tell foals when they've had a bad day.

“Applebloom?” I asked. She stopped chewing her hoof to look up at me. “What's got you worried? Is it those ponies?”

“No.” she said. “It's not them.”

“Then what?”

She rubbed her hooves together and cleared her throat. I would understand if she was still scared of her kidnappers, despite my insistence she would never see them again. But, if it was something else, something less tangible, I don't know what I could say to make it better.

“Scootaloo.” she said. “Ah was with her in the Everfree. She okay?”

'Yes.' I replied. 'She's fine.'

“What about Zecora?”

At that moment, I wondered if there was a parallel universe where Applebloom didn't ask me that, where I wouldn't have to spin an ambiguous response. It was unfair to tell her the truth, and it was unfair to lie to her, not to mention she'd find out eventually anyway.

Foals, they can't grasp the concept of death, that you can be here one moment and gone the next. To them, everyone is immortal, and the arrow of time that propels us into the future remains stationary.

“She's-” I began. “She left, and she's not coming back.”

“How'd you mean?”

“Those mean ponies, they made her go away.”

“Can't she come back now that they're gone?”

“No. They made her leave forever.” I said, shaking my head. “Nobody can ever see her again.”

I sighed melancholy as my shoulders gave out slightly. Applebloom seemed to mirror my actions. She would find out the truth one day in the near future, and I prayed I wouldn't be the one that had to confirm it.

“Hey.” I said. “Wanna hear the story of how I found you now?”.

Omitting details where necessary, I thought to myself. Applebloom loved hearing about my exploits, which I usually embellished heavily, in place of the rather more graphic reality. Applejack said she sees me as some kind of champion of justice, a crime fighting superhero.

Perhaps one day I'll become just that.

Applebloom nodded enthusiastically. I leaned back into the corner of the row of seats, and told her all that had happened that day. She sat next to me with an awestruck expression and absolutely no trace of the drowsy sadness that had infested her not five minutes ago.

I was proud of myself.

It was late, very late, by the time Applebloom and I had rolled into Ponyville and walked to the farm. Despite spending most of the day unconscious, she had fallen into a deep sleep about ten minutes before we got off the train. Unresponsive to pokes and prods to usher her awake, I found myself carrying her the rest of the way. I was about ready to collapse as well.

I came up the dirt path leading to the house. Lights were still burning inside, casting a narrow carpet of light upon the ground outside where it leaked from the windows.

“Applebloom.” I said, she grunted a little. “Applebloom.”

I used the back of my head to knock her awake. She stirred and yawned, making me acutely aware of the number of hours I'd been active.

“We're here.” I said. “Time to get off.”

“Will sis' be mad at me?” she asked, clambering down from me. “I know I'm not supposed to go near the Everfree.”

“No.” I said, shaking my head and offering a smile. “She'll be happy. I promise.”

As walked to the door together, I experienced a strange feeling that excited the hairs on the back of my neck. It was more than just pride, both personal and professional, it was a kind of completeness, as though part of me had departed when Applebloom went missing, and had now been returned to me. I rapped on the door quietly, and heard a series of hoof-falls and quiet muttering from beyond.

“Now ain't a good time.” Applejack said. “Who is it?”

“It's me, AJ.” I replied. “I've found a lost filly, she says she lives here. You know anything about that?”

“Anon?” Applejack asked, followed by encroaching hoof-steps, quickly increasing in frequency.

“I'm back.” Applebloom said, with a mixture of anticipation and shame in her voice.

The door flung open to reveal Applejack. Her face was an exact likeness of mine, sporting all the hallmarks of exhaustion and stress. In an instant it disappeared as she laid eyes upon her sister. Her bottom lip shivered some as words failed her, and tears began to well in her eyes. Almost ignoring my presence, she scooped Applebloom up in a wet hug.

In the moonlight, they cried together for a long time. Despite myself, I was dabbing at my eyes and sniffing to hold back my own tears. It's been a long time since I cried over anything, but if there was ever a time to open the waterworks, it would have been then.

I sat in the living room with Big Mac. It's was too easy to forget about that stoic stallion, easier still to regard him as unaffected by his little sister's disappearance. I didn't. If an observant soul spent enough time in his company, they would come to know his tells, as I have done.

He had fixed both of us some coffee while Applejack cherished her time with Applebloom. I waited in silence, staring into the swirling black liquid, breathing in the vapour and taking the occasional sip. After about twenty minutes, Applejack descended the stairs, still sniffling. She thanked Big Mac for looking after me, and he promptly left the room by the stairs, presumably to pass out on his bed. Applejack slumped into the sofa opposite me, taking what Big Mac had left of his coffee.

“How is she?” I asked.

“Sleeping.” she replied. “She were so tired. Barely stayed awake for five minutes, then out like a light.”

“Probably shouldn't wake her up too early.” I said.

Applejack offered an absent nod, and I could tell something was troubling her as well.

“Bit for your thoughts?” I asked. She stretched and rubbed her left arm.

“Don't get me wrong, Anon. I'm grateful, real grateful. I couldn't repay you in a thousand lifetimes.”

“But?”

“But, I'm worried.” she said. “Did you find who did this?”

“Yeah. Well, no. Kinda. The ponies that took her, they were working for someone.” I said. “But I did find her foalnappers.”

“And you-” she began. “You did things, to them?”

I nodded. “They won't bother anyone again.”

“Tell me, Anon." she said. “Tell me she didn't see anything. She's too young.”

“She was unconscious the whole time.” I replied. “She didn't see anything.”

She let out a single quiet laugh. All this time, she had been looking at the floor, and had just now met my eyes.

“Y'know.” she said. “When Dashie and me were at Twilight's, I had this thought.”

“A dangerous pastime.”

She smiled. “I thought that, the only reason you'd ever turn up is if you couldn't find anythin'. The other two got angry that ya weren't there, but ah knew, felt, that you were out there, doin' yer best ter find her.”

“Oh yeah, did any of you find any leads?”

“Only Twilight. Turns out we're pretty useless at detective work. Who'dve thought, right?” she said. “Twilight went to the station same as you did, around sunset. Said she was lookin' fer Applebloom, showed the station commander a picture. You know what the station commander said?”

“Go on.”

“He said an anti-magic agent had come through asking the exact same questions.” she folded her arms and gave a wry smile. “I bet that fake badge comes in handy right?”

I smiled. “It has its uses.”

“Twilight were livid, looked ready to burst when she realised it were you.” she said. “Ah convinced her ta let ya hang onto it.”

“She can have this one if she wants. I got, like, three more.”

“Ah should've guessed.”

“Thanks though.”

“Fer what?”

“Y'know. For looking out for me.”

She got up and headed to the kitchen with mug in hoof, leaving me alone with my tepid coffee. I swirled it a little, but didn't take another sip. I leaned backwards into the couch, letting the cushions envelop me. My joints clicked loudly and with much satisfaction as I fidgeted to get comfortable, and rested my eyes a little.

I woke not five minutes later when a weight on the other end of the couch caused it to quietly creak. Still experiencing some pep from the coffee, I was alert in a matter of seconds. Applejack was kneeling on the couch, facing me. She was avoiding my eyes.

“AJ?” I asked. “I thought you went to bed.”

“I thought-” she began. “I thought you'd like ter, y'know, come with me.”

Despite having been awake for many hours, I was aware of the subtext like it had just spat on my food. This wasn't the first time a pony wanted to get busy with me. I knew from the first week that it could conceivably happen, and until now, it had been easy to dismiss those advances. It was easy to refuse strangers, but I gave no thought to the fact that a friend, perhaps my only friend, would be one to try it on.

I liked Applejack, of that there was no doubt, but the problem was twofold. One, she felt obliged to try and repay my favour in this way, and an enormous favour it was, which I would probably be above accepting even if I was a pony, and two: I couldn't get around the feeling of it just being plain wrong. I wasn't a pony, not really, and extended time in their company had made me no fonder of the idea of sex than I was when I first considered the possibility.

“AJ, you don't want this.” I said. “Not really.”

She seemed to ignore what I said and moved closer. Her hooves drifted over my shoulders and met together behind my neck. Her coat was soft, like feather down. Her mane draped over my ears.

“But ah have to.” she said. “After what you've done fer me, fer all of us.” she said. Her words, spoken so softly. Most stallions would cave.

“But you don't want it.” I said. “And you don't have to, don't think you do.”

“Is it because I'm just a farm pony?” she asked. “I know I ain't the prettiest or smartest, but I can still show you a good time.”

She brought herself forwards so that our foreheads and torsos were touching. She smelt good. Her body heat felt good too.

“No, AJ.” I said, taking her hooves from my neck and holding them in my own. She leaned back slightly. I silently cheered at my small victory. “You're not 'just' a farm pony. You're the smartest and most beautiful pony I know, popular opinion be damned. I know what you're gonna say, that I'm 'just saying that' or 'you don't mean that'. I do, AJ. I see it in you every time we meet, even if others don't.”

“But you saved Applebloom.”

“I did it because it was the right thing to do, and because I like you AJ.” I said. “I didn't do it to gain favours.”

A lone tear rolled down her cheek, and I wondered what emotion spawned it. She smiled with a warmth that I thought would follow me for weeks to come, protecting my being from any sadness life decided to deal me.

“Ya big tease.”

She leaned in to me again, wrapping her hooves around my waist, and I returned the gesture. Before I could protest, she kissed me on my cheek, leaving a small damp patch when her lips left.

“I owed you that, at least.” she said.

“Y'know.” I said. “Nobody ever paid for a job that way.”

“Well, there's a first time fer everything.”

She broke off the hug and sat on the sofa next to me, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hoof. Yawning, she let her head be supported on my left shoulder. I spent a few moments, just watching her as she began to slip into a peaceful sleep. When I thought she was safely asleep, I gently touched the point where she had kissed me. It was still a little moist, an echo of what happened tonight, and what could have happened.

It was a precious moment, bound to become a precious memory. One that I replayed in my head, like counting sheep.

I slept well.

Author's Note

Feel free to leave a comment or do the bookshelf thing or whatever. I'm not exactly sure how these things work.

Stay gold.

How To Hunt A Ghost

Chapter Two

How To Hunt A Ghost

“Damn, Shell, look at this.” Spyglass said.

“What?” replied Shell, rustling towards where Spyglass stood. He hated the noise hoof-covers made, a noise like hooves dragging on the ground. He hated worse having to maintain a light spell mere inches from his eyes. It was that, or work in pitch black. Though he grumbled, he preferred the former.

“The vic's horn.” Spyglass said.

“Photograph it first.” Shell said. The phosphorus illuminated the entire cavern for a brief moment. “Whaddya see?”

Spyglass held it in two gloved hoofs. “Not much. Five inches long, white. Intact from the outside, inside it's a fucking mess. Looks like someone jammed a stick in there.”

“Check for magic trace. Perp's might've used a spell to remove the horn.”

“It was cut with a hunk of crystal from this cavern, look at the uneven base.”

“Do it anyway.” Shell said. Spyglass ceased the illumination spell. An incorporeal wave passed over Shell, making his skin prickle. He hated the feeling of scanning magic.

“Nothin'.” Spyglass said, after a time. “Only getting trace from the horn itself.”

Shell ran his hoof through his mane. “What was the last spell he cast?”

“We didn't have a name for it until five minutes ago.” Spyglass said. “Seems to be a novel spell that superheats the air in a straight line. We're calling it 'hot stuff'.”

“An attack spell?” Shell asked.

“I think so.” Spyglass said. “From what I can tell, it's pretty devastating. Not your everyday spell.”

“Alright, bag the horn. Plastic, not paper.”

Shell rubbed his chin. This crime scene made no sense. The only magic source was from the dead unicorn. It was easier to count the rocks that weren't blood stained than were. Four colours of coat hair: yellow, silver, brown and grey. Someone tracked mud in from the outside field. It was obvious that a fight happened, but the unicorn should have won hands down, since he was the only one that had used magic. Instead, he got his neck broken.

“Whaddya make of it?” Spyglass asked. Shell, hoof still raised to his face, turned to him.

“Makes about as much sense as a deck of tarot cards.” Shell said. He walked to the pony with crystals embedded all over his body. “Only sure thing is that this guy was tortured before he died.”

“Perps wanted information?”

“Probably.”

“Could've been rival gangs or somethin'.”

“No. They'd have sent unicorns.” Shell said.

“Then who?”

“I dunno.” Shell said. “Forget the perps for the time being. For now, we should find out who the vic's are.”

I lived in a flat near the centre of Ponyville. It slumped at a slight angle into the ground like a painting hung lopsided on a wall. It wasn't very large, nor was it in a particularly good state of repair, but it was warm in winter, cool in summer, and most importantly, it absorbed itself into the background of the town.

It was the kind of building you wouldn't glance twice at, if you even bothered to glance once. It was perfect, and here I slouched in the cheap wooden chair that came with the flat behind a writing desk, reading the trite served up by the newspaper.

It had been only two weeks and a few days, three or four, since Zecora died. Few tears, if any, were shed over her passing. Among those attending the event were the elements, myself, and a handful of ponies I didn't recognise and haven't seen since, like they floated into the ether after paying their due respects.

I didn't know if Zecora had a family, or an inner circle of companions that may not have been blood-relatives but counted as family in all other senses. If she did, either they weren't present or I hadn't noticed them.

A lifetime spent keeping physical and emotional distance from the world and all who inhabit it had deprived Equestria of souls that might grieve her passing to the extent of sobbing, but to say it left no lasting effect on anyone would be wrong.

Her memory lingered in the back's of minds, causing a universal sense of unease among the population. It was most noticeable during conversation. Some ponies would avoid eye contact where they wouldn't before, some mumbled a little more than they were known to. To catalogue the near-imperceptible changes to the everyday would be a life's work.

It was like the thought of Zecora's passing wormed its way from the back to the forefront of the everyone's mind, and conscious effort made to make the thought go away. It would explain why everyone looks so distracted.

It seemed a little part of our own lives had withered and died along with Zecora. I hadn't thought about how it had affected me a great deal, I think mostly because I didn't want to. Perhaps solely because I didn't want to.

It took me a little while to realise this fact, and the moment of epiphany came during a job I'd taken from Filthy Rich. The stallion was affluent, to say the least. In recent times, he found himself less able to sustain his excessive lifestyle than he would have liked.

He told me in conversation that he suspected his wife had been exploiting his wealth recently through some unsavoury and expensive hobby. I resisted the temptation to suggest that his wife has always been mooching, and that a secret expensive hobby was usually a synonym for a drug addiction. Instead, I told him I would look into it and keep him posted.

What ensued was hour upon hour of tailing the ostentatious mare. I didn't complain too much, since I too could exploit Mr. Rich's wealth by eating well and travelling in comfort at his expense while following his wife. It occurred to me one night, as I sat behind the beaten-up desk in my flat writing a letter to Mr. Rich about her wife's activities that day, that I'd been distracting myself.

I'd been reading more than usual, I'd taken to the idea of evening walks. Hell, I even changed my damned bedsheets, despite the fact that most men would be fine with sleeping in the same sheets for at least a decade.

I slumped in my chair for a few minutes, chewing on a pen, though I wasn't thinking about Zecora. I was deciding whether it would be a good idea to do some soul-searching. I wouldn't like what I might find, and who knows where it would go from there.

I might even start developing a conscience, or at least acknowledge its existence. Conscience can be a dangerous, even deadly thing in the circles that I tread. That tiny internal policeman makes you hesitate before delivering the finishing blow, or makes you take risky courses of action if it means saving one life.

Deciding I didn't even know how to soul-search, and any attempt to do so would be a waste of time, I filed the thought away and got back to writing. If I'd stored the thought in the filing cabinet in my room, it would be under the label 'Do not read until you're done with this business'.

The business of Zecoras death was unclean, unknown, saturated with the stench of something more, like I'd unearthed a tiny bone belonging to a larger fossil, the rest shrouded by rubble. To be unsure of myself would be a mortal mistake.

Unfortunately, I didn't know where to look for the next piece of fossil.

Shrike, in his final moments, had revealed only the existence of a mare from whom came his and his partner's orders, and in my blood-lust I lost the sense to ask him other important questions. I could do nothing with the information I had obtained except check out Shrike's history, which yielded no details I hadn't predicted. Money troubles, failing business, loans he couldn't ever hope to pay back, though it turns out he was lying about having a family. Just the kind of pony that would agree to take on a hit.

Right now, there was nothing I could do, except wait. Wait for something to happen. Maybe someone will come for Applebloom, or seek revenge for what happened in the crystal caverns. Only when the status quo changes will I be able to kick into gear. I had to discover the necessity behind her killing, if not for myself then for Zecora. I owed her that much, and even more.

I hadn't been back to Sweet Apple Acres since Zecora's death was publicised, though I understood that Applebloom took it hard. A therapist might have called it survivors guilt. I decided that I might serve as a reminder to Applebloom, an echo of what occurred that day, a figure that embodied her guilt. For these reasons, I made effort to stay clear of Applebloom, though I saw her sister often enough.

For better or worse, the time I spent on her farm altered my sleeping patterns so that Applejack and I rose and retired at the same time. I'd often pass her in the centre of town, early in the morning as dawn broke and the sunlight tinted her mane an even more brilliant shade of gold as she set up her market stall. As we talked, our breath would dance together in the cold air before dissipating in the wake of a light breeze.

She didn't much care to talk about my work, and when she did, it was only to suggest I leave it behind and move on to the police or any law enforcement body of my choosing. The idea had merit, I wouldn't make many enemies, but then I wouldn't make too many bits either. So most mornings, I'd stop by her stall, and we'd usually talk about the farm. It was the only thing we had in common, and it was likely to stay that way.

“Shell?” Spyglass called as he walked into the office.

“Good news please.” Shell said.

Crimes devoid of magic were an ECMB agent's worst nightmare. Solving one, though, almost guarantees a promotion. Despite the reward, every other agent in the organisation was happy to let Shell and Spyglass take the case. It was one that had agents from Canterlot to Seaddle scratching their heads and looking clueless.

“Vic's. We know who they are. Shrike and Bouros.” Spyglass said, waving a fat file around with his magic.

“And?” Shell asked.

“And-” Spyglass said. “-I'm pretty sure they didn't know each other until the day they died.”

“That's interesting, if nothing else.” Shell said.

“They didn't name beneficiaries, so everything they had got taken by the state. We got stacks of every letter they ever received, every bill they ever paid, even photo albums. The list goes on.”

Shell took the file and started leafing through. It must have been three inches thick, he thought.

“You read all this?” Shell asked. Spyglass nodded. “Damn. And you're sure?”

“Yeah.”

“What about the guys themselves. Connections to crime rings?”

“Not that I found. Take a look at this though.” Spyglass flicked through the file and pulled out a few sheets of paper. “They were being investigated by the National Monetary Bureau.”

“Unexplained purchases?” Shell asked.

“And then some. Shrike was on less than 10K a year and found the money to buy himself a restaurant.”

“What about Bouros?”

“He didn't even have a job, but somehow he could afford a week-long vacation to Canterlot. I tell ya, if he's clean, state benefits got way, way better.”

“So who's givin' 'em money if not crime rings?”

“I looked at their transaction histories. Some company called 'Das Kuicck' bailed 'em both outta the deep end.”

“Fuck.” Shell said after a brief period of silence. He slammed his hoof into his armrest. Great, he thought, now my arm hurts and the chair's busted.

“What?”

“It'll be a shell company. Someone knew we'd come poking around there.” Shell said, unaware of the irony.

“How'd you know?” Spyglass asked.

“'Das Kuicck'.” Shell laughed. “It's an anagram.”

“For what?”

“Suck a dick.” Shell said. “They're fucking laughing at us.”

The day after our close encounter, that is the one between Applejack and I (for there were many close encounters that day), I woke before her. I expected to wake in a compromising, or at least a suggestive position.

Surprising, then, that Applejack leaned against my left side, her arms crossed across her waist. Her chest was rising and falling in time with her quiet breaths. Before rising from the couch,dainty as I could manage (which would have made a bare-knuckle boxing match look like a damned pirouette), I noticed how pretty she was.

Even asleep, she maintained a perpetual state of beauty, as though the air safeguarded her appearance. Every lock of her mane fall in exactly the right way. Even her coat, though individual strands were disorganised, they matted over one another giving her a coat that stallions should fight over. Why they didn't is beyond me.

I heard noises from the kitchen, the unmistakable sound of someone doing something loud, trying to be quiet about it and making it even louder, like trying to quietly eat a bag of crisps. Clattering plates and cutlery, the opening and shutting of cupboards. I took another glance at Applejack, who was now lying on her side, occupying the part of the couch I had been sleeping on until recently.

A large, red stallion dominated the kitchen. So ridiculous was the size disparity that he looked like a normal sized pony fiddling with pretend pots and pans designed for foals to play with. From the door, I could smell apples, though the faint smell of pastry floated through the room alongside it.

“Apple pie, is it?” I asked.

Big Mac spared me a quick glance over his shoulder. He must have seen Applejack and I slumped on each other when he woke up this morning, so to appear as one being from a distance.

Gauging his reaction to me, he didn't look particularly bothered, or even surprised. Maybe he fooled me with his stoic nature, but I suspected that if there was a problem, I'd be face down in the dirt with a handful of his hoof marks on the back of my skull.

“Eeyup. Afternoon Anon.” he replied.

“Afternoon?” I asked, and Big Mac nodded. I then realised how many hours I'd been awake the day before, and decided it wasn't all that surprising.

“Eeyup. It was pretty funny, y'know. Big scary Anon, all curled up real sweet like on the couch.”

“Nothing happened last night, in case you were wondering.”. It was important I made that clear.

“I believe you.” he said while nodding, in a manner so matter-of-factually that I wasn't sure how to react. “I gotta ask though, are you, y'know, gay or somethin'?”

“What?”

“Y'know.” he said. He gave off no verbal or physical ticks that might reveal this as a roundabout way of confessing his own sexuality, or as a bad joke. “I heard there ain't exactly slim pickings for yer in terms a' mares, but y'all keep turnin' 'em down, n' then there's the ear stud. I figures there's gotta be a reason.”

“What, so, because I turn down a hoof-full of mares, I'm gay?” I asked. I could hardly believe I was hearing this from Big Mac. From someone like Rarity, I could understand, but him? “If this is some kind of joke then it just isn't funny.”

“Are ya though?”

I couldn't speak for a second or two. “No! And even if I was, what's it got to do with you?”

Big Mac sighed and fell into a nearby chair. It creaked under his immense weight.

“I'm sorry, Anon.” he said. His face slid into his hooves and he stared at the table for a few seconds. He appeared to have meant it. “Y'know why I had to ask though, right? Seemed like the only explanation.”

There were three chairs around the kitchen table, one occupied by Big Mac. I took the one opposite him. Sat like this, anyone that was opposite me could see the scarring on my chest. Three taught pale dots outlined in dark-red, no larger than a cufflink, arranged in a triangular pattern. I received those particular gifts from a soldering iron wielded by an angry stallion. Big Mac saw the white and red specks on my chest.

“You know how I got these?” I asked, gesturing at the three burn marks, but also to the handful of little nicks and bruises I've collected over the months.

“Do I wanna?” he asked.

“What I do...” I began, but I wasn't sure of how to continue. “With my life, I just can't. Do you know how easy it is to make enemies, doing what I do? Any mare in my life would always be in danger, and then my work takes me far away sometimes, we might hardly see each other.”

It was now my turn to sigh, and Big Mac was impossible to read, as par. What I told him was true, but it wasn't the whole truth.

In this world, a prerequisite for a functional, loving relationship is an attraction to these ponies that at least crosses the boundary from platonic love, for a brother perhaps, into the realm of sexual desire. Looking down at the imaginary line separating the two in my mind, I found myself stood in the former section. I guessed that made me somewhat of an asexual, if only to ponies.

“Well why'd you keep doin' it?” asked Big Mac. “Seems to me like yer work is keepin' y'all from bein' happy.”

“Who said I'm not happy?”

“Only a certain kinda folk can do what y'all do and be happy.” he replied. I moved my mouth, but no words formed. He got me there. “And, well, that just ain't you.”

Instead of replying, I let his observation hang in the air. It seemed the more I let it hang, the more astute it became. I drummed on the table with one hoof, though I was imagining doing it with my fingers. I thought that as long as I had to keep up my disguise, I'd never be contented. Perhaps giving up this life and settling down into comfortable blandness would be the first step.

But I couldn't do that. Not yet.

A small timer on the counter-top let out a shrill ding, and Big Mac rose to silence it. As he did so, the weighty atmosphere that had been permeating the room lifted. With the change in mood, I realised I had been tensing my shoulders.

“Apple pie is done, if you're wantin' some.” said Big Mac.

“No, thanks, I need to get going.” I said. I didn't need to get going. In fact, after yesterday, I thought I deserved at least one day off, but I thought it would be a good idea to leave before Applejack woke. “I'll take a piece for the road, though.”

“Anon.” said Big Mac. I was heading for the kitchen door to see if Applejack was still sleeping, which she was, and turned to face him. “Thank you. Fer getting' our sis' back to us. Ah know yer gonna say how ah shouldn't mention it or somethin', but you know ah gotta. Ah just wish I could do more than just give yer a slice a' damn pie fer yer troubles.”

“Yeah? I got a suggestion.” I said. “Come and save my dumb flank when I get in over my head.”

I thanked Big Mac for listening to my drivel, and then he extended me a permanent invitation to Sweet Apple Acres and said I could come by any time. As I trotted down the road, I knew I had no plans to. Applebloom, and the rest of the Apples, needed psychiatric therapy, not a nosey PI that drags up bad memories.

When I reached the end of the dirt path leading up to the farm, I turned back to look at it. I saw the farm, and beyond that lay the boundary of the Everfree forest. Even further still stood Zecora's hut. I thought about her, and about Twilight, and Rainbow Dash, and Applejack. Everyone involved in this unsavoury business crept into the front of my mind. I thought about the list that Shrike and his partner recovered. Finally, I wondered how deep was the water I'd just plunged head-first into.

I suspected I was in over my head already.

“Hey.” Spyglass said. “We got trace back from the eggheads.”

“About fucking time. Somethin' good I hope?” Shell said.

“Well, that's the thing. I dunno what to make of this.” Spyglass said, presenting the file to Shell. Inside were several images of the crime scene and of the crystals found buried in Shrike. Close-ups.

“Sweat. That's what they found? Sweat? Maybe they want to tell me they found fucking crystals in the crystal caverns. Of course there's sweat, they did have a fucking fight.”

“Nonono, overleaf there's an olfactory report. Smelt nothing like pony sweat. It's chemically closer to chimp sweat. It's also arranged on the crystal like a chimp's palm.”

Shell shook his head. “I don't know whether to laugh or have a stroke. Trace evidence says a monkey did this?”

Spyglass shrugged. “Evidence doesn't lie. Maybe it was just an animal attack after all.”

“No, nononono. Fuck that. Animals don't torture. They fight, sure, but they don't torture.” Shell said. “You said whatever touched the crystal had a palm. Could it've been a minotaur? Or even a dragon?”

“Dragons don't sweat.”

“Fuck you, I knew that.” Shell said. “Alright resident zoologist. Could it have been a minotaur then?”

“No, there were only pony hairs at the scene. Since the perps didn't have the sense to clean their sweat off anything, I doubt they would have swept up hairs.” Spyglass said. There was a brief period of silence. “Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains-”

“-is fucking insane. I'm pretty sure that's how the quote goes. Chimps don't wander into the crystal caverns. They don't even come this far north. There weren't even any chimp hairs at the scene.”

Spyglass shrugged. “Maybe it's something we haven't come across yet.”

“What, like, a new species? An intelligent, hairless chimp?” Shell asked. He could hardly believe the words were coming from his own mouth.

“Best guess we have so far.” Spyglass said. “The perp knew unicorns are dangerous, and was cautious enough to kill him first. Caution is a strong indicator of intelligence.”

“So not only do we have no idea what the MO is, we're not even sure of the perp's species?”

Spyglass shrugged. He was tired of always running into dead ends same as Shell, though Spyglass was less vocal about his displeasure.

“Should we look into the vic's financial history again?” Spyglass asked. Shell nodded. He felt defeated.

“I fucking hate this case already.”

I turned a page in the newspaper, and I felt a short surge of adrenaline and a bout of stomach butterflies. Shrike and his partner's body had been found.

I read each word of the column carefully, three times in all. An enterprising stallion had the idea of leading potholing expeditions through the crystal caverns, discovering the bodies as he mapped out a route on which he could take his clients.

When interviewed he said only that he “smelled them way before he saw them”, a statement that correlated with the coroner's opinion that the bodies had been there not much longer than two weeks but had started to decompose. An ECMB representative commented that it was likely an animal attack, but could not explain why they had been there in the first place.

I knew that law enforcement types often held back information to make the perpetrator think they were safe, but I knew there was no chance of them finding anything that would place me in the caverns. I could buy any number of alibi's from Mad Star, and then the Apples would stick their necks out for me, if my innocence was ever called to question.

What this also meant was that whoever hired Shrike, if they didn't already know of his departure from this world, now knew. They would also know it wasn't an animal attack, and that whoever killed them also saved Applebloom.

Shrike's head may have been filled with sawdust, but his employer's, known only as She, wasn't. She would know that the mystery filly came from the only town near Zecora's hut, and if She knew what Applebloom looked like, it wouldn't be difficult to find her in a town as small as Ponyville.

Though I knew that Applebloom would be of secondary concern to her. She's a filly, who was asleep for most of what happened that day, of no threat. No, She would be wondering who it was that killed her amateurs, and what they told them before they met their ends.

As it stands, there were earthworms that knew more about this than I did, but the important thing was that She didn't know that. In a way, She finds herself in much the same position as myself. Neither one of us knows the other's agenda or location. Hell, we don't even know each others names.

We were formless, nameless ghosts, staring each other down across a chessboard, and I had removed the first pawn.

Now, it was her turn. I predicted she would move against Applebloom and the rest of the Apples, as it was likely to be the only lead she had to me. Part of me wanted to just sit back in a recliner, cocktail in hand, and watch them come. It would lift the fog or war for a brief moment, allowing me a valuable peek at my enemies before they came for me.

Unfortunately, it was out of the question. I cared too much about the Apples, and damned if someone was going to hurt them to get to me. The next best thing was to convince them to leave town for a while, at least a week, until I could figure out who I was fighting, and bury them in an unmarked grave.

Next to Zecora's, perhaps.

I wore a watch. A thin, plastic, frail thing that I won from a stallion in a bar bet. It was the least valuable object in my possession; the kind of thing a builder would leave behind, but I didn't need to look at it to tell the time of day. I knew from the progress that Applejack had made setting up her stall for the day that it was around quarter past seven.

The day after I put to rest Big Mac's doubts about my sexuality, I forced the issue with Applejack. Even from a distance, and against the background of her orange coat, the reddening of her cheeks was such that it could have been mistaken for a bee sting. I told her that I meant what I said that night, every word of it. She had to know that I didn't reject her because I thought she was ugly, or to give me some weird form of moral high ground. She apologised for being forceful, and by the end of the conversation we were both laughing again. We'd laugh about it for the rest of our lives.

Since that day, there was an unspoken agreement that neither of us mention the time we almost had sex; and so when I strolled up to her stall, she expected me to make small talk, buy an apple or two, and be about my business.

“Could set mah watch by you ah reckon.” Applejack said, tapping her wrist to exaggerate the point as I came within talking distance.

“That right? I was thinking about the same.” I said. “How's life been treating you then?”

Applejack moved behind her half-assembled stall and rested an elbow on the wood, supporting her head with the hoof under her chin.

“Better, recently.” she said, as though she had just then recalled the recent days and been pleasantly surprised. “Applebloom's doin' good, in school that is. Doctors say she's respondin' well to treatment, but, y'know, it's hard to tell with these things right?”

“How about you? You doing okay?”

“Well, I'd be lyin' if I said I weren't a little spooked, but I figures that only means I'm still sane.”

We chuckled a little. Dammit, laughing now will only make what I have to say sound worse, I thought. Applejack heard me laugh, but something must have changed in my face as she looked at me. She knew something was wrong.

“Anon?” she asked. “What's that look fer?”

“What look?”

“That one.”

“I'm not making a look.”

“Yeah, you ain't now that ah brought it up.”

I rapped my hooves on her stall and looked at my watch. Though I searched for it, there wasn't a way to soften the blow with the news about this new development. I felt like a shit postman, the kind that only delivered bills and junk mail.

“I know you hate hearing about what I get up to AJ, but you have to listen this time.” I said, and awaited a slow nod of reluctant approval. “It's about Applebloom, and the rest of your family I suppose.”

“Just say it Anon.” she said. In a couple of seconds her eyes had turned from bright and attentive, to weary. She wasn't scared, or if she was, she hid it well. Mostly she sounded tired of life's unrelenting tragedy.

“Those ponies that took Applebloom.” I said, producing the newspaper from my coat pocket and handing it to Applejack. “Their bodies were found.”.

She took the paper and skimmed through it. There was an illustration of the crystal caverns above the column, with the headline 'Two found dead in crystal caverns' in bold type.

“Animal attack?” she asked, but I didn't comment. She handed the clipping back to me, shaking her head. “So, what does this mean? For us, ah mean.”

“Those ponies, they were hired by someone. Whoever hired them will be wondering who did it, and they'll track the only lead they have to find them.” I said. She seemed to understand what I was saying. “None of you are safe here. They know what Applebloom looks like, and that she's probably from Ponyville. That's enough for them to find where you live.”

I expected Applejack to sock me a fat one in the jaw or stomach perhaps. Instead, she was backing up to one of the supporting posts of the stall. She leaned against it, before sliding down its length to the ground. I sat near her, propped up against the other supporting post.

“How long do we have?” she said after a while.

“If they do come, a day, at most.” I replied. “You need to get out of town.”

Applejack turned to me and our eyes met. For the first time ever, I think, I saw true, quiet fury churning behind her iris'.

“And what? Spend the rest of our lives runnin'?” she asked. I felt her fire burn in my own body for a moment, white hot and volatile, subsiding only when she broke eye contact. “I can't do that ter Applebloom. Not ter mention that Granny Smith ain't exactly suited to runnin' around.”

“They don't want you, AJ, or your family. They want me, and they'll be willing to hurt you to find me.” I said. “There must be somewhere you can go?”

“I got relatives up in Appleloosa.' she said, after a moment of thought.

“You'd only need to stay there for a week, at most.”

“And what am ah meant to tell everyone? For once in your life Anon, can't yer just leave this to the police? We could get protection, professional help.”

I shook my head.

“I know these kind of ponies, and believe me, local police don't know how to deal with them.” I said, not to mention that it would also implicate me if the whole truth came out.

“And you do?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

She stared down at the path for a while, lost in thought. The town square had become busier, and I was nervous to finish the sensitive conversation.

The glaze upon her eyes lifted, like she'd been staring out of a train window before realising she'd missed her stop. Both of us rose to our hooves. The sun was now beginning its ascent in earnest.

“I guess ya got a plan then.” she said, as she began disassembling her stall. I let go an internal sigh of relief.

“Yeah.” I said. It was a somewhat reckless plan, but at the very least it would keep the Apples safe, whatever the outcome, so I was satisfied with it.

Shell laughed as he trotted into the office. He'd been awake for sixteen hours, but the cobwebs were obliterated under the swelling of his pride.

“What're you so happy about?” Spyglass asked. He was sitting as his desk, chewing a pen. So long had he been sitting, thinking and chewing that he'd bitten through the plastic, and ink was staining his chin.

“Guess what I dug up in the archives?”

Spyglass shrugged. “Newspaper clippings?”

“Nuh-uh. You better sit down 'cause I'm about to blow your mind.” Shell said.

“I am sitting.” Spyglass said. Shell took the seat at his desk. The armrest was still broken.

“It's an old-ass ECMB report, from the days when Ashen Smoke had just resigned.” Shell said.

Ashen Smoke, Spyglass recalled, headed the department for five years, until last summer when she resigned. Widely regarded as the greatest director the organisation ever had.

“That's not that long ago.” Spyglass said.

“Anyway, get this right? It's the report following the capture of Irfit Flame. Cop killer, remember? Roasted four of us before they got him. When he was in custody, he agreed to show the spell he used to kill four of our guys without so much as breaking a sweat.” Shell said, and grinned. “Guess the spell.”

Spyglass tapped the pen against the desk. Flecks of ink flew and spattered his coat, but he didn't notice.

“Hot stuff?” he finally asked. Shell nodded.

“They called it 'jetstream' in the report, but yeah, turns out its the same spell Bouros used in the caverns.” Shell said.

“Hot stuff is a better name than jetstream.” Spyglass said.

“That's just for starters though. You know who Irfit said taught him the spell?” Shell said.

“Of course not, you're the one who read the report.”

“Python.” Shell said.

“Python?”

“I hadn't heard of it either. Some elusive organisation, allegedly.” Shell said. “It's mentioned by name in Irfit's case file and a couple of other reports. According to Irfit, they're a real careful bunch. They never met in the same place twice, their contacts were always cloaked. There was even talk of memory wiping.”

“So Bouros was connected with Python?” Spyglass asked.

“Seems that way.”

“And Shrike?”

“Probably.”

Spyglass sighed. “Is it too much to ask for something concrete now and then? I'm sick of things 'seeming' one way or another.”

“You want concrete? Go to the industrial estate. We've gotta make do with what we got.” Shell said.

“Where else was Python mentioned?” Spyglass said. “You said there were other reports.”

“Yeah, two others, both equicide cases where the perp was caught. In both interviews with the killers, they said only that they worked for Python. Nothin' else.” Shell said.

“What about the vic's?”

“No patterns. Can't find any links between the vic's in any of the cases, besides the Irfit killings where the vic's were all cops. They seem to kill without regard for race or creed.”

“So we've got a grand total of four cases where Python is involved – that we know of. What's their agenda?” Spyglass said.

“Who knows.” Shell said, shrugging his shoulders. “I'm gonna pull financial records on the perps in each case, see if they got any payments from 'Suck a dick' enterprises. If they did, that's as concrete a link you're ever gonna get.”

It was around 6pm when the Apples boarded their train. I stood at the station barriers and saw them off until they disappeared from sight. An impromptu family holiday, not the most original excuse, but it served its purpose. I didn't know how much Applejack had told her family, but I imagined that she would at least let Big Mac know of the situation, even if only so she had company in her misery.

The familiar barking of Winona was absent as I walked past the Apple place. It was beginning to get dark, perhaps only an hour of daylight remained by the time I found a suitable vantage point that overlooked the house, orchard, and the dirt path leading up to the property.

I positioned myself beside a tree upon a rise. Covering myself with an old blanket painted with matte greens and browns, I lay in wait, binoculars in hoof, for the unknown.

I would have made for a pretty bad scout-sniper back on Earth. Before long, I was damp, cold, both my legs had gone to sleep, and I was hating every second of it. I imagined that scout-snipers could resist even the most maddening itch, so as not to be distracted at the most crucial moment, but I could hardly deal with a small tree root poking my thigh. Most of the time, however, I could keep both my eyes trained on the house.

It must have been an hour past sunset when the unknown arrived.

I saw two coming up the main path first. I had set oil lamps at regular intervals on the fence, casting yellow glows over the two earth ponies. Neither looked particularly intimidating, but neither did I recognise them.

I glanced around the other points of entry. From behind the house, emerging from the undergrowth, came one more pony, a unicorn this time. It seemed like their plan was to hit all sides of the house to cut off every possible escape route.

I heard the gentle shuffling of long grass not ten meters to my left, and I froze. I didn't even dare breathe. After a few seconds of terror, I saw two more ponies appear in my peripheral vision, a pegasus and another earth pony. I thought they must have come from behind me, and if not for my camouflage, they'd have spotted me.

After they were a comfortable distance from me, I resumed breathing. Three earth, one pegasus, one unicorn, five in all. I watched them convene at their appointed places around the house before they breached it. Only the pegasus remained outside, probably to watch for would-be runaways and ponies like me.

Hardly a minute later, all the ponies that had entered the house, left by the front door. They stood around talking for a moment, exchanging angry words if the shouting was anything to go by. I smirked.

Disappointed?

I got a small ego-boost from outsmarting my enemy and, better still, I knew that I was one step ahead. I was only one man, though. I would need to maintain this lead to stand any chance against whatever came next.

Deciding that they'd fucked up enough for one night, the five hurt ego's began to leave the farm. Several of my joints creaked and muscles pulled as they spluttered into life, having lain dormant for a few hours. I left my camouflage by the tree and began following, leaving about two minutes between them and myself.

I kept to the fields, walking roughly fifty meters parallel to them. The wind was fierce without the cover of the tree or blanket. Confident the wind would mask my sounds, I moved closer to the group, who were now approaching the edge of town.

No sooner did their hooves fall upon stone that they began moving in different directions. One headed towards the station, others disappearing into side-alleys. I had predicted they would leave the same way they arrived at the farm, in separate directions, and picked out the smallest of the earth ponies to follow should the group disperse.

I kept a time delay of one minute now that I was following a single pony rather than five. The one I was stalking had a grey coat and a brown mane, though from this distance I couldn't discern the cutie mark.

Before long, we had left the more touristy parts and were encroaching on the suburbs. We weren't too far from my flat now. I closed the time gap to thirty seconds, feeling more confident in familiar territory. Soon the time gap would be zero, but by the time my target realised he I was following him, it would be too late, and he'd wake up in a daze the next morning to find his limbs bound and mouth taped.

These were my final thoughts for the day, though I might have had time to mentally process the shards of glass littered around my hooves and the wet feeling on the back of my head before consciousness left me, and the voices visited me.

“Not a good start Anon, you had to stay one step ahead.”

“Your actions were foolish.”

“Yes, you were a fool. We concur.”

“What will happen now?”

“The Apple family is safe, you know this.”

“He doesn't care what happens to us.”

“His death is our death.”

“Yes.”

“Survive, Anon. Whatever it takes.”

“Avenge her.”

Gravel underfoot. It scraped at my hooves and back as I was dragged. There was no light, the air was stale and hot. The black bag threatened to suffocate me at any moment. My legs were bound together. What was yet to come, I imagined, would be worse.

I heard their indistinct voices, four or five of them. Probably the ones I was following. They seemed to be talking about me, but I couldn't be sure.

My eyes began adjusting to the darkness. The sack over my head was thin, allowing spots of daylight to permeate the threads. It was night, last I remembered. I wondered how long I'd been unconscious.

We stopped for a moment. The light had disappeared, and I thought we were in the shadow of a building. I heard the dull clanging of metal on metal, followed by more voices. Now some semblance of comprehension had returned to me, I could hear them.

“Who's the guest?” someone asked, their voice muffled.

“Some guy. He was following us last night, thought we should bring him in.” one said. His voice was soothing, like a smooth jazz DJ.

A door opened, a heavy door if the sound was anything to go by. I felt myself being dragged again, and the rough gravel gave way to smooth floorboards. The door shut behind us as we moved. We took several turns, but I was too disorientated to determine exactly how many or in which direction. Navigating a maze blindfolded.

I felt the metal edges of stairs on my back. I started counting them in my head.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, turn two corners, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, turn two corners again.

We ascended four flights of stairs, two floors. We walked a long corridor before entering a room on the left. Their hoofsteps echoed all around me, it must have been an empty room, I thought. I was hoisted up and dropped on a chair.

“Alright, take it off.” someone said.

I heard approaching hoofsteps before I became blinded. I tasted cool air, the sensation was like stepping out of a sauna. I took many deep breaths and waited for my sight to return.

When it did, the five stallions I saw last night were standing a few meters in front of me. I surveyed the room. It was bland. No windows, a few chairs stacked in the corner by the single door. A filing cabinet to my left, probably put there to give the room purpose.

“What were you doing stalking us last night.” the unicorn said. It was more of a demand than a question. His voice was elegant, refined. If Rarity had a brother, I wouldn't be surprised if this was him.

“Oh, last night. I was wondering how long I'd been asleep.” I said. “Hard to tell with a bag over your head.”

He walked to me, with deliberate steps. He brought his face right up against mine, so close I could feel him breathing. He recoiled one arm and punched me in the chest. It was so hard I thought I might cough up my lungs. I wondered if this is how Azure Bolt felt when I hit him with the wrench.

“I don't think you understand how much trouble you're in. We're all very tired, and I'd like to go home, so tell me:” he said. “Why were you following us?”

I took a few painful seconds to recover before speaking. “Can't a guy take a walk at night without getting jumped?”

He sighed and rubbed his face with his right hoof, the same one he punched me with. He did look tired, like everyone else in the room.

“You're not making this any easier for yourself.” he said, and he kicked me in the side. His horseshoe connected with one of my ribs. He must have felt the cracking of bone as I did, but I've had broken ribs before. He'd have to do a lot worse.

“Once more, lets get it right this time: why were you following us?”

I noticed his demanding tone had disappeared, the question inflection taking its place. The power had started to shift in my favour, but not by much. I flicked my head, gesturing for him to come closer. He knelt in front of me, like he was praying, and cocked his head to the side. I leaned in to his ear.

“Go fuck yourself.” I said.

“Wrong answer. Ferrite?” he motioned to the biggest stallion in the room, an earth pony.

Ferrite paced to me as the unicorn stepped back. He briefly regarding my dishevelled state. Brick red coat. Short, crew cut violet mane. I wondered if he was a relative of Maddie's.

Christ, Maddie, I could really use you right now.

He pushed me out of the chair, and without my hooves to control my fall, my head collided with the floor. He stood over me, the giant of a pony, and knelt into my stomach, pinning me down. The pain was so terrible that I thought he'd crush my pelvis.

Then, again and again, he sunk his hooves into my face. Good interrogators always leave beating the head until last, or their subject might pass out, or the concussions dull the pain. Either they were bad interrogators and lost their patience, or they were good interrogators and were delivering some final beatings before they left me for the day.

I wasn't thinking about any of this at the time. All that existed was the next heavy punch, and like counting sheep, I counted each one, praying that soon I'd be unconscious.

“That's enough.” a female voice called. I didn't turn to look at my saviour, I could just manage the strength to keep my eyes open. “Do you want to kill him? Learn some restraint Ferrite.”

The pressure on my stomach relented, and I could breathe easy again. “Apologies boss, it's just we'd been awake all night and, well, tempers were run-”

“-Yes, I know. You're meant to be professionals. I should cut you loose for this.”

I didn't know her voice, but I couldn't be sure I was perceiving anything correctly in my state. I tasted the blood and snot that was trickling from my nose, and I felt something hard in my mouth.

The mare sighed. “Alright, get out. All of you. Go home. I don't want to see you for the rest of the day. And Ferrite?”

“Yes boss?”

“Don't forget to clean all that blood off before you leave. You look like a fucking psychopath.”

Coarse laughter filled the room. “Didn't I tell you all to leave? Go on, fuck off.”

The laughing ceased immediately. After some awkward sounding shuffling, the door closed and I could hear several hoofsteps receding in the corridor.

“Sorry about Ferrite.” she said. “He's got a short fuse. Just gotta make sure he goes off in the right place.”

I tried to speak, but all I could do was cough. I lay on my side and spat. Among a mixture of blood and saliva was a tooth that bounced along the floor like a skimmed stone on a lake.

Motherfucker. I'll remember this Ferrite.

When I finished voiding the contents of my mouth, I slid, with great effort, up to the nearest wall and rested my back against it. There was a lot of blood on the floor, and probably on me if I bothered to look. Instead, my gaze wondered to the door, where the voice of reason stood.

She was slight, almost dainty, standing out against the plainly decorated room stained with body fluids and redolent with the stench of blood. A lone rose in a field of thistles. Her mane matched the colour of the liquid sanguine I had been clearing my mouth of. Her coat was a touch lighter than changeling grey, pristine in condition, semi-covered by a jet-black jacket. I almost felt embarrassed knowing that I'd spat in the presence of a mare of her calibre.

On her flank, the likeness of a set of weighing scales, like those held by Lady Justice upon the Old Bailey in London. A vengeful unicorn if I ever saw one.

“Why?” I said.

“What use is a dead pony, except to keep secrets.” she said. True, I thought. The fact that I was alive must mean they had a plan for me.

“I'm gonna take those restraints off now. You gonna play nice?” she asked.

“Why-” I coughed. “Why would you do a thing like that?”

“Clearly, you're not going anywhere.” she tapped her horn. “Unicorn, remember?”

A slight humming sound, and my restraints fell off. I rubbed my wrists. The tape had left an adhesive deposit that itched like a mosquito bite. Like gum in hair, it would take days to come out. I touched my face, very carefully. Areas around my left eye and cheeks had puffed up.

“My face hurts.” I said, through a swollen mouth. “Got painkillers?”

She gave a solitary laugh. “Doctors and their pills. What a joke.”

A maroon aura enveloped me, touching every part of me, even inside. I could feel the swelling reduce, the pain numbed. Incorporeal morphine. Even after the spell stopped, I could feel it warming me.

“I guess magic has its uses after all.”

“How you earth ponies survive without magic is a mystery.” she said. She walked to the stack of chairs in the corner and removed the topmost one, setting it down a few meters from the chair I had once occupied. She sat in it. “But then, you're not an earth pony, are you Anon? Can I call you Anon? Anonymous is kind of a mouthful.”

I felt like I was back in the Settle Inn with Applejack. The way my heart beat when she asked me who I really was. How my pupils shrank to pinpricks. How I felt smothered by her perceptiveness. The reaction was the exactly the same. For the first time, in a long time, I felt true, unadulterated fear.

I needed more time to compose myself, a distraction.

I righted myself on four legs and walked to the chair opposite hers. She watched me all the way, looking for the slightest tell. An unsteady hoof, a single twitch of the eye or ear. I gave away nothing, not to her.

“You sure seem to know a lot about me.” I said, taking a seat. I made sure to look her in the eyes. “How'd you know my name?”

She took something out of her jacket pocket. It was my wallet, containing various forms of identity. Library card, train card. Both with my real name on.

“They took it off you when they knocked you out. You can have it back.” she said, throwing it over to me. I caught it and put it back in my own jacket. “The ECMB badge is a nice touch. Bet that gets you out of all kinds of trouble, 'Special Agent Arch Sylis'.”

“Good pseudonym right?”

She chuckled. “Choosing an anagram of Chrysalis, the most infamous of changelings, to reflect your alternate identity. That's pretty funny.”

“Nobody ever picked up on that.” I said. “Made me a little sad.”

“You're wrong though.”

“About what.”

“That we know a lot about you. No. Quite the opposite.”

She got out of her seat and walked towards the filing cabinet. When she opened it, to my surprise, there were actually documents inside. She leafed through a handful before pulling out one of the jackets.

“Y'know what this is?” she asked, waving the jacket. “This is you, everything we know about you is contained in here, and a lot of it is conjecture. Notice how thin it is. Look, even the tag at the top, where the name usually goes, we had to write 'unsub 001' because we didn't even know your name. Your elusiveness is almost legendary here.”

Unsub is a police term meaning unknown subject. I figured I was the first.

“I'm flattered.” I said. I was.

She slotted the file back in the cabinet and closed it before returning to the chair.

“The weird thing is, you seemed to turn up everywhere, and yet, we knew nothing about you. Everywhere I looked, you were there, throwing a spanner in the works.” she said. “We'd been trying to find you for weeks. Getting nowhere, you hide your tracks pretty well. What luck that you came to us.”

“You were looking for me?”

“That's right. Ever since Reed's apartment. What was that, a month and a half ago? Something like that?”

“Reed.” I said. “That was your doing?” At least I had some closure for Lyra if I ever got out of here, I thought.

“Correct. We had someone track you from the apartment, but he lost you in the city. We thought we'd never find you again.” she said. “Let me tell you another story. Two ponies owed me favours, so I called them in to do a nice, simple job. I think you're familiar with them. Very familiar.”

“Shrike.” I said.

“-And Bouros.” she said. “Yes, I thought you might be. It was the simplest job in the world and they still managed to fuck it up. Amateurs, right?”

“They killed Zecora.” I said. I was already rising from my chair, my actions guided by rage rather than reason. “You! It was you! You killed her! You put them up to it!”

I lunged for her throat, and instantly she threw me to the floor. A dainty mare she wasn't, and she held me there, letting me stew in my anger beneath her maroon aura.

“No, I didn't.” she said. “I only told them to acquire something she had. When they killed her, they were acting of their own accord.”

“How do I know you're not lying?”

“If I wanted her dead, I would've sent professionals, not those two.”

Her logic permeated the membrane of wrath I had surrounded myself with. As I stopped struggling, she relented her restricting spell, and let me take my seat again before speaking.

“So, they procured what I wanted and came back here. See, I wasn't here at the time, Ferrite was running things in my stead. He said those two came back with a damned filly. They said she was at the hut when they came and didn't know what to do with her. Y'know what Ferrite told 'em?”

“Kill her.”

Ferrite, you fucking monster. I get my way with you the last thing you'll hear are your own screams.

“Precisely. Had I been calling the shots that night, I would've told 'em to take her back to wherever they found her.”

“You'd have let her go?” I laughed. “Good joke.”

“What possible danger could one lone filly pose to us? Ferrite made a bad call, pure and simple. I still haven't forgiven him.” she said, leaning back in her chair. “Enough about him though. Enter a mysterious stranger. Sometime after they left, this stranger killed Shrike and Bouros, quite slowly I might add. Didn't find out about it until the papers reported it. I noticed there wasn't a filly among the bodies.”

“Animal attack.” she laughed. “That's how it was reported. Do wild animals take lumps of crystal and stab them in eye sockets? I think not. No, this mysterious stranger saved that filly. Who would do such a thing?”

“Well, we knew she came from Ponyville, couldn't have come from anywhere else, and Ferrite knew what she looked like. Didn't take long to identify the family. We made plans to talk to them, find out who got her home. Imagine our surprise when we find they're not there!”

“And now we find you, following that crack team of morons. You should be ashamed they managed to catch you.” she said. “Let me extend my respect, however. Somehow you knew we'd come a-knockin', so you told them to leave town for a while. I dunno how you knew, but well done.”

“Why are you telling me all this? Eh? What's the great psychological theory, that I'll share a little pearl of wisdom with you if you do?” I asked.

She laughed that single, solitary laugh again.

“I'm not telling you anything you don't already know.” she said. She was right. “Now, you deflected my statement quite well, you didn't so much as twitch when I said it, but I didn't forget.”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“Sure you do.” she said. “What's your secondary form? I know you've got one. So, we can do this the easy way, where you do it voluntarily, or the hard way, where I pin you down and force it.”

“I think you've probably got the wrong pony.”

She gave an absent nod. “The hard way then.”

Such a delicate looking mare doesn't look like she could produce spells that could hogtie an elephant, but seeing – and feeling – is believing. I felt it surely as I felt Ferrite's hooves on my face. I was immobile, I thought the blood in my veins would cease to move as well. I struggled hard against my magical restraints. It felt like my bones would snap as I pressed against the aura, but she gave me no ground. I'd never felt so helpless in my life.

She stood over me for a while, silently observing, scanning every part of my body. Like a lab rat, I could do nothing to divert the gaze of the scientist.

“You know, you don't much strike me as a pony that would wear an ear stud.” she said. “Or do you swing that way?”

I wanted to snap that horn off and rebury it in her head, pointy end first, but she was powerful. This situation could only end one way – her way.

“You're angry, right? Don't be. Everything will be fine in a moment.” she said, reaching for the transformation relic. “Like most stubborn things, all it takes is a little twist to set them free.”

She grinned. I felt a second aura around my ear, tugging and pulling at the stud.

“This is no good.”

“No good at all.”

“You've been discovered.”

“What now?”

“You're at her mercy.”

“She knew. How?”

“How indeed.”

“Ask her.”

“Yes, you must know.”

“Ask her.”

“Shell!” Spyglass said, running into the office, carrying a small file. Shell was sat legs up on the desk when Spyglass walked in, eyeing spreadsheets but not reading them. His eyes glazed over the numbers as though they weren't there at all. A solitary cup of coffee stood on the desk. “There's been a development.”

“That's very nonspecific.” Shell said.

“It's a stroke of fucking luck is what it is. I was walking past the front desk. Wulf was readin' some kinda report while he scanned me in, so we were makin' small talk right?” Spyglass said.

“This had better be good Spyglass. I hear one more time how perfect Octavia's ass is, I'll put you in the ground.” Shell said, taking a sip of coffee.

“I asked him what he was readin', it was a police report from Ponyville.” Spyglass said. “So I asked him why he was readin' that trash. He said only because Princess fucking Twilight was first on scene.”

“Princesses know how to process a scene?” Shell asked. Powerful magicians, sure, he thought. Forensic scientists? Hahaha.

“Apparently.” Spyglass said. “What's great is the physical evidence.”

“How is this related to our case?” Shell asked.

“I'm getting there. They had magnified pictures of the hairs found at the scene and I thought, 'Y'know, they look awful familiar.'.”

“No fucking way.” Shell said.

“Yes way. Compared 'em with our hairs at the caverns. Guess what? They're the same. Even shed in the same 24 hour period.”

“So Shrike, Bouros and our two unsubs were at the Ponyville scene and the caverns?”

“Yep.” Spyglass said. “Except now it's one unsub, not two.”

“I don't follow.”

“Unsub 2, was that the one with yellow hairs? Her name's Applebloom, a filly, lives on a farm with her sister, granny and brother.”

“What's her story?”

“Lessee.” Spyglass said, going through the file. “Here we go. She went missing the night before, the sister filed a missing pony report with Ponyville PD. They called in extra policepower from the neighbouring towns and started a search. They never found anything, but Princess Twilight alerted them to a murder.”

“A murder?”

“Yeah, vic was Zecora, a zebra. Lived out in the Everfree in a hut. That's where the hairs were found. Forensic's opinion was that Applebloom got lost in the forest and stayed the night at the Zecora place. Then Shrike, Bouros and unsub 1 turned up there at some point.”

“And then our little quartet turn up in the caverns the next day.” Shell said. “This case makes even less sense now.”

Spyglass squinted at the file, as though it might crack under the pressure and reveal its secrets. Shell looked like he might have an aneurysm if so much as one more loose thread wound its way into the case. Both thought it was too early to be thinking hard.

“Wait a minute.” Spyglass said. “Opinion was that Applebloom got foalnapped since they couldn't find her body at the scene.”

“Foalnapped by unsub 1, Shrike and Bouros?” Shell asked.

“Just Shrike and Bouros apparently. Station commander at Ponyville said ponies matching their descriptions boarded a train to Canterlot.”

“Who asked the station commander?”

“Princess Twilight and-” Spyglass turned a page. “-an unknown ECMB special agent?”

“What? What were our department doin' there? They fuckin' clairvoyant?” Shell asked. “Nevermind, what happened afterwards?”

“Get ready, 'cause this is hilarious.” Spyglass said. “The filly turns up on the door to her home, the same night. Totally unharmed. No sign of the foalnappers.”

Shell bumped his head against the desk a few times before burying his face in his hooves.

“What the fuck is going on.” Shell said through his hooves.

“I think we should ask her.” Spyglass said. “She's the only living pony that we know had contact with unsub 1 and the perp. Could be we're missing something big.” Spyglass said.

“Didn't local police already ask how she got, y'know, un-foalnapped?” Shell asked.

“Yeah. Applebloom claimed not to remember anything. Sister didn't have a clue either, according to the report.” Spyglass said.

“That's fucking bullshit. They're hiding something, or someone.” Shell said.

“Unsub 1? Yeah, that was my first thought as well.”

“Hmm.” Shell said, rapping on the solitary armrest. “You think unsub 1 took the filly back?”

Spyglass nodded. “It's possible.”

“Right, enough of this fucking speculation. We need some answers.” Shell said, while standing up and throwing on a coat. “I think it's time we talked to that filly and her sister. You up for a field trip?”

“Anything to get out of this office.”

The room was spinning. Everything blended into a nauseating kaleidoscope of colour and sound. I flung my arms out, trying to anchor myself in a violent sea of disorientation. I felt my palms against the floorboards. Beads of sweat precipitated from every pore. Bile rose in my throat, but I kept it down.

“What in the...” she said. “And here I thought I'd seen everything.”

I kept still on my hands and knees, rigid and tense. I knew the gentlest of breezes could topple me in this state. I watched my hands, motionless on the floor, waiting until the double vision ceased.

As my sight returned to normal, I looked up. The mare was pacing back and forth, looking at me from every angle, just as Zecora had done all those months ago. Whenever I transformed, I was always fully clothed, the same ones I came to Equestria in; but as she examined me, I had never felt so naked.

She stopped pacing and gave me one more look from head to toe.

“What is this? What are you?” she said, as much to herself as to me.

“Meet Equestria's one and only human.” I said. There was little point in holding information back now. “Regret it yet?”

“Human?” she asked. “Explain what you are.”

I laughed. “What's to explain? Couldn't exactly go around looking like this, could I?”

She narrowed her eyes. For the first time since we met, she looked uncertain.

“Do you mean to say this is your primary form?” she asked.

“If you're asking whether I'm human or pony first, I'm human.”

“So you were using that trinket to blend into Equestrian society.”

“Pretty much.” I said. “How did you know? Nobody ever came close. Ever.”

She curved her mouth into an almost sadistic smile. Cold, calculating, manipulative. Everything about her screamed danger.

“I figure that Shrike was plenty talkative in the cavern?” she asked. I nodded. “So you know what we wanted from Zecora?”

“A list of names.” I said.

She took a small plastic wallet from out of her jacket. Inside was a piece of paper, an old one at that. She levitated it so I could read the writing. There were nine names.

“There's one thing that links these ponies Anon. Can you guess what it is?” she said. I shrugged. “I'll give you a hint. Your name is on it.”

I scrolled through the names. I didn't recognise any, but I noticed the ink at the top of the list was more washed out, more cracked, older than the ink at the bottom.

And there, second bottom of the list, was my name.

“Individuals like me.” I said, near whispered.

“That's right.” she said, placing the list back in her pocket. “When I learned your name, I swore I had read it somewhere else. I cross-referenced it with the list, and there you were. I knew before I even stepped in this room that you were a chameleon.”

“I didn't know there were others.” I said. “Chameleon. Is that what you call others like me?”

She nodded. Others like me, I thought. Did they really exist? I wondered why Zecora would keep such a list, knowing that in the wrong hands, it would ruin me, and everyone else on that list.

“Which leads us nicely to our purpose.”

“What purpose?”

“Hunting chameleons. Killing them. Reclaiming the relics.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Think about how much damage you could do if you wanted. Think of how many lives you could ruin with your power, how you could assume another identity should someone get too close to finding you and then just slip into the shadows.” she said. I considered for a moment the truth in her words. “Chameleons do all of these things. They're immoral. Insufferable. Intangible. They're motivated by the most selfish of goals. Worst of all, they're near impossible to find.”

“They don't sound too pleasant.”

“Remember Reed? He was a chameleon. Took us months to determine if he was. We have to be sure about these things. Can't go around killing innocent civvies, that wouldn't do.”

“Why am I still alive then?”

She laughed again. I wondered if it was what I said, or if I just looked funny to ponies.

“Normally, you wouldn't be, but this all harks back to why we were looking for you in the first place.” she said. “You're still an investigator right? We have a job for you.”

I didn't know where she was going with this, but I knew no good would come of it.

“Right.” I said.

“The job is tracking down chameleons.” she said. “We'll pay ten times your standard rates for every chameleon you get for us. If you accept, you'll be mailed the name of your target two mornings from now. Following completion of a job, we'll mail you another name, and so on and so forth. You don't have to fight them if you don't want to, just tell us where they are and we'll do the wetwork if need be. Take as much time as you like too, we're not in a hurry. If you need to speak to us, hang a dreamcatcher in your window. Other than that, you won't ever have to see me again if you like. It'll be like we never met.”

I was still on my hands and knees when I realised how stiff my joints were. I stood, the mare raising an eyebrow as my head touched the ceiling, and retook the comically small chair.

“And-” she continued. “-That's not even the best part. We'll even keep your, er, human, was it? We'll keep all that under wraps. That filly's family? Consider them untouchable too.”

“What if I refuse?”

“Well.” she said. “I can just take that relic off you and set you loose, see how far you get before being turned into a lab rat, or I could pay that family you love so much a violent visit, or I could just kill you and be done with it. I thought my offer was very reasonable, you'd be wise to take it.”

I sat and thought about her offer. Considering my position, it was indeed reasonable. I didn't need to strike back immediately; given time, I could find a way to beat her.

After all, revenge is a dish best served cold.

“What if I need resources. Would you provide them?” I said.

“Like I said, if you need to speak to us or ask for something, hang a dreamcatcher in your window. We'll make contact.” she said. “Any more questions?”

“I'll do it, but, one more question.” I said, she cocked her head. “What do I call you?”

She formed a wry smile. Her hoof came to her chin as her gaze meandered around the room.

“Call me the Grey Arbitress.”

Beep, beep, beep.

Motionless.

Beep, beep, beep.

I reached my right hoof out, flailing for the snooze button. An instinctive reaction. Normally I would get up, but my body decided I needed more sleep.

I sat bolt upright, my chest pounding, breaths short and shallow. To my left, my alarm clock was silent. 6am. Across the room, the sun teased daylight through the laddered blinds.

I fell back into the mattress. Despite having just woken, I was exhausted and sweating, trying to get my breathing back under control.

“Night night Anon. We'll be in touch.”

Her final words echoed in my head. I shivered, though my room was warm in the summer months. I trotted to the window and pulled back the blinds. Derpy was navigating the alleyway, making her morning rounds. She saw me stood at the window and waved. I waved back. It was as though nothing changed.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

I threw on my coat and descended the stairs to the street below. I walked for a while, in no particular direction or with any goal in mind. I passed through the main square. On a normal day, Applejack would be setting up her stall now, and I'd buy an apple or two. I came up to an empty playpark, with a bench where parents would sit while their foals ran around. I sat there, listening to the wind, the birds, the creaking of a rusty merry-go-round.

I forgot how long I was sitting for until I glanced at my watch. Seven exactly. If Applejack was around, I would have gone and talked to her. I would tell her everything would be fine, that I straightened everything out. She might not believe me, but I needed to say it, as much for her sake as for mine. I wanted to believe everything was fine. I wanted someone to talk to.

Twilight's castle loomed in the distance.

I strolled the path to the castle. The doors, from a distance, reminded me of those to the crystal caverns. The memory of what occurred in there had soured. I regretted ending their lives as quickly as I did. Some killers see the faces of their victims everywhere. In dreams, in other ponies, in clouds.

I didn't.

I rapped on the enormous doors, the noise echoing through the great hall beyond. After a time, the doors creaked open a fraction, and Spike appeared.

“Oh, er, Anon?” he said. “I guess you wanna speak to Twilight right?”

“If it's not too much trouble.” I said.

“Just hold on while I get her.” he said. The doors shut, and I heard his footsteps receding in the hall. Why did I want to talk to Twilight? I didn't know. Perhaps it was because I felt so alone since Applejack left.

The doors opened, wider this time, and Spike reappeared. “Twilight says come in.”

“Thanks Spike.” I said, entering the hall. He led the way up a series of steps and through superfluous looking rooms, my hoofsteps reverberating, filling the awkward silence along the way. I don't remember a time when our conversations had been longer than that. I wondered if we'd even spoken before then.

We came up on a decorated door. Each symbol of the elements of harmony depicted in a pentagon, with the element of magic in the centre. I could have used some of that power yesterday, I thought. Spike knocked, and Twilight invited us in.

She was sitting among stacks of books and documents reminiscent of the Tower of Pisa. The mass of paper warped the desk a little. It was a nightmarish sight to behold, but there she was, in the centre of the mess, looking content, until she saw me.

“Thanks Spike, you can go now.” she said.

“Don't you want some tea or something-”

“-no. Bye now.”

Spike looked to his feet and shuffled out the door. Poor kid, I thought. Bossy mentor and smitten with a mare he would probably never be with. Tough existence, even for a dragon.

“You've got some nerve.” she said, without looking up from the table. There was a single seat opposite hers, which I took. The stacks of documents threatened to bury me alive.

“You're annoyed with me, princess?” I said.

“An understatement if I ever heard one. Before you ask. No. I don't care that you impersonated an ECMB agent. Not much, anyway.” she stopped writing and looked up. “But telling AJ to skip town?”

“She told me she was on a family holiday.” I said. “Said she'd be back in a week or so.”

“Strange that she should tell you that, and not me, or anyone else for that matter.” Twilight said. She sighed and leaned back into her chair. “Whatever. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you had a good reason for telling her to leave. You know why I'm annoyed? Because you cut me out of the loop. Completely. I could have helped.”

“I was acting with Applebloom's best interests in mind.” I said. “I know you're annoyed I acted on my own, but I had to. Do you know how close Applebloom came to dying? Seconds, Princess. Seconds.”

“Is that the truth?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“And, er, what became of her foalnappers?”

“You want the truth again?”

She paused and twirled her quill. “Forget I asked. You're lucky everything turned out okay. Anything less and I would have let the police tear you to shreds.”

“They never took my statement in the end.” I said. “Your doing?”

“I told them you're more trouble than you're worth, convinced them to let it slide. Think of it as my way of thanking you.” she said. “Anyway, you didn't come here just so I could vent at you. Let's hear it then.”

I thought about telling her all that happened yesterday. The Grey Arbitress and her deal. What's with that name, I wondered.

“With AJ gone and Zecora dead, I realised I don't have anyone to talk to. You can shout at me if you like, I don't mind.”

For a moment, Twilight looked sympathetic. It disappeared quickly. “I'm a princess, not a shrink. Celestia knows you probably have the money to buy a lifetime consultation.”

“I hate shrinks.” I said. I hated the way the acted, like they were always treading on eggshells, afraid of contention. It made me feel inferior, almost infantile.

Twilight threw her quill at me. I was so surprised I almost fell out of the chair.

“Y'know, for the pony that tracked Applebloom and got her home in a single day, you really are fucking stupid sometimes. Look around you.” she said.

I surveyed the room. Aside from me, her, and the stacks of papers, there wasn't much to look at, unless you were an architect or a stonemason.

“What am I looking for?” I asked.

“Books, you idiot. Everywhere, even built into the walls. I don't buy for a second that you're lonely. Y'know what I think? I think that now AJ and Zecora aren't around to distract you, you've realised how horrible your own thoughts are, and you'll do anything, even talk to me, in order to get away from them. So, if you want some time away from your own thoughts: read. A fucking. Book.” she said, taking her quill and going back to her work.

Books, I thought. Not a bad suggestion. Some light fiction would take my mind off Ferrite and his boss. Hell, I'd even read a map or a restaurant menu if it meant I could escape this world for a little while.

Books, books. Hang on, books!

“Princess?” I asked. She sighed.

“What.” she said, continuing to write.

“Does 'Grey Arbitress' mean anything to you?”

She stopped writing for a few seconds. “What of it?”

I shifted in my seat. “Just curious.”

She chewed the feather end of her quill for a bit, gazing at nothing in particular.

“Can't say it does. Again, why-” she said, her mouth hung open for a moment before she shook her head and went back to writing. “-forget it.”

“One last thing, then I'll be out of your mane.” I said. “Will Spike help me find some documents?”

“As long as they're public ones.” she said. “Spike!”

A few moments later, the door opened and Spike came in, dragging a trolley of teacups and plates with him.

“Refreshments?” he asked.

“No thanks.” Twilight said. “Guide Anonymous around the library. Do what he tells you until he leaves.”

“Sure thing. Leave the trolley?” he said.

“Please.” she said.

Spike waved me over, inviting me to follow. He held the door open.

“Anonymous?” Twilight said. I turned to her. “Try to stay out of trouble.”

I nodded once, offering a slight smile before leaving Twilight to her government work. The door closed behind us. Too late princess, I thought.

“Grey Arbitress.” Twilight mused.

Spyglass and Shell shuffled back down the dirt path from Sweet Apple Acres. A long, boring train ride, with only a disappointing sandwich from the food trolley on board to break up the monotony. All to find that the family wasn't in. Shell, if his moaning was anything to go by, was ready to resign. Spyglass would have been fine if it weren't for Shell's unrelenting complaints.

Just shut up, shut up, shut up. If you don't shut up, it'll be your body the ME will be picking shards of crystal out of, he thought.

“So what now? We can't just sit around and wait for them to come back.” Shell said.

“While we're here, we should talk to the Princess. Ask her to look at the report. Maybe she can fill in those mountain-sized gaps in our knowledge.”

Shell rubbed his temples. He'd finally vented all his frustration. “Since we're here, might as well.”

They walked to the castle in no particular hurry. Spyglass wondered how weird it would be if the princess was absent as well, but kept that thought to himself. No need to aggravate Shell, especially since he was stuck with him until the case died or got solved. The way things were going, Spyglass suspected the former was more likely.

Shell rapped on the door. Big hooves to produce loud knocks.

“Is this how you request an audience with a princess?” Shell asked.

“How else?” Spyglass said.

“I thought there might be some kinda protocol.” Shell said. “Shit, what do we call her? Miss? Princess? Just Twilight Sparkle?”

“I think Princess is probably fine.” Spyglass said.

The door opened a smidge. Both agents were confused, as nobody appeared at head height, until a voice from below them spoke.

“Can I help you there?” it said.

Spyglass and Shell looked down.

“You aren't er-” Spyglass said. “-do you know the princess? Princess Twilight, that is.”

“I'm her assistant, are you wanting to speak with her?” it said.

“Uh.” Spyglass said. “Yeah. We're from the ECMB.” Shell and Spyglass flashed their badges. They both liked doing that, a little flick and a piece of metal that gave them permission to do almost whatever they liked.

“I'll tell her you're here. You can wait inside if you like.” it said.

“Please.” Spyglass said.

The dragon waddled up some stairs and out of sight. The agents watched him all the way, abstaining from conversation until it was out of earshot.

“This princess has a baby dragon as an assistant?”

“Celestia moves the fucking sun, and you're awestruck that a dragon answered the door?” Shell said. “Get your head on straight. We're meeting a princess.”

“Just saying its weird is all.”

The dragon came back down the stairs. Both agents thought the way he walked was a little funny.

“The princess will see you now. Follow me.”

The princess will see us now, Shell thought. Well thank you very fucking much.

They passed through various rooms with seemingly no purpose other than to contain a carpet and a stained glass window. They passed one room, and saw a grey earth pony sitting at a desk, lost in the words of the large number of books he was reading. A librarian? Spyglass wondered.

“You get many visitors here?” Spyglass asked, gesturing at the room they just passed.

“Not many. Just the elements, usually.” he said.

Oh yeah, -just- the elements of harmony, no big deal, Spyglass thought.

“Was that one of them?” Spyglass said.

The dragon laughed. “Oh, no, that's just Anon. No, he's not an element.”

Both agents let the statement pass without comment. Soon, they came up on a door given more decorative attention than the others in the castle.

“The princess is just through here.” he said.

“How should we address her?” Shell asked.

“Princess is fine.” he said.

“Told you.” Spyglass said.

The dragon knocked on the door. The princess invited them to enter. Inside was a room, lined with bookshelves. Near the centre, the princess sat between veritable behemoths of book piles, and a quill she manipulated with magic.

“Thank you Spike, you may leave us.” she said.

“Do you want some refreshments?” Spike asked.

“Agents?” she said.

“Water is fine.” Shell said.

“Water please.” Spyglass said. Neither enjoyed formal functions, and this was their way of letting others know.

The dragon nodded and left. Once the door had shut, the agents introduced themselves, offering a head bow.

“What can I do for you?” the princess asked. Shell looked at Spyglass.

“We're here in connection with multiple crimes.” Spyglass said. “The first is regarding a killing in the crystal caverns, in Canterlot. The second is regarding a foalnapping, in Ponyville. The third is about another killing, also in Ponyville.”

“Go on.” the princess said.

“We understand that the filly who was foalnapped, Applebloom, returned home safely, with seemingly no explanation. We came to Ponyville today hoping we could clarify some details, but it appears the family aren't home. We hoped you might answer some of our questions in the meantime, as you were, er, involved in the process, we understand.” Spyglass said.

“Ask away.” she said. “I will do my utmost to assist.”

Spyglass cleared his throat and produced a few files from his saddlebag. The dragon came through the door again, followed by a clattering trolley, upon which lay two glasses of water. He left the trolley and exited as quickly as he came.

“The information is contained in these files, but I'll give you the concise version.” he said, laying the file, very tenderly, on the groaning table. “We had four ponies at our crime scene in the crystal caverns. Shrike, Bouros, they're the victims, Applebloom, and one unsub, that's unknown subject. We also have reason to believe our unsub was at the crime scene of the killing and the foalnapping. We're trying to determine the identity of our unsub, we think he has information about Shrike's and Bouros's killer. Is there anything you might add to our report to complete the picture?”

The princess sat for a moment. Upright, not slouching. Purpose was the word that came to Shell's mind. She had purpose.

“Forgive me agents, it may take some time to read the entire report and identify gaps in your knowledge that I can fill.” she said. “Please come by tomorrow afternoon. I should have had time to read it by then.”

“Of course, princess.” Spyglass said. “Is there somewhere we can stay overnight?”

“This castle has plenty of rooms that never see use. I'll have Spike prepare some for you.”

“Spike?” Spyglass said.

“My assistant.” she said. “Did you have more questions?”

“Erm, yes, as it happens.” Spyglass said. “Would you happen to know when Applebloom's family are coming back?”

The princess shifted, for the first time since either agent had met her.

“A week or so. I can't be any more precise than that.” she said. “Was there anything else, agents?”

“Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow, princess.”

She nodded. “Then I bid you farewell. Please enjoy your stay.”

They left the room. Shell waited until the door had shut and Spike was out of earshot, when he released an enormous breath.

“She is fuckin' scary.” Shell said. “I felt like I couldn't breathe or I'd be breakin' royal protocol.”

“Christ, who are you...” I mused.

It took the greater part of an hour to search the library, even with Spike's help. Twice we circuited the endless pulp valley, taking note of the categories and titles of each document and book. It might have been a faster process had I known exactly what I was looking for, but the single sliver of information that I had been graced with was nearly useless.

Grey Arbitress. A name, or title, that could be a reference to anything, or nothing at all. Was grey a reference to the colour of her coat, or to the moral ambiguity of her work? What about arbitress? A female arbiter. One with ultimate authority. I didn't doubt for a moment that she had anything less than ultimate authority.

With these thoughts in mind, I perused the leviathan of a library. She seemed to know instantly that my ECMB badge was fake. I thought that perhaps she had a history in law enforcement, an expert in identity fraud. Maybe she was herself an ECMB agent, or an ex-agent.

I doubted she was a civilian. The way she spoke to her underlings reminded me of my brief stint in the Officer Training Corps. Her tone, her confidence, her word choice. It was like a Warrant Officer ordering around their new recruits. Something that she'd done hundreds, if not thousands of times.

Now, with the clarity of a night's rest and nobody beating my skull to a bloody mess, I realised that everything she said was a diversionary tactic. An advertisement to focus my attention on what she told me through words. The fact is, what is unsaid can be as revealing as what is. Not all communication is through words. Body language. Tone. Unanswered questions. One can sum all these to give 100% of what is conveyed in conversation. I had pieced together my first real pieces of information about her.

She was used to giving orders. She had an intelligence-based background, most likely in an investigative body, almost certainly governmental. High-ranked.

The clock was now ticking. I could feel it, counting down the seconds, the minutes, the hours. A finite quantity of time remained until the timer sounded the death knell for the Grey Arbitress.

Quietly I sat, and constructed her profile. My shell of being never betraying the hurricane inside my head.

Voices from the corridor shattered my brooding. I slammed on the table once. When the length of one's abstractions get so long, the smallest distraction can demolish the whole chain of reasoning you've worked so hard to construct. It was important that I followed every single one of my thoughts to their conclusions, as one single detail might shift the scales in my favour. It was, after all, single piece of duct tape that exposed the Watergate scandal.

Spike walked past the door, followed by two more ponies whom I didn't recognise. Their conversation wasn't loud, but the halls of Twilight's castle served to amplify any noise louder than a pin-drop. I waited until their echoing hoofsteps had receded until going back to my work.

Half and hour later, and having made no progress on determining my employer's identity, Twilight walked into the room. I was so absorbed in documentation and subscript that I didn't notice her until she came right up to the desk.

“Come with me.” she said. That's the kind of wording a disappointed or angry parent uses with their children, I thought.

I followed her back to the room in which we had been talking a few hours ago. She sat behind her heaving desk as I took the seat opposite.

“I promise I only took public documents, princess.” I said. “Spike can attest.”

She drummed on the table, and the pulpy columns shook like leaves in the wind. “I don't know what's possessing me to show you this. I could go to prison, y'know, for what I'm about to show you.”

“Well, not to question a princess's judgement, but why are you gonna show me then?” I asked.

“Because I want answers. No, more than that, I want the truth.” she said.

“Don't we all?” I said.

Twilight shook her head. “Living the lie is easier sometimes. I thought long and hard about whether or not to ask you about this.”

Twilight levitated the document on the desk, drawing my attention to it. I recognised the typeface on the front of the file; it was only used by government organisations.

“What is it?” I asked.

“It's an ECMB report. Did you see those two ponies earlier? They're ECMB. SAC Shell and SA Spyglass. They left this with me.” she said, waving the file. “They figured out that Zecora's death, Applebloom's foalnapping and whatever you did in the crystal caverns are linked.”

“That's surprising.” I said. “I thought it would take them at least two more weeks to make that connection.”

“That's not the disturbing part. I read about how Shrike and Bouros died. I wanted to vomit, but I willed myself to keep reading. They placed four ponies there that day. Applebloom, Shrike, Bouros, and unsub 1, a pony with grey coat hairs. I guess unsub 1 is you.”

“Probably.” I said. “Are you gonna turn me in?”

“No.” Twilight said, after a time. “On balance, I think it's beneficial to keep you around, but you're walking a fine line.”

“Then what's the problem?” I asked.

“There was something else in that cavern, wasn't there?” she said.

Not again, I thought. I wanted, more than anything else, a single day off. A life of bland mediocrity had never looked so appealing. I wouldn't have to deal with the stress, the pain, both physical and emotional. I wouldn't have to lie, too much, at least. I could talk to Applejack every day. I could absent-mindedly wander through life, never having to strain my brain in every spare moment. Such a peaceful existence.

Was I not deserving of it?

“What did you read, princess?” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “What's in that file?”

“There's an olfactory report inside.” she said. “They found something akin to chimp sweat all over the crystals they found in Shrike's body.”

You're so fucking stupid. Learnt your lesson, Anon? This is what happens when you lose control. You get sloppy. You get caught.

“I can't explain that one. Sorry, princess.” I said.

Twilight got up, slamming her hooves down on my end of the table. She leant in to me, as far as she could manage.

“Can't? Can't?! How about 'won't'?” she said. She took one heavy breath in through her nostrils before sitting down. “I'm tired, Anon. Tired of half-truths. Trying to place you anywhere, or link you to anything is like trying to pin down a ghost. It's maddening.”

“Ponies only know what you tell 'em, princess.” I said.

She exhaled. “The ECMB think their perpetrator is a hairless, intelligent chimp, believe it or not. They think you know something about it. I know you know something about it. I can understand that you won't reveal yourself as unsub 1 to the police, but why are you keeping secrets from me? What's the point?”

“I know what you do! Your heart's in the right place, but I know you've killed ponies! What could you possibly be hiding that's so bad that you can't tell me?” she said.

I could think of only one thing to say that might close the topic.

“If there's one thing I've learned in the last six months, princess, it's this:” I said. “Living the lie is easier. Not just sometimes. Always. I get tired too, princess. Tired of my life, tired of what I see every day, tired of dark thoughts ringing in my head. If I have to lie to myself and others in order to gain some respite, I'll do it in a heartbeat.”

“The only reason, the only reason you feel like that is because you try to do everything on your own.” she said. “The only way you'll gain lasting peace of mind is by letting someone past that carapace you've covered your soul in. That burden you're dragging around inside your head? It's too much for one pony to carry. You need help. You've always needed help, and lying to yourself is not helping.”

“How can I possibly share my troubles with anyone else? It's not fair for them to know what I know.” I said. “It has to be this way, princess. I'm sorry.”

Twilight relented. She scribbled absently in the top corner of a scrap piece of paper. Swirls and jagged lines.

“Clearly you've given this some consideration.” she said after a time. “Alright Anon, keep your damned secrets. Make no mistake, though. Those thoughts of yours? They'll eat at you. They'll rot your mind like a cancer, until there's nothing left. I hope you'll realise this before it's too late.”

“I-”

“-No. I don't wanna hear it.” she said, holding one hoof up. “I'll say this before I dismiss you: please, Anon. Please see things my way. I guess you don't much care for your own wellbeing, but others do. Think about the lives you'll ruin if you continue down this path.”

“It's a job, princess. I don't think about who my clients send me after. I just do what I'm told.”

She sighed. “It's not just your client's enemies that are victims of your work. That's as much as I'll say on the matter. You're dismissed.”

“But-”

“-Go, Anon. And take a long, hard look at your life, if you can bear the sight of it.”

I left Twilight to her work without another word. It had been a long time since I'd received a dose of truth of that magnitude. It was refreshing to know someone besides Applejack that takes zero shit from me, or anyone else, excluding Celestia and Luna I imagined.

I wandered through the halls, ignoring the décor, thinking about Twilight's last words. According to her, they were astute enough to warrant telling me to shut up while she spoke. Perhaps she was just sick of my voice.

On my left was a room. The same room that I was using as an extension of my mind before Twilight asked for me. The books and documents lay on the table, waiting for me to read them. It was an inviting sight, as though they encouraged me to read a little further, because what I was looking for may reside on the next page.

There was now the added concern that the ECMB were close to finding me. What were their names? Spyglass and Shell. They were an uncharacteristically smart pair if they'd got this far. If they could find me, they could probably find my Grey Arbitress if they tried. I thought that perhaps I could strike a deal with them: a confession, in return for their assistance in the hunt for my employer.

Their assistance.

Wait a minute. I don't need to make a deal with them. All I need to do is make them want the same thing I want, and they might find her for me. How would I do that?

The distinct sound of claws on marble echoed around me, and Spike came into view. He was carrying a bundle of bedsheets.

“Oh, hey Anon. Get anywhere with your research?” he asked.

“Sort of. I think I need some professional help with it though.” I said. “Mind leaving all the books I was reading where they are? I'll probably come back to them at some point.”

“Sure thing.” he said. “Oh, by the way, we have guests now, so keep the noise down past eleven in the evening.”

“Guests?” I said.

“Yeah, some ECMB hotshots. They're staying until tomorrow, I think.” he said, no longer facing me and now walking down the hall. “Bye!”

I went back to my thoughts.

Lessee, I want to find my employer. How can I make them want to do the same? What if I told them I'd give myself up if they found her? That's incentive enough, surely. But then they might not believe me, and they'd be right to.

If I can somehow make them want what I want, they would then seek to acquire it, if only because I want it. That's right, I need to show them. I need to show them beyond a shadow of a doubt that if the get the Grey Arbitress, they'll get me too, or at least make them think that.

I left the castle and took the next train to Canterlot. In the carriage, I imagined Spyglass and Shell engaged in some hilarious wild-goose chase over a hairless intelligent chimp, like Catch Me If You Can (without the ponies at least). The notion brought a smile to my face. I lay down, and let sleep come to me. I needed strength in the coming days.

It was time to scatter breadcrumbs.

Author's Note

I'm having a lot of fun writing Spyglass & Shell dialogue.

I'm also looking for a proof-reader. Until now I've been using hemingwayapp (which has been great but not as good as, y'know, an actual person). With a PR, I could publish chapters a little faster, and they'll be of higher quality (one would hope at least).

Mini-update since it doesn't warrant a blog post: I can get back to my normal writing habits this monday (i.e. tomorrow). Chapter three is coming along nicely.

Honor Among Sleuths

Chapter Three

Honor Among Sleuths

Open wounds. Viscous sanguine seeped through my black mane, a crimson stain like the mane of the Grey Arbitress. It congealed around my eye, clinging to my coat just as the smell of sweat and blood lingered around me. My vision darkened at the edges, threatening loss of consciousness before I completed the job, but the amount of adrenaline coursing through my veins kept me functioning. I knew his secondary form was a minotaur, but I'd still paid for it in blood.

I was in no state to continue fighting, but I was in better condition than Blackthorn, who had somehow retained the energy to speak between bloody coughs as he lay sprawled on the floor of his safehouse. Fortunate, because I still had questions, even if I did shoot before asking them.

“What're you waiting for, eh?” he said, spitting out a tooth. “Just finish it already.”

I found a roll of paper towels on the kitchen counter-top. I didn't bother ripping off a sheet, instead rubbing the whole roll around my eye. I dropped the knife.

“Tell me something first.” I said.

I think he tried to arch an eyebrow, but the pain was too great and winced instead. Oddly, he began laughing, a laugh interspersed with cries of pain.

“Why-” he said. “Why would I tell you anything?”

“Because if you want revenge, you'll help me.” I said. “You know why I came for you right?”

“'Cause of the transformation relic.” he said, spitting the sentence.

I nodded. “Let me tell you a story.”

I gave Blackthorn an account of my actions, how I followed and killed Shrike and Bouros, how I got captured, how I was forced into this work. I mentioned the Grey Arbitress and her deal, but left out the part about my own transformation relic. I expected him to die right in front of me at any moment, but he needed to understand. I needed him to believe me.

“We want the same thing, Blackthorn. We want all this to stop, we want that mare's head on a pike, we want to disappear into the shadows and live in peace.” I said. “If there's anything you know, beyond what I know, you have to tell me.”

When I finished my account, he was silent for a time, staring at the floor.

“That's-” he coughed. “You expect me to believe you? Fuck you. Besides, I won't care when I'm dead. If you're telling the truth, then you're on your own.”

I felt the stud in my ear. It burned. It wanted me to change. I would indulge it.

“What you're about to see, only two others have seen. One of them is dead.” I said.

I twisted the stud. I'd become more accustomed to the pain in the last week, but it still tore at me, like my soul was trying to escape this body, in search of another that might treat it with more care. The disorientation combined with the wounds I'd already sustained might've caused me to black out, but I kept it together, if only just.

Shell walked into the office first, making a beeline for his chair. Spyglass didn't think it was possible to sit down in an angry way, but Shell did it. The armrest was still broken.

Princess Twilight hadn't been able to add anything of consequence to the case file, and after a whole day of making exactly zero progress, Shell was at the end of his fuse. If it hadn't been for Spyglass placating him the whole way back, Shell might've been sectioned the moment he checked in at the front desk. On spyglass's desk was a letter.

Shell chewed on a pen, before flinging it across the room. “Fuck.” he said. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!”

“There'll be other opportunities to talk to the Apple family.” Spyglass said.

“I wanted to talk to 'em today!” Shell said. “Not at a later, as-yet-unspecified date.”

Spyglass took the letter and began opening it. “So what now?”

“I got the financial records on the 'hot stuff' casters. Turns out they all got payments from 'Das Kuicck'.” Shell said.

“So we're sure? 'Das Kuicck' is Python?” Spyglass said. “Useless information. That only confirms our suspic-”

Spyglass truncated his sentence when he read the contents of the letter. He narrowed his eyes at it.

“What?” Shell said.

“I have no idea.” Spyglass said after a time. He passed the letter to Shell, who began reading.

Agents,

I understand you're still looking for an individual connected with the killings in the crystal caverns i.e. me. Since you haven't found me yet, I'd guess you're running out of leads by now.

I intend to give you a chance to find me.

I am looking for someone, an individual I know as the Grey Arbitress. If I find her, I intend to kill her.

Now that you know this, your only chance at finding me is by getting to her first. Overleaf I have attached a description of the mare in question, all that I have learned of her.

Good luck, agents. I'll see you at the finish line.

unsub

Shell tossed the letter and envelope on his desk.

“You ever hear of anything like this happening before?” asked Shell.

“Never.”

“You're-”

“-one of you? Yeah.” I said, flexing my fingers. He didn't seem surprised at my human form. Perhaps he thought it inconsequential now the end of his life was within throwing distance.

“Why? You're hunting your own kind.” he said. “There's a special place in Tartarus for...things like you.”

“I don't have a choice.”

“There's always a choice.”

“Not for me.” I said. “But if you can tell me something, anything, that will change. I can beat them, but I need information.”

Blackthorn coughed up some more blood. Given that a lot of it was already painted around the safehouse, I didn't think he had much left to spare.

“Canterlot.” he said. “That's where they operate. There's a name too: Python. That's-” he spluttered. More blood and saliva. “-that's what they call themselves.”

Python, I thought, committing it to memory. I hadn't come across that name before, one that was worth running past my ECMB pursuers.

“How do you know all this?” I asked.

“They sent others.” he said. “They talked after I started cuttin' their eyelids off.”

“You'd have done the same to me?”

“Yeah.”

“Glad I came out on top.”

“I'm not.”

“At least we agree on that.”

“You'd better get somethin' done, though.”

“What if I don't?”

“Well.” he said, finding the strength to chuckle amidst his encroaching death. “See you on the other side.”

We shared a short silence, in which I had time to reflect on our situation. It could easily be me lying in a shallow pool of my own blood with Blackthorn towering over my broken body. Watching him now, he began to shiver. I could see his eyes becoming heavier – to shut them for longer than a moment would mean never opening them again. Even if I left now, he'd die. In the end, the peace, the cessation of pursuit and perpetual hiding, would come to him. The peace that comes to all things that wither and die. We are all guaranteed it. One might think it strange that all living beings should run from it.

“Did you know Zecora?” I asked.

“Everyone like us does.” he said. “She still kickin'?”

I shook my head. “I killed who did it though.”

“Really?”

“Made 'em suffer too.”

I suspected that Blackthorn tried to laugh, but instead he produced only shallow breaths.

“This road you're on-” he said. Every one of his words required herculean effort now. “Beings like you and me? We can't change-” he coughed. Precious energy wasted. “-our nature. Normal life,we don't know how to live it. Even if you win, you won't know what to do with what you've gained. I've lived it enough times to know.”

“I'll find a way.” I said. “I always do.”

Blackthorn's eyes were now closed. His chest no longer rising and falling. I thought him expired until he defied his death throes for a few more seconds.

“What's... your name?” he asked.

I couldn't hide my surprise, but he probably didn't notice. He put every last ounce of effort into his words.

“Anon.” I replied.

“Kill those fucks for me Anon... tell 'em I sent you.”

“As if I could refuse a dying wish.”

“Fuck-” he began, eventually completing his dying words. “-you.”

There was no death rattle, or sudden release of body fluids. It was like he just drifted off to sleep. I think that's the way I'd like to go, if I could choose. I imagined the truth was probably closer to that of Reed's death, but I quickly put the thought from my head. One death is enough for one day.

Following his passing, I took the liberty of using his bathroom, as he was no longer in need of it. I examined myself in the mirror, taking in the extent of the damage and trying to think of excuses to explain away the scars that would form.

With my face, mane and coat mostly clean, I set to work. Those agents needed to know their unsub was here.

I travelled back to Ponyville, planning my next move while I gazed out the window of the train. Summer descended upon Equestria a month and a half ago, meaning the solstice, or Summer Sun Festival, wasn't far off. My first summer since coming here. Before, I would have had a hard time believing so much change was possible in half a year.

Maddie was right – I do have a natural tendency to insert myself into dangerous situations. I thought about Blackthorn's final words. If there was any truth to them, I'd spend the rest of my life in danger, whatever form it took.

I hoped I'd made messages explicit enough for the agents to find. If not, another letter would be in order once I got back to my flat. Then there was the business of the Grey Arbitress. I'd need to hang out a dreamcatcher to deliver Blackthorn's transformation relic to her. I also owed the Apples a short visit, just to catch up and have an excuse to drink cider.

It had taken me an entire week to track down Blackthorn, the first of the names given to me. During that time, life in Ponyville had somehow returned to a steady state, as though someone was manipulating the status quo. Applebloom was now out of therapy, and doing fine. Applejack had forgiven me for sending them away, after convincing them everything was fine when exactly the opposite was true.

Big Mac had been less forgiving, saying I should have been the one to tell him rather than Applejack, and that anything involving his family also involved him. I ceded to his argument and apologised. I even went out of my way to lend a helping hoof at the farm, but he never quite forgave me. It was better that way, I imagined.

Twilight too had forgotten about my activities, or so it seemed. Either that, or she was very good at hiding her morbid fascination with my work. Spike, true to his word, had left untouched all the books and documents I deigned to remove from the library.

He could have put it all away weeks ago. Nothing contained in any book or public document made even the vaguest allusion to my mysterious mare, though it was worth trawling through them again in search of Python. I thought it strange that a single pegasus could tell me more in his final minutes than mountains of books could do in hours of reading.

Canterlot was my other useful piece of information. Blackthorn may have been lying to me, but he had little to gain by doing so, other than making my work harder. The notion may have been naïve, but I didn't peg him for a pony that would mislead me out of mere spite. He hadn't survived as long as he did by acting according to his emotions as and when they took him. He was a pragmatist, a survivor, and in the end, I don't think he hated me for killing him. Perhaps he wasn't too dissimilar from myself.

After all, they do say it takes one to know one. Perhaps that contributed to the Grey Arbitress's decision to make me work rather than kill me.

Rainbow Dash and I crossed paths outside the train station. She was wearing thigh-length black leggings, sweatbands and not much else, par for ponies. In my jacket, we must have looked like a strange pair to passers-by. I never did get out of the habit of wearing clothes.

It occurred to me that I never spoke to her following Zecora's death. Neither of us seemed too eager to talk about it, and since there was nothing else connecting us, it was natural we drifted apart. Fate decided we should talk more, so we agreed to catch up over lunch.

Most of the time, I only ate in two places: my flat, and the Settle Inn. Not because I loved my own cooking, or the slop Black Bean serves up, but because those were the places I spent most of my time. It's natural I would eat there.

My flat was not the ideal location for what I guessed was a lunch date, being that I made quite plain meals for myself. Rainbow Dash deserved a little better. The Settle Inn looks like the place where dignity goes to die, so that was also out of the question. My mind drew blanks after that, and I realised how little I knew of Ponyville. There was always Sugarcube Corner, but I didn't feel much like smiling, or seeing Pinkie Pie. She couldn't accept that I always look like I'm scowling. I blame the transformation relic for that particular facial expression.

Rainbow Dash, on the other hand, was eager to see her hyperactive friend. Not ever one to trample on other's feelings, I indulged her.

Pinkie Pie was as mad as I remembered. I wondered if she was born with her 'gift', or if she had to learn it. Exactly what that gift is, I couldn't place, but it annoyed me more than was reasonable. I wondered if anyone would tolerate her if she wasn't an element bearer.

“You don't have to think so hard about conversation.” Rainbow Dash said from across the table. I had my chin propped up on my hoof, staring at nothing in particular. My coffee was developing a frothy film having been untouched for a while. I was thinking hard, wondering if I should point out the elephant in the room. “Seriously, I'm nothing if not laid-back. I know you've got a reputation for always serious, all the time, but it doesn't bother me. Feel free to talk about your dark and mysterious past.”

I laughed. “No, actually, I think I need to be here right now. I need some time off. Get my head on straight. You know how it is.”

“Time off eh?” she said, munching on a muffin. “Well if you're in town for a while, you can come drinking with me and Soarin'.”

“An open invitation to get drunk with the coolest pegasus around?” I said, or mocked. “I'd be a fool not to.”

Rainbow Dash gave a wry smile. “Well, I'm taking a risk being seen with someone as deeply uncool as you. I've got a reputation to uphold.”

“So do I.”

“You have to work on that reputation? I thought it came naturally.”

“Hey I work damn hard.”

“And ponies still cross the street to avoid you. Must suck.”

“I wouldn't have it any other way.”

She took on a gruff voice. “'I'm Anon. You better not mess with me. Look at all my badass scars.'”

“Oh yeah?” I laughed. I put on a falsetto. “'I'm Rainbow Dyke. Say I'm awesome or I'll get mad.”

“Fuck you.”

“Likewise.”

We chuckled and shared the ensuing silence. I made a start on my drink. Say what you like about Pinkie Pie, she's a good cook, and makes a fine coffee. I should know; I'm fuelled by the stuff.

I didn't expect Rainbow Dash to be easy to talk to, only if you fed her ego a little. If I took her up on her offer, I might have another to call a friend by the end of the week. God knows I could use more of them right now. God and Twilight.

“There's also the Summer Sun festival coming up.” she said, through a mouthful of muffin. “There are worse ways to spend your time than celebrating the longest day.”

“I was thinking about that on the train.” I said. “It'll be my first since coming here.”

“You've been missing out.” she said. “You've even got someone to go with.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Word on the street is-” she gulped some coffee. “-you and AJ are pretty friendly.”

“We've always been friendly.”

“You know what I mean. She's literally the only pony you spend time with out of choice. Dunno what she sees in you.”

“Hang the fuck on, do you think we're seeing each other?”

“Aren't you?”

“No!”

“Why not?”

I made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a cough. “'Why not?'. 'Why not?'. I-” I said. There were a million things I wanted to say, and I tried to say them all at once. “-I don't even know what to say. You're worse than Applebloom.”

“So Applebloom sees it as well.” she said. “You could do worse.”

“Is this your way of saying you're in the running?” I said. Rainbow Dash is headstrong, loyal, and a good flier. She's also quick to redden in the face of embarrassment.

“What? No. No!” she said. Pink stands out quite well against blue. I cheered inside.

“Jealous you can't have a dashing stallion like me all to yourself?” I said, trying out my best knowing smile.

“That's not it! I could have anyone!”

“Except you don't.”

“How would you know?”

“I'm a private eye, Rainbow Dash. I know everything.”

“Oh yeah?” she said. “What's my favourite book?”

“Daring Do and the Ring of Destiny.”

The conversation lulled. The calm before the storm. Then we chortled until our sides hurt. Pinkie Pie, never one to miss out on the fun, joined us in laughing. Her obliviousness to what just happened made Rainbow Dash and I laugh even harder. I think we went on for a whole minute.

“Ooh, that was funny.” Rainbow Dash said. “Y'know, you're not half as bad as ponies say.”

“That's-”

“-yeah! Anon just pretends to be a big old meanie when inside he's as sweet and gentle and caring like Fluttershy! Well maybe not quite as sweet and gentle and caring as Fluttershy but he's getting there! He just needs to laugh more, so I, doctor Pie, prescribe daily visits to Sugarcube Corner to take lessons in fun with Pinkie Pie! And then after that-”

“Pinkie!” Rainbow Dash said. “We get it.”

“Okie-dokie-lokie!” Pinkie said, sensing the fun was at an end and leaving.

“This is precisely why I almost never come here.” I said, Pinkie Pie out of earshot.

Rainbow Dash laughed again. One more bout and my sides might split.

“I'm flattered you think I'm good enough for AJ, but our relationship is nothing like that.”

She shrugged. “Maybe it should be.”

I shook my head, more out of exasperation than disagreement. It seemed there was no winning this argument, so I let it go.

We finished our food over some small talk and went our separate ways. There seemed to be a growing interest among others with my love life, which was interesting, because it didn't exist. In a way, it was helpful to my reputation. Rumours about my shady work might be crushed under more lucrative rumours about my mysterious love interests.

Haha, jokes on you, Rarity. Your gossipy nature might actually be useful for once.

I didn't get up to much for the rest of the day. I didn't hang a dreamcatcher in my window after lunch either. I felt there was much to be done tomorrow. They'd always come at night, use a spell to make me unconscious, and take me to their base of operations. I'd wake up in the same room in which Ferrite beat me to a near bloody pulp. Following the conclusion of my business, they'd knock me out again, and I'd wake up in bed the next day, feeling a little woozy.

At least I knew which city they were taking me to now. It also explained why they needed a whole day to have a conversation that only lasts twenty minutes – they've got to transport my heavy, unconscious body to Canterlot and back.

How they managed that without being seen was a mystery.

I spent the rest of the afternoon working out my next move. The agents would find my next message soon, if they hadn't already. What I needed now was manpower. Allies. Ponies I could rely on.

Only two names came to mind – Maddie and Twilight. Neither were ideal. Maddie because his only allegiance is to the bit, and Twilight because she'd ask too many questions. That said, with the money I'm about to receive for bagging Blackthorn, I could buy limitless hours of help from Maddie.

Not to mention he wormed his way into the Canterlot archives.

That was my next move. Twilight was right – I needed help. I don't think she had Maddie in mind though.

Spyglass strutted into the office. Shell was going through some filing cabinets, engaged in the endless act of cross-referencing information. Their case had made little progress, and they had yet to act on their unsub's letter.

They did read its contents, however. Their unsub gave a concise version of his activities. A deadly mare, blackmailing him to work, to kill. According to him, his targets are connected, and he would inform them by leaving messages at the crime scenes. What the connection was, however, he didn't write.

Their eventual visit to Sweet Apple Acres bore no fruit. Despite Spyglass's and Shell's skill in witness intimidation, they got no information that wasn't already available to them.

The letter still lay on Shell's table, half opened. It taunted them every day. Soon, Shell thought, he'd have no choice but to act on it. Their leads were exhausting themselves at a worrying rate.

“Anaylsis is back on the letter.” Spyglass said.

“Let's hear it.”

“The ink, well, they can't trace it. It's sold everywhere. The paper and envelope is interesting though. It's quality stuff, the same they use for royal correspondence. It's only sold in Canterlot, and only then from a couple of places.”

“So our unsub lives in Canterlot, or at least goes there frequently.”

“Did we find out how he knew we were tryin' to find him?” Spyglass asked.

“No. There's more than a few crooked agents and cops around. He could have paid off any one of 'em.” Shell said.

A silence permeated the air. Neither pony dared speak their mind, for fear of the other chastising them. Eventually, Shell spoke first.

“Should we make a start on his letter? If it's genuine, he's totally right. We gotta find this Grey Arbitress character before he does.”

“Fucked if I'm gonna do his work for him. Don't you see? He's playing us.” Spyglass said.

“Then we'll play him! What else can we do?”

It was about midday the next day when I disembarked from the train. Canterlot was in the midst of preparation for the Summer Sun festival. Bunting. Barriers had been erected. More royal guards on duty. The anticipation was palpable. I ignored it for the most part and walked a convoluted route south to the Bull & China, to throw off any stalkers. It was important that the Grey Arbitress knew nothing of my relationship with Maddie.

In the distance, I heard fighting.

I cantered towards the Bull & China, no longer taking a complex route. Rounding the corner, I saw the devastation. The windows were blown out and half the furnishings lay destroyed in the alley. The distinctive sound of a unicorn fight echoed around me. I didn't understand. Nobody touched Maddie. Nobody was that stupid.

I pressed myself up against the wall, peering in through the broken window. Three unicorns crouched behind several upturned tables were shooting spells through the saloon-style doors to the kitchen. They were all injured. Around them lay the lifeless bodies of Maddie's crew.

I couldn't let Maddie die. I needed him.

All three unicorns had their backs turned to me. If I were a unicorn myself, this would be an easy fight. I cursed the relic for morphing me into an earth pony as opposed to a unicorn.

I picked up a shard of glass in my teeth and moved through the window, only moving when the sound of the spells covered the sound of my hooves. Five meters, three meters. They hadn't noticed me yet.

I stepped on broken glass about two meters from my targets. Two continued their barrage into the kitchen, but one turned around. He began charging a spell, but it was too late. I lunged with the glass, burying it deep in his neck, and pulled it out in two swift motions.

It's an astonishing sight to puncture the carotid artery. There's enough pressure that close to the heart to make the blood spurt out like a bloody fountain. It painted the ceiling, me, and the two other unicorns.

I swung my head around to the unicorn on my left, who had just noticed me. Like his now-dead brethren, he began charging a spell.

Spells. Powerful, but slow.

The glass made a long, deep cut across his throat. His hooves went to stem the deadly flow of blood from his neck. Maybe five seconds of life left in him.

I turned to the last unicorn just in time to receive his spell. It would have been beautiful if it wasn't so painful. A thin, orange beam tore through my front left leg, leaving a half-inch hole. I cried in pain, dropping the glass and stumbling backward. I fell on my side, cradling my injured leg.

“I won't miss this time.” my attacker said. His horn glowed again. I shut my eyes.

When I opened them again, he was still stood there. His horn no longer glowing. He was motionless for a time, just staring down at me. I didn't know what to do.

He slumped over, falling on his side. On the side of his head was a small, smoking hole.

“Wow.” I heard Maddie's voice. “That was a massacre.”

“Hey Maddie. A little help.” I said. I'd propped myself up against an upturned table.

“No fuckin' way.” he said. I heard his heavy hooffall come closer. He came around the side of the table and looked down at me. “Well if it ain't Anon. You sure came at a convenient time.”

“So did you.” I said.

“Ah, you can thank Stoke for that one. Gotta say, I think you'll look better without a hole in your head.”

“Well, I guess we're square then.”

“Guess we are.” he said. He shook his head and laughed. “Y'know, you are fucking insane for tryin' to take not one but three unicorns at once.”

“What can I say? I got a death wish.” I said. “I didn't do bad though. I stabbed two of 'em.”

“That you did.” he said. “Come on through to the kitchen, I'll get ya fixed up.”

Shell and Spyglass wouldn't be in Las Pegasus on a normal day. They already had a hard case on their hooves, no reason to take another.

Not unless they received a message.

The message came from local police. Shell and Spyglass received word from Las Pegasus PD that the crime was connected with them. The killer had written them a message. It was watermarked with the victim's blood.

The agents shuffled about the house in their hoof covers. On the floor of the kitchen lay their victim. A pegasus pony. In the bathroom there was a mirror. On the mirror, written in soap, lay the words 'Spyglass and Shell, P.T.O - unsub'. Next to the writing was a smiley face, drawn with the victims blood.

“This is a fuckin' weird week we're havin'.” Shell said. “What're we to think here? Our unsub came here, killed a pony, and left a message for us? Why didn't he send us a letter like before?”

“Maybe the victim is important.” Spyglass said.

“Who is he anyway?”

“His name is Blackthorn, according to his fliers license. We can check his background back at the office.” Spyglass said. He wanted to poke the body like a destructive foal with a stick.

“Did Seaddle PD find anything? Physical evidence?”

Spyglass shook his head.

“No. All they found were brush marks and bleach. Looks like our unsub was careful this time. No hoof marks, no hairs, no blood, no nothin'.”

“We're not findin' anything he didn't want us to find.” Shell said.

“Which would be?”

“I dunno.” Shell said. “I think we'll know when we've found it though.”

“The message on the mirror?” Spyglass said. “He wrote 'please turn over', like on a letter.”

“You can't turn a mirror like a piece of paper.” Shell said. “You'd have to, like, I dunno, take the mirror out of the wall and-”

Shell said nothing for a time. The cogs of his brain fell into place while Spyglass tried to get his attention.

“Hey, Shell, you there?”

“I fuckin' got it! We're some dumb fuckers, y'know?” Shell said, running to the bathroom.

“Speak for yourself.” Spyglass said, out of earshot.

When Spyglass caught up with Shell, he found him working away at the mirror in the bathroom. Running his hooves along the edges, almost caressing it. He told Spyglass to help him remove it.

With a lot of grunting and heaving, the mirror came free. They placed it on the floor and stood back. Attached to the back of the mirror was a note. Shell took it and started reading aloud.

Dear agents,

Congratulations on finding this note. I wondered if the message on the mirror was too cryptic.

I have more information for you:

The Grey Arbitress operates out of Canterlot. She heads an organisation known as 'Python', a name I'm sure you've already come across if you got anywhere with Shrike and Bouros. This is what Blackthorn told me. I am also in her employ, forcibly, not by choice. Blackthorn was the first the Grey Arbitress tasked me to find, there will be more.

Lots of love,

unsub

“Same paper and envelope.” Shell said. “I guess the original letter is genuine then.”

“I guess it is.”

“Interestin' that he says he works for Python.”

“I don't get it. If he works for Python, then why was he involved with the killing of Shrike and Bouros? Aren't they on the same side?”

“Maybe he wasn't even involved. Maybe he just walked in on their dead bodies.” Shell said. “Still doesn't explain how that filly got out alive.”

“It must've been the unsub. Who else?” Spyglass said. A deflated sigh escaped him. “Whatever. He's got what he wants now.”

“Which is?”

“Our interests. They align; that's what he wants.”

Shell sighed. “Let me get this clear in my head: Our unsub is looking for the Grey Arbitress. We're looking for him -and- the Grey Arbitress, because if we find her before he does, we have a good chance at catching him?”

“I think so.”

“So what do we do? Play his game?” Shell asked.

“I don't think we have a choice. We're out of leads.” Spyglass said.

Shell rubbed his face. “What does he even stand to gain from tellin' us this?”

“I don't know.” Spyglass shrugged. “Maybe he just hates this Grey Arbitress so much that he's willing to involve us in the hunt. The motive is there if what he wrote in the letter is true. What would you do if the only way out of your job was to kill your boss?”

Shell shrugged. “I don't got the guts.”

“Well.” Spyglass said. “He sure does.”

I couldn't help but wince as Maddie went through the medical motions. He's the antithesis of a doctor: poor bedside manner, and it doesn't take much to distract him. His first-aid skills were remarkable, however. I guessed he had a lot of practise sellotaping his grunts back together. Say what you like about Maddie, he's got it where it counts.

“So.” he said, still focusing on applying a dressing to my wound. “I doubt you heard the fightin' all the way over in Ponyville and sped on over to help, am I right? What're you doin' here?”

“I'm just a concerned citizen who heard the fracas and carried out my civic duty.” I said. “I'm not here. It's an illusion.”

“That so?” Maddie said. “Okay then, lemme ask you this. What're you not doing here?”

I smiled, though I might've grimaced due to pain. I wasn't sure.

“I need allies.” I said. “You sell those, right?”

Maddie finished covering my wound and searched the medical box. For bandages or a gauze, I hoped.

“That's a little, er, disconcerting, if I may say so.” he said.

“Why's that?”

He found a roll of gauze. I didn't know if they had a use-by date, but they looked past it. Maddie seemed to think so too. He found a nearby bottle of ethanol and began dousing it.

“Because.” he started. “ You always work alone. If you're asking for allies, of all ponies, then whatever your situation is, it's gotta be pretty bad.”

“One could say that.” I said. “You gonna help me then? You've helped me before, what's changed?”

“'Cause this time you ain't askin' for surveillance, or a patsy or whatever else.” he said. “I sell muscle, hired help, f'sure, but I don't sell allies. They're a whole 'nother kettle of fish. Dunno anywhere you can buy allies.”

I wanted to scowl, but this was just business for Maddie. His nature. To get angry would be like getting angry at trees for having roots.

“So you're saying you won't help.” I said.

He finished saturating the gauze and began wrapping the dressing. I shivered a little at the cold alcohol on my skin.

“Normally I'd send you packin'. Whatever you've got yourself mixed up in, I don't think I wanna be a part of it. Don't care how much you try to pay me.”

“But?”

“But-” he said. “-I do owe you a favour, since you helped us out back there.”

He finished his work and stuck a safety pin through the gauze. I flexed the leg a little, trying it out, before putting some weight on it. The hormones and endorphins had worn off, so it stung as I tried to walk on it. The important thing was that I was still mobile, but cantering was out of the question for a couple of months.

“Who were those ponies anyway?” I said, pacing up and down the kitchen like I was trying out new shoes. “Someone's gotta be crazy or stupid to come after you.”

Maddie shook his head. “They're from Foals of Intrigue. Remember them?”

Foals of Intrigue is another illicit intelligence service, similar to Maddie's business. He'd tussled with them before, about three months back over turf disagreements. It came to a peaceful conclusion, though only because of my interference.

It was the only time Maddie had ever come asking for my help. He wanted me to investigate the FoI boss, White Wisp, to find out everything and anything about him. How many hours he spent in his manor, how many guards he posted, the guard's shifts.

Maddie was intrigued when I found out he had a son in Whinnyapolis called Spirit Sight, a detail that I went to a lot of trouble to find. It took one letter from Maddie to White Wisp mentioning how proud he must be of his son, and that it would be an awful shame if he were found face-down in a ditch. After that, White Wisp backed off.

“I recall it only turned out like it did because of my efforts.” I said. “White Wisp didn't get the message then?”

“Oh no, he did. That pony was old though. Real old. He died a few weeks ago, so I hear.”

“So who's running things in his stead?”

“His son.” Maddie said. “I knew we should've just killed him. I just had to go and develop a conscience didn't I?”

“And so now his son wants what you have.” I said. “If he keeps pulling moves like this, you won't have to deal with him. Someone in FoI is gonna decide he's acting like a moron and kill him, and that'll be the end of your problems.”

Maddie shook his head. “Can't count on that. He'll see that things went bad for him today and he'll lay low for a while. Sooner or later though, he's gonna pop out again. Sure, maybe he'll get himself killed eventually, but that could be a while from now.”

I resisted the little worm Maddie was dangling in front of me. He'd have to ask for my help if he wanted it. I did my best to look uninterested.

“Damn it Anon, don't make me say it.” he said.

“Say what?”

“You fuckin' know what.”

I shrugged. “Not sure that I do.”

He exhaled and looked around the kitchen. Some interesting pots and pans caught his eye. He seemed adamant to look everywhere but at me.

“I need-” he said. “-your help.”

I laughed. He didn't.

He slammed his hoof on the metal worksurface. Rolls of gauze flew off the table along with the ethanol. His brow furrowed into that purse-looking arrangement, and I stopped laughing.

“Fuck you Anon.” he said, so quiet, as though he were in church. “The last pony to laugh at me wound up with a rebar through his head.”

I noticed the silence, not only between us, but also from the seating area outside the kitchen doors. Maddie's grunts were no longer moving, like they were playing a deadly game of musical statues, where Maddie drives a rebar through your head if you lose. I realised I too was playing right along with them.

“I'm sorry.” I said, frank as possible. “I'll help you, in return for two things.”

Maddie loosened up some, and his grunts went back to work, sensing the period of unrest was over. He nodded me to continue.

“One: I need info from the Canterlot Archives. That's what I ask in return for helping you today.” I said. “Two: I need to be able to count on you when the time comes.”

“By 'count on', you mean you want me as an ally?” he said. I nodded.

Maddie tapped his chin and looked down. I doubted he understood the gravity of my request. By his own admission, having me as an ally would put him in a dangerous position. I prayed he didn't remember saying so.

“Well, I can indulge your first request easy enough.” he said. “But about that second one. Whaddya expect out of me?”

“Help.” I said. “In any way you can. I don't know what I'm gonna need in the future, but I'm gonna need it, whatever it is.”

Maddie began pacing, feeling a little more comfortable now I'd shown my cards. Most of them, at least. He still didn't know why I wanted help, but I intended to give him a modified account of my agreement with the Grey Arbitress.

“You know what I'm gonna ask right?” he said. “Why? What's changed Anon? I need more than what you're givin' me.”

As planned, I filled him in on the details since the day I last saw him, leaving out everything alluding to my false identity as a pony. I told him what happened in the crystal caverns. I told him about the ponies I tried to follow. I told him about Ferrite, and the Grey Arbitress. I explained I was gathering allies, so when the final act began, I might have the scales tipped in my favour.

I told him that I'd made a deal with the devil, and she was a mare.

When I finished my tale, he began pacing again. I'd have paid anything to know what was going on inside his head.

After a few minutes of silence and consideration, he stopped and faced me, and leant against a stove.

“That's some pretty deep shit you're in.” he said following my speech. I didn't comment. “Why ain't I never heard of this 'Python' shit, or even the Grey Arbitress?”

I shrugged. “I hadn't either, until she told me.”

“The way you tell it, she's takin' a fuckin' big risk settin' you loose.” he said. “Even if she does think you're hot shit at your job.”

“Maybe she just expected me to roll over and take it lying down.” I said, shrugging again. “Stranger things have happened.”

“Nuh-uh. This Grey Arbitress character is smart, at least from your description.” he said. “There's a reason she's lettin' you charge around like this, and it ain't outta the kindness of her heart, lemme tell ya.”

“I couldn't do much investigating locked in a cell, or dead, or with one of her grunts following me.” I said. “She must know that.”

Maddie wrinkled his face, like he'd eaten something awful but was determined to keep it down. His concerns were valid. I felt a little ashamed, and kind of stupid for not considering it earlier. Why was she letting me run so far off my leash? My explanations for it weren't convincing in the slightest. The Grey Arbitress had more plans for me, and I didn't think I would like any of them.

I committed the thought to memory, extending the already large to-do list in my mind. Any more and I thought entries might start to get pushed off the bottom of the mental list like marbles in a tube.

“Lemme get this straight.” he said. “You want info on this Grey Arbitress mare and her organisation, and my help, when you need it, to take her down?”

“That's the long and short of it.” I said.

Maddie nodded. “In return:” he began. “Spirit Sight. I want him dead.”

“Why is that so hard for you to do?” I asked.

“Risk.” he said. “If the hit goes south, I can't have anythin' tyin' it to me. You get caught, you're on your own.”

“So, we have an accord?” I asked.

Maddie said, shaking his head and chuckling: “I get the feelin' I'm gonna regret this.”. He extended a hoof.

I watched his hoof hovering in the air for a moment. These are the kinds of moments that spawn parallel universes. I could shake his hoof, and events would turn out one way. If I didn't, they would turn out another. Perhaps I'd look back in a month's time and regret the decision I made, or maybe I'd look back, and see my first step to victory against the Grey Arbitress.

I was staring at the point of no return.

“Deal.” I said, as I extended my own hoof.

We let our hooves stay connected for a while, and watched each other. He was suppressing a bout of laughter, just as I was.

Here's to a long and productive alliance, hopefully.

We could contain our smirks no longer and started giggling like schoolchildren. I didn't even know why we were laughing. Perhaps it was because, in the face of adversity, we'd advanced our relationship a step.

“Holy shit Maddie.” I said. “Are we friends now?”

“Now don't you start that shit.” Maddie said. “You want friends? Go talk to the Princess of Friendship. She lives in your damn town for cryin' out loud.”

“I did. She doesn't like me.”

“That says a lot about you.”

“Do you like me?”

“Like you? I fuckin' hate you.”

“Good. Something's really wrong if you like me.”

We shared the silence for a moment. In the seating area, some of Maddie's crew worked to get the place back into a reasonable state of repair. Perhaps he'd get around to fixing those bulbs around the sign now.

I left Maddie to his business, but not before he pushed a grubby file into my hooves. It was everything he knew about Spirit Sight, which wasn't much if the thickness of the thing was a good indicator. I suspected he'd have more information for me in the coming days, if he wasn't bullshitting about Canterlot Archives.

I told him not to send me anything via post for fear of Python intercepting it, saying I'd come back in a few days to see what he'd unearthed. After that, I'd begin my own investigation into Spirit Sight.

I wasn't too pleased that Maddie reduced me to a hitpony. It wasn't my strong suit. I was good at following, investigating, sleuthing. When it came down to it, I could kill, but they were always messy kills. I almost walked out of the Bull & China still covered in the blood of three ponies, had Maddie not reminded me. That would have been a hard one to explain to the Royal Guard.

I spent the train ride back to Ponyville thinking about the best way to go about killing Spirit Sight. A close kill wasn't possible. The manor was too well guarded, with plenty of unicorns to boot. Pegasi circled the manor. White Wisp always kept a guard detail of five. Spirit Sight, if there was any of his father's sense in him, would be just as careful.

How do you kill someone without being in the same room? Or, even better, how do you kill someone without coming within a hundred meters of them?
Poison? Nope, his food must get checked. Spells? Nope, I'm not a unicorn, and there wasn't a unicorn worth hiring that would be stupid enough to try a hit on someone so well guarded. Besides, the ECMB would catch 'em easy, especially if Spyglass and Shell were on the case.

Explosives? Perhaps.

How about a machine? White Wisp had a weak heart, needed an artificial pacemaker. I thought I could embed an electromagnet in an article of his clothing when they went off for dry-cleaning. The magnetic field would be enough to turn the thing off completely. He'd die of cardiac arrest. No blood, no noise, no chance.

Could I do something similar with Spirit Sight?

When I got back to my flat, something strange greeted me. It was a letter, lying on the floor, waiting for me to read it. If the gaudiness of it was anything to go by, it was from Twilight. I thought it strange because I figured she wanted nothing more to do with me. Maybe that's what this letter was about to tell me. Perhaps she'd like to run me out of town with a pitchfork as well.

I picked it up and went to the kitchen area. I put the kettle to boil and opened it.

Anon,

I saw you bookmarked page 241 in your favourite book (also Rainbow Dash's favourite, you should talk to her more). I was about to tear it out and put it back in the library, but I thought you'd be annoyed. Come by and show me what books you're still using.

Princess Twilight Sparkle

I was a little confused. I shook the envelope, expecting something else to fall out, but there was nothing. A solitary letter of ambiguous context. The meaning wasn't clear. Following her heated words one week ago, I didn't think she had anything left to say to me.

Twilight wouldn't send me mail of such little consequence. Hell, I thought this was the only letter I'd ever received from her. There was hidden meaning.

Did I have a favourite book? I didn't think I did. Rainbow Dash did though. Daring Do and the Ring of Destiny I recalled. I had it on my bookshelf.

I skimmed through the various books. Mostly non-fiction, some of them to do with apple farming. I came upon the A.K Yearling book after some searching. I flicked through it. Page 237, 239, 241.

I read the words in my head. Daring Do came upon a pegasus knight, clad in smoke-coloured armour, guarding the doorway to an ancient tomb. She demanded he move aside.

When he would not, Daring Do cried: “ Who made you the great defender of the tomb? You're not even great, look at you! Your armour is all dirty, your spear is blunt. You're washed-up. A grey arbiter of a dusty tomb. It's sad, really.”

I downed my mug of tea and trotted as fast I could on my damaged leg to Twilight's castle.

It seemed she had some information for me.

The streets of Canterlot are winding. Ponies can live their entire lives in this city and still wouldn't know each dark crevice and narrow passage, the kinds of alleys the Royal Guard know better than to stick their noses into. A paradise for someone trying to disappear.

Shell and Spyglass navigated these places. Spyglass's history as a beat cop continued to serve him well as a field agent. The reputation of the law rested upon his shoulders. He let others know that the law was to be respected, even if it meant beating it into them. This is where Spyglass patrolled all those years ago. It was almost a second home to him.

The agents came up on another house. It was bland, devoid of distinguishing features if not for a hanging sign: '1408 Baker St. Master of Letters'. They went in.

No sound but their own hooves on floorboards. Rolls of paper were stored like carpets in pigeon holes mounted on the walls. Inks precariously balanced on shelves. Quills. It reminded Shell of paperwork. He hated paperwork, and by some strange extension, decided he hated this place too.

There was a single bell on the desk, which Spyglass rang. Hoofsteps came from a corridor beyond.

“Can I help you gentlecolts?” said a youthful pegasus as he appeared in the corridor. Turquoise coat, blue-grey mane. Shell, having envisaged a dry, old coffin-dodger, was rather surprised at the proprietor.

“If you could.” Spyglass said. “We're here in connection with a crime. We have reason to believe a pony of interest bought writing supplies from this store. We thought you might recall such a visitor.”

“May I see identification?” he asked. The agents obliged. The pony stared long and hard at the badges and pursed his lips. “What is this pony's description?”

“Grey coat, medium build, intelligent, young adult maybe.” Shell said. “Bought this kind of paper and envelope.”

Shell passed both of the unsub's letters to the turquoise pony, who rubbed his chin and narrowed his eyes and them. He lay them on the desk and reached for something to his right. It was another envelope, the same as the ones on the desk.

“I remember.” said the owner, running the envelope through his hooves. “A rather distinctive customer. Wore a jacket, couldn't see his cutie mark.”

“Do you recall the colour of his jacket?” Spyglass asked.

“I do not, but, his mane was brown as I recall.” he said. This detail pleased Shell. One more descriptive factor. “But he did leave me with a request. Paid rather a lot for it too. More than what he bought was worth. He asked me that, should I run into SAC Shell and SSA Spyglass, I was to give them this.”

He placed the envelope on the desk. The writing on the top read 'To my very special agents, love from unsub'.

Both Shell and Spyglass were almost picking their lower-jaw up from the floor. They blinked, a lot of times, as though they expected the letter to disappear if they blinked enough.

The pegasus said: “If it's any consolation, agents, I was confused as well.”

The agents looked at each other. “Fuckin' really?” Shell said.

“It's a message.” Spyglass said, hardly believing his eyes.

“Of course its a message you fuckin' dolt.” Shell said. “Lets read it.”

Dear agents,

Did you like my wild-goose chase? I wish I could be there to see the result. I might drop by and ask the nice pegasus how you reacted later on.

What percentage of mundane – as opposed to magic – crimes do you solve? I'm asking you to ask yourselves. Not many I would imagine, since I was able to lead you where I wanted with just some paper and an envelope. If I was really mean, I'd have gone to Saddle Arabia to buy the stationary, making you take a nice long train journey for absolutely nothing.

I digress. This is why I'm able to stay ahead of you, agents. You're good with your magic crime, I'll give you that, but conventional crime? Gryphonia doesn't have the problem of high conventional crime rate. It's a uniquely Equestrian problem. The reason? Magic has spoiled you, pure and simple. The Grey Arbitress knows this, and exploits it. I too am exploiting it.

I don't hate you, agents. I hope that you don't hate me. I recall a quote from my birthplace. 'In the moment when I truly understand my enemy, understand him well enough to defeat him, then in that very moment I also love him.'

Think about who your enemies are, agents.

unsub

“Asshole.” Shell whispered.

It was about eight in the evening when I got to Twilight's castle. My leg burned all the way, and I opened a couple of old wounds on my chest as I hobbled. The blood stained my coat hairs and jacket, gaining me some fearful glances from passers-by. Covered in bandages, out of breath, bloodied, torn clothes. I must have been quite the sight.

I hammered on the enormous doors. I didn't know why I was in such a hurry, but I wasn't about to stop and wonder why. My mind was dealing with a million fleeting thoughts at once, and Twilight occupied each one of them. I was careless. I gave her a name to work with. I gave her a brief glimpse into my world, a world in which ponies like her didn't belong. I couldn't let her become a part of it, but I wanted to know what she found out.

The door opened. Spike appeared.

“Twilight's expecting you.” he said, looking my body up and down.

“Yeah, I know what I look like.”

Spike shrugged and let me in. I figured that Twilight told him to ignore whatever I did, to suppress his curiosity. Good advice, I thought.

He led me through the corridors like before, the sound of uneven hoof clops ringing in the halls. We passed the study that I was using a couple of weeks ago. My books were still there, gathering dust as I gathered information. The smell is what I remembered best. The smell of parchment, of ink, of mahogany. There was something satisfying about it.

We came up on the door to the grand study. Spike knocked, and she invited us in.

“Anon's here.” Spike said.

Twilight was sitting at her desk, as usual. The giant stacks of government work had disappeared, replaced by what looked like books from her library. Some were open, some were closed. The closed ones had multicoloured tags in them. Bookmarks.

I'd grown used to a certain facial expression from Twilight. Something like a pitiful scowl, like she was talking with a bright student who was squandering their talents. As I saw her, she looked pained, even scared.

“You came.” she said, sitting up. “I was wondering if you would.”

I said nothing, and took the other seat, waiting for her to dismiss Spike. She did so with a wave of her hoof.

She looked at me like Spike did when we stood at the door. Unlike the average Joe, Twilight would ask questions, to which I had answers if she wanted to hear them. I wondered if she'd finally decided to take more than a passing interest in what I did. If my being here was a good indicator, she'd done just that.

“You're a mess.” Twilight said. I was a mess, in all senses of the word. “More than usual, at least.”

I shrugged. “Sorry, princess. I didn't have time to brush my mane before I came. I hope you don't mind.”

She waved her hoof again, like she was waving away a fly.

“Dispense with the pleasantries.” she said. “You're the only pony I know that can say 'princess' and make it sound like a racial slur.”

I rolled up a sleeve and rubbed an arm on my chest, trying to get rid of the blood. It just transferred from my chest to my arm, so I gave up. At least Maddie's gauze was holding up.

“If you like.” I said, shifting in my seat a little.

Twilight looked around the room while twirling a quill, in the way that smokers or people with high-stress jobs twirl pens. I was pretty good at that.

“You got my letter then?” she said after a time, tapping her quill on the desk.

I said: “I did. Though my favourite book is not Daring Do and the Ring of Destiny. I had a look at the page number. There was a particular paragraph that caught my eye.”

Twilight didn't speak for a while. She doodled on a piece of scrap paper. Little squiggly lines and circles. When the quill ran dry, she rested it on the desk and leant over, chest supported by her arms.

“Whatever you're doing, Anon...” she said. “...it's dangerous. You're running a real risk of death.”

“All the more reason for you to stay out of it.” I said. “Ponies die around me, Twilight. Very frequently. I'm not involving anyone I don't need to. That means you.”

“Don't try to tell me what I can and can't do.” she said. She didn't shout, despite my rudeness. She did give me permission to speak freely, however. “I decide my level of involvement in your life. Not you.”

“Do you understand what I'm fighting here? I guarantee that if you did, you wouldn't be so adamant about becoming a part of it.”

Twilight sighed and pulled a single document out of a desk drawer. It was another government file, stamped with princess Twilight's personal logo. I'd give an arm to read it.

“A name can tell you a lot these days. Especially if it's a name specific as 'Grey Arbitress', and if you have access to the kinds of documents I have access to.”

“All names are specific.” I said. Pony naming conventions had always confused me.

She ignored me. “After you left last time we met, I fought hard. I fought the urge to delve into your business, but I couldn't help myself. After a week of internal conflict, I gave up. I looked into the name you gave me.”

“My private library holds hundreds of duplicate documents. And that name? It came up once.”, she waved the document on her desk. “This is where I found it.”

“And you're gonna tell me what's in it?” I asked.

“No.”

I was puzzled. “No?”

“No.” she restated.

“Why not?”

She put the file back in her desk and leaned on it.

“I don't like you very much, Anon. I tolerate you like I tolerate Discord. Occasionally you do good things, and when you do, you remind me you're a good pony at heart. Most of the time, though, you're a pain in the ass. You know why I let Discord hang around? It's because he's got a special place in Fluttershy's heart, and to pluck him out of her life would be unfair to her.”

“How is this relevant?” I asked.

Twilight sighed. “The long and short of it is: I can't let you die. So, even though I'd rather not, I have to involve myself with you and your business. I'll only share with you what I know if you'll cooperate with me.”

I thought long, and hard. Harder and longer than I'd thought in a while. It would be a calculated risk to involve Twilight, and while my odds at success would skyrocket with her help, she'd also be in harm's way. I'd rather not have the death of the Princess of Friendship on my head.

“It's a rough world out there, Twilight.” I said. “I've seen and done things that would turn your mane white. You have to be ruthless. You can't hesitate. You have to do things that defy every moral fibre in your body. Can you really do that?”

She didn't say anything for a time. I wanted a drink, something alcoholic. My lips tasted dry and salty.

“Yes.” she said, giving a single nod. Her eyes were hard as she stared me in the face, determined to keep up a steely expression.

I tapped on the armrests. She had conviction, that much was sure, but you needed more to get by in the circles I tread. Something that only comes with time, experience, and not dying. That last part is important.

“Okay Twilight.” I said. “Then welcome to my world. Don't bother wiping your hooves at the door, the place is a mess anyway.”

“So, talk to me.” she said. She played with her mane a little and shifted in her seat, no doubt trying to get comfortable for what would be a long story. “Actually, we'll talk in the lounge, it's got a spirit cabinet. I get the feeling I'll need a stiff drink while I listen.”

I was a little surprised, but perhaps I shouldn't have been. How does a princess wind down for the day? Drinking is as good an answer as any.

“No complaints here.” I said.

It wasn't what I expected in a lounge. Someone says 'lounge', I think of my lounge back in my Earth flat. Mismatched furniture. A pile of DVD's in the corner. A rug to cover a stain that wouldn't come out, no matter how much carpet cleaner you used. Her lounge was none of that. It was tasteful. A lot of silk, but not too much. Enough gemstones to tell me that Rarity had a hoof in furnishing the place, but not too much of that either. The lighting was perfect, a bit like the Settle Inn.

In the corner was a small in-wall cupboard. Twilight walked to it while I took a seat on one of the two sofas. Opening it, she asked me if bourbon was okay. I said it was. She glugged a measure over some ice and brought two glasses over. I took one while she sat on the opposite sofa.

“Bourbon.” I said. “Not very marelike.”

She took a defiant sip. “You don't care.”

“No.”

“Then why bring it up?”

It was my turn to drink. I drank a little and perched it on the table. I didn't know the brand, but it didn't matter. It was good.

“Saying things out loud helps me think.”

“Well.” she said, drink in hoof. All she needed were thigh-length leggings, a seductive smile and a cigarette hanging out her mouth. After that, I wouldn't recognise her as prudent, studious Twilight Sparkle. She'd be like the mares I sometimes have the misfortune to meet, the kind that twist stallions into whatever they want. Mares like the Grey Arbitress. “Say some more things out loud.”

I picked up my drink and stared at it for a while, before putting it back down. Twilight slumped across the opposite sofa. She looked inattentive, but Twilight never was. Never an arbitrary thought in her head.

I said: “I've never seen this side of you. That said, I don't see much of you in the first place. I guess that's gonna change very soon.”

“Princesses need to unwind as well.” she said. “Celestia has her cake. Luna has her cups of tea. And I-” she swirled her drink. “-well, you know that part.”

“What does Cadence do to relax?” I asked.

“My brother.” she said. “Quite literally.”

I did my best to purge that image from my mind. If Twilight's furrowed brow was anything to go by, I guessed she did the same.

“Right, I've sated your curiosity.” she said. “Now it's time for you to return the favour.”

Another point of no return, I thought. I seemed to be running into a lot of those today. She twisted on the sofa, lying with her back against the armrest. She levitated her drink to her and sipped some. She was drinking faster than I was. It made me a little uncomfortable.

I leant back into the couch.

“It started with Applebloom.” I said.

What followed was a half-hour explanation of how I came to be in such trouble, Twilight only interrupting to clarify details. It wasn't dissimilar to what I told Maddie, but I was more forthcoming with details with Twilight. I told her about the newspaper article covering the killing of Shrike and Bouros. I admitted I told Applejack to leave town for a while. I told her I got caught by the ponies who came to her farm that night, and that I was being blackmailed into working for their boss. I told her I about the names they mailed me. I didn't tell her about Maddie, or what connected the ponies I was sent after. I left out anything to do with my humanity.

When I finshed talking, Twilight had already visited the spirit cabinet twice more. She was now coming back to the sofa with a fourth drink. As long as she was happy to keep serving, I was happy to keep drinking.

She flopped on the couch and set her drink on the coffee table. She stared at me for quite a long time before speaking.

“That's quite a predicament.” she said, now eyeing her bourbon. “I guess you're not planning on staying in her employ. What're you doing about it?”

“Gathering allies.” I said. “You were right, Twilight. This isn't something I can do on my own.”

“I said that a week ago, when I wasn't aware of your situation. Clearly, you missed the point when I told you to let someone share your troubles.”

“And now I am.”

“Your psychological troubles. Not these comparatively ephemeral ones. Even if by some miracle everything turns out okay, you'll still be broken inside.”

“I told you I don't like shrinks.”

“You don't like me anyway.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“Oh Celestia, nevermind. We're losing the subject.” she said. “I promised you information, and I'll give it to you. Like I said earlier, I found nothing except one line on one scrap of paper. You should be thankful I decided to look into it, because now I know who you're fighting, and believe me, you don't stand a chance without me.”

“What did you find?” I asked, raising my glass to my lips. The ice cubs clacked a little.

“A newspaper article. Canterlot Herald, last year. Page three. It reported the then-director of the ECMB was resigning. In an interview, princess Celestia herself called her 'the grey arbitress of justice'.”

“Ashen Smoke?” I said, putting my glass down again.

Twilight nodded. Ashen Smoke, the ex-director of the ECMB. The only pony I've ever called a legend. If I ever had to choose a figure to look up to, it would be her. Now, she was my boss, and my greatest enemy.

“She disappeared soon after she resigned. Missing, presumed dead. It was a total mystery, until now, that is.” she said.

“Why would she disappear, and then turn up running an organisation like Python under the pseudonym 'Grey Arbitress'?”

Twilight shrugged. “Maybe she regretted resigning and wanted some way back into her old life.” she said. “Whatever. Let me focus on the past, the research, the story behind it all.”

“You already decided your role?”

“Yeah. I'm the intelligence officer and the analyst in this. I'll do what I can, when I can, to provide you with information. I can't be seen out in the field, it would raise too many questions.” she said. “Any objections, my little field agent?”

Spoken like a true leader, I thought. With a lot of luck, and some hard work, this might just work. With Twilight feeding me intel, and Maddie providing the muscle, I stood a real chance.

I smiled. “None ma'am.”

“Good. I wouldn't have cared if you had any.” she said. “Right, it's getting late. I've received a royal summons for tomorrow and I'd like to get up early.”

“Something to do with the Summer Sun festival?”

“Yes, not that it's any of your business.” she said. “Make time to attend it.”

“I'm not sure I'll have the time.”

“That's why I said 'make time'. Ever heard of occupational burnout? You're not married to the job Anon, and if you are, then file for divorce.” she said. “That's an order, by the way. Don't bother arguing, I'm too tired.”

“Yes princess.”

“And no more of that 'princess' shit.” she said. “Call me 'ma'am' from now on. All I hear when you say 'Yes princess' is 'Yes chump'. At least you can say 'ma'am' with a modicum of respect.”

The conversation, at least for tonight, was at an end. We both stood and wobbled through the castle, the drink having a little more effect now we weren't sitting down. She instructed me to relay all I knew of the Grey Arbitress to her once she finished her duties up in Canterlot.

Twilight turned a corner to her bedchambers and told me to see myself out. I was half-way back to my flat when I realised I'd forgotten to remind Twilight that Shell and Spyglass were still pursuing me. When the thought crossed my mind, I stopped walking, but resumed in less than a second. It was cold, the rain was spitting, and I wasn't very comfortable walking around late at night since I got nabbed by those five ponies. Thinking could be postponed until I was back in the dry and felt safe.

I threw my coat into a corner and boiled some water to make tea. I sat on my bed and thought some more about the agents. Because they hadn't found me, I figured they'd exhausted almost every avenue of investigation by now. All that was left was the letters, and I'd been careful not to include information that would lead them to me. I wondered if they'd found the letter I left in number 1408 Baker Street. I wrote that one because I was bored and wanted to ruffle their feathers a bit, more than anything else, but also to tell them that regular ECMB trickery wouldn't help them. They'd have to play my game if they wanted to get anywhere.

The kettle boiled and I made my tea. As I sat and sipped on it, I remembered there was one detail that would be more use to the agents than any other. They would be aware of the ridiculously high probability that the Apple family knew who their unsub was, which also meant there was a good chance their unsub lived in Ponyville.

Local police would be happy to accept the official story that Applebloom just turned up outside the door to Sweet Apple Acres that night. They like cases that you can tie up in a neat little bow and forget about as soon as they've been marked with a great big rubber stamp with the words 'closed' on it.

The agents were a little different. Not only were they intelligent, they also had drive. The official story and the truth are oftentimes different. Police like the official story. The agents like the truth, and I knew they'd be visiting Sweet Apple Acres more times in the future.

Applebloom was the sticking point in their case. They had to go back to Sweet Apple Acres if they wanted the truth.

I hung a dreamcatcher in my window, and tried to sleep. Rain pounded on my window as I stared at the ceiling.

A bolt of green lightning danced through the blackness. A humming noise rang in my head, growing in volume until I was sure my ears were bleeding.

I flung my arms out and tried to steady myself. Instead, I fell backwards in my chair and hit the back of my head on the floor. I rubbed my eyes, trying to get the gunk out of them.

“You're awake, finally.” a mare said. “You sleep like a log. It's a wonder you hear your alarm in the morning.”

I didn't say anything. I just rolled on my side and picked myself up. This spiel was quite familiar by now.

I was back in what I assumed was their interrogation room. The Grey Arbitress, or Ashen Smoke, was sat in a collapsible chair near the door. I looked around. They hadn't bothered to clean my blood off the floor from the last time I was here. It must have taken my body a while to replace all that Ferrite beat out of me. Even my tooth was still in the corner of the room.

I picked the chair back up and sat in it. I scratched at my back hooves to remove the gravel that accumulated in them, as a result of being dragged around.

She said: “Good work with Blackthorn.”

I frisked my pockets. The relic was no longer in there.

“Yeah, we took that for safe keeping.” she said. “Those wounds from him?”

I looked down and saw the dressing Maddie gave me was still holding. It had turned from acute stabbing to dull aching pain. It would be there for months.

“He stuck me with a rebar.” I lied.

“You didn't have to take him. Remember, if a target looks too tough, just tell us where they are.” she said. “How'd you find him then?”

“Every pony has a weakness.” I said. “Once you figure it out, catching them is easy enough.”

“Forgive me if I don't believe you. You found him in one week, no less, with minimal support from us.” she said. “I want to hear the story.”

I leaned back in the chair, almost falling backwards again, and began telling her.

Along with Blackthorn's name, the Grey Arbitress also supplied me with everything they knew about him. Mostly it was things that anyone could find out with a little bit of hoof-greasing and vigilance. But his spending records from before he stopped leaving a financial footprint were interesting. He would buy odd things for a pony of his description: scholarly texts which had no relation to his academic history, a monthly direct debit for 200 bits.

These things weren't for himself, they were for another. I also managed to find divorce papers with his name on them.

The only way I could make his past and spending habits add up was by adding a daughter or son to the mix. It explained the strange purchases and the direct debit, and was within the realm of possibility being that he was married at one point. A son or daughter in education.

With a little more digging, I found where his ex was living. I paid her a visit, masquerading as a National Monetary Bureau investigator. After I told her I was looking for him so he could explain some strange purchases, she said his spending history could be accounted for by his daughters requirements. I learned she was enrolled at Seaddle University, studying biology.

Viola, for that was her name, was rather more forthcoming with details than I had expected. She seemed more eager to talk about it than I was. She told me her marriage was a happy one, and that Blackthorn left her for no reason she could discern. She was almost in tears by the time I told her to stop thinking about it. She was so alone.

You can remove every object that reminds you of someone. Every photo, every article of clothing, you can even drink yourself blind to make you forget. You can make it like they were never there at all. But the heart is stubborn. The heart won't forget.

I left Viola's house feeling much worse than when I'd gone in.

“The daughter.” she said. “Is that what you meant about weakness?”

I nodded. “We all have at least one. You, me, even Celestia. Something that can be used against them.”

She played with her mane some. I could hear hoofsteps coming and going outside the door. I wondered how many ponies made up Python. I knew of seven. The five that caught me, the one who answered the door when I was brought in, and Ashen Smoke herself.

“What's mine?” she asked.

I thought for a bit. A simple question, but she wouldn't have asked me out of mere curiosity. There was something she wanted to hear, or not hear.

“Me.” I said.

She smirked and said: “You were saying something about Blackthorn's daughter?”

I lifted a picture of her from Viola's house. Her name was Lila Barb, but I didn't tell this to Ashen Smoke. After some more investigation, I found her home address, a little flat in the centre of Seaddle. 280 per month, plus utilities. She lived with another pegasus on her course. Classic student accommodation.

I watched her leave the house with her flatmate. I jemmied open the kitchen window, climbed in, and made myself at home. On a bookshelf in the lounge, I found a textbook about statistical testing. I sat down and read it for a bit before getting very bored. I took a walk around Lila's room. Nothing I hadn't predicted. A little mirror, a rug to cover a stain, a desk swamped in essays, both marked and unmarked. In many ways, it was like my flat while I was at university.

I went through her desk drawers. Among writing equipment, books and other various nik-naks, I found a stack of letters. I took them out. There must have been at least thirty of them, all from Blackthorn. You sure love your daughter, I thought. While admirable, it's also what makes you weak, exploitable. He should have cut ties with her as soon as he went into hiding.

I heard keys rattling in the door and made a quick return to the living room.

I stood behind the door to the lounge. She went into the kitchen and started shuffling around. I could hear cupboard doors being opened and closed.

I held a ceramic mug in my hooves. One strike to the back of the head would be enough to make someone sleep for at least half an hour. I didn't want her to be unconscious for long, which is why I brought along some smelling salt capsules I lifted from Ponyville hospital last time I was there.

The door to the lounge nudged open. She might have had time to register the subtle differences in the state of the lounge, before I swung the mug over her head. She collapsed immediately, out cold, but still breathing.

“You're very resourceful.” she said. “If you were a unicorn, you'd be a force to be reckoned with.”

I shrugged. “Imagination is enough. Besides, magic would make me lazy, not to mention the ECMB are pretty good about magic crimes.”

“I wouldn't know.” she said, or lied. I shrugged again. I wasn't about to tell her everything I knew about her.

“I once considered applying as a 'conventional crime consultant'.” I said. “Didn't have an employment history, though, so there was no point.”

She laughed. “Your skills would be wasted on those ponies. What we're doing, no, what you're doing is worthwhile, and there's no red tape, no inquiries, no fuss to get in the way. Things get done here.”

I couldn't argue with that, not that I wanted to. Historically, organisations like the ECMB have always been victims of their own success. They start out small, they solve a large number of cases, more ponies get recruited. The organisation gets larger, the chain of command becomes extended. Before you know it, it takes a whole week to push through a request as simple as a new chair for your office. Everything grinds to a disgusting halt.

Small organisations don't have these problems, but then they're not regulated to the same extent. In Python's case, there was no regulation. What Ashen Smoke says, goes. Therein lies the problem. Such authority and power at the whim of one individual is dangerous.

“I'm inclined to agree. To a point.” I said. “Anyway, I was about to interrogate-”

I caught myself. I was forming the 'l' when I reigned in my tongue. Ashen Smoke curled one corner of her mouth up. A little seductive flutter of the eyelids. She may as well have said 'roll over'.

“Oh yeah, that doesn't work on you.” she said, forming her usual expression of mild interest. “Your unique condition makes you immune to my charm.”

“You're about as charming as a snake.”

“Oh come now, we were being nice and civil, and now you've gone and ruined it.” she said. “You can make up for it by telling me the name of Blackthorn's daughter.”

“She has nothing to do with this.”

She sighed and said: “Didn't I say before that we only kill those who deserve it? Besides, if we want to find her, we can. With or without your help. So, you can tell me now, and stay in my good books, or you can sit there and say nothing while I bust a gut finding her, and piss me off quite severely. Nobody has a good time when I'm pissed. So, the name, if you please.”

I swallowed. “Lila Barb.”

She licked her lips and exhaled.

“So you can be reasonable.” she said, looking relieved. “Do continue.”

I laid Lila's body on the couch while I went foraging for supplies around the flat. Duct tape, a sock for a gag, some nylon thread. Everything you need to keep someone subdued for at least a little while.

I bound her legs and arms with tape and nylon. Then I crammed the sock in her muzzle and taping over that, making sure to keep the nostrils uncovered. The last thing was to break the smelling salts under her nose. She snorted loudly as the ammonia wafted in her nose and jolted back into the couch. She struggled against her bondage for a while, regarding me with wide eyes and extreme fear for a while.

I told her I wasn't going to hurt her, and she seemed to calm down. Calm being a very relative term in her circumstances.

“I'm looking for your dad.” I said. “I know you still talk to him. I want to talk to him as well. Tell me how, and I'll be gone very soon.”

I waited for an answer before realising her mouth was still taped up. I felt kind of stupid. The tape was only half removed when she sounded off like a jet engine. It was the loudest scream I'd ever heard, and it was right next to my ears. I slapped the tape back over in a second.

I sighed and ran a hoof through my mane, thinking of how I might get through to her on the subject.

“When I said I wouldn't hurt you, what I meant was 'I don't plan on hurting you'.” I said. “It doesn't sit well with me y'know, binding innocent young mares, hurting them. Ponies that hurt mares are the scum of Equestria. But I might have to break that rule today, and believe me, neither of us are gonna like that. So, I can go and take a kitchen knife and start drawing little smiley faces on your body until you talk, or we can skip all that and save a bunch of time and pain. Make your choice.”

I sat for a few seconds and waited for an affirmative nod. She looked like she was about to cry; and I wasn't far off doing the same. What I said was true, I hate making others feel this helpless, having myself been just as helpless at the hooves of Ashen Smoke. I hate more hurting others, especially mares, that don't deserve it. That doesn't mean that I won't. I'm a pragmatist.

She nodded and sniffed back the tears. When I removed the tape again, she didn't scream. She just talked in soft tones, peppered with wet and shallow sniffs.

“He-” she swallowed. “-a house, in Las Pegasus.”

“Mmhmm.” I said. “There are a lotta houses in Las Pegasus. Gonna need an address.”

“What're you-” she faltered. “What're you gonna do to him?”

I didn't have time for any talk beyond what I needed to know. Her flatmate could be back in minutes, or hours. I needed to be gone. I gave her an ambiguous answer.

“He has something that doesn't belong to him. I'm taking it back.” I said, in a tone that closed the subject. “Now, the address please.”

“A cabin.” she said. “Copse Cottage, that's what it's called. South edge of Las Pegasus.”

“The rest is history.”

She crossed her legs and looked at an interesting spot on the wall. My mouth was dry from talking and I was hungry. I couldn't wait to get home.

“You know, we're more alike than you'd care to admit. I see quite a lot of myself in you.”

“Get your eyes checked, we're nothing alike.” I said.

She laughed. “I'm not sure you believe that. You don't hate me because I'm blackmailing you. You hate me because you see too much of yourself in me, and it disturbs you. Tell me I'm wrong, go on. I don't think you will though.”

I said nothing. Maybe she was right, maybe she was wrong. I could hate her for a myriad of other reasons though.

“You don't have to answer that. One more thing before I send you packing.” she said. “I'm very confused as to why you chose to do what you do. Ponies – or is that humans – in your position, would do well to keep a low profile. You went and did the polar opposite. Why is that?”

I didn't have a good single answer for that question.

“It was a mixture of reasons. I'd spent three and a half years studying forensic science where I came from, so my skills already lay in that area. I saw a gap in the market, as it were, for private investigation. I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to do something fulfilling. Not once did I spare a thought for my own wellbeing. Short answer: I don't know.”

“You're an odd one. Maybe that's why you're good at this.” she said. She glanced at her watch, and I tried to do the same, only to find it wasn't there. It was smart of them to take my watch. I didn't know how long it took them to haul my body to Canterlot. “Time to go. Oh, payment, before I forget. About twenty-five hours of your time? At your rate of 30 per hour that's...” she tapped her chin. “...7,500 exactly. A sum like that might take a few days to clear.”

That was a lot of money. I didn't know how I'd spend that. I thought I could give some to Applejack in the form of an innocuous gift. Nothing that would raise suspicion. If Rarity got wind of the news I'd spent even ten percent of that on Applejack, she'd be convinced I was about to propose or something, a rumour like that would spread like wildfire. She'd also be aghast knowing a shifty pony like myself had trumped her at her own element.

“G'night.” I said, waiting for her to zap me unconscious.

She smiled. “I think you've earned a week's leave. Try to enjoy the Summer Sun festival. You'll get the next name in a week. Night night.”

I closed my eyes and waited.

Author's Note

Apologies for not including Applejack like I thought I would.

Stay gold.

Apex Predators

Chapter 5

Apex Predators

The directors office was situated on the fifth floor. It was a large room, 225 square feet, complete with all the furnishings befitting a pony of power. In place of an outside wall was one large glass pane with a view of the east walls of Canterlot castle. Distinctions, both professional and academic, hung in glass frames on the ego wall. Some croquet trophies were collecting dust on a shelf. An executive toy clacked steadily as Valiant Heart leafed through an expandable case file. She had read it three times before Shell limped into the office. She needed a fourth, because she could not believe what happened.

A security guard stood by in one corner of the room. A ring of keys hung from his belt, including a key to Shell's cuffs. Shell, cuffed to the chair by his unbroken arm, waited for Valiant Heart to speak.

The director closed the file and pushed it to one side. She made eye contact with her disgraced employee and drummed on the table with both hooves.

"I don't even know where to begin." she said at last. "I guess I should start by telling you that, by some miracle, the princesses agreed to let me deal with you. Celestia was not happy, by the way. She even threatened me with the sack."

Shell said nothing. He hung his head and looked at the floor, which didn't please the director.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you." she said. Shell straightened himself and looked at her. "You're being charged with:" she opened the file again and flicked to a page. "-use of excessive force, trespassing, insubordination, witness intimidation, breaking and entering, torture and treason. That's enough to get you exiled whoever the victim is, but you went and made an element of harmony the victim. Any other illegal activity will be unearthed during the inquiry too, you can be sure of that. I wouldn't even be surprised if they nailed you for mail fraud."

Shell croaked: "I wanted answers."

Valiant Heart cast her eyes around the room. She drew a large breath in through her nose and released it slowly. She called to the guard and told him to leave the room, which he did. She waited until the door closed before speaking.

"Yes, I heard you scooped up a pretty tough case, but no jury in the world is going to accept that as a defense. Not even the best lawyer in the country is going to want to defend you either, so this is how it's going to happen: you're going to plead guilty to all charges, and with mitigating circumstances, you'll get a lifetime exile."

"Mitigating circumstances?"

"Madness, specifically. We have doctors and co-workers that will testify to that effect." she said. Shell bowed his head again. "I don't care that you don't like it. I have to protect the reputation of the ECMB, which, by the way, is already in shreds thanks to you. The story will be that the stress of the case got to you and you went insane. Why else would you torture an element of harmony, knowing what would happen if you did? Best-case scenario is that you get exiled and in a month, everyone will have forgotten this even happened."

"Exiled to where."

"I haven't decided. In fact, let's make it your choice. It has to be beyond the boarders of Equestria. You could cross the Great Sea for all I care, but make no mistake, you don't want to think about what happens if they find you here."

"The north." Shell said. "I want to go north."

The director shrugged. "Your choice."

It was two minutes to four. Twilight and I stood in a very empty corridor of alabaster and amethyst, which amplified every noise. Our breathing, our hooves on the floor, coughs. We waited to hear the sound of a door opening and closing, followed by the sound of Maddie's heavy hoofsteps.

Our relationship became markedly frayed after Shell's violent visit to the Apples. I spent the whole night at Sweet Apple Acres, sitting, waiting, expecting Spyglass to turn up at any moment. Applejack wouldn't speak to me, and wouldn't let Applebloom speak to me either, but I didn't leave. How could I leave, at a time when they needed me most.

Perhaps I had it wrong. Perhaps that was the time they needed me least, if they needed me at all. Ever since I stepped into their lives, I'd brought nothing to them except misfortune and despair. I couldn't keep using Applebloom's rescue to excuse the ruin I had caused.

I went about everything the wrong way. Everything I did led to that moment when Shell attacked the Apples. A good man would have acted differently, acted in a way that kept his friends safe, not sparing so much as a single thought for himself. It was a disaster of my own making, and I couldn't see that until it was too late.

The morning following the attack, I made towards Carousel Boutique. I didn't sleep that night. Twilight didn't either, too busy interrogating Shell. I told Rarity what happened, and to spread the news to the other elements. I decided that, while I might have wanted to be around Applejack, she didn't need me. None of the Apple family needed me. I was unwanted by my friends, and wanted by my enemies.

For the first time in my life, I despised myself.

I went to Twilight's castle after visiting Rarity. After the guilt, anger and lack of sleep, the castle looked more imposing than ever. Threatening, but it didn't compare to Twilight that morning. After Spike let me in, I wandered to the grand study. Twilight was there, but Shell was nowhere to be seen. I thought for a moment that she killed him.

We exchanged no words as I shut the door and took the chair opposite her. The desk was devoid of government work. It was just me and her. It was like she made sure there was nothing to distract her from me.

"How are the Apples." she said in monotone.

"I don't know ma'am. They don't want to talk to me." I said. "How's Shell."

"Forget Shell for the moment." she said. "For now, this conversation is about you and the Apples."

I swallowed and said: "I'm sorry."

"I'm sure you are, but that changes nothing." she said. "You see what's happening, don't you. I told you weeks ago. Your activities are starting to get your friends hurt. My friends hurt. The worst part is that I don't know what to do. That's why you're here today, Anon. We're going to figure out what's to be done."

"With me?"

"With everything." she said. "As I heard it from Shell, he was at a sticking point in his case. He thought he could make progress if he went after the Apples."

"Knowing what would happen if he got caught?"

"Apparently so."

"Nobody could have predicted he would do something so extreme."

"You sent him off the hinges Anon. He told me about all your notes, the places you'd been, the ponies you'd killed, the information you were feeding him. You taunted him. Don't try to act innocent when you're half the reason he did what he did."

She was right, in a sense. I pushed him over the edge. I egged him on, daring him to try and find me. Was it all that surprising that he would torture a witness to do it?

"Enough about him. Now I need to decide what to do with you." she said. "Before I start, I accept that everything that's happened has happened because you saved Applebloom. You did a good thing, and then bad events beyond reasonable control developed, but the way you handled them was poor."

I waited for a moment and said: "What do you want me to do?"

"You tell me. Considering your future hangs in the balance, I thought you should have a say."

"Well, uh, that's a big question."

"We have time."

I thought in silence for a minute. Twilight, considering what happened last night, was remarkably calm in my presence. Maybe she was too tired to be angry after turning Shell's night into a waking nightmare.

"I know you won't believe me, but the Apples should be safe from anyone else from now on. Shell is out of the picture, Spyglass wouldn't dare touch the Apples. I have no real enemies other than the Grey Arbitress, and as long as I keep her happy, she won't move against the Apples."

"So what are you suggesting we do?"

"I am going to keep away from the Apples for now, and hope that I can talk to them in the future, try to undo everything I've caused." I said. "In the meantime, if you're still in this, we keep fighting."

Twilight twirled her hoof through her mane and rubbed her eyes. They were red and bagged. I would find mine the same if I bothered to look in a mirror.

She yawned and smacked her lips a couple of times, and said: "How can you possibly undo what's happened."

"I don't know. I'm still figuring it out. Maybe I can't undo it, but I need to tell them I'm sorry. I need to tell them I didn't want anything like this to happen. I need to tell that that they mean too much to me to just part ways. I need to tell her that I lo-"

There are moments in life when it's not so much as a penny dropping as a skip of bricks. If we're lucky, we can go through life never experiencing a realisation so profound that it renders you incapable of speech, movement, or even thought. It's the feeling, mostly, that gets me. The sensation of butterflies, sweating, the feeling that your heart is thumping against your ribcage.

I put a hoof to my forehead. I almost fell out of my chair due to dizziness. It wasn't that I couldn't believe what I said, it was that I couldn't believe that I allowed myself to say it. All those months, and I hadn't let myself believe the one thing I believe more than anything else.

I loved Applejack.

"You-" Twilight said. Her mouth hung open for a moment. She closed it and sighed, slumping deep into her chair. "I was wondering which one of you would realise it first. For all Applejack's honesty, she's very dishonest to herself about her feelings."

"You mean-"

"-she loves you? Of course she does you idiot." she said. "Now do you understand why I'm helping you? I meant what I said, Anon. I can't let you die because of how much it would hurt Applejack. She would never be the same again. It would hurt all of us, directly or indirectly. I can't let that happen. Not a day goes by where I don't ask myself how it happened, but it is what it is. I can't argue with the heart."

"I, uh, I-" I said. My mouth was dry, lips salty. I thought I was going to vomit. "I... I gotta go. Oh God, I gotta go. Oh shit. I need some air."

I stood as best I could, which amounted to hyperventilating while staggering. The room was so hot.

"There's a stairwell. Lets go to the roof." she said as she got up. I fought to get my jacket off, and threw it in a corner.

Wind whipped through our manes. There was no sun today, the pegasi forecast storms to irrigate the land following the arid summer solstice. They worked to blanket the land in storm clouds from here to the horizon. By six o' clock this afternoon, a planned thirty millimeters of rainfall would have hit the ground.

I leaned against the ramparts, looking out over Ponyville. I could see everything from Sweet Apple Acres to Fluttershy's cottage. Ponies scurried about the town, oblivious to the tragedy of last night. Twilight stood behind me, examining the architecture.

"I come up here when I need to clear my head." she said, gesturing out at the town. "Seeing all this helps me to forget about all the extraneous things in my life. Reminds me of why I became a princess. Reminds me to focus on the essentials."

She walked up beside me and leaned on the ramparts.

"Thought it might help." she said.

"Well, I don't feel sick anymore."

A period of silence passed between us. I thought about the essentials, or rather, I tried to figure out what they were. At first, I thought about was the Grey Arbitress, and how everything seemed to link back to her. Perhaps she qualified as an essential. Then I thought of the Apples, and then Applebloom, and then Applejack.

I wondered if I really did love her. It was so out-of-character for me to outright say something like that. I wasn't thinking when I said it, which meant it came from the heart, and if it came from the heart, then I meant it. Only when my brain caught up with my mouth did I realise what I was saying. I had, by accident, allowed myself to fall in love with someone.

I always thought it would be impossible, for me to love a pony like I would love another human. But these beings from another world, they grow on you in the most subtle of ways. It was like shadows growing and shrinking as the day progresses. You could watch the shadows, never take your eye off of them, and think they were static, unchanging and permanent. Take your eyes off them for a while, however, and when you come back, the change is obvious. I was blindsided by the imperceptible transition from admiration to love. Six and a half months in this world, and I still surprise myself.

My thoughts turned to Applejack again. What did it mean for us if she loved me in kind? What did it mean if she didn't? I wondered how much would change. Perhaps everything would change, or maybe nothing.

I didn't know what to do, or even what to think. I had never fallen in love with a human, let alone a pony. I had no past experience to call on that might have helped me through the revelation. Not only that, but there was still a piece of me, buried in the back of my mind that found intimacy with ponies abhorrent.

That voice became quieter as the months passed me by. I understood that I was different from ponies - I even embraced the fact, knowing that however ordinary I might have appeared, I had something that set me apart from everyone. I felt special, unique.

Yet, at the same time, I saw that humans were not dissimilar from ponies. We are different on the outside, of course, but that isn't important. At the core, at heart, we aren't that different at all.

They say that love is blind. I'm inclined to agree.

The sickening surprise passed and I had some fresh air in my lungs, so I felt a little better. I was still tired, the whole left side of my face stung, and some old wounds had reopened from struggling under Shell's restricting spells. I should have felt awful, especially after the bombshell that was last night, but I wasn't a wreck. A mess, sure, but at least I was a lucid mess.

"Help me to understand." Twilight said. She brought me to my senses and I turned to her. "How did it happen? You and AJ I mean."

"Why does anything happen, ma'am." I said while shrugging. "I saw a bed of flowers on the way here. There were exactly seven different species in that bed. Isn't that amazing? Of all the possible combinations of species, there were seven. What were the odds of that?""

"I don't follow."

"Some things are just down to chance." I said. "The likelihood of there being seven species in the flowerbed, the likelihood of AJ and I seeing each other as more than friends. Just because it's specific, doesn't mean it was orchestrated. There isn't always a grand design. Like you said earlier: it is what it is."

"What're you going to do about it then." said Twilight. "You need to sort out this chaos before it gets worse. And before you ask: no, I'm not going to talk to her for you. It's not my place to interfere, it's up to you and AJ. If you don't, what's the point of winning a normal life from the Grey Arbitress? You need AJ to show you how to live it."

"I'll find a way. I always do."

Another, smaller, period of silence filled the air. It was whisked away by the wind and tiny droplets of rain. The pegasi were starting the storm.

"So, my little field agent. What's the next step in your master plan?"

"I've found another player." I said. "One of my oldest friends. He's coming by tomorrow at exactly four in the afternoon, through the deadlocked service entrance to your castle."

"He has something to offer?"

I nodded. "At least I hope he does."

Sensing the imminent downpour, we left the roof. We passed Spike in the hallway, who offered us a selection of biscuits and teas. We both declined.

Twilight walked with me to the front entrance of the castle. Applejack needed Twilight and the rest of her friends now more than ever, so Twilight would head there and stay for a few hours. She said she would tell me how the Apples were holding up in a mental sense, but nothing else. A problem of your making, she said, so a problem you're going to fix on your own. Mostly, I was happy to do things on my own. Not this time.

Just before we want our separate ways, I called to her. She turned around and gave me her best exasperated look.

"I've got something for you." I said, picking it out. Twilight eyed the small plastic bag with skepticism. "This is gravel. I picked it out of my hooves the morning following my last meeting with the Grey Arbitress. I noticed when they first dragged me in was that, outside the building, was a gravel path. Do you think if we analysed this, we could find out where in the city it came from?"

"It's possible." she said, levitating it out of my hoof. "Of course, it might turn out to be a common type used everywhere, but it's worth a try."

"Thank you ma'am." I said, as she walked away. "Tomorrow. Four o' clock."

She waved one hoof, and did not look back.

Someone knocked on the door to her office. Not now, she thought. I want nothing more than to sit and try to forget the whole ugly business.

"Come in." she said.

The doorhandle turned and Spyglass entered her office. He had never been to the director's office before. Seeing it now, he fancied it as his own. One day, he thought. One day.

"Ma'am." Spyglass said, offering a brief nod.

Valiant Heart raised an eyebrow. She didn't remember the last time Spyglass came to her office. He took the seat that Shell had occupied earlier in the day.

"Supervisory Special Agent Spyglass." she said. Valiant Heart liked Spyglass. He was good at his job, didn't complain, and could be trusted to get on with whatever he was assigned. He just buckled down and got to it.

"What brings about this impromptu meeting?" she asked. She already had her suspicions as to why he came to her now, of all the times.

"I'd like to take a leave of absence." he said. Valiant Heart shifted in her seat. This caught her off-guard. She sighed and spun her chair a little, tapping on the armrests.

"Why is that?" she said.

"I-" he began. "-I want to make sure Shell gets set-up okay, wherever it is he's going."

She narrowed her eyes and said: "We already have ponies that will escort him to the border. I need you here right now."

"No, I mean, I want to make sure he, y'know, can cope with it. The transition and everything. He doesn't have a family that can help him through this, and nobody in the entire kingdom is gonna want to have anything to do with him. We've... grown close, over the last couple of months. I just want some time off to help him get settled into his new life. A week would do. One week of unpaid LOA. That's all I'm asking for."

"With Shell going, your workload is going to get bigger. You can't lose a week right now."

"I understand ma'am. I'll do eighty hours next week to make it up if I have to, but I really think Shell needs someone to help him through this, and I'm probably the only pony alive that would lift a hoof to help him right now."

Valiant Heart smiled inside, but her expression remained unchanged. Someone that would stick with Shell at such a time was a friend indeed.

"You know, there's a promotion up for grabs, now that we're down one Special Agent In-Charge." she said. "I need to make a decision soon as to who gets it. If I were to, hypothetically speaking, offer it to you, you'd need to be here so that you could accept it. If you weren't here, I'd have to give it to someone else. Someone less deserving."

"Let them have it." replied Spyglass, before adding: "Ma'am."

Valiant Heart gave a heavy sigh and shook her head. She clopped her hooves together a few times before speaking.

"Alright. You win. One week of unpaid leave, starting on the day of Shell's exile. I take it you will want to travel with him?" she said. Spyglass gave a firm nod. "I'll let his escort know you'll be tagging along."

"Thank you ma'am." Spyglass said. "Where is he going?"

"North." she said. "Very, very far north."

I went to the hospital following my discussion with Twilight. The doctor found twenty-three distinct punctures in the left side of my face - small enough to heal without the need for surgery. He told me Celestia must have been watching over me, because it was a miracle I still had two eyes in my head.

A miracle, I thought. No, good doctor. There were no miracles that night, and no Celestia keeping watch. If she was, she didn't seem to care.

The rest of the day passed unmarked. I ate a late breakfast at the Settle Inn, which didn't taste of much. I lunched at three, alone in my flat. It didn't taste of much either. I cleaned up, bolted the door, pulled the blinds, and turned out the lights. My bed creaked as I sat on it.

And I cried. I moaned and lamented in the dark. All the pain and torment I had bottled up for the last sixteen hours poured out from my mouth and eyes. I sobbed so hard for so long that soon, there were no tears left. I felt defeated.

After half an hour of uninterrupted self-loathing, I found the composure to fix myself a drink. My arm trembled as I poured tonic over gin and ice. No lime. I didn't trust myself with knives at that moment.

I finished it in three gulps and went to bed. Rain hammered on the windows. Sleep did not come easy.

As I fell asleep to the sound of driving rain, I woke to it as well. I grunted at the alarm clock - half five. It was strange for me to wake without the sound of a buzzing clock-radio in my ear.

I felt better, but not by much. I stumbled into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. Bagged and bloodshot eyes, unkempt mane, an enormous gauze over the left side of my face. A mess if I ever saw one.

I stared at myself for a long time, wondering how was it that I managed to fuck up my life this spectacularly. The world shouldn't be so unrelenting in its tragedy, I thought.

I took a shower, not caring about getting the gauze wet. After a few minutes, I ripped it off due to the maddening itchiness.

I examined myself in the mirror following my shower, and saw the extent of the damage to my face for the first time. It was bad. They were like acne scars, but redder, deeper and elongated. My coat hairs were absent in the affected areas.

I dried myself off and wandered to the front door to pick up the morning paper. I stood at the door for a few seconds, confused at the distinct lack of newspaper sitting on my doormat. I glanced at my watch, which read two minutes to six.

I went back to the kitchen and found the empty glass from last night. I rinsed it once, made another gin and tonic, and sat behind my writing desk.

I thought long and hard about the Apples.

By the time I had mustered the courage to venture outside, it was gone ten. It wasn't quite silent as I meandered through the alleys and streets, the vague goal of eating dinner on my mind. Couples passed me by, either coming or going to a dinner date.

I found a bench and sat there for a while, wasting away the minutes engaged in pony watching, guessing where they were going or where they had been. A stallion in a jacket like mine walked by. Red stain on his lower lip, slight creasing in his clothing, squinting at the developing darkness of the night. He smelt of sweat and food.

Red wine stain, creases from sitting down, still adjusting his vision to the night. Perspiration, unlikely due to physical exertion, likely due to nervousness. Faint aroma of asparagus. Expensive food. Probably coming home from a first date.

He must have seen me staring at him, because he stopped walking. I stood and paced towards him.

"Did it go well?" I asked. He looked even more nervous now. He cleared his throat.

"Sorry, uh, pal, can I help you?" he asked.

"The date." I said. "How did it go?"

There was a lull in the conversation. He looked left and right, then over his shoulder. I guessed he expected me to mug him. Satisfied that it was just me and him, he turned back to me.

"Uh, good?" he said. "Sorry pal, should I know you?"

I chuckled and walked past him. "No. No you shouldn't."

"Hey!" he said. I turned enough to see him with one eye. "You're that investigator, right?"

"Not for much longer."

I left him in the darkness and made towards the Settle Inn.

Black Bean's place was less disgusting at night. The furnishings made the extraordinary transition from tasteless to moody following sunset. It was the time of day when his regulars came out of the woodwork and sat themselves around tables and on barstools. They'd grumble about their health, their jobs, their monarchs, and their foals if they were unfortunate enough have them. It was the kind of place that stallions go after work to avoid going home to their wives.

I sat on my own at the far end of the bar, nursing my fifth lager. My four empties surrounded me, the dregs of foam forming a cobweb in the bottoms of the glasses. I stared into the middle distance, taking the occasional gulp. Rock-bottom. I had found it at last.

Black Bean offered a handful of generic sympathetic words. It didn't take much to tell that I was an animal in pain. He didn't ask what was destroying me, because it was obvious. I was destroying myself. He'd seen plenty of other stallions who would sit alone on a barstool, beset on all sides by glasses that once contained alcohol. Some might have had a messy divorce, some might have lost their job. The reason didn't matter in the end, because they all wound up on that same barstool, drowning their problems and beginning the spiraling descent into depression.

"Thought I'd find you here."

I craned my head to the right. Rainbow Dash planted herself on the adjacent stool and shouted for some cocktail I had never heard of.

I went back to staring at nothing in particular. "Wouldn't drink that with a rented mouth."

"Uh-huh." she said. "Why's that?"

"'Cause Black Bean's making it."

She leaned on the counter and supported her chin with her hooves. Black Bean was in the process of making the cocktail when Rainbow Dash shouted for a cider instead. He shrugged, downed the half-made cocktail, and produced a cider from the fridge. I told him to put it on my tab.

We sat in silence for a moment. Black Bean went back to polishing glasses and nodding absently at his customers while they talked at him. I wondered if it was worse to be the pony with the problems, or the bartender that had to listen to them.

Rainbow Dash shuffled a little on her seat, then delivered a swift jab to my ribs.

"Fuck off you blue lezzer. What the fuck was that for?" I said.

"Stop feeling so fucking sorry for yourself." she said. "What happened to the old Anon? Y'know, the one that takes everything on the chin and keeps moving forward. Did he die last night and get replaced by this?"

"Fuck you." I said. "This is where I need to be right now."

"This is the opposite of what you need. No, what you need is a cold shower and kick up the ass."

I turned on the stool and looked straight at her. Before, she could not see the glass scarring on the left side of my face. Her hoof came to her mouth as she saw it.

"Do you know what it's like to be helpless? Like, really, really helpless?" I said. My voice cracked and I sniffed. "Do you know what it's like watching your only friends in the whole fucking world get tortured? Do you know what it's like to get all the fucking blame? DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT'S FUCKING LIKE TO JUST BE ME FOR A DAY!?"

I rested my head on the counter and let the waterworks flow for the second time today. I got the feeling that the whole bar was staring at me, but I didn't care. They didn't matter.

Rainbow Dash pursed her lips and said: "She doesn't blame you."

I lifted my head off of the counter and looked at her. My eyes were sore, my face was sore. The pain probably extended to my heart and soul as well.

"Let's walk." she said, looking around herself. I nodded, threw some bits on the counter, and followed Rainbow Dash out into the street.

I thought about glancing at my watch, but decided that it wasn't important to know the time, so I didn't. The concept of night, day, and normal waking hours didn't apply to me at the moment. I ate when I was hungry and slept when I was tired.

The night was stuffy, like last night. I took off my jacket and draped it over my back. I rubbed at the scars on my chest, thinking they might disappear if I rubbed hard enough.

I had collected so many blemishes over the months. Most were physical, easy enough to cover with an article of clothing and forget about. Mental scars were different. The more you try to mask them, the worse they develop. They fester and suppurate in your mind like a disease, slowly changing you, until all that's left is a husk of your former self. Then you see the problem for what it is, but by then, it's too late. You're already changed.

We came up on a park bench, where Rainbow Dash sat. She turned to me, and waited until I took a seat next to her. I fell into it.

"It's a huge fucking mess, Rainbow, a huge mess." I said. "And I fucking made it. She should hate me, along with the rest of this shitty world."

Rainbow Dash was silent for a short time. She chewed the inside of her cheek and let her gaze wander about herself.

"Well." she said. "We all do crazy things for our friends. I should know."

"'Friends'." I said. "I don't deserve 'em."

She scowled. "Why do you think that?"

"Look at who you're talking to. I'm a morally bankrupt thug with a fucked up face. I do awful things, all the time. The worst part is that I don't even care."

"If you didn't care, you wouldn't be alone at that bar while drinking yourself into a coma. Besides, even if all that were true, AJ sees past all that." she said. "You think she hates you, Anon? You've got it backwards."

I tilted my head to her. No wry smile, no raised eyebrow, no smug grin. A sincere Rainbow Dash is a rare sight.

"Does she really-"

"-yes." Rainbow Dash interrupted. "Yes she does."

Rainbow Dash moved to her hooves. It was late, or early, depending on your viewpoint.

"I never thought I'd be giving you this advice, but don't give up just yet, Anon." she said. "You've shrugged off everything before now. You can do it again."

I sighed and stared at the ground. Rainbow Dash sent another hoof into my ribs. She told me that was for calling her a lesbian. She took off into the night, leaving me alone.

It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light.

Twilight rested on her haunches while I paced the corridor. The morning following my conversation with Rainbow Dash I spent guzzling coffee and doing my best to mask the reddening scars on my face. It took half a tub of concealer, and large amounts of antiseptic before I got frustrated and decided it was a wasted effort. I studied myself in the mirror for a few minutes, telling myself over and over again that this was my new face. I, and the rest of the world, would just have to get used to it.

I wasn't paying attention to Twilight, being too absorbed in my own thoughts. My mind felt stretched, simultaneously thinking about how to defeat the Grey Arbitress, and what I should say to the Apples the next time I see them. The result was that I couldn't focus on anything. It frustrated me, but my pacing frustrated Twilight more.

"Stop walking." she said, getting up. I stopped for a moment and glanced at my watch. One minute to four.

"Aren't you nervous?" I asked.

"Not very. Remember that it's your life that's on the line, not mine. Not to mention that you've got a lot on your plate right now." she said. "Speaking of which, what're you doing about it. AJ, I mean."

"Still thinking, and what are you? My mother? I could do without you reminding me that it's a problem every five minutes. I fucking know it's a problem."

"Well since you're obviously not looking out for yourself, someone has to."

I laughed and brought my hoof to the left side of my face. "You call this looking out for me? You exploded a wall in my face."

"Don't ever speak to me like that again." she said. "I'm sorry I caused that damage, but need I remind you of how things could have turned out that night?"

"Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful. Just remember that houses are usually built with doors so that, y'know, you don't have to make your own holes in the walls."

We heard a door open and slam in the stairwell adjacent to us. I looked at my watch again. Five seconds past four. Hoofsteps, heavy ones, made their ascent of the stairs. They became louder and louder until they were just behind the door to the stairwell, where they stopped.

Two sharp knocks rung in the halls. I didn't figure Maddie for the knocking type. Perhaps he made an exception for Princess Twilight Sparkle.

"Come in, we don't have all day." said Twilight.

Maddie made his entrance with as much care as a bomb-defusal squaddie, and a forehead sweatier than a piece of warm cheese. Two seconds in Twilight's presence and he looked ready to change his name and run for the hills. Already I could see him looking for exits and mentally planning his escape should things turn sour.

"Maddie." I said, not moving from where I stood. His chest deflated in a huge sigh of relief when he caught sight of me. "Glad you could join us. I was wondering if you'd come."

"Almost didn't. Don't make me regret it." he said, marching in to the corridor. He wore a saddlebag, which I was keen to poke my nose into.

"This is Princess Twilight Sparkle." I said, and motioned to Twilight. "Ma'am, this is Maddie. Let's all play nice now."

Maddie offered a short bow but never took his eyes off of Twilight, like he thought she would blindside him with a hoof to the ribs if he let his guard down. Twilight kept a steady eye on Maddie in kind, probably wondering if he was a relative of Big Mac.

Eventually, we all got bored of our minor Mexican standoff, and Twilight invited us to the lounge. I made small talk with Maddie as we went, trying to set him at ease. He asked me how my face got so many craters in it. Life happened, I told him. He seemed to understand.

Maddie and I parked ourselves on one couch, though given his size, Maddie needed his own. He ran a hoof over the armrest and kneaded the material for a while, feeling the decadence of the furnishings. Twilight levitated a decanter of very dark and very expensive brandy onto the coffee table, along with three crystal snifters. I didn't recall her breaking those out for me last time I was there.

Nobody had said a word yet, so I decided to change that.

"Gone off bourbon?" I asked.

Twilight poured Maddie and I a measure, and then a generous one for herself. She took a sip, stared at the glass for a moment, and put it back on the table.

"No. Brandy is just easier to serve." she said. Her eyes wandered to the saddlebags that Maddie placed on the table. Maddie himself had not touched his drink, preferring to sit rigid as a plank. Maddie, that's what the drink is for, I thought. Just drink it and loosen up.

Seeing that the icebreaker wasn't going so well, I transitioned clumsily into a more detailed introduction.

"Twilight, this is Maddie. We've helped each other out in the past. Let's say he's a private investigator."

"Charmed." said Twilight, offering a nod in his direction. Maddie said nothing. Another painful silence.

"Maddie." I said, nudging him. He looked at me with an empty expression. "Find anything?"

The glaze on his eyes lifted and he swallowed, glancing between Twilight and the saddlebags. He cleared his throat, reached for them, and pulled out some papers.

"How much d'ya already know about Ashen Smoke?" he asked us. I shrugged. Twilight gave a brief summary of her career, up until the day she disappeared. Maddie shook his head.

"Mostly right." he said, and brought a hoof to his chin. "Remind me, why did she resign as director?"

"Health reasons." Twilight said. Maddie raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, accordin' to public record." Maddie said, leafing through his papers. He pulled out a couple of stapled sheets and passed them to Twilight. "Read 'em."

Twilight took the papers and narrowed her eyes as she read them, shaking her head frequently.

"She was fired?" Twilight asked. She almost passed the papers to me, before snatching them back. "Hang on a moment, these documents came from the Canterlot Archives. I'm not even allowed in there without a damned good reason. How'd you get them?"

I didn't think it was possible to sweat so profusely that it was visible, but Maddie managed it.

"Twilight, where Maddie is concerned, we agreed to no questions asked." I said, glancing at Maddie. He looked ready to faint. "For fuck's sake Maddie, drink your damned drink."

Twilight relented, and eased back into the couch. She took on a mouthful of brandy, almost emptying the glass. I grabbed the document and flicked through it.

"'Under clause 11c of the ECMB management contract, it is required that Ms. Ashen Smoke discontinue her directorship of the ECMB immediately following the official internal inquiry.'"

"'Clause 11c.'" Twilight said. "It's something to do with mental instability. An employee found to be mentally unfit must either resign voluntarily or get sacked. What were the exact details of her dismissal?"

I looked through the document again. "Here we go. Apparently she was 'displaying signs of zealotry, fanaticism and general extremism' over a particular case."

"What case?"

"Doesn't say." I said with a scowl. "There are some coworker reports here too. General feeling I get is: Ashen Smoke got super invested in a certain case and assigned something like a quarter of all the ECMB's field-agents to it. Everything else ground to a halt, active and promising cases got closed prematurely. Higher-up's got concerned and cut her loose."

Twilight rubbed her head and said: "Why the secrecy then? Why cite health reasons as the official cause for resignation?"

"Probably because committing the truth to public record would mess with the ECMB's reputation." I said. I took a sip of brandy before continuing. "Imagine how the public would react if they knew the director of the ECMB got fired because she was mentally unstable. They'd wonder who the fuck promoted her to director in the first place, and then their necks would be on the line."

"A cover-up to protect the ol' ECMB's reputation?" asked Maddie. He took a massive gulp of his drink and wiped his mouth with his arm. "Sounds like somethin' they'd do alright."

A large, comfortable silence descended, each of us absorbed in our own thoughts. Mine turned to some of the more basic questions. Questions like, did we even have the right mare? We still had not determined the identity of the Grey Arbitress beyond all doubt, or even beyond reasonable doubt. Twilight was thinking the same thing, because she took the words straight out of my mouth.

"Are we sure it's her? If not, then we're wasting our time." she said.

Maddie rummaged through the saddlebags again, producing another ECMB document. I could tell from the formatting that is was a field report.

"This thing right here was published seven years ago. From way back when Ashen Smoke were just a lowly little intelligence officer." he said, waving it around. The drink was beginning to have some effect. "In them days, when the organisation was half the size it is now, they assigned ponies of importance codenames."

He opened the wallet to the first page and dropped it on the table. Twilight and I peered at it.

Precedence: Priority (P)

To: Canterlot Branch

Contact: IO Grey Arbitress

Approved By: HRH Princess Celestia

Drafted By: IO Grey Arbitress

Case ID: 00198863

Synopsis Of Facts: Report drafted and submitted by Intelligence Officer Grey Arbitress following previously submitted (see case ID 00198861) report detailing...

I leaned back into the couch and Twilight did the same.

"Well it's not definite, I think that's clear, but it's a damn sight better than a newspaper clipping." I said, and glanced to my right. "Nice work Maddie."

"N' that's just the tip of the iceberg. I don't got 'em, but there's more references to Grey Arbitress in other reports."

"So we can work under the assumption that Ashen Smoke is the Grey Arbitress?" I asked, looking between Maddie and Twilight.

We argued for a minute over the implications. When we got bored of that, we speculated on her motives for setting up an organisation like Python. Twilight said she spent a few hours browsing her private library looking for references to the name, but found nothing.

Twilight left the lounge, saying that she would be back in a few moments with something she made progress on. The gravel, I thought.

Maddie waited until Twilight's hoofsteps were inaudible before he breathed a massive sigh of relief.

"This is so damned heavy Anon." he said. "Six months ago I was just a fuckin' information broker. Now I'm drinkin' some kinda expensive shit with a princess and talkin' about bringin' down some mysterious mare. S' almost funny."

"I don't see the humour." I said, refilling my glass.

"Maybe if you took that stick outta your ass you would."

"Says the pony that froze up in front of Twilight. You looked like you expected her to shoot you in the face at any moment."

He didn't have a comeback for that one. I smiled inside and kept a neutral expression.

"I read your plan. For dealin' with Spirit Sight, that is."

"Did you guess my MO yet?"

"I didn't, but Stoke gave me his best guess. I gotta say, if he's right, you got a bright future in the assassination biz. There ain't many ponies out there that could've come up with somethin' like that, and there's plenny a' ponies what would pay a lotta money for your skills."

"Too bad." I said. "After this thing is wrapped up, I'm gone. Finished. Can't be dealing with this life anymore."

Maddie shook his head, as though it was surprising news. "Damn shame Anon."

The train rumbled and creaked across open plains and over hills while the passengers swayed and tried to keep themselves upright. There were only four ponies in the carriage. Two enormous unicorns that looked as though they had seen their fair share of fights stood behind a cuffed Shell, intently staring at his ears. Spyglass sat opposite him, surveying the landscape that became more barren and more cold and more arid as the train racked up the miles. Beyond the mountains would be worse, Spyglass imagined.

"Why north?" Spyglass asked. Shell lifted his head from off the seat and shot him a vacant look, before gazing out of the window.

"I ever tell you I was married?" Shell asked, not looking at Spyglass, who cocked his head. "Little over four years ago. Dainty little Pegasus mare. Prettiest thing I ever saw. I told 'er that as often as I could."

"You never mentioned this before." Spyglass said, trying to imagine Shell being married to anything except the job. Shell kept talking as though Spyglass said nothing.

"We'd holiday in Glaciates, s' a town just a few miles over the northern border. I was never too fond a' the cold, but this mare couldn't get enough of it. Said she loved the taste a' the air, n' the feelin' a' ice buildin' up on 'er wings. Told 'er she were crazy, but that's part a' why I loved her."

"You separated?"

"Death tends to do that to a couple." said Shell, looking back to Spyglass, who immediately regretted starting the conversation. "We both had some annual leave, n' were plannin' on goin' to Glaciates, but a job interview meant I couldn't go anywhere. Told 'er since I had to stay in the city for a while that she could go and enjoy herself n' come back in a week. That were the plan, at least. The last time I saw 'er alive were as she hopped on a train to the north."

Spyglass let a few seconds pass before he dared ask: "What happened?"

"She were tryin' out a new pair a' flyin' goggles what I bought her just before she left. She loved it, flyin' that is. Couldn't get enough a' the wind in 'er mane." Shell said. "There's a gorge 'bout two miles west a' the town. Runs about two hundred feet deep and fifty feet wide for somethin' like three miles. Loadsa winding turns n' stuff. Good fer stretchin' yer wings, so she said. She went out there n' got caught in a blizzard mid-flight. Broke 'er wing. Froze to death. She froze brother, alone and hurtin'. Blamed myself for the longest time, y'know. I thought-"

He cleared his throat and tried to rub his eyes, but his hooves were cuffed to the seat.

"-I thought it was my fault. I felt like an accessory to the crime, like I'd somehow enabled it. I hated myself for that, couldn't stand to be in my own skin. I hid it well, though. Buried it inside me where nobody else would ever see it. It hurt, real bad like, to keep a memory like that all locked up, but over the years I got used to the pain."

Spyglass had his mouth slightly parted and hardly blinked.

"S' the thing with a grief so cripplin', Spyglass. Just acknowledgin' that it exists ain't enough, it don't give you no comfort. Best I can do, best anyone can do, is make it a part a' you. Keep it, feed it, water it. Marshal it, and know that it's always gonna be with you no matter what."

"I'm sorry." said Spyglass.

"S' okay." Shell said. "That's why I'm goin' north, Spyglass. She's the only pony who could ever love me at a time like this. I'm goin' north to be near her."

The door to the lounge opened and Maddie and I promptly shut up and looked at the door. Twilight stood there with an expandable file, giving us equal measures of her hard gaze. Her mouth opened for a moment, and then shut.

I raised my glass to my mouth as she retook her seat on the couch. I caught a whiff of something extremely pungent, and stared at the bottom of the snifter. There was some sediment whirling in the bottom, and the smell coming off of it was strong enough to build a parking lot on. I didn't comment.

Twilight threw the file in my face. I almost spilled my drink.

"That's the gravel analysis. Do you know how long it took to compile that?" she asked. I rearranged the file and began leafing through it. "I'll give you a hint, I had to read city plans dating back fifty years to get a complete list of all the construction materials used in Canterlot today, because no recent version lists them all. And then I had to compare the sample you gave me with every kind in Canterlot."

"Sounds like you need to have a word with Her Royal Highness about record keeping. Hardly my fault if government officials are slacking on construction reports."

"No need to thank me." she spat, and poured herself enough brandy to float an aircraft carrier. "Anyway, that gravel was only used for three projects, because when it thawed following a freeze, it took on enough moisture to turn it to quicksand. Engineers deemed it too dangerous and stopped using it, but never bothered to completely resurface the places it was used due to expense, so they left it and, basically, hoped it wouldn't ever be a problem."

I closed the file and gave it to Maddie and said: "These are all residential areas."

"Is that surprising?" asked Twilight.

"Kinda. I figured they might be set up somewhere quieter, where there's fewer ponies around that're gonna stumble upon their business."

Twilight pursed her lips and stared into the middle distance and nodded rhythmically like a drinking bird executive toy.

"I need to summarise all this or my head is gonna explode. Gimme a pen and some paper." I said. Twilight glanced over her right shoulder and levitated some writing supplies onto the table. I took the pen in my mouth and chewed it while getting my thoughts in order. I began scribbling my disjointed version of events on the paper in the order that they came to me, using arrows to establish some kind of timeline. When I was done, I spat out the pen and held up the paper.

I said: "Ashen Smoke, director of the ECMB, gets sacked for mental instability over an unknown case and then disappears without a trace. In less than seven months, she recruits no fewer than six other ponies and forms Python, an organisation who's long-term goals are unknown. Around seven months following her resignation, I stumble across her and she employs me to find elusive ponies. Right so far?"

Twilight nodded. I looked at Maddie, who was nodding as well.

"About the ponies she sends you after." said Twilight. "You said they're all on a list that Zecora kept. What do they have in common?"

I paused for slightly too long, something that Twilight noticed. I had not yet told them about the relics. I had weighed the benefits against the risks, and found that keeping that information to myself was best.

"I asked. She didn't tell me. Maybe we'll find out someday."

"There wasn't anything distinctive about Blackthorn?" she said. I was about to ask her how she knew about him when she continued. "Shell was very talkative last night. Speaking of which, don't think I've forgotten about the crystal killer. I intend to speak to you about that in the near future."

I pretended she didn't say that last part.

"Blackthorn was very ordinary." I said while shrugging.

Maddie popped his neck and every other limb like he was getting ready to fight. Twilight tapped noiselessly on the armrest of her couch and looked around the room. Our discussion was winding down.

After some debating, we agreed on our next course of action. Maddie would continue to glean Canterlot Archives for information about Python and Ashen Smoke. Twilight would take care of the inquiry into Shell, making sure my name never came up. I, meanwhile, would investigate the locations where Twilight found the gravel matching that which came out of my hooves.

"One other thing." said Twilight. We were about to part ways and I was saying my farewells to Maddie when she spoke. "We're on our own side here. We stand apart from the ECMB, from Python, from the police and, officially, from the princesses as well. It's just us."

"What's your point?" I asked.

"I thought we needed our own identity."

"What, a team name?" asked Maddie. "This ain't a pub quiz."

"Perhaps not, but I make the rules."

"A little personal flair to this big mess." I laughed. "Go on then, what did you have in mind ma'am?"

"Osprey." she said. "We're Osprey."

Apex predators of the land and the air. There would be no winners in that fight, only the one that lost the least.

The One Good Thing

Chapter 6
The One Good Thing

To my left, the way I came, looking much the same as it did thirty seconds ago. Empty, but not so empty as to set me on edge. Some laundry on a string suspended across the street some ten feet in the air billowed aimlessly and without urgency. In the distance, Canterlites moved about and wagons clacked on cobblestone.

The houses were too old, too identical and too close together. Their wood smelt of decay and apathy, and the slate-work would make a roofer faint. This was a small and forgotten corner of the city, and Canterlot seemed to work hard to keep it that way.

To my right, more street and more emptiness and a good view of the east walls of Canterlot castle. I strained my eyes at the highest turret of the castle, expecting to see one of the princesses. I didn't see them, but then I wasn't looking very hard. The ground was a far more interesting place to be looking.

My hoof scraped across the ground, turning over the gravel path. There were two shades of gravel, one light and sandy and coarse. It didn't look a thing like the gravel in the little plastic bag in my mouth. The second layer was fine and sharp, just like the gravel I gave to Twilight. I sneered at it. I don't know why I did that, but I remember thinking that this place, whatever dilapidated nook of Canterlot this happened to be, was not the Python's lair. There was nothing familiar about the place. The smell, the taste of the air, it was all wrong.

"Alright." I said to nobody in particular.

I looked around myself again and saw very little. It was a Sunday after all. The map that Twilight drew for me found its way into my hooves again, though it wasn't so much a map as a massive technical drawing. A city planner's mundane fantasy. She might as well have drawn me a map of the whole goddamn city. What's the point? I grumbled.

I mentally crossed-off one location on the map. The other two were on the other side of Canterlot and equally far from where I stood. I grumbled at that too, and walked to the nearest carriage rank. I pushed the map into the carriage pony's face and told him to take me to the lower-west side of Canterlot. We made the twenty-something minute journey in silence.

As we were about to turn a corner onto the marked street, I told him to stop. He stopped and I got out, left some bits on the seat, and asked him to hang around for a few minutes. I didn't expect him to stay, but it would be a nice gesture. I could have done with some niceness in my life.

I left the carriage pony to stand around while I walked to the end of the street. This area was to the last how Mayfair is to Luton. The houses were whiter and cleaner than a milkman's uniform, with little gardens and little ornaments that dangled off of some very superfluous looking architecture. Everything felt so fake that I thought it might turn up on a street market somewhere, next to the 'Rollex' watches and 'Kelvin Klein' clothes. I was convinced that places like this don't exist in real life. That said, if someone asked me a year ago if a place like Equestria could exist, I would have laughed and said 'no' and gone back to my damp flat. It's funny how things turn out sometimes.

When I got to the corner I stopped and took out the map. Willow Avenue, where the middle class live and pretend to be rich. This street was narrow as well, and the buildings taller, which cast stumpy fat shadows onto the very white and very well maintained gravel paths on either side of the street. I went to the path and scuffed at it, revealing a lower layer of sharp and fine gravel.

I went back the way I came. Going by the logic that the Grey Arbitress's mental processes were very similar to mine, I had two contrasting theories with equal merit on my mind. The first was that I couldn't think of a worse place to set up a base of operations for an organisation like Python, and so it was unlikely it would be here. There were too many middle-upper class families with dogs, picket fences and large noses which they enjoyed poking into other people's business.

The second was the 'hiding in plain sight' theory. According to some, the best place to hide something or someone is out in the open, because nobody thinks to look there. Nobody, not even me, would think to look for something as esoteric as Python in an estate that might as well have the words 'neighborhood watch' lit up on a giant neon sign at the end of the pavement.

The carriage pony was still there, examining the houses just like I had been only a minute ago and probably imagining himself living here. We made eye contact as I strolled up to him and I asked him to take me to Scotch Place while pointing at the map. He nodded and I hopped on and we set off.

"Stop here." I said. He stopped and I got off.

Most of Canterlot was unknown to me, and this place was even more so. The buildings looked like offices converted into housing - a lot of concrete, a lot of glass and a lot of side alleys. It looked like a rough area, where snooping around would not be conducive to one's health. Good thing I didn't care much for it.

I turned to the pony and asked: "You ever hear stories about this place?"

"I hear a lot of stories." he replied. I guessed carriage ponies do. "Are you gonna tell me one?"

"Okay, fine, be obtuse." I said. I reached into my saddlebag and took out five more bits than I owed him. "How about now?"

He stared at the money for a moment and said: "This place attracts a certain kind of pony, the kind you don't wanna run into even on a good day. Cops and royal guard don't come around here unless they really gotta, so I guess you're not a cop, maybe a police detective from another city. I reckon with a face like that you'd fit right in here."

"I know who I am, you don't need to tell me. What news do you hear out of here?" I said.

"That's the thing. You don't hardly hear nothing. This place is quieter than a funeral procession. The way I figure it is some drug ring is set up here and they stay quiet so they don't attract attention. It's eerie 'cause you don't hear anything. In a way I'd prefer it if I heard someone over here got crossed off the list. Not knowing is creepier than knowing. Ponies that know what's good for them don't come around here."

I said: "Sounds like you're eager to get out of here."

"You should be as well, but you don't look the type that'll leave just because someone told you to. Maybe you're looking for trouble, but I'm not. We done playing twenty questions?"

I nodded and thanked him. He turned the carriage around and left.

I turned around and saw very little. He wasn't lying when he said this place was quiet and scary. Even a tumbleweed would avoid this part of the city. It would be stupid to poke my nose into anything around here, so I walked down the street and continued sleuthing.

I walked in the shadows of the buildings while staring up at them like a tourist. So dead was the street that I thought I was the only pony in Equestria. Then I laughed to myself, and then I furrowed my brow. Did I really just think myself a pony? Maybe that is what it feels like when method actors can't get out of their role. I wanted to be concerned, but I didn't have time for that, so I pretended I never had that thought.

I stopped walking at the edge of a narrow alleyway and sniffed the air. It smelt right. The alleyway was a beaten gravel path about two meters wide inbetween two three-story buildings. There were plenty of scuffs and hoofmarks, some pf which might have matched mine.

I didn't go any further because I didn't want to potentially stray too far into the Python's nest on my own, and partially because I was too scared to hang around much longer. I turned around and walked back the way I came. I would have cantered if there wasn't a hole in one of my legs.

I breathed a sigh of relief as the signs of a more civilised area of Canterlot came into view. I checked around myself for a shadow - ponies peering over newspapers, stopping when I stopped, looking into shop windows if I caught sight of them. I saw no familiar faces, but I still felt a pair of eyes on the back of my head. I snorted a single laugh at my paranoia and ducked into a cafe.

I sat at a table in a dark corner opposite the bar. A young mare was absently operating a cash register with one hoof while scribbling food orders on a pad. A waitress approached me like a keeper approaches a lion and she asked me what I wanted, without looking at my face. I ordered a black coffee and she scurried away. I barely blinked as I kept my eyes on the door.

Twenty minutes passed and the coffee was untouched. Enough ponies came and went over that time, and a lot of them glanced at me for half a second before desperately trying to pretend I wasn't there, but none that I saw in the street. It occurred to me that I was hungry, so I went up to the bar to order. There was a charity box on the counter collecting for Clear Skies - a charity that provides healthcare for injured weather pegasi that can't afford treatment, into which I dropped a couple of bits.

"Excuse me sir?" someone said.

I saw from the corner of my eye a pony sidle up to my left. I turned my head enough so that I could see them with one eye. It was a stallion earth pony, slimmer than me, which was unusual, with cyan eyes that looked like they had last slept when Luna got banished to the moon. I felt tired just looking at him.

I didn't say anything and let him continue.

"I'm afraid I must ask you to leave." he said, using all his energy to prevent his lower lip from wobbling. I furrowed my brow a little, more in thought than in irritation, but it made him shift his weight around. I went back to staring at the charity box.

"Who're you." I said with disinterest.

"Mantis Vine. I own this cafe." he said, like he was trying to convince himself rather than me. A short silence passed between us, which I enjoyed. "Sir, I mean no disrespect, but you are causing-" he searched for the right word "-distress. Among the other customers."

He waited for me to speak, which I didn't. I just shot him a solemn look, and he flinched like I had actually shot him.

"Sir-"

"Yeah I know what I look like. Thanks for reminding me, 'cause I didn't get enough of that already." I said. In truth, I thought I made for quite a handsome stallion, before Twilight put a window pane through my head. A kind of rugged charm you don't get from runway models and preened nobles. I looked like an outdoors kind of pony. I guessed Applejack appreciated that.

He lowered his voice and said: "Please don't make a scene, sir. Who says twenty bits for a discrete exit?"

"Sounds like something I'd say." I said while shrugging. He leaned over the counter and produced twenty from the register. He sighed at it and dropped it into my front jacket pocket.

I walked to the door and went through it. March Violet or whatever his name was called out some superficial apology that I couldn't hear. Clearly, I would have to get used to living with a face that looked like it lost a fight with a bed of nails. As if I didn't cause enough 'distress' as it was.

I was still hungry, and since I needed to drop in on Maddie anyway, I ambled to the Bull and China. It was about time I tried Stoke's cooking.

I peered through the unusually clean windows and saw something like ten to fifteen ponies inside. I stepped back a few paces and craned my neck to look at the signage. It still said 'Bull & China' in light-sensitive bulbs that looked like the ones you see around make-up mirrors. The same wording was stencilled across each window in an arch, in a font you'd expect to see on the menu of a French restaurant. Now this is a front, I remember thinking.

The bell above the door let out a soft ring as I entered. Idle gossip floated in the air and chairs screeched out a melody as their occupants fidgeted. Already I couldn't stand being in these four walls. Most likely, neither could Maddie, which might have explained his absence from his usual position behind the bar.

In his place was another pony that was almost a carbon-copy of March Violet or whoever he was, except for the light-green mane and tail. My first thought was they probably grew his kind in laboratories for the express purpose of running small businesses. My second thought was that Maddie wouldn't employ just anyone. He must have something in him that Maddie likes. Chances were that I would like it too, so I went over to the bar to find out. He was fiddling with an espresso machine and didn't see me approach, or I thought he didn't.

"Yessir, what can I get'cha?" he said, still facing away from me. It was the thickest Trottingham accent I'd ever heard, and I almost fell over laughing. I disguised it as a short coughing fit. He turned around, raised an eyebrow, and waited for me to say something. Either he was blind or he didn't care about my face. I saw the opportunity to have some fun, so I took out my ECMB warrant card.

"Arch Sylis ECMB. I need to speak with the manager. Is he in?"

"Might be around somewhere." he said while studying the ID. His teeth looked like they belonged to Shane MacGowan after getting hit in the face with a shovel. He didn't so much as bat an eyelid at the surprise. If he was nervous, he hid it well, because he looked cooler than a Scottish winter. "I'll 'ave a look see. Won't be a sec."

He left the seating area through the saloon doors to the kitchen, which had somehow avoided the renovation. I didn't peg Maddie for the sentimental type. Perhaps he wanted to remember his roots, a place I was steadily slipping away from.

It's not that I didn't enjoy my life back on Earth. Affairs were pretty good right up to and including that fateful day. I had a car, I was learning, I had loving parents and my siblings were tolerable. There was a month period following my arrival here where I must have gone through each stage of grief at least ten times. I couldn't accept that in one singular moment, I'd lost everything but the clothes on my back.

The weeks rolled by, and while I might have lost my old life, my new one was beginning to look up. The Apples helped me a lot with the grief after I told them I'd never see my parents or siblings again, and every day I spent on their farm helped me to push past that knowledge. Gradually, the connection with my old life frayed.

Some days I even forget I'm human.

I noticed a lot of customers sparing me half-hearted glances. It irritated me, so I thought I'd include them in the fun. I picked a table at random and walked to it. Seated there were a young couple, city types, probably fresh graduates. To them, I must have looked like something you find crawling behind the fridge, or out of a gutter. They seemed to ignore me until I was close enough to the stallion to count the freckles on his cheeks.

"Arch Sylis ECMB." I said, flashing the warrant card. It was fun waving it around. Anti-magic agents probably thought it was fun too.

The stallion cocked his head at me, licked his lips, and exchanged a worried glance with his marefriend.

"Er, can I help you? Sir?" he asked.

"May I see a form of ID?" I asked in return. "You look-" I paused for dramatic effect. "-familiar."

"Uh, sure." he said, fumbling around in a saddlebag on the floor. "I'm not in trouble am I?"

I said: "That remains to be seen."

He produced a passport from the bag and gave it to me. I flicked through the pages and nodded my head continuously, pretending to find every detail very interesting. He'd traveled a lot, for someone so young. Every country on the continent in fact.

I found the laminated page with his personal information and stared at that for a while. His date-of-birth was interesting, as was his name: Sero Lyse. A future in bioanalytics perhaps. The young couple hadn't said a word, and stayed silent until I closed the passport and gave it back to the stallion. He stared at it dumbly for a few seconds, while I stared at him.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

The seconds that followed were heavy enough to collapse under their own weight.

"Happy birthday." I said.

I think I would have been a pretty good Gestapo Kriminalinspektor given the chance. Not the pistol-whip and take you for a midnight dip in the Spree kind, rather the kind that gets his kicks from a perverse form of intimidation.

I seemed to have left the couple without a response, so I left them to their food and went back to the bar. A few seconds later, Stoke popped his head out of the kitchen doors. He smirked and came through.

"Your sense of humour is awful." he said while walking over. He leaned on the counter top and half-heartedly brushed bits of vegetable off his apron.

"Come on, can't I have some fun now and again?" I said. "How you doing Stoke, who's the new guy?"

"Now there's a funny story." he said. "Name's Rake Lock, but we've come to call him 'Nutcracker'. Just a couple of days ago I stayed late to help Maddie shift some of the old furniture into storage. Must've been gone ten when we got fed up and decided to leave it until tomorrow. I was about to leave when I saw an open door in the kitchen. I thought I just forgot to lock it, but when I went to lock it, I saw the back entrance into the street was wide open too."

"A thief? You don't have anything worth stealing." I said. "Well, nothing the average pony knows about."

"Yeah, that's what got me worried. I took a look around the place, and when I checked the office I found Nutcracker trying to break into the safe. He froze like a mannequin when I turned the lights on. Then I beat him and dragged him to Maddie. When he asked him why he was breaking into the safe, he said, word for word, 'Needed the practice, didn't I mate?'. I thought Maddie was gonna crush his skull, but instead he offered him a job."

"And he took it?"

"It was that or Maddie said he'd break his kneecaps. Naturally, he accepted. You don't know how hard it is to find a good B&E pony, so this was one of those rare times when everybody wins. Turns out he can also spot a fake ID too."

"He knew mine was fake?" I said, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice.

He nodded. "Came through to the kitchen and said there was some pony with a face like a cheese grater flashing a fake ECMB badge out in the eating area. Knew it had to be you."

We shared a laugh.

"Right, two things: food and Maddie, preferably at the same time. Is he in?"

Stoke nodded. "Come on through." he said while gesturing at the kitchen doors.

I had always presumed a vegetarian diet was about as diverse as a neo-nazi meeting. Naturally I didn't cotton much to the idea of eating soy beans soaked in soy milk every meal, as any omnivore wouldn't. Equestria surprised me in that regard - a vegetarian diet is as varied as you make it. The Bull & China, if the smell was anything to go by, made it very well indeed.

I counted four cooks, not including Stoke, as he led me through. None of them noticed us walk past, too busy with their pots and pans. Asparagus salads, artichoke omelettes, pasta bake. That last one smelt good enough to make into a fragrance. Pasta bake - pour homme. I was wondering where Maddie got the money for all of this when Stoke introduced me to Nutcracker, who had been shouting food orders at the cooks.

"Nice spot on the ID. You're the second to notice it's counterfeit. What gave it away?" I asked. He turned to me and looked me up and down.

"Edges weren't perforated mate. See, ECMB ID's are mass-produced on one sheet, with perforations on the edges so you don't need to cut 'em. Yours is too smooth around the edges, which means it didn't come off a factory roller. I guess whoever made it used a guillotine." he said in one breath. "That-" he took another breath. "-and 'cause 'Arch Sylis' is an anagram of Chrysalis."

I smirked and said: "Looks like Maddie is lucky to have you."

"I'm lucky I still got both my kneecaps."

I extended a hoof. "Anon."

"Rake Lock." he said, mirroring me. Our hooves joined and he added: "This lot've taken to calling me 'Nutcracker' though."

"I can't imagine why." I said, though privately I dubbed him MacGowan. Stoke tapped me on the shoulder and gestured across the kitchen to the office door. We maneuvered around the cooks to the appointed place.

"He's good eh?" Stoke said, knocking on the glass part of the door.

"That he is." I said. "Shame about the teeth though."

Stoke chuckled. "That would be my fault. Maddie's seeing to it that he gets some implants."

A flat and impatient 'what' came from beyond the door, and Stoke opened it for us. Maddie didn't sound like he was in the best of moods, and the reason became apparent as I entered. In a fashion reminiscent of Twilight, paper columns surrounded the enormous orange pony such that he couldn't move an inch without pushing over one of them. I whistled at the sight and Maddie glanced upwards from the paperwork. His mouth curved into a slight smile but his eyes had no humour in them. I almost felt sorry for him.

He blew a resonant sigh and said: "I got some advice f'ya. Don't ever start your own business, it ain't worth the hassle." before adding "a legit business at least. You know how much trouble it is to cook the books?"

"With your connections I bet you could find a discreet accountant." I said.

"Never met an accountant what I liked." he said, chewing his pen.

"If you only hired ponies you liked, you wouldn't have a business."

"True." he said while nodding. "You meet the new guy?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

I shrugged. "Seems sound. He spotted my ID was fake which, if I remember correctly, you sold me."

It was Maddie's turn to shrug. He did so and the piles of paper threatened to collapse on him.

"Tell me when it gets you into trouble." he said.

"I'd rather I didn't get into trouble at all."

"Life rarely works out that way, eh Anon? You should know."

Stoke nodded at both of us and started towards the door. As his hoof touched the handle, Maddie told him to stay, since he had a vague idea of how the Spirit Sight job was going to go down. Three heads are better than two, said Maddie. Stoke and I found some chairs pushed to the sides of the room and dragged them front of Maddie's desk. He waited for us to sit before saying anything.

"Everything is waitin' on you now Anon. I've got someone on the cleanin' team, and I somehow found a chemist what were crazy enough to make what you asked for. Now you gonna tell me how this master plan a' yours is gonna happen or are ya gonna keep me guessin'?"

I said: "You've got the silver azide here now?"

"Behind two inches of lead, yeah." he laughed and gestured at a safe in the corner. "Nutcracker would've had a big ol' surprise if he tried to nick that."

"Good. Get it out."

"I didn't know our relationship was at that stage." Maddie said with a dumb grin.

I couldn't think of a wisecrack quickly enough, so I just glared at him. Maddie smirked again and looked around himself, seeing that he couldn't leave the desk without causing a miniature earthquake of paper. He looked at Stoke, who nodded and got out of his seat and went to the safe. The combination lock rotated a few times and the door swung open. Very slowly and very carefully, Stoke reached into the safe and produced a foil-wrapped jar, the contents of which would give you a face like mine if you so much as sneezed on it. He set it on top of the safe and retook his seat beside me.

"Well?" Maddie asked, raising an eyebrow.

I reached into my pocket and produced two halves of a brass pea-whistle, the same kind used by Spirit Sight to summon his lackeys. I'd used a rotary saw to bisect it laterally and then removed the ball.

"This is a whistle." I said.

"No way." said Maddie.

I kept talking. "You're going to find that unicorn who was crazy or stupid enough to make the silver azide, and you're gonna make him put a blob of it in the whistle, and then rejoin the two halves. Make sure all that's done underwater as well. Then you're gonna give the whistle to your pony on the cleaning team, who is gonna replace Spirit Sight's whistle with this one."

"I knew I was right." said Stoke.

"Damn. So the next time he blows on it-"

"-he'll wonder where that normal shrill noise is, and then he's gonna repaint his manor in an interesting new hue called 'bloody mess'." I finished.

They frowned as their mouths turned downwards and looked between each other, exchanging looks of morbid fascination. I was proud of my design, produced under the mantra of: least effort, greatest efficacy. Come to think of it, that was my motto for life in general. Someone can always count on me to put as little effort in as possible. If all went to plan, the Spirit Sight hit would be a shining example of how, provided a modicum of planning went into it, a plan can be executed with very little stress.

A few seconds passed with Maddie and Stoke swapping worried glances, possibly imagining how the scene would play out once Spirit Sight put the whistle to his lips. Having been so close to Reed Heartstrings when his head was liberated from his shoulders, I imagined it very well. A shame that I couldn't be there to see the result of my work.

"Don't tell me big old Maddie can't stomach this one." I said. "You've seen and done worse."

Maddie cleared his throat.

"Well, yeah, that's true I guess. In a sense." Maddie said. "Difference between you and me is that I don't fuck about with little devices and miniature explosives when I want to off someone. I've always preferred usin' my own hooves like. Here I thought I was pretty good, until you show up and come up with a way to kill a pony without even bein' in the same room. That's the unsettlin' part my friend."

"You're the enemy they can't see." said Stoke. "I'm sure FoI would rather take Maddie and the rest of us instead of you on your own."

"If I was really all that great, I wouldn't even be in this position today, y'know." I said. "All the same, I'm flattered."

The sun broke through the cloud layer and shone through the windows, brightening the moody office and falling directly onto the beaker of silver azide. I couldn't have leaped out of my chair faster if it was spring-loaded, and ran to shade the beaker. I half expected it to go off in my face and ruin the Harvey 'Two Face' Dent look I was sporting by littering the right side of my face with glass. It didn't, and after a small breather, I explained to Maddie that I should be on my way.

"I would get up and see you out but-" he gestured to the stacks of papers that towered all around him. "-as you can see, work has occurred. You were gonna have some lunch right?" he asked, and I nodded. "Good, try the spinach cannelloni, on the house of course."

"One more thing. Well, two more things." I said. Maddie raised an eyebrow and told me to go on. "You seen the biggest headline this week?"

"I guess you're talkin' about that crazy ECMB agent. Attacked an element of harmony, so I hear."

"I'm sure you've heard much more than that, being who you are, so drop the act." I said. Given the increased level of deadliness Maddie now attributed to me, I felt I could get away with playing hard. "You know how close I am to her, and you know all about the agents that have been chasing me across the country."

"What're you gettin' at?" he asked.

"I'm turning the tables, Maddie. Those agents will be running from me now, and I don't know if I can find them." I said, moving to the desk. I put my hooves on the edge and leaned in. "But you can, Maddie. However much you want, that's fine, but I need you to find those agents and bring them back."

He leaned back in his chair and almost pushed over a stack of papers. As though he were sucking on an invisible pipe, he chewed his bottom lip and looked at nothing in particular, clacking his hooves together as he thought.

After a few seconds, he leaned over on the desk and furrowed his brow, looking at me with his fiery wide eyes.

"Why?" he said. "Unless you're plannin' on killin' em', which I don't condone by the way, and it sure as shit ain't happenin' at my joint, I don't see a reason for you to be lookin' for 'em."

"I don't want to kill them. Well, maybe I want to kill Shell, who wouldn't right? But, I have a plan for them that would work better if they were alive."

I anticipated the next question.

"What plan?" he asked.

"Why." I said. "New players, of course."

I grunted. Not because I felt tired, quite the opposite, but because its what everyone does when stirred from sleep. It's a cultural phenomenon more than anything else. A sign that you're awake and ready to listen, or to talk. For me, it would be the latter. I had a lot that I wanted to say to the Grey Arbitress.

She cleared her throat and sat cross-legged, waiting for me to become more lucid. She was stoic as she always was, but I knew it was a false face. Just like Maddie, she knew every detail of what happened when Shell came to visit. She failed me, and she knew it.

"How are the Apples doing?" I asked.

She opened her mouth to speak. I pointed a hoof at her.

"Shut up." I said.

"I'm sorry." she said.

I breathed a sigh and looked around the room. I don't know why I did that, since it always looked the same.

I said: "I don't particularly care about what happens to me. I'll take a broken leg, or a face full of glass, or psychological damage as and when it comes, and you can be sure that I'll be back in the thick of it before too long. But, I do care about what happens to the Apples. So, when I asked you for assurance that they would be safe, not just from you, but from everything, I figured it wouldn't be too much a stretch of the imagination that you'd fucking do it."

I licked my dry lips and tasted salt. I wished that someone would bring me a drink and put a cigarette in my mouth. Ashen Smoke said nothing.

"How could you let this happen?" I asked. "How could you miss it?"

She drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"We had no reason to suspect that that agent would do something so rash. He was going on five years of experience, a damned special agent in-charge. And he had supervisory special agent by his side who should have stopped him. It was a million in one chance. We rolled the dice and lost, it's that simple. I'm sorry, Anon, but that's the truth of it."

"You're telling me that things turned out like they did on a one in a million chance?" I asked. If you could calculate the odds, you'd find that they were much more favorable than a million to one. I guessed my letters changed those odds.

"Yes."

"Bullshit. This is your fault."

"And maybe you want me to construct a bunker in their cellar on the million to one chance that monsters from the Everfree attack Ponyville? It's the same damned thing. You're angry and you want to vent, I get that, but this is nobody's fault but Shell's, and to a lesser extent, Spyglass's. I'm not going to let you sit there and try to heap the blame on to me. In summary, I'm sorry for what's happened, but this is not my fault."

I sighed again and took a few seconds to calm myself.

"I got thrown out of a cafe the other day, y'know. Because of this." I waved a hoof around my face. "I hear gossip too. They say that now I've got a face to match the disfigurement in my soul."

"Since when did you listen to gossip?" she asked.

"I don't. I just find it funny that this pony form is my true disfigurement. If only they knew how right they truly are."

She smiled and said: "You make for a convincing pony.". She uncrossed her legs and leaned forwards, blinking at me with her emerald eyes. They were like Applejack's. "Just to satisfy my personal curiosity..." she began. "...I'd like to know how aware you are of the lie you live."

"How do you mean?"

"Okay, an example:" she said. "Are there days when you forget what you really are, or days when you use Equestrian idioms in place of human ones?"

Since I wasn't going to get anything else done today, I thought I would indulge her with the truth.

"Just yesterday." I said. "I referred to myself as a pony, but I didn't have to think about doing it. It felt as natural as breathing."

"And that disturbed you, didn't it?" she asked, then she shook her head. "Of course it would."

I twigged.

"Are you profiling me?"

She paused before speaking. "That would imply unfamiliarity. No, we're just having a conversation. Being who I am, I can't help but read between the lines. I'm sure you're doing the same thing."

Despite keeping my expression neutral, she curved the corner of her mouth into a wry smile, knowing she was right. Getting into someone's head is easy if you know them well, even easier if you happened to be a gender-swapped version of them. She could count on her thought processes being identical to mine. In the past, I gave her the benefit of the doubt on whether or not she knew that I could do exactly the same thing, but after she said that, I knew for sure. Knowing that, I was in the perfect position to deceive her.

And she was in the perfect position to deceive me.

Sat in that room stained in my blood and decorated with one of my teeth, scowling at the mare opposite me, I wondered who was playing the other more effectively. I couldn't tell if she was part of my grand design, or if I was a part of hers. The victor of our game would be decided on who could better understand and empathise with the other.

Despite her overwhelming advantage, one fact gave me some small solace. There were a few ways that this could end, and I had no idea which one of them would complete our story. This meant that most likely, neither did she. The Grey Arbitress is a lot of things, but she can't see the future.

I looked off to one side and rubbed my chin.

"Yeah. It was... I just pretended that I never thought myself a pony." I said. "I've got enough on my plate already without adding an identity crisis to the mix."

"You're scared, at the prospect of losing what you think makes you unique." she said.

I frowned and turned my head to her. "A little. Are you saying that I shouldn't be?"

"In a world where you are the sole member of your species, I can understand that your human side is the first thing that comes to mind when you're listing things that set you apart from others. It's natural that you should cling to it." she said while shrugging. "But there are other, more profound things too."

"Such as?" I asked.

"Your skills, your relationships. Even discounting your human side, nothing like you has ever existed in Equestria before, and when your story is complete, you'll leave a legacy like no other." she said. "These things set you apart from everyone else."

"Uniqueness isn't the issue." I said. "It feels like I'm... betraying."

She raised an eyebrow. "Betraying who?"

"Everything, and everyone." I said. "My species, my family, myself. I feel that if I just give up my humanity and try my best to live as a pony, I'll be giving up on that side of myself."

"You find it hard to accept that you'll never have your old life back." she said. A part of her mane draped over her eye, which she flicked back with a hoof gesture. "Ignoring the reality won't change it."

"Well." I said. "You know what they say about ignorance."

"It might be bliss, but in the end you're only deceiving yourself. You know that." she said.

"I've lived a lie for almost seven months, what difference does one more make." I said.

She breathed a sigh and got up and walked to the solitary filing cabinet on my left. Despite the general noisiness of hooves on floorboards, bats couldn't have heard her hoofsteps as she glided across the room. She leafed through the top drawer and took out an expandable file.

"The difference is that this lie is distancing you." she said, retaking her seat.

"From what, exactly?"

She levitated the file into my hooves. I looked between it and her for a few seconds before unwinding the string and opening it.

"From the one thing you actually care about." she said, as I saw what was inside. Photographs of the barn, the house, their smiling faces, and someone else. Someone I barely recognised as the pony that stares at me with dead, bagged eyes and the cheese-grater face every time I look in the mirror. There he was, grinning like an idiot along with the rest of the Apple family.

I let pictures slip from my hooves and fall to the floor. The Grey Arbitress's eyes followed their gentle movements until they settled, and waited for me to say something. When I stayed silent, she spoke.

"If you can't learn to accept your new life, then neither will they."

I hesitated. "You don't know that." I said, shaking my head. "You're just a fucking... intelligent psychopath, with more than a few ulterior motives. Why should I believe anything you say?"

"Because happy workers are productive workers." she said. "Now that I've identified the only thing in Equestria that will keep you from depression, it's in both our interests to keep it around."

"I'm sure it is." I said, almost laughed.

"And there aren't many things I wouldn't do for a friend." she said.

I did laugh at that.

"No, nonono, no. We're so far from friendship that it's light won't reach us even in a thousand years."

We took a short break from analysing each other, while I thought about breaking her neck. It looked so easy. Just a couple of feet away and a flick of the hooves, and that's that. Maybe I wouldn't get out alive, but I fancied my odds.

I sighed.

"Y'know-" I said after a time. "-I can't work out if you're destroying me or rebuilding me."

"Ponies like us are phoenixes." she said. "First, we are destroyed, taken right down to the bedrock of our souls. Then we rise from the ashes, our mettle tempered by the lessons of our defeat. Older, but wiser."

And then we seek out our destroyer, I thought.

She collected up the photos with her magic and sorted them back into the file. She levitated it back into the cabinet and shut it.

She said: "I think you deserve to know that the agent who attacked you is now in exile. As for whether the case is open or closed, I cannot say. The ECMB are playing their cards quite close to their chest at the moment. You'll hear from me when I can find out more.". She fumbled in her jacket pocket and produced a small rectangle of white paper. "If you're ready to move on, then, I have another name for you."

"Oh joy." I said, reaching to take it from her. "Who's life do I get to ruin now?"

"They ruined it for themselves when they took up the relics, don't you dare believe any different."

I read the name and deposited the paper back in my own pocket. I thought about asking her a question, and after a lot of mental debate, I decided I would ask her.

"What are you looking for, Arbitress?"

"What do you mean?" she asked. I restated my question. "Relics, of course."

I smiled. "I was... obsessed, with my work, you know. I loved it so much that it bordered on neurotic. Like an addict with their needles, all I could think about was the next hit, the next job." I scratched my nose. "That's why when I hear you talk about the relics, all I hear is how obsessed you sound, and how much you sounded like me when I defended my work habits. It goes beyond what's professional, no, this is... its infatuation, compulsion. There's a very, very personal spin to what we're doing. Almost vengeful.

"So, maybe what I should be asking isn't: 'what are you looking for'." I said. "It's: 'who are you looking for?'"

Many times during my monologue she opened her mouth to speak, let it hang open for a while, and then shut it. She watched me in total silence, though there must have been a hurricane of thoughts turning in her mind. I caught myself chewing the inside of my cheek in anticipation.

"I liked your analogy about the phoenix, very poetic. If our lives are so alike, and you were my destroyer, then I figure that leaves one pretty obvious question." I said. "Who was yours?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you're too clever for your own good?" she eventually said.

"Many times." I said.

She chewed her bottom lip for a split-second.

"Goodnight, Anon."

Skis on a carriage, makes sense, thought Spyglass. They were enormous surfboards of skis bolted to the underside, leaving a w-shaped groove in the snow. It stopped outside the porch along with the team of six oddly contented looking snow-dogs and their less contented-looking handler. It was the first time the snowfall relented since Shell and Spyglass crossed the northern border.

From when they stepped off the train to when the delivery pony swung by the house, Spyglass awaited the arrival of Shell's belongings with greater anticipation than Shell himself. It meant that after hours of nothing to keep their idle hooves occupied, there was finally something he could do.

Spyglass's plan of helping Shell through the most turbulent time of his life fell apart shortly after they disembarked the train. Shell, true to his namesake, had become more and more of an emotional recluse as the minutes passed them by. He didn't want to talk about what happened, and as became apparent to Spyglass, he didn't want to be talked to about it.

The handler trudged through up to the porch where he kicked his hooves free of snow.

"The flank-end of nowhere. Yeah, I think this is the right place." he said, looking about the sparse landscape. "Icerunner, right? Sign here."

The handler pushed a clipboard under Spyglass's nose. Following Shell's exile, the ECMB set him up with a new identity to avoid further persecution. Shell was dead, in all but the literal sense. On that day, Icerunner the ski-instructor from Baltimare was born.

Spyglass nodded his head to the side.

"He's inside. Cup of coffee or something?" Spyglass asked. The handler nodded and let Spyglass show him in.

From the outside, you would think that it was an archetypal hunting lodge. Inside, however, there was no bear's head mounted above a roaring fire, or a carpet reminiscent of a roadkill polar bear. Just a lone stallion seated on a folding chair in front of a fire that could be extinguished by a fly's fart, surrounded by old newspapers and mismatched furniture left behind by previous owners.

"Your stuff's here." Spyglass said. Shell didn't move an inch. "This guy needs a signature."

Standing carefully as not to disturb the lasangne of blankets draped over him, Shell walked to the handler while Spyglass went to the kitchen.

It didn't take a detective to see Shell was a mess. His mane stuck to the side of his face like it had been glued there, covering one of his eyes. If the sight wasn't clue enough, the smell of last week clung to him like a sloth on a branch. If Spyglass had bought whiskey like Shell asked him to, he would have smelled of that as well.

"Dotted line if you would." said the handler. Shell took the pen in his mouth and scrawled his new signature. "Divorce?"

Shell spat out the pen and turned back to his seat by the fire.

"Can the state divorce citizens?" Shell asked. The handler said that he didn't know. "Neither do I."

"Hey Icerunner, coffee?" Spyglass shouted from the kitchen. Shell mumbled back a yes.

Spyglass soon returned to the living area with a tray of steaming mugs. The handler and Shell were crowded around the meager fire with hooves outstretched. Spyglass offered the mugs around before sitting down himself.

"I hate instant." Shell said, staring down into his mug.

"Well get used to hating it. Real stuff is extortionate up here." Spyglass said, and took a sip.

"You newcomers?" the handler asked.

"I'm just here to help move stuff." Spyglass said, gesturing towards the front door.

"You're friends? A couple?"

"Coworkers." Shell said, earning him a glare from Spyglass. I didn't follow your flank all the way up here to get relegated to coworker status, Spyglass thought. "Ex-coworkers."

"That so." said the handler. "What brings you to Glaciates?"

"You sure ask a lotta questions for a delivery guy." Shell said. Spyglass glanced at him again. "Sorry, old habit."

"S'alright. Divorces can make a stallion suspicious of everything." the handler said. "Take my ex. Little whore slept around like you wouldn't believe. Tried to take everything from me after the fact too. Now I can't even look at a mare without seeing my ex in her."

"At least you're not bitter." Spyglass said with a dumb smile.

The handler said: "Believe it or not, I'm not bitter. 'Course, to begin with you're all fire and brimstone, or down in the dumps or whatever, how can you not be, eh? And then I realised... even though I ain't seen her in weeks, this mare is still finding ways to make me hurt. This all happened weeks ago, and she's still making me feel like shit. But that wasn't really true. It was all me. By thinking about how much I hated her every second of every day, I was just hurting myself."

He finished his coffee in one gulp.

"It would be funny if it wasn't so perverse." he said. "Right, you two gonna help me unload your stuff? Not long 'till sunset and I'd rather not be travelling back in the dark. If the cold doesn't get you, the wolves sure will."

Spyglass nodded, finished his drink, and stood up. Only when he and the handler got to the door did Spyglass notice Shell still seated, staring aimlessly into the flickering flames.

"C'mon Icerunner, your mattress is in the carriage. Don't you wanna sleep on that tonight?" Spyglass said in a halfhearted attempt to motivate the 45 kilos of depression. To his genuine surprise, Shell heaved himself from the chair and replaced his blankets with a coat. He limped to the door on his three good legs, almost ignoring Spyglass, and stared out into the white chill.

"I never said 'thanks', for everything." Shell said.

"Well." Spyglass said, also looking to the landscape. "Now's your chance."

Shell paused before speaking.

"Thanks."

A thousand witty replies raced through Spyglass's head, but in the end he settled for something more sincere.

"No problem."

For the first time in a few days, I woke to my alarm rather than waking before it. My head sunk into pillows and eyes shut, I listened to the DJ drawl about the headlines, the songs and the weather. It was going to be a sunny day, so he said, evidenced by the sunbeams creeping under the shuttered blinds and the gradually rising heat in the room.

The temperature is what spurred me to get up and start the day in earnest. I retrieved the newspaper from the doormat and read it while I burned some toast.

The paper was full of its normal trite, echoing what I heard from the DJ not five minutes earlier. I leafed through each page until I was at the back. I found nothing even alluding to Shell's attack on the Apples. Twilight and the ECMB had done a remarkable job of keeping the incident contained, I mused.

I munched on the charred bread and stared at the peeling plaster on the ceiling. Today, like most of the days I've recently been having, would be a day where everything changed. Though, where the possible outcomes were many and unknown on those days, I could see only two this time, and they were cut clearer than an ALROSA diamond.

Today was the day I would talk to Applejack.

The Grey Arbitress always gives me a lot to think about, usually ways in which I can kill her, but I never considered that she was the one pony with whom I could discuss anything without inhibition. She respected me as I respected her, and as little as I wanted to admit it, she had become my soulmate in every way that counts. She understood me, and by virtue of understanding me, she helped me understand myself. Tied to my past as a human, I couldn't imagine a future as a pony. I didn't want a future as a pony, tormented by the notion that tomorrow, or the next day, I might find a way back to Earth.

The Grey Arbitress helped me to realise that, even if I could go back, I wouldn't for one simple reason. The life I built here, for all its loose nails and splintered wood, contains something very special. It has an orange coat, and straw hair always topped with a battered stetson. It's a workaholic, it always smells faintly, if not pungently of sweat. It's stubborn and brutish and that's a bad combination in something that can uproot a tree with a buck. To hell with my humanity, to hell with the transformation relic. I would have given it all up to be with Applejack.

I owed the Grey Arbitress more than I could repay for her insight into my life, and for the first time since laying eyes on that deadly mare, I regretted the necessity to kill her.

But, in losing her, I would still have Applejack. Perhaps we don't share the same primal affinity for each other that I share with the Grey Arbitress, but I have a connection with Applejack that runs almost as deep. Less esoteric than the bond I have with the Grey Arbitress, but just as powerful. It was only then, as I sat and tried to enjoy burned toast, I realised that it was this bond that gave me the strength to push through every punch, every nightmare, every squalid facet of my life.

My love for her kept me strong.

The morning was offensive in its brightness and the air would soon become stifling under the heat of the sun. I walked to the edge of the town square and stood in the shadow of the town hall, looking towards the market stalls. Applejack's was not among them. It seemed that their lives had not yet reached a steady state following the night of the Summer Sun.

I doubted our lives could return to how they were two months ago. Not just mine or the Apples, but everyone. Twilight, Maddie, Shell and Spyglass. Like a mutagen, everything I touch changes irreversibly with no way to know what the outcome will be, the only reasonable assumption is that it will be bad for all involved.

I moved through the market and found the spot where Applejack usually sets up her stall. It was very empty.

"Looking for Applejack?" someone said. I turned around where I saw a mare holding a sweet stand. She waved at me as I approached her.

"I'm looking for a lot of things." I said.

She tried to smile, but it looked like she gave up halfway through the act.

"You must be Anon." she said, leaning on some stacked boxes. She looked me up and down before narrowing her eyes at me. "I thought you'd be taller."

"Have we met?" I asked.

She shook her head. "You've met the mare I live with though. Lyra Heartstrings, maybe you remember her."

Lyra, and her brother Reed. According to the Grey Arbitress, the time I went to see Reed marked the very beginning of our story.

"You must be Bonbon then." I said, and she nodded. "How is she?"

She drew a breath and sighed at the sky and propped up her head on her hoof.

"Have you ever lost a sibling?" she asked. How about a whole family, I thought. I said that I had. "Then you know how she is."

With the wind thoroughly taken out of my sails, I changed the subject.

"You talk to Applejack a lot then?" I asked.

"Yeah. It can get real boring sometimes, minding a stall. We help each other through the day." she said. "Last couple of days she hasn't been there though. I heard something happened at the farm. You know anything about that?". I said that I hadn't. "I worry about that family. Seems that life just heaps tragedy on them at every opportunity. Last time Applejack didn't set up the stall was when Applebloom disappeared. Anyway, I'm rambling. Buy some sweets? 2 bits a bag."

"Yeah, sure, why not." I said, digging out some bits from my coat pocket and giving them to her. "Cheers."

"Looking for Applejack now?" she asked, levitating over a bag to me. I nodded. "Say 'hi' for me when you see her."

The path up to Sweet Apple Acres felt longer and steeper now. As I came over the rise, I could see the house still bore the scars of the night of the Summer Sun. The wall no longer had a hole in it, but the new wood stood out against the existing planks. A board of ply covered the shattered window. A scarred house to contain a scarred family. It was almost appropriate.

Winona's muffled barks sounded inside the house and I saw a silhouette come and go from the unbroken upstairs window.

I stopped just inside of the yard and surveyed the scene. Some farm equipment was gathering dust beside the house while weeds and grass grew unimpeded. Not particularly enjoying the view, I perched myself upon the fence and looked towards Ponyville instead. Somehow, Twilight's conspicuous castle looked even uglier than it normally was. It seemed that everything I laid eyes on brought up unpleasant memories.

I heard the door open, followed by indistinct talk between Big Mac and someone else, though I didn't turn around to look. The door closed and his heavy hooves padded across the yard to beside me. I glanced at him before looking back towards the town. He looked a little thinner, though he was still a behemoth of a pony. The usual smell of wood shavings and manual labor was absent, and his mane unkempt with the consistency of straw. His fetlocks were free of dirt as well.

"You look how I feel." I said. When he didn't reply after a few seconds, I kept talking. "Fixed that wall pretty quickly huh."

He still wasn't talking, so I hopped down from the fence and tried to make eye contact. I managed one syllable of a word before his right hoof connected with my face. I fell like a sack of bricks to the ground. Inside the house, someone screamed.

I lay belly-up on the ground and looked at Big Mac, who stared back at me. I poked my tongue around inside my mouth to feel for missing teeth. For a few moments I thought he would start driving his hooves into my stomach. When he didn't, I stood back up and did some jaw stretches. I hoped I would go my entire life without knowing what Big Mac's hooves felt like when taken at speed.

"Ah still see 'em, in mah dreams." Big Mac said. "He stands over me, holds me down, hurts me and mah family. 'Cept, ah don't wake up 'til he's done. And d'ya know what? Ah'm copin' best outta all of us."

"I'm sorry." I said.

He said: "Applebloom's scared ter death, and not me, not AJ, not even gran knows what ter tell her. She keeps askin' fer ya, thinkin' y'all can set the world right somehow. How do y'all tell a little filly that her hero went and brought demons to 'er home?"

"I didn't know. I couldn't have known." I said.

"Ah thought gran might die fer the fright Anon!" he shouted. "But-" he continued, quieter now. "-all ah can think about when ah see AJ now is how lucky the rest of us were. Last couple days she never left 'er bed. She eats almost nothin'. She can't sleep, and when she does, she can't stop screamin'. She won't tell me what she sees in 'er nightmares either. Ah can't do anythin', 'cept sit by and watch while she relives Tartarus. D'ya know how that makes meh feel?"

"None of us walked away from this unscathed! Look at me, you think I've come out of this any better than you!?"

"Y'all say it like its in the past!" he said. "Don'cha gettit? That night were just the start a' it. We're still livin' in the shadow a' that demon. None a' us 've walked away from nothin' yet!"

"Then let me help you! We can walk out of the shadow together!" I said, then lowered my voice. "You asked me if I knew how helpless you felt. It makes you angry, at yourself for not being stronger, and angry at whoever made you feel that way. Some days you just want to break something so that the rage has somewhere to go, but its a weak rage, one that doesn't have the power behind it to make something happen. Yeah, I know how it feels, I've lived it enough times to know.

That's why you have to let me see them. If you don't, I'll be as helpless as you. I care too much, about you, about Applebloom, about gran and about AJ, to just do nothing. You've helped me, Big Mac. Let me help you!"

"And let ya bring more demons to our home? Y'all've helped enough." he said. He started back to the house. "Y'all should go."

"I'm not leaving." I said.

He stopped and turned around. Head cocked, he said: "Say what?"

"Did I stutter?" I repeated through gritted teeth. "You think I'm just gonna stand by while the one good thing to bless my sordid life circles the drain?"

"Anon-"

"I need you!" I shouted, my voice catching in my throat. "I need her. Please..."

What was left of my strength seemed to dissipate with the wind. I leaned against the fence post and slid down it. My eyes burned. Something wet patterned my jacket and my breaths became short, shallow coughs. I could think of nothing that made me feel more defeated and alone than the rejection of the Apple family.

The beast within permitted them past my carapace, and housed them in the very core of my soul. The beast grew to love them, and in doing so allowed them to become an integral part of who I am. That part of myself was now on the precipice of tearing free, and all the beast could do was whimper as his master's heart was ripped asunder. It loved them too much to try and stop them from leaving, but it also loved them too much to let them go.

It took me a few painful moments to realise that Big Mac was now standing next to me. He sighed and shook his head.

"Ah don't know what ter say." he said. "Y'all confuse me. Every time ah think ah gotcha nailed down, y'all go and do somethin' ah ain't never expected."

I sniffed. "I do try-" I said. "-to do right. I really do."

A long silence passed between us. Big Mac looked to the horizon while I looked at the ground. I could hear what sounded like an argument inside the house. I resisted the temptation to glance at the windows, because I didn't want Applebloom to look into my eyes and see how broken I'd become.

"Yer love her." he said, still staring towards Ponyville. It wasn't a question, it was an observation, so I didn't reply. "Why?"

It didn't take much thought.

"She makes me feel like... a regular pony." I said. "I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of, and I hate myself for that. And, I don't know why, but AJ... she just seems to look past that, like she knows that I pay for what I do and does her best to help me get by. When I'm with her, I feel like all my problems just... disappear, like there's nothing wrong with my life. She helps me out of dark places when I can't seem to leave them. But, the simple truth of it is that... the only times I feel happy are when I'm with her."

He looked down at the dirt and scuffed at it with his hoof. He took in a breath and released it slowly.

He said: "Ah always figured y'all only talked in half-truths, like y'all were never completely straight about stuff. Ah never shared the same eye fer honesty what AJ's got, so ah could never be sure. But, ah don't believe it's possible fer y'all to lie about somethin' like this, ah surely don't.

Y'all've been a great friend, Anon. Ah forget that sometimes. Now that ah remember, ah figures y'all deserve - need - this chance ter make things right. Ah think we all need it."

I pushed myself off of the post and stood, coming face to face with Big Mac. His eyes, as he stared into mine, seemed to look beyond the bundles of optic nerves that lay behind mine, and into me. He always regarded me with a faint air of confusion, as though he was trying to remember the name of someone he meets infrequently. Now, seeing those eyes, the uncertainty was gone and replaced by a glint of understanding, something I had only seen up to then in the eyes of the Grey Arbitress.

"Thanks, Big Mac. Sincerely." I said.

He gave a lazy shrug. "Ah once said that... ah wished ah could've given y'all somethin' more than a slice a' pie fer findin' Applebloom. So... ah'm given y'all mah forgiveness, if y'all'll take it." he said.

"With both hooves." I said.

I wanted to smile, but it felt inappropriate, so instead I stuck out my hoof. He glanced down at it before extending his own and connecting it with mine. We held the gesture for a long time.

Without a word to one another, we took our hooves back and walked to the house.

Author's Note

Pardon, if you would, the ridiculous hiatus.

An Illustrated Guide To Pony Repair

Chapter 4

An Illustrated Guide To Pony Repair

The lounge was abound with ponies. There were five uniforms from Seaddle PD, Lila Barb and her flatmate, a police psychologist, and Shell and Spyglass themselves. The room was not designed to accommodate ten ponies, let alone ten ponies and the forensics equipment the SPD brought with them. The midday sun was relentless and shone through the two windows. It was hot enough to boil lobsters. Nobody wanted to be there, and Lila Barb didn't want anyone to be there. Not even the psychologist. Especially not the psychologist.

The police tramped about the flat in their hoof covers, ignoring the traumatised pegasus who was sat legs-up on one couch while they went about looking for traces the offender left behind. They wouldn't find anything useful.

Lila felt a little more comforted when Shell and Spyglass introduced themselves, if only so she didn't have to talk to the probing psychologist anymore. The agents shooed away the nosy pony and sat on the sofa opposite her.

Shell and Spyglass learned of Lila Barb when they looked into Blackthorn. They made plans to inform her of her father's passing, but news that someone assaulted Lila reached them first.

"Do you feel you can talk about it yet?" Spyglass asked. Shell always left it to Spyglass to placate scared victims. He had a soft touch that Shell lacked, eroded by years of service. Spyglass would be the same in a few years.

Lila nodded. Her flatmate sat next to her with a hoof on her knee.

"What did he look like?"

Lila sniffed and spoke softly. "He was grey, light grey. Brown mane. Wore a, uh, wore a jacket."

"Anything else?"

"It was uh, it was hard to tell. With the jacket and everything." she said. "There was also a uh, a stud. In his left ear."

Spyglass looked at Shell, who nodded. It was their unsub, no doubt about it. The ear stud was a good descriptive factor. They had a good idea of what he looked like now. A pony like him must stand out.

Spyglass cleared his throat. "What did he say?"

"He said he was looking for my dad." she said. "Said he'd-"

Lila coughed and her flatmate squeezed her knee. Her eyes were reddening and her bottom lip curled.

"Whenever you're ready, Lila." Spyglass said. Lila took some breaths in through her mouth.

"He said he'd cut me if I didn't tell him where dad was."

Shell scowled. He had never laid so much as a single hoof on a mare in his life. He intimidated, but he never hit them. Spyglass was the same. Their unsub had an enormous rap sheet to answer for when they caught him. If they caught him.

"Do you know why he wanted to speak to your dad?" Spyglass asked.

Lila was silent for a moment while she mustered the strength to replay those memories. That's the hard part with talking to trauma victims. They want to forget whatever happened, so the challenge lies in getting them to remember.

"He said my dad had, uh, something. Something that didn't belong to him." she said. "He said he was going to take it back."

"Were those his exact words?"

"Near enough."

This intrigued the agents. In his letters, the unsub said the victims were linked in some way. Shell wondered if it was something they possessed that linked them. Something worth killing and dying for. That would make their unsub a kind of lethal debt collector.

There was also the conundrum of how the unsub found Blackthorn. The agents found his financial records, noting that they ceased to exist a few months ago. This was a pony that didn't want to be found, but their unsub found a way. There aren't many ponies that can do what he did, which put the unsub in a very specific category of ponies. He could even be ex- or even present-ECMB, Shell thought.

Their mental picture was gaining clarity. Grey coat, brown mane, jacket, ear stud, well-versed in police and ECMB procedure. They even had a living witness. After weeks of no progress, their case was rolling again.

"Did you tell him where your dad was?" Spyglass asked. She nodded.

"Is he okay?" she asked.

Shit, thought the agents. Did nobody tell her yet? It then occurred to Spyglass that SPD had no idea what happened up in Las Pegasus earlier that week. The agents shifted quite visibly in their seats and looked at each other. All of a sudden, they wanted the psychologist back.

"I have some very bad news for you Lila. Your father was murdered yesterday. I'm truly sorry you didn't hear about it until now." Spyglass said, motioning with his left hoof for the police psychologist to come back in.

Lila didn't burst into tears. Her eyes just glazed over as she stared at nothing, tears beginning to well in her eyes. Her flatmate brought her arms around her, and Lila leaned into them. She buried her head in her shoulder and wept for a long time, until she shouldn't have had any more tears to shed.

The agents did their best to look sorry.

I rang the doorbell and waited, bobbing my head to an Earth song to pass the time. Rainbow Dash kicked at the dirt. My leg had stopped aching, for the most part, and all my wounds were healed except for the half-inch hole in my leg. I'd changed Maddie's dressing early that morning, replacing the bloodied gauze with a sterile sticking pad. It was less conspicuous than a red-stained bandage, something that I could explain away as a graze.

I glanced at my watch. It was six in the morning. Celestia would raise the sun at six-thirty exactly. Neither I, Applejack or Rainbow Dash would be in Canterlot to watch the event take place, but we could watch it from the train.

Applejack had to tend to her crop yesterday while the rest of her friends took the train to Canterlot. Prepping the crops for two days of her absence took a whole day in itself, and she wanted to put it off for as long as possible because it was the most profitable course of action. This meant not being in Canterlot for the raising of the sun, but earning something like an extra 10 bits per kilo of apples.

Rainbow Dash, being the element of loyalty, opted to stay behind and take the train with Applejack and I. Her company would be welcome on the train. She could talk to Applejack while I amused Applebloom.

She warmed to me in the last couple of days. In the end, I did take her up on her boozing offer. Soarin' was everything I expected, I could see why he and Rainbow Dash get along. He seemed to respect me as I respected him, though maybe only because I beat not only him but also Rainbow Dash in a drinking contest. That was a good night. I recall being hit on by a mare with a taste for bad ponies. I think she had her eye on me for a while and decided I was most vulnerable when drunk, as most are. Rainbow Dash stepped in and, very drunkenly, proclaimed that I was gay and therefore not interested. I hadn't laughed so hard in my life.

Rainbow Dash was not laughing this morning. She had a vicious hangover, describing it like her head was 'in a washing machine'. I told her to stop complaining. She told me to eat shit.

"AJ, you there? Let's head!" I shouted at the upstairs windows.

Rainbow Dash covered her ears.

"Don't shout." she said. I spared her a glance. She was a zombie walking, a zombie with a drinking problem. "I extend my friendship and this is what happens..."

"I recall that it was you who wanted to make a contest out of it." I said.

"I should've guessed someone like you could hold their drink." she said. "Whatever. It was good at the time."

"Same again tonight?"

She gagged. "No."

We heard hoofsteps from inside, two sets of them. Rainbow Dash forced an unconvincing smile. A good try, but it's obvious how awful you're feeling right now, I thought. Perhaps Applejack would be so kind as to play us a tune on her banjo while we're on the train. Good hangover cure, I heard.

The door opened and Applejack stepped out, followed by Applebloom. Applejack made arrangements for Winona to stay at Fluttershy's cottage where Discord would tend to the animals in her absence. Big Mac was staying behind to take care of Granny Smith. Applejack saw how delicate Rainbow Dash was, so like any good friend would do, she talked a lot louder than she normally did, very near her ears.

Applebloom raced to my hooves. It had been a few days since I'd seen them and it didn't sit well with me. Ever since I lost Zecora, the Apples have become my anchor in this world, and I needed to moor with them every so often to feel safe. If I take good care of them, they'd take good care of me. That's our relationship, one that I'm keen to keep alive.

There's also something about Applebloom that makes me happy. I think it's because she makes me forget about the world. When I play or speak with her, I'm overwhelmed with happiness. Some might look at me and think I'm forcing a smile for a foal, but Applebloom and her sister are more perceptive than others. I taught Applebloom how to look for signs of dishonesty, and it's somewhat of an innate skill for Applejack. They know I cherish the time I spend with them.

Twilight looks at me and sees an injured wolf, snarling and bearing its teeth at anyone who dares approach it. Rainbow Dash looks at me, and sees an ordinary pony of the light that lives in the dark. The Apples look at me, and see a fierce friend.

I look at myself. I see a beast guarding a delicate heart. A beast that allows passage to the Apples, and no others.

Why I enjoy the time I spend with them, I've thought about at length. I think living in an unsavory world rots the soul. The Apples, and Sweet Apple Acres, is the only place in the world where I can truly forget about my troubles, the only place I can take refuge. Applejack and Applebloom help me forget all that is wrong with my life and Equestria, at least for a little while.

Why all that should be, I didn't know for sure. Perhaps it was because I lived with them at one point. Maybe it was because they were the only ponies to ever offer me a good-natured smile. Or, it was something else, something I couldn't place. Being unsure of one's feelings is an odd feeling in itself.

The internal beast is not concerned with the why. It cares only for the fact of the matter, and the fact is, the Apples complete me. That is why it permits them. This is what it takes for me to be happy. Few people, ponies or otherwise, know what it would take for them to be truly happy.

The Apples are what makes my life worth living. The beast will do its utmost to see no harm comes to them.

Applebloom smiled so wide her head might have fallen off.

"This is yer first Summer Sun festival right? Y'all're gunna have the greatest time! There's like a million food stalls, a loada cool magic display things, even the Wonderbolts are gunna do a show!"

I saw from the corner of my eye Rainbow Dash wincing while Applebloom shouted an exhaustive list of everything that was happening in Canterlot. Applejack didn't stifle her sniggering. I thought Rainbow Dash might have an aneurysm at any second.

"That's great Applebloom. And we're gonna do as much as possible while we're there." I said. Rainbow Dash took her hooves out of her ears. "Apple pie for breakfast though?"

She cocked her head to begin with, then her mouth curved into a smile.

"How-"

"There's pastry on your teeth."

"Applebloom!" Applejack said. Rainbow Dash grimaced again. "Y'all said yer done gone and brushed yer teeth this mornin'. D'ya lie ter me?"

"Volume, AJ." I said. I looked at Rainbow Dash. "Some of us aren't feeling too good this morning."

"Whatever." Applejack said. Rainbow Dash mouthed a silent thank you in my direction. Applebloom looked sheepish. "We should get gone. Train leaves in a half hour."

We walked the dusty dirt track leading from town to the farm. It was quiet out here, save for the chattering of birds and grass rustling as the wind meandered over the hills. Applejack, her sister and I talked about the farm, the weather, the festival. Small talk. Rainbow Dash didn't speak much. Brisk winds had not yet blown away her cobwebs.

I checked my watch as we hit the edge of town, and saw it was ten past six. Twenty minutes until the raising of the sun. The bustling of Ponyville was audible even from there, despite the daft-o-clock hour. As we got closer to the train station, more and more ponies filled the streets, all heading in the same direction as us. Everyone told me the Summer Sun festival was a big occasion, but I hadn't appreciated how big until then.

Twenty-past six. We stood on the platform, one group among many others. Some ponies looked like they were making a week-long vacation out of the event, others seemed to be day-trippers like ourselves. This was an auspicious time. I was glad I had some to spare for it.

The train arrived and ponies piled in. Being element bearers, Applejack and Rainbow Dash were able to bag private carriages near the back of the train, for them, their guests and their families. I didn't envy the rest of the passengers who would be sharing a carriage with at least twenty others. Sunlight would soon pour through the windows, turning each carriage into a gaggle of heatstruck ponies. I made a bet with myself that at least three fights would break out during the ride.

We were talking for a few minutes about how great everything would be once we disembarked from the sweaty carriage when Applejack told us all to shut up and look out the east windows. I glanced at my watch. Six twenty nine and thirty seven seconds.

We saw the dawn of the longest day break upon Canterlot Mountain. First light tinted the snow-capped peaks and spread over the landscape, promising to touch every shadow before the day was gone. The snow was so white and so even. An icy mirror that reflected the radiant sunbeams to all corners of the land. This was before the sun was even above the horizon.

The plains out the east window were enormous. Enormous and flat, one or two large hills between the train and the sun. There were no clouds. The pegasi of Cloudsdale made sure of that. When the sun did tease above the great sea, there would be nothing to block its brilliance.

Celestia. Say what you like about her, she knows how to turn something as everyday as a sunrise into the greatest spectacle I'd ever seen. I'm not one for nature, most days. I found that out during my spartan time at Sweet Apple Acres. I preferred the city, the concrete jungles of civilisation. At the moment, I changed my mind.

Straight sunlight came down like theater curtains on the carriage. I narrowed my eyes and the curtain hit my iris's expecting it to sting. We all narrowed our eyes, but the pain didn't come.

Oh, Celestia is clever. She could control the sun. She could control the sun! Of course she could control its brightness. It was like looking through a polarised lens. It flared and shone, but you could look at with without averting your gaze. A blood red light over the sea.

Blood red. A little too familiar.

We watched its slow ascent above the horizon. Nobody talked. To do so would be a disservice to Celestia. Our carriage was silent all the way to Canterlot. The adjacent carriage wasn't. I could hear the occupants exchanging angry words over the sound of the engine and the wheels on the tracks. Two more fights and I'd win my bet with myself.

The train screeched and we covered our ears. We had arrived at Canterlot. We stepped out into the chaos of the station, standing still for a moment while the populations of at least five cities moved around us. Even non-ponies were in attendance in appreciable numbers: gryphons, minotaurs. Even breezies floated through the crowds. All came to thank the princesses for their service to Equestria, and indeed the world.

The sun was beginning to edge over the mountain when we exited the station into the madness of the streets. We were going to meet with the rest of the elements, minus Twilight, at the gates to the castle's south courtyards.

First of all, I needed to meet with Maddie to inform him of the latest developments. It would be hard to keep him in the dark about Twilight for long, so I decided to tell him straight out. It would also make communications easier once they knew of each other's involvement. Their mail wasn't intercepted by Python, and could speak freely to each other.

I told everyone I wanted to drop in on an old friend, and went ahead of the group in the direction of the Bull & China. An excuse that got past Applejack's inherent lie detector - he was an old friend after all. My fourth oldest after the Apples.

I passed by a stall selling olives and bread, where I stopped for a moment to eat, before rounding the corner to Maddie's place. He'd done a remarkable job of cleaning up the mess from two days ago. New windows, new door, new furnishings as I peered in through the new windows. Even the little light-sensitive bulbs were new. If I didn't know better, I'd have thought he was actually going to turn the place into a functioning bistro.

I pushed the door open and entered, accompanied by the soft ringing of a bell. My gaze wandered to the bar. I managed to stifle the most raucous laugh I'd ever felt into a shit-eating grin. I didn't want to leave with a rebar sticking out of my skull.

Maddie was stood behind the bar, wearing an apron. A lonely cup of black kept him company. He'd had a mane cut, but it didn't suit him. He looked out of place. He looked employed. His eyes left the newspaper on the counter-top and he nodded at me like it was the most natural thing in the world. The smell of food wafted through from the kitchen.

"What the fuck is this?" I asked, gesturing a hoof at him and the rest of the room.

He laughed. "Welcome to my humble abode Anon. Like what I've done with the place?"

I looked around myself, at the walls, and then at the floor. The floorboards were waxed. Not so much as a single shard of glass or bloodstain anywhere.

"Are you actually running a damned bistro now?" I said.

His grin disappeared and the old Maddie shone through, his face taking on that perpetual scowl. He offered me some liquid from the percolator. I nodded, and kept nodding while he poured.

"That stunt Spirit Sight pulled a couple days back. It forced some changes 'round here." he said while I sipped. "Until now, I've been quiet enough to keep the Royal Guard from pesterin' me, but after the attack, they got real interested in me. They ask some tough questions, y'know, and I don't got answers that make 'em go away. So what's a Maddie to do huh?"

"Don't tell me you're retiring." I joked. I immediately regretted putting that thought in his head.

He shook his head. "No, but I've had to make some investments to make this front more believable. Since yesterday, I'm runnin' two businesses full-time. I still got my old customers, ponies like you, y'know. But I'm gonna have new customers too. Ponies that just want a fuckin' latte and fuckin' pastry to go with it. Hence the apron and the mane cut and the rest of it. It don't change nothin', by the way, our deal still stands. I'll just be workin' a fuckin' cash register in the meantime."

I sniffed the air. "And the cook?"

"Stoke." he said. "Used to be a chef-for-hire. Went to ponies houses, cooked for couples with more money than sense. Then he'd nick all their silverware."

"That's pretty funny." I smirked. "Anyway, ponies are waiting on me so I'm gonna be brief. There's a new player on my team. She's very smart and very capable. You'd like her. I've got a file with me today that holds everything she and I know about the Grey Arbitress. I'm giving a copy to you."

I produced the document from my saddlebag and pushed it across the bar. Maddie looked at it, but didn't touch it.

"That's impressive." he said. "Give me a condensed version would'ya. That thing looks like Canterlot's unabridged."

I looked around me, and then to the windows. Some ponies passed by outside, none that looked familiar or shifty.

"It's Ashen Smoke. Remember her? She's the Grey Arbitress."

"You're kiddin'."

"I wish I was. It's a tenuous link she found, really tenuous. It's weird. The more I think about it, the more I think we're wrong, but it becomes more believable at the same time. She fits the profile of the Grey Arbitress so damned well that it's hard to think it could be anyone else." I said. "Whatever. The investigation into her identity is ongoing. That makes whatever you can find in the archives all the more important."

He laughed and said: "You sound like a government official."

Maddie rubbed his chin and looked at the file some more. He picked it up and felt the weight for a while, before dropping it back on the table.

"Who compiled this?" he asked.

"I don't think you'd believe me."

"Try me."

I sighed. I was about to drop a bombshell on Maddie and hope for the best. Perhaps I should have thought twice about telling him.

"Twilight Sparkle." I said.

His eyes widened and he looked between me and the file, several times.

"You told a fuckin' princess about all this!? Did you tell 'em about me!? D'ya know how much shit you've just dropped me in?"

I put one hoof up and said: "Relax, Maddie, she doesn't know you're involved. As far as she knows, it's just me and her. None others. That's gonna have to change though. The easiest way to lose a war is to lose the lines of communication. We all need to be able to talk with each other, and that means she's gonna need to talk to you at some point. She doesn't need to know who you are, she just needs to be able to talk to you."

"What's her percentage in helping you?" he asked. "This sounds too fuckin' suspect. I don't care how well you think you know 'er."

"I'm having trouble figuring that one out. She said she doesn't want me to die. I dunno why, but that's what she said. Anyway, that's besides the point. Her involvement increases my odds of success a thousand-fold."

"She's a damned princess, Anon! They don't just give out their help like it's goin' outta fashion. I ain't even seen her in the flesh and I can tell ya now, she's hidin' somethin'."

"Why does it fucking matter? She's cooperating with me. That's the end of it."

"It is NOT the end of it Anon! Ask yourself, what does she stand to gain from interfering? Until I know why she's helpin', I ain't movin' a hoof to help ya."

I pushed my coffee around on the counter top. It was cold now. It was cold when it went into the mug.

"Remember, she doesn't know who you are, you'll be safe." I said. "Even if she did know you, it wouldn't make a difference. She fucking despises me, Maddie, and she still tolerates me. If I'm safe from her, so are you."

Maddie said nothing for a time. I spun the newspaper around and began skimming through it, gulping coffee at the same time. My best effort at looking indifferent. I could see him shifting his weight around out of the corner of my eye.

"This is big." he said. "It's us against one of the best tactical minds in Equestria. One of the best tactical minds in the world, even."

"Is this your way of saying you're out?"

He took a massive breath in and released it through his nose.

"No." he said. "We made a deal, remember? Long as you hold up your end, I'll hold up mine. I'll meet with Twilight. The first sign of trouble, though, I'm fuckin' gone."

"Listen carefully then." I said. "Take the 12:15 to Ponyville in two days. Bring everything you can find about Ashen Smoke. When you arrive, head straight to the back of the castle. There's an arcane-deadlocked service entrance that will be open for thirty seconds at four o'clock exactly. Walk in and climb the stairwell. I'll be waiting at the top with Twilight."

He laughed, quite loud and for quite a while. I didn't know what to say.

"This is really happenin', ain't it?" he said. "S' hard to believe, y'know. If I'd known how much trouble you were when we first met, I would've run for the hills."

I glanced at my watch. "I have to go now. It's important we can all communicate with each other." I said. I walked to the door and turned at the last second. "My train for Ponyville leaves at eight. I'll swing by before I go. Stay safe Maddie."

Eleven exactly. The time we agreed to meet up, and I was running late by five minutes. I was lucky that Twilight wasn't in attendance. Sometimes I think she's the element of punctuality. It's equally possible she could be the element of takes-no-shit-from-me-or-anyone, the element of nosiness, or the element of don't-argue-I'm-a-princess. Or all the above.

I limped through the streets, doing my best to move fast on a damaged leg while maneuvering around endless streams of tourists and stalls. The sun looked pretty out the windows of the train, but here, it made me hot and annoyed, so I hated it. I swore in a string of Earth-specific profanities and idioms at everyone I bumped into.

A minute later, I bundled my jacket into the saddlebags. The choice between boiling or feeling naked. Even after six months, going anywhere without clothes still felt wrong, but I couldn't take the heat.

I came up on the courtyard at six minutes past. Some ponies were wandering around the immaculate gardens, thoughtfully staring at trees and shrubs and exchanging dignified comments about how difficult it is to grow foxgloves in phosphorus-rich mediums. Royal Guards were posted at every corner, more focused on dealing with the heat in their armor than looking out for trouble.

Beneath the arch in the coolness of the shadows stood a mixture of friends, and friends of friends. They heard me approach.

"Anon?" Applejack asked. I looked around the group. They were all staring at me like I'd shaved my mane. I ran a hoof through it. It was still there.

"Yeah I know I'm late. Sorry." I said. I looked at them all again. They still had that look. "Is there something on my face?"

"Well, no, ah guess, but, ah can't remember the last time ah saw yer without a coat or jacket." she said. "Ah see now y'all had a good reason."

"Good reason?" I asked. Satisfying the need of an old life wasn't a good reason. I looked myself over. Same grey coat, same brown mane, same same same. Just a whole bunch of scarring.

Oh yeah, my body is scarred to hell.

"Sorry, AJ. Didn't mean to, uh, y'know." I said. "I'll put my jacket back on if you like."

She waved a hoof and said: "If it don't bother you it don't bother me."

"I think they're cool." Rainbow Dash said. She seemed to have recovered from last night's attack on her liver.

"I don't feel very cool."

"One cool thing doesn't make up for a lifetime of uncoolness."

"Who made you the master of cool?"

"Fer Celestia's sake, stop sayin' 'cool'!" Applejack shouted.

"Whoa, AJ, that's not cool." said Rainbow Dash.

"Not cool at all." I said.

"Y'all lucky the Royal Guard're about else ah'd buck y'all into a coma."

That exchange got a laugh out of the whole group, even Fluttershy.

We spent a few minutes wrapping up our small talk and introductions. The 'How was your stay at the castle?' and the 'Did you catch Twilight?' and the 'Oh boy I hope Discord doesn't fuck about with everything while the princesses are predisposed.'. I'd never met the bastard. I hoped I never would.

We made for the festivities under the midday sun, one group among many. There were some grill stalls set up for visitors of a more carnivorous nature, which taunted me as I walked by. Gryphons lined up to tear into all manner of meats. Everyone pony in a five meter radius around the stall averted their eyes except me. It had been so long since I'd eaten a steak, and even though my pony physiology detested the smell, I was salivating. The memory of meat was good.

Our day began in earnest as we ambled through the streets. Each of us held up the group for a few minutes while perusing stalls that interested us. I stopped by a gryphon military surplus stall at one point. Helmets, spears, even what looked like basic grenades. I asked the stallowner how they worked. He told me they contained a mixture of tiny metal shards and a friction-sensitive explosive, or used to at least. They reminded me of my brief love affair with azides back in an analytical chemistry module.

When I got back to the group, we agreed to go our separate ways until the closing ceremony at five in the afternoon. It gave us more time to look at the stuff we wanted to look at and do the things we wanted to do.

Applebloom sped off with Sweetie Belle and Rarity. Rainbow Dash found a series of 'test-your-strength' games, likely to keep her occupied for hours. Pinkie Pie left in the direction of the castle to try the bungee-jumping, while Fluttershy went to talk with some exotic animals from the Gryphon Empire. Very soon it was just Applejack and I, in no hurry to do anything. It was a holiday. Damned if I was going to bust a gut running around, trying to fit a whole week's worth of activities into an afternoon. She felt the same way.

It had been a long time since I'd been able to talk with Applejack without Applebloom or Big Mac around. Now that the opportunity arose, I didn't know what to say. There wasn't much I could discuss with her. Certainly not anything to do with the Grey Arbitress. We perused the stalls in comfortable silence.

We came up on a pony selling used technology out the back of a wagon. He seemed eager to get rid of it. I loved few things more than opening up equestrian devices and seeing how similar they are to earth technology. Magic stunted innovation quite hard, but recently, Equestria has seen a near-constant stream of scientific feats. Intensive care units now existed. They knew how to use bacteria to produce pony hormones. DNA profiling wouldn't be far off, I imagined.

I spied a camera sticking out of a cardboard box in the wagon. It was the same model as my first camera. My first job using it is a fond memory.

"What's so funny?" Applejack asked. I realised I was grinning.

"See that camera?" I said, pointing a hoof at it. "Same kind as the first camera I had when I started this job."

"That ain't funny."

"It reminded me of my first sleuthing job. Wanna hear it? I promise it's good."

She raised an eyebrow and said: "Go on then. As long as it's not too... y'know, grim?"

"It's not." I said, shaking my head. "This mare thought her sweetheart was seeing another mare, right? He comes home at weird times. She says he's too tired for sex. Then the strange, unexplained gifts start. You get the picture. So she asks me to follow him around, take some pictures and whatnot. Most days he was doing something really boring. Picking his foals up from school and stuff. But one night when it's her turn to pick up the foals, he heads to a motel on the edge of Ponyville. He goes in and doesn't come out for half an hour. When he does come out, he's not with his wife. He's with some pretty little thing, about our ages. I took like, a bajillion pictures and called it a night."

"I'm waitin' fer the punchline." said Applejack.

"It gets better. So because it only took a few hours of sleuthing to get what I needed, I figured I'd follow him some more, bill a few more hours. Don't look at me like that, I didn't have much money, I needed those extra hours. So I followed him some more. Y'know what I found? He was seeing not only one, but three other mares in his spare time. And he still found time to play doctors with his own wife."

Applejack snorted a single laugh.

"Who were this?"

"Can't tell you. Client-scumbag confidentiality."

"Y'all can trust me. Remember mah element?"

"Oh, you mean the element of 'do-you-honestly-expect-me-to-name-my-clients?' That element?"

I pursed my lips and Applejack sighed.

"Tryin' ter get answers outta you is like gettin' blood out'f a stone."

I glanced at my watch. It was half twelve. I suggested we find somewhere to have lunch and Applejack agreed. I thought of the gryphon's grill, and of what I would give to have some lamb or chicken. Tomatoes, peppers and the like were palatable, tasty even, but couldn't hold a candle to a decent steak.

We found a quiet alley near the west outer walls of the castle. There were a handful of eateries on either side of the street with awnings and open-air tables and parasols to mitigate the strength of the midday sun. We studied the menus of each place, before deciding on a restaurant that specialises in fresco salads. We found a table near the door and sat around it. The wind, mercifully, had picked up in the last ten minutes. It whispered through the alley and cooled us. Applejack took off her hat in the shade of the parasol. That day, I learned that hat-mane existed.

I scoffed. "That hat comes off?"

"Could say the same about you and yer jackets." she said, fanning herself with her stetson. Touche, I thought.

A waitress emerged from inside with a couple of menus, which she placed in front of us. Her muzzle came a little too close to mine, and stayed there a little longer than it should have. She had the smell of wet, cut grass. I didn't know if that was meant to be an attractive scent. She said she'd be back in a few minutes to take our orders. With a deft flutter of her long eyelashes, she left us.

"And here ah thought these Canterlites had some class." said Applejack, shaking her head.

"The waitress?" I asked, without taking my eyes of the menu. The Cilantro salad sounded good. "Not my type."

Applejack laughed. "You don't got a type."

"I do too. You calling me a liar?" I lied, lowering the menu. Cilantro it was.

Applejack stared at me. Lie-detector mode. I brought the menu back up to cover my eyes and pretended to study it.

I brought it back down after a safe amount of time had passed. She was tapping her hoof on the table and staring into the distance. I knew that look. A trance she enters when deep in thought.

The waitress came out again, walking like a runway model to our table. We both went for Cilantro salads, a beer with mine and a cider with Applejack's. She asked me if I wanted anything else. I told her that I wasn't interested in anything else. She left without another word. I didn't look back over my shoulder.

All sorts passed us by, all looking for somewhere to eat. Before long, all the tables around us were full and the idle chattering of their occupants floated through the air. I felt uneasy, exposed even. To all the world I appeared a normal pony doing normal things with his normal friend. For me, that wasn't normal. Pretending that everything is fine is an admission that things are worse than ever.

Perhaps Blackthorn was right, and I didn't know how to live an ordinary life, but I had to try.

Our drinks came and we took synchronised sips. Applejack cocked her head at me.

"Y'all look like ya done gone eaten a lime." she said. The beer tasted fine, but thinking about this facade I kept up made me scowl. "What's up sugarcube?"

I thought for a time before answering. Our food came, a different waitress this time. We thanked her and I pushed my salad around on the plate.

"It's...just this." I said, waving one hoof around my head, gesturing at everything. "It's rare for me to be doing things like this, y'know? I can't stop thinking about how weird it is, just to be eating and talking, you and me. When's the last time we did this?"

I took a gulp of beer while casting my mind back.

"Back when y'all still worked for me right?" she asked.

I rested my elbows on the table and slid my face into my hooves. Five months. Five goddamn months, I thought.

"Too long. Too damned long." I said. "I'm... I'm real sorry AJ. I... I hadn't thought about it until now. I don't, uh, I don't have an excuse. I'm sorry."

The realisation racked me. She'd been so kind, so accepting, and I couldn't even spare a day for her until now. I owed Twilight a massive thanks for making me attend the Summer Sun festival.

"Why'd you do it Anon?" she asked.

"Do what?"

"Yer private eye thing." she said. "It's a blight on yer life. Ah mean, look at'chya. S' like ya got one scar fer every year of yer life. Y'all look so tired all the time. Y'all can't even settle down 'cause of yer work."

"Sounds like you've been talking to Big Mac."

"And he's right. C'mon Anon, d'ya really love your life that much that ya can't quit and find something that makes ya happy?"

I munched on a mouthful of salad. I wanted to tell her that the Grey Arbitress wouldn't let me quit, that as long as she was alive, I'd never be able to quit. When someone offers you the chance to unload your troubles, it's hard to resist. If your troubles are your greatest secrets, however, it's a little easier.

"I already have something that makes me happy." I said, while offering a smile.

Applejack scoffed. "Is that a compliment ah just got outta you?"

"Oh Celestia, no, anything but that." I said. Her wisecrack lifted the thickening atmosphere, and I could breathe easy again. Thirty seconds before, you couldn't have cut the mood with a hatchet.

"I'm savin' that one fer a rainy day. Y'all don't give those out like candies at the dentist."

We laughed, and ate our salads and drank our drinks in no hurry. We talked about the sultry waitress, the weather, upcoming events, the quality of the food and drink. We watched ponies pass by and the shadows as they moved with the sun. I looked at my watch. Half one. When my time is worth exactly thirty bits per hour, I took as little time as possible over lunch. For me, an hour for lunch was unheard of.

Applejack was happy to let me pick up the tab, and I had a ridiculous amount of disposable income I didn't know how to spend. I threw thirty on the table and we moved back into the sweaty streets and the hot sun. We walked in the shadows of the buildings, checking out whatever took our fancy. There was a minotaur juggling flaming batons while riding a unicycle on a podium. Applejack remarked on how hands would make everyday life so much easier. I stifled a laugh while agreeing. If only she knew the extent to how inferior hooves are to fingers.

From around a side-alley, Rarity and two-thirds of the crusaders emerged, also enthralled by the minotaur's display. I fished my jacket out of my saddlebags and put it on, mainly for Rarity's sake. She had the worst reaction to my scarring. I called to them as Applejack and I approached. Applebloom ran to her sister's hooves, and Sweetie Belle shifted to behind her sister. That filly probably hears some bad stories about me.

Rarity, somehow, managed to remain dignified in the sweltering heat. Her mane, underneath an enormous woven sunhat, looked starched enough to snap.

"Crusaders didn't wear you out then?" I said, grinning at her. I didn't do small talk with Rarity, even when I went by Carousel Boutique to get clothes repairs. I'd go in, give her my tattered coat, decline the offer of formal wear, pay, get out. Come back in a week to pick it up. We both liked to distance ourselves from each other.

"As if a mare such as me would allow herself to look tired." she replied. I caught a hint of scorn in her voice, but then, she was always scornful of me. Everyone's got to dislike someone. Might as well be me.

"How's Applebloom been?" asked Applejack.

"Oh, just excellent darling. I must say I don't know where she finds such energy on a day like today." she said. "How has your day been? Have you eaten yet?"

"Yeah, we found this salad place near the west walls a' the castle. Kinda expensive but Anon were payin' so it didn't bother me none."

Rarity leaned into Applejack's ear and whispered something. Applejack's eyes narrowed.

"Hi-larious." she said, in a tone that indicated it was not in the least bit funny. "Ah got two words fer ya. Prince Blueblood."

Rarity gasped. "We do NOT talk about that darling, that is completely different!"

"It's the same Rares. Just kinda switched around."

"Well I never! I demand you take that back!"

"Can't. Element a' Honesty. Ter take it back would be lyin'. You wanna make a liar outta me?"

Rarity groaned, more interested in conserving her energy than winning the argument. Applejack pushed her chest out. If her pride swelled any more she would have burst. I thought better than to ask how that debate got started, like how you don't ask a woman where they're going when they get up to leave the table. They're going to the bathroom, obviously, but like Rarity said: you don't talk about it. Just wait until they come back and pretend nothing happened.

"Isn't it a bit hot to be arguing?" I asked. Applejack ran her arm over her forehead and inspected the glistening. We all made similar movements. I took my jacket off again.

"We should find us some shade." said Applejack. "And some drinks. Ah don't care how much a' the festival ah miss."

"That's the most intelligent thing I've heard all day." said Rarity. "Not to be insubordinate, but I do wish that Celestia would ease back on the heat."

We exchanged murmurs of approval before foraging for a suitable watering hole, walking in the shadows of the buildings where possible. After a few minutes navigating the streets and crowds, we came upon a plaza. In the center was a huge fountain, at least thirty feet in diameter. Foals were splashing around in the water while their parents looked on, with what I suspected was envy.

Around the edges of the plaza were a series of shops, bars and restaurants. Some had outside seating. Some had outside seating with shade. Our group gravitated towards the latter. There were enough tables for us now that lunchtime had passed.

I sat with my back to the bar window, behind a table. There was an adjacent table about three feet from me, around which the Apple sisters and Sweetie Belle moved to sit. It was a three-pony table, and there were five of us. That meant Rarity and I were sharing a table.

I spared a glance for Applejack. She shot me a glance back and winked. The whole motion took less than a second, so only I caught it. That seating arrangement was her design. I wondered if it was me she was trying to torture, or Rarity. A bit of both, in all likelihood.

"Would you like me to pull your chair out for you Rarity?" I mocked. I heard a laugh disguised as a cough from Applejack. Rarity raised an eyebrow at me before setting her saddlebags down.

"A lady is quite capable of taking care of herself." she replied before sitting. There were already some menu's set around the table, which she began inspecting. "Unlike some beaten and scarred louts around here."

I looked down at the burn marks on my chest and said: "Would you like me to put my jacket back on?"

"I would like for you to sit quietly and look respectable." she said, and lowered the menu. She folded her arms. "But we both know you're below that."

"I am respected. Just not by you."

A waiter came by our table. I ordered a tea with milk. Rarity ordered the same. The waiter moved on to our friend's table.

Rarity spun her hoof though her mane. She opened her mouth a little, and closed it again. I was about to speak when she interrupted me.

"Why do you hate me so?" she asked.

That was a good question. I hadn't thought about it much. I always put it down to us having nothing in common, but having some of the same friends. 'Hate' was somewhat of an overstatement. I disliked her.

"This might come as a shock but, I don't hate you Rarity. It's just-" I thought for a moment. "-there's not much common ground between us."

"Yet you hit it off with Applejack and her sister quite spectacularly."

I said: "To begin with, we had our differences. Even today, she does things that make me kinda irritated, and I guess I do as well, but the good times we've had together make me see past that. I'd guess it's the same for her. I hope so, or she's done a great job of putting up with me."

"'Differences'." she echoed. "That is certainly the most flattering way of describing your life compared to hers."

"AJ knows all about my less than spotless reputation." I said. "-and I couldn't tell you why, because for the life of me I don't know, but she calls me a friend. There have been times when she made me feel like family. All in the face of the rumors about me, both true and false."

Our drinks came, and we put the conversation on hold while we fiddled about with teabags and milk. I liked to brew mine for about five minutes before adding milk. More builders tea than English breakfast. Rarity stirred her tea with a short spoon while she looked into space. Either she was thinking hard, or not thinking at all. It was much too hot to be thinking.

I glanced at the adjacent table, where the fillies were play-fighting with the menus. Applejack was still studying the drinks list. Since she had already ordered hers, I figured she was trying to eavesdrop on us and look nonchalant about it. I watched the teabag spin in my cup for a while.

"So the brute does have a heart." Rarity said. I grunted and looked at her. "I'd always wondered."

I didn't comment. We both removed our teabags from the cups and poured a little milk in.

"Five minutes." I said.

Rarity was mid-sip when I spoke. She put her cup down.

"Pardon?"

"Five minutes." I restated, gesturing at the cup. "Perfect strength."

Right then, I thought I saw a shadow of a smile grace her features. It disappeared fast, if it was even there to begin with. I drank some of my own beverage.

"At least we can agree on that." she said.

I snorted a laugh and said: "'And I said, what about 'Breakfast at Tiffany's?'"

Rarity raised her eyebrow, for what I thought was the tenth time in the last ten minutes. That song described our relationship quite well at that moment in time. I do my best never to allude to anything of Earth origin, but that reference was obscure enough.

"What in Equestria are you talking about now?" she said.

"It's a song." I said. "A couple are on the verge of breaking up because they don't have much in common anymore. Then one of them, desperately trying to find something, mentions a film called 'Breakfast at Tiffany's'. Despite all their differences, they remember that they both liked the film. The stallion argues that's enough reason for them to try to settle their problems."

"What does this have to do with us?" she asked, with a heap of skepticism.

"We both like tea, don't we?"

"Hardly the cornerstone of amiability, I would say."

"Come on Rarity, I'm really trying here. What do I have to say to make things right between us?" I said. She didn't say anything, so I continued. "Well, what about when you first met AJ? You must have have at least one thing in common and worked on that, whatever it was, to get to the friendship you have today, right? Can't we do the same, even if it is built on something as insignificant as tea?"

When I finished thinking out loud, I became aware of the silence I'd been talking in. I looked to my right, where Applejack, her sister, and Sweetie Belle were sitting. They were staring at me, their drinks untouched. Their gaze wandered to Rarity, as did mine. Her eyes flicked between all of us.

"Don't you know it's rude to eavesdrop!" said Rarity.

The Apple sisters and Sweetie Belle returned to their drinks, but they were still listening. Rarity seemed to know this as well.

"Should we take a walk?" I asked.

Rarity finished her tea and set it on the table. I glanced at my watch, it was quarter-past two. The day would get cooler from then on.

"I think that is a good idea." she said. She stood and said to Applejack: "Excuse us for a moment."

I got up and dropped six bits on the table. Rarity motioned in the direction of the plaza and began walking. I walked a small distance behind her, saying nothing until we reached the fountain repurposed as a paddling pool. Foals were still splashing around while their parents sat nearby, talking about the heat and confessing their desire to join their foals in the fountain.

Rarity and I stopped by the edge of the water. We watched the reflection of the sun morph and tumble as the liquid mirror writhed. I took a bit from my pocket and held it in my hoof, before tossing it into the fountain. Rarity saw the gesture.

"Why did you do that?" she asked, looking at the coin sink and settle.

"It's a tradition from my homeland." I said. "They used to think that water contained the spirits of deities, and if you made an offering, they'd grant you a wish."

She considered my words for a moment and said: "What did you wish for?"

"I wished for what I need most." I said, leaning against the stone edge. "Whatever that is."

"You don't know what you need?"

"I was hoping they'd know." I said.

I turned and sat on the edge, just watching the world go by for a few seconds. Applejack and the fillies were still seated around the same table, chatting, laughing, sipping on their drinks. Perhaps I should have asked Applejack what I needed before asking the water deities. I knew what she would say though. She'd say I needed to quit, to move on, to settle down before I got myself killed. She'd be right, but I couldn't yet. I promised myself I'd avenge Zecora.

"Why do you hate me?" I asked. I didn't look at her.

She didn't say anything for so long that I thought for a moment that she'd gone off somewhere. I turned my head, and saw her staring into space. She met my eyes after a few seconds.

"I don't." she said.

"You don't?" I echoed. I wasn't expecting that. "Care to elaborate?"

She cleared her throat and said: "I dislike you Anon. I think you're rude, overconfident, arrogant, and worst of all, savage."

"I'll cede to that."

"But-" she continued. "-it takes a certain kind of pony to help Applejack and Applebloom like you did almost two months ago. I do not believe a bad pony would do such things. I think that only the most selfless of us all would willingly commit themselves to the dark so that others may live in the light."

I tried my best to look unsurprised, but it was a vain effort. She knew what I did. I wondered if she knew about Shrike and Bouros. Twilight or Applejack, one of them told her.

"You-" I began, and swallowed. "-you knew. How did you know?"

"Promise not to give her a hard time." she said. "She doesn't like to unload her problems on you. She doesn't like appearing weak in front of you. She needed someone to confide in. She does that for you, Anon."

"I-"

I cleared my throat, waiting for the rational part of my brain to kick in. It wasn't happening. Applejack is the strongest pony I know. I didn't know why she wouldn't talk to me about her problems. I didn't know if it was a fault of mine or Applejack's. I didn't know a lot of things.

"I didn't know. I'm sorry. I-" I stammered some more. There wasn't anything I could say. I buried my hooves in my face. My eyes burned. I sniffed and snorted, forcing back the tears. Rarity was silent. She could have made it much worse for me, but she suspected I was doing a fine job of it myself.

After half a minute of self-loathing, I took my face out of my hooves. The world was blurry.

"So-" I coughed. "-so why are we like this? After what you said?"

"We?" she asked. "You're asking why I dislike you?"

I nodded, and she said: "I can put up with your brutish mannerisms. That's fine. What I don't like is the connotation that comes with knowing you personally. I've seen your scars, and do you know what goes through my mind when I see them? I wonder how long it is until someone close to you gets hurt as a result of your activities. And it's not a question of 'if', no Anon. It's a question of 'when'."

Everyone seems to be taking this mindset, I thought. If only they knew the catch-22 I was in. I couldn't quit. It would only end when either I or the Grey Arbitress were dead.

I was about to offer a counterpoint - that being an element of harmony is more dangerous than knowing me. It wasn't much of an argument though. As I heard, that responsibility was thrust upon them, and it's not a part-time job they can just quit. I chose to let the subject go.

"You've gotta keep what I'm about to say between us." I said. It might not have been the most intelligent thing to ask of the gossip Goddess, but she was too smart to incur my wrath by betraying me. "I'm not very trusting, so this is a big thing for me."

"Of course."

"I want to quit. I really do." I said. "But I can't. Not yet."

She didn't say anything for a time. I dragged my hooves through the water. My last sentence sounded like the words of an addict. That was a possibility I hadn't explored. Maybe I loved the job too much.

"There would have to be an astoundingly good reason for you not to do so." she said.

"There is." I said. "I'm asking you to trust me Rarity. Please."

"I shall trust you to do the right thing." she said. She took a bit from her saddlebags and tossed it in the fountain. "That's my wish."

"Thanks, Rarity. Sincerely."

"For what."

"Talking with me. I'd figured you for an ice queen. I was wrong."

She pursed her lips for a moment and said: "This does not make us friends, Anonymous. I still dislike you, but not as much as before. That said, thank you, for being earnest with me."

"Likewise."

"And-" she continued. "-I never thanked you for what you did for the Apples. What you did for all of us. I cannot bear to think how things would be now if you hadn't brought Applebloom home. So, thank you. I realise my gratitude probably means little to you, but it is all I have to offer."

I shook my head. "It means a lot to me Rarity. I'm not just saying that. It does."

I caught the gentle smile again. She didn't try to hide it, because that time, I earned it. I could get used to that smile, just as long as her tittering doesn't accompany it.

Sensing we'd both said all we wanted to say, we began walking back to the shaded cafe. Rarity walked by my side as though we were a couple. I guessed that was probably the best result I could have got. It would be too much to ask of her to change her perception of me over a short conversation, even if it was the longest conversation we'd ever shared. First, she wanted me to the right thing. She trusted me to do that.

The right thing. What is that, I wondered.

Both agents stood back from the wall. Shell was rubbing his chin while Spyglass ran a hoof through his mane. Their eyes flicked all over the mind-map while they regarded it in silence.

Pinned to the wall were pictures of every pony involved in their case, directly and indirectly. The Apple family, Shrike, Bouros, Blackthorn, Lila Barb, Viola. Placeholder photographs of Grey Arbitress and the unsub. Spools of multicoloured string connected them in various combinations. Underneath each photo was a table of information about that pony: appearance, location, affiliates, other. Surveying the map, one thing was clear to both Shell and Spyglass.

It all began with Applebloom.

She was directly connected with every pony except the Grey Arbitress and Blackthorn's family. Shrike, Bouros, the unsub, Applejack. She'd been in contact with all of them at one point. Such a little filly, but also the point of origin for their case, indirectly connected to everything. The beginning of a great mystery.

“We've gotta make 'em talk.” Shell said. “We need whatever they're hiding.”

Spyglass said nothing. They already tried once, and got nothing. Further questioning wouldn't get them anywhere, unless Shell wanted to get nasty.

“I know what you're thinking Shell.” Spyglass said. “And it's a bad idea. You could get fired if it goes south.”

“I didn't even say anythin' yet.”

Spyglass ignored the map, turning to Shell, who turned to him in kind. Spyglass had two years of experience in his job, enough to know when cases needed some illegal pushing and shoving to solve them. This case needed some of that, but not of the calibre to which Shell alluded.

Spyglass gave his best hard-eye. “You were thinking it though. If you get suspended, this case is good as dead. That won't help either of us.”

“We have to.” Shell said. “We can't be countin' on the unsub's messages. We need to learn these things for ourselves.”

Spyglass rubbed his face. He let out a huge sigh and hung his head.

“There has to be another way. It's too dangerous.” Spyglass said. “It's one thing getting rough with just some random witness. It's another thing getting rough with an element of harmony. You do this and it goes bad, it won't just be the ECMB you'll have to answer to, it'll be the princesses as well. At that point, there won't be shit I can do to help you. They'll make an example of you, they'll ostracise you. They'll make sure everyone knows that you tried to fuck with an element bearer. Life as you know it will cease to exist.”

Spyglass took a long, deep breath, waiting for Shell to decide what he wanted to do. It took a lot to change Shell's mind once he'd made a decision, and if he thought going after Applejack and Applebloom was the way forward, there'd be no stopping him.

Shell found an interesting point on the wall and stared at it for a while. He cleared his throat and walked to his seat. He sat on it like he expected a push-pin to stab him in the rear.

After a long time without so much as a grunt, Shell spoke.

“Y'know, for any other case, I'd just drop it at this point. I've made a big mistake with this case though.”

Spyglass cocked his head, waiting for Shell to elaborate.

“It's not professional interest anymore.” Shell said. “It's personal interest. I gotta know, Spyglass. I gotta know the truth. I dunno where it came from, but it's like I got this... overriding directive, tellin' me to keep goin', that my answer's just around the corner. I'm gonna find the truth, Spyglass, whatever it takes. If that means I run the risk of losin' my job, so be it.”

Spyglass sighed. If someone's thinking logically, you can change their mind with your logic. But what if they're not thinking with their brain? What if their convictions come from the heart? There's no arguing against what the heart feels. If they truly believe that what they're doing is right, they'll continue to do it, because in their soul it just feels right. They'll do it in the face of adversity, against the will of their peers.

They'll do it, even if it kills them.

“You know I can't have a part in this, Shell.” Spyglass said. “All I can do is try to convince the director to go easy on you if you fuck up. I'm sorry.”

“It's cool.”

“What happens if things go bad?” Spyglass asked.

Shell shrugged. “Close the case. Try to forget this ever happened. Move on with your life.”

We wandered the streets for a long time, with no goal in mind. The pressure in my life had relented, and though it felt good, it didn't feel right. Despite the lack of immediate danger, I couldn't let my guard down. I wanted to, but couldn't. I didn't want to remember the height, build, colour and gender of every pony I bumped into today, but I did anyway. I didn't want to be checking every dark corner and alley for danger, but I did that too. There was so much useless, unwanted information darting about inside my head.

What hope for a good life exists when you can't enjoy the good times. Perhaps that is what it means to be broken inside. If that is the case, then what must one do to repair oneself? Many have offered answers. The Buddhists of Tibet pose that the road to wellbeing beings with removing everything negative from one's life. But then what constitutes a negative thing? It's hard to define whether something is a positive or negative influence on one's life. My work, for instance. On one hand, it keeps me sharp, my senses acute, and sometimes I do enormous good for others. On the other hand, it can be stressful and unpredictable. Dangerous for me and others. Does that make it a positive or a negative? Perhaps it lies on a spectrum, a grey area where working in absolutes is useless.

It is likely that no single correct answer exists. There was, however, one glimmer of hope. I had a good idea of where my road to happiness began. It flanked me on both sides while I talked with it, laughed with it, and shared the good times with it as we walked.

Applejack and Applebloom. My road starts with them.

I glanced at my watch. It was almost four, and cool enough to put my jacket back on. Celestia's appearance at the stadium began in an hour.

"I think we should start heading for the stadium." I said, fishing my jacket out of my saddlebags. "I don't think Twilight would ever forgive us if we were late."

Rarity took her hat off and fanned herself, checking her own watch as she did. Applejack looked west, towards the mountain and the stadium.

"They're probably all waitin' on us now." Applejack said. "Ah think it's best if we're early. They're puttin' the elements in some box seat near the princesses. Powers that be'll get all nervous if we're not there soon."

I looked at Sweetie Belle, who moved back slightly. "Does that mean I'm looking after Sweetie Belle and Applebloom?"

Rarity chewed her cheek at that question. Her sister in the hooves of savage Anon. I suspected it didn't sit well with her. Applebloom drew in a huge breath and her eyes widened. Applejack spared her a glance and chuckled.

"Ah think family are allowed ter sit with us." Applejack said. "So ah guess y'all dodged a buck wi'that one."

Applebloom deflated and said: "But these swanky things're so borin' sis'! Ah don't wanna sit and do nothin' while Celestia talks fer an hour!"

"Y'all'll be sittin' an' doin' nothin' no matter what happens. Anon's gotta attend too."

"Do I?"

"Perish the thought Anonymous. If we have to sit through this then so do you." said Rarity. I looked at Applejack, who seemed to agree.

"Doesn't make a difference to me." I said. "Isn't Twilight making a speech too? I think all the princesses are. That should be funny to hear."

With four fifths of us satisfied with the plan, we made for the stadium. A lot of ponies were walking the same way. Some recognised Rarity and Applejack as their respective elements. They'd ask for a variety of things: advice and autographs among other things. Some gave their respect and offered words of encouragement. Like seasoned stars, they smiled, waved and walked. I must have looked like a bodyguard.

At the foot of the stadium, an aged mare with a trophy cutie mark voiced her displeasure at Applejack and Rarity arriving at the last minute, and tried to usher them through a staff entrance as quick as possible. I waved to them as they and their sisters disappeared through the door.

I craned my neck back and took in the size of the stadium. Ponies and other races milled about around me

"Enjoying yourself?"

That voice. So smooth and so dignified, never raised. I turned with caution. There my employer stood, her blood-red mane billowing in the wind along with her jacket. She smiled at me. My expression didn't change. What was she doing in public, I wondered. Someone might recognise her as the missing ex-director of the ECMB.

"Arbitress." I said. "Fancy meeting you here."

I checked around myself. There were no familiar faces, nobody lingering in the shadows. She came alone.

"Relax Anon." she said, noticing my discomfort. "It's just me."

"I get the feeling this isn't a chance meeting." I said. "Have you decided I've outlived my usefulness?"

"If that were the case, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Then why are we having it."

"I'm just making sure my asset is enjoying himself. Happy workers are productive workers."

"I was enjoying myself until recently."

She mocked a hurtful expression and gasped. "Come now, am I really that bad? As I recall, it was I that saved most of your teeth from my wayward subordinate. Not only that, I also gave you purpose. Before you met me, you were just a small fish in a big pond. A shady character moving through the shadows, scraping a living by serving those not much better off than yourself. Now you're part of something much larger than yourself. You said you wanted to make a difference in this world, to do something fulfilling. I'm giving you that opportunity."

"You mean the opportunity to kill your enemies? Some opportunity."

She took in a deep breath and released it through her nostrils. She said: "Did you feel that Shrike and Bouros deserved to die?"

"I wanted to kill them." I said after a while.

She smiled at me, and knew I was avoiding the question. What she said next was more interesting. "But now you've thought about it, and understand their situation, you don't think they did deserve what you gave them. From my perspective, it looked rather unfair to outright kill them."

"From a spectators point of view, maybe it did." I said. "Put yourself in my hooves for a moment. They took Zecora from me, from everyone. They had to answer for it. They had to, and who was going to make sure they did? The police? The ECMB? They'd serve a prison sentence, shortened for good behaviour. It wouldn't be enough. It had to be me. I had to do it. Maybe they didn't deserve it. Maybe. But it felt good. Better than good, it felt just. It was like everything was right with the world for a few glorious moments."

"So you do understand." she said. "We really are quite alike."

"Understand what?"

Her smile disappeared.

"Live long enough, and you might find out." she said, and sighed. "Let's take a walk."

She motioned for me to walk to with her, and I did. We began circling the stadium, trotting beside each other like a couple in love. I'll say this for the Grey Arbitress, she was very pretty, for a pony. More than once I saw stallions or groups of stallions spare her a glance, or two glances. They must have thought me the luckiest pony in Equestria. Yeah, I thought. Lucky she hasn't killed me yet.

We came upon a small quad decorated with benches, flowerbeds and exquisite topiary. We walked across the grass to a shaded seat, underneath a tree. She sat and stared across the grass, lost in thought. I sat next to her. It was a tranquil moment. I almost forgot who she was, and what she had done to me. Almost.

"Believe it or not, Anon." she said, still staring into space. "I don't mean to make your life a waking nightmare."

"Really." I said. "You sure fooled me."

She turned to me and said: "You must understand the position you've put me in. I've tried my hardest to be reasonable with you. I don't want you to... hate, working with me, I want you to work with me of your own volition. If you did, there would be no need for threats against you or the Apples. The source of unhappiness in your life would disappear overnight. Everyone would be better for it."

I shook my head. "Your ponies killed one of my only friends, and almost killed Applebloom. I can't, in good faith, work with you willingly."

"I'm not going to argue that those events weren't tragic. They were, and I wish they could have happened another way. But please believe me when I tell you that I was not responsible for what happened that day."

"Your ponies, your rules, your responsibility. Maybe not Shrike, or Bouros, they were amateurs." I said. "But Ferrite? Working for you means working for him. I can't."

She listened intently to my words, never interrupting, never tuning out, and was silent for a long time. Cheering floated out of the stadium as I glanced at my watch. Five exactly. Must have been the princesses making their appearances.

"What would it take for you to work with me willingly?" she asked.

I thought for a moment, and offered a question of my own.

"Why do you care about my wellbeing?" I asked. "You're nothing more than a glorified client. My clients don't care what happens to me as long as the job gets done."

She smiled and said: "Like I said. Happy workers are productive workers."

"One more thing." I said. "I doubt what I'm doing is going unnoticed by the ECMB. What happens if they catch up to me?"

"You're too smart to leave anything except red herrings behind at the scene." she said. "They won't."

"You're not answering the question."

"I'll do what I must in order to protect myself. Up to and including killing you." she said. "That said, this is not the most desirable outcome for either of us, since I lose an asset, and you die. All I can do is throw whoever's chasing you off your tail."

I nodded in satisfaction. She pulled up a sleeve and glanced at her watch. It looked expensive, but then so did any watch compared to mine. She stood and twirled a hoof through her mane.

"I think we have discussed all that needs discussing." she said, beginning to walk away. She called back: "Think about my offer. Remember, it's you that suffers by dragging your hooves, not me."

I watched her disappear into the general chaos of Canterlot. My Grey Arbitress, the one pony I could never suss. Did she believe she was a good pony? Did I believe she was a bad pony? I received so many mixed messages and contrasting signals from her that I couldn't be sure.

She was right. She was good at being right. We were more alike than I was prepared to admit. In her hooves, could I say I'd act any differently? We were pragmatists, survivors, predators. We didn't let the law, or anyone else get in the way of what we wanted. We believed the ends always justified the means. She was like me, and I was like her.

It was then, I realised I did not hate her, because I did not hate myself. I would not kill her out of malice. I would kill her because I needed to move on.

In another life, we might have been the greatest of friends.

It was a long walk back to Maddie's place, given the distance between the stadium and the Bull & China, and the winding streets that connected them. I was hungry, but every place worth eating at was closed for the duration of the closing ceremony. Every place except Maddie's, and I wasn't sure I trusted the food there, even if Stoke claimed he used to be a chef.

It was five-thirty when I walked through the door to Maddie's. I doubted he had the time to attend the ceremony, or that he was keen to leave his place for more than five minutes. Now that I thought about it, I hadn't seen him anywhere except in the Bull & China. There's no place like home, as they say.

Home. There's something I hadn't thought about for a long time.

The little bell above the door rang as I marched in. Maddie wasn't at the counter. I shrugged to myself, took a newspaper from the rack, and sat in one of the chairs. I thought Maddie must have splashed some serious cash on making the front more believable, because the chair didn't creak under my weight. The shiny, waxed floor was no longer shiny, and had a few scuff marks here and there. A sign the place had seen a lot of ponies. Actual, legitimate, hungry customers. I scoffed.

I heard a faint hum from the kitchen area. Sounded like someone wasn't expecting visitors.

"I hope you don't blast all your customers with magic." I said. "I don't think that's very good for business."

The humming stopped, and Stoke's head appeared from behind the kitchen doors. He ducked his head back in before coming through.

"Begging your pardon sir." he said. 'Sir'. That was a new one. "Thought you might've been some lowlife looking to trash the place while everyone was at the closing ceremony."

I examined him for a moment. He was different from how I remembered. Quite short, quite thin, so whatever muscle he had was defined. Sea-green mane, crimson coat. He looked like an athlete. His voice was distinctive. If Equestria had an equivalent of received pronunciation, he was speaking it.

"You're Stoke, right?" I said, he nodded. "I remember you found those two bastards with the filly a couple months back."

"I remember sir." he said. God, sir sounded weird. "Heard you did some pretty brutal things to them."

"Enough with the 'sir', it's making me uncomfortable. And yes, I did." I said. Stoke nodded again, slower this time. "Where's Maddie? I need to speak with him."

"He's out on business."

"Didn't think he ever left the place."

"Now and again."

"How long have you known him?"

"Since he started the outfit."

I rubbed my left temple and said: "When will he be back?"

"Not sure."

"Right, have you got some pen and paper? I need to write him a message."

"Certainly." he said, disappearing behind the bar. He rummaged around in there before producing a paper pad and a pen on the table.

"My mouthwriting is terrible. Mind if I dictate to you?" I asked.

"So is mine." he said. "But there's something about bits that makes it better."

I couldn't help but chuckle at that. The corner of his mouth turned up as he looked at me.

"Cheeky fucker." I said, reaching into my saddlebag and took out a small sack of bits. I threw it over to him. He looked inside for a moment, and nodded. He grabbed the pen in his mouth.

I dictated to Stoke my plan for getting rid of Spirit Sight. Depending on what else Maddie could tell me about him, my preliminary plan might change, but what Stoke wrote in the message was the rough draft.

After some of my own investigation, I learned that Spirit Sight was finicky about delegating to his underlings. He liked to be in direct control at all times. He liked to tell his ponies when to start work, when to finish work, when the shifts changed, what new operations he wanted to set up, which old ones he wanted to shut down. The workload was too much for him, and so to ease the stress upon himself, he appointed three of his most trusted lackeys as heads of operations. There was the head of security, the head of information services, and the head of finance.

However, he very much disliked relinquishing this much control. So he came up with a little gimmick to make up for the loss. A whistle. When he blew the whistle, everyone who heard it had to come running to him. He claimed it to be a security measure, but in reality, it's just a demonstration of his power. A demonstration of the control he still holds, and a reminder to everyone that he was in charge. He used it for his every whim. If he needed a letter delivering or a drink made for him, he would blow on the whistle, and give the task in mind to whoever came last.

All ponies have weaknesses, and this was his. He was too much of a control freak.

A whistle is innocuous enough - how does one turn his dependence on a whistle against him?

I planned on keeping that a secret from Maddie. One day he'd open up the Canterlot Herald and see a headline that went something like 'Son To Notorious Crime Boss Found Dead'. The funeral would not be open casket.

I needed only two things from Maddie to make my plan work: One member of his crew on the cleaning team that Spirit Sight hires to dust-bust his manor, and a pea sized blob of silver azide. I told him how to synthesize silver azide, and then told him to be extremely careful while doing so. Don't ever take it out of water. Don't let it dry. Don't drop anything on it. Don't let it get warm. Don't let anything except a unicorn handle it. Finally, don't ask why I need it. It'll ruin the surprise.

"From Anon." I said, concluding the letter.

Stoke spat out the pen and held up the message. It was quite lengthy.

"You're off your rocker." he said. "I can see what you're trying to make work here. It's mad. It's ludicrous. You're mad!"

"Thank fuck for that, because if I wasn't it would probably never work."

"How did you think of this?"

"Being mad has it's advantages." I said, moving towards the door. "Tell Maddie I said 'hi'."

The train rumbled and chugged south across the darkening plains. I sat by the window with my head propped up on one hoof, staring absently out across the fields. The carriage wheels clanked out a harsh but hypnotic rhythm. I was tired. We all were tired.

Applejack was asleep on the bench opposite me, with Rarity and her sister sprawled over one another. Applebloom sat next to me, beginning to nod off. Every now and then she would yawn herself awake, only to flop sideways again and doze for a few more minutes.

I looked to the horizon. The longest day was closing, and the shortest night would soon take over. I didn't recall celebrating the winter equinox, and I thought Luna must have the patience of a saint to put up with the disproportionate amount of attention her sister receives. Perhaps she preferred being sidelined as opposed to standing in the spotlight. That's something I could understand.

I thought about waking the carriage when the sun touched the horizon, so we might watch it together. I didn't in the end, and just watched the sunset alone and in silence. Then I watched the moon rise. A celestial object much easier on the eyes.

I must have fallen asleep shortly afterward, because I next remember being prodded awake by a drowsy-looking Applejack. I turned to look out the window. Ponies were disembarking and struggling to move their luggage. We'd arrived back in Ponyville.

We stepped out into the night air. It was still, stifling, the kind of heat it's hard to fall asleep in. I checked my watch and frowned. Quarter-past eleven. My bedtime was eleven - any later and I'd wake up gone midday. If that happened, it was a day wasted. Applejack also asked me to carry her sister's saddlebags back to the farm, so there were no promises of sleep before midnight.

The elements, Twilight included, bid their farewells for the day. We stumbled through the night like a drunk trying to find their house keys. I lacked the energy to talk, as did Applejack and her sister. It was a good kind of exhaustion, though. Natural, in a word. The only times I ever felt fatigued were following a fight, where I would also be jacked up on a powerful stimulant cocktail, forcing alertness and concentration. The result was a strange mixture of exhaustion and focus. Tonight, there was a distinct lack of adrenaline in my veins. I was thankful for a day that went, largely, without stress.

We came up on the dirt path leading to Sweet Apple Acres. There were lights on in the house. An inviting glow piercing the warm night.

I slung Applebloom's bags down by the front door and went to knock, but something stayed my hoof. The smell. Something didn't smell right. I racked my brain for some small sliver of information that might place that smell. Twilight's castle, I thought. I smelt this in Twilight's castle. Was it the books? No, impossible.

I narrowed my search criteria. It was associated with books. The study. I smelt it in the study where I poured over countless tomes in search of the Grey Arbitress. God, what was it? Not knowing was maddening, like a name, or concept that you're close to expressing but can't quite.

"Anon?" Applejack asked, the strain of the day prevalent in her voice. I backed away from the door and turned to her, putting one hoof over my mouth. Silence.

"Applebloom." I whispered. "Go to Twilight's castle, bring her here as fast as you can."

"Why?" the sisters asked in unison.

"You too, AJ. Both of you, get help."

Applejack and her sister possessed senses that extended beyond the ones common to us all. A kind of sixth sense that gauged the honesty of their target. It was almost never wrong.

Through months of surviving, tracking, fighting, investigating, I too had developed extrasensory faculties of my own. Like seasoned veterans of war, mine warned me of danger. It saved my life on two past occasions. I trusted it better than I trusted my own sense of reasoning. Applejack trusted it as well, so when I told her to run and get help, she did so, and did not look back.

I waited until they were out of sight before trying the door handle. It was unlocked. I let myself in. The smell was stronger inside. It was the scent of an individual, one that I had met before. It must have been a brief meeting since I couldn't place it.

I walked, quiet as was possible on hooves, into the lounge. Two ponies noticed me, Big Mac and Granny Smith. A pale blue magic aura surrounded them, preventing them from moving or acknowledging me in any way greater than an eye movement. My eyes met Big Mac's. He looked like he'd been crying. His eyes made a silent plea for something.

I looked to Granny Smith. The poor mare was so scared, she couldn't have moved even if the restrictive spell was lifted. She too had been crying. Someone had reduced the two strongest ponies in Ponyville to sobbing wrecks. Someone was going to pay tonight. I didn't care if they were a unicorn.

"Earth pony. Grey coat." a deep voice said from above me. I spun around and looked up. Coming down the stairs was a unicorn. I linked the smell and the memory. It belonged to one Special Agent In-Charge 'Shell', one of the two ECMB agents that had been pursuing me for the last two months. Where was the other, I wondered.

"Brown mane." he said, and kept walking down the stairs. I looked to Big Mac, who was still staring wide-eyed at me. I didn't know then, but he was doing his best to beg me to run. I looked back at the agent. I didn't move, I didn't even blink. All my energy went into remaining stoic. I would give him nothing.

"Jacket." he said. Another couple of steps. "Ear stud."

He reached the bottom floor and looked me in the eyes. He was smiling an awful, sadistic smile. I stared right back.

"How's it goin', unsub?" he asked me.

"Who are you and what are you doing here." I said.

"Ah, pardon my manners. SAC Shell at your service. ECMB" he said, flashing his badge. "But you already knew that, didn'tcha?."

"I don't know what you're talking about." I said. "This looks pretty illegal, what you're doing here. Off the top of my head: use of excessive force, breaking and entering, witness intimidation."

"Y'know." he said. "I only came here tonight 'cause I thought I might clarify some details. Instead, I get the unsub I've been chasin' for weeks on end. Guess my luck's in tonight. You're a slippery little bastard, y'know? One of the hardest cases I've had in my time, and that's sayin' somethin'."

"You're not making any sense." I said. "If you won't leave, I'll have to act in self-defense."

He laughed hard at that one. Good, I thought. Buy more time. It shouldn't be too long. He's here illegally. Once Twilight shows up, I'll be fine.

"You earth ponies sure get full of yourselves sometimes. You think you can even touch me?" he said. I felt myself being enveloped by the same pale-blue aura. It was nothing compared to the Grey Arbitress's spells, but it was enough to immobilise me. He threw me to the floor. I could see Big Mac and Granny Smith. They were crying again.

"Lemme tell you a story there unsub, while you're listenin'." he said. "A little filly called Applebloom got lost in the woods one day. Some big mean hired muscle foalnapped her and take her to the crystal caverns. Then, somethin' amazin' happens. The foalnappers get themselves killed, and Applebloom turns up on the door to this humble little farm later that evenin'. It's a mystery, right? No, you're thinkin'. No it ain't a mystery. You know what happened, and you're gonna tell me, and then I'm gonna take you down to the finest crossbar hotel that Canterlot has to offer, and you'll stay there."

"Fuck you." I said. "You'll have to do a lot worse."

"Really now?" he said, forming a huge grin. He rifled around in my jacket pocket for a while and removed my wallet. He inspected the contents. "Anonymous Fihlnotfound. Private Investigator. Explains a lot. Well, Anonymous. To me, that sounds like a challenge."

I felt the aura penetrate my skin. I felt it inside my legs and arms, invading me. What followed was some of the greatest pain I'd ever felt. I couldn't stop screaming. I screamed so loud and for so long I felt sure that my larynx would rupture. After a while, Shell forced my mouth shut.

"I call it 'the rack'." Shell said. "It don't take much effort on my part, y'know. All I gots to do is wrap your ligaments and muscle in some kinetic magic and pull it like a rubber band."

He relented the spell for a moment, letting me sob and quiver in a heaped mess. My insides were on fire, but I held myself together. Just.

"Feel like fessin' up yet?" he asked.

"Information gained under torture-" I spluttered. "-isn't permissible in court. You're a fucking moron, Shell."

"I don't give a FUCK about court!" he shouted, stomping a hoof. "WHAT HAPPENED? What THE FUCK HAPPENED IN THOSE CAVERNS?"

"I don't know what you-"

I didn't finish that sentence. He forced my mouth shut and began torturing me again. Here was a stallion that wasn't used to being told 'no'. For all your power, I thought. For all your power and magic, you can't beat me. How does it feel?

My punishment went on for minutes. Not long in everyday terms, but it felt like eternity. I thought he'd kill me. I thought he'd get so mad he'd lose control for a brief moment and crush my ligaments completely. I wanted to tell him I had friends. Powerful friends that didn't give a fuck about the law or the legal system. Friends that could disappear him into a shallow grave. Friends that wouldn't care if you were an anti-magic agent. I wanted to tell him: if you want to be alive a week from now, you'll have to kill me.

"Anon?" a voice called. No, I thought. Oh, God please don't let it be her. I told you to run.

"AJ! Run!"

Shell shot a glance back in the direction of Applejack's voice. He trotted to the hallway. Applejack screamed while Shell grunted. Why didn't you run Applejack?

Shell came back into the lounge with Applejack in tow, suspended in the pale blue aura. He was holding down four ponies now. An impressive feat, but not one he could continue for long. He'd tire soon.

He pinned Applejack to the wall, where I had full view of her. Her mouth was bound. She darted her eyes between me, Shell, and her family. Tears were welling in them. They were welling in mine too.

Shell heaved Granny Smith's chair and placed it next to me. He sat in it and bowed over, head height with me.

With a sick smile, he said: "Y'know, I'm thinkin' there's another way to go 'bout this. Tell me what'cha think: Every time I hear somethin' from you what I think is unsatisfactory, I'm gonna hurt your little marefriend over there. Oh no, I ain't gonna do a thing to you, no siree, I can see that route don't work."

I spared a glance for Applejack. Shell said it loud enough for her to hear. Her whole body was trembling.

"You're scum, Shell." I said. "Hurting innocent young mares."

"I don't wanna hear that from you. Remember Lila Barb? She said you were gonna 'draw smiley faces' on her body with a knife if she didn't tell you where Blackthorn was." he said. "Oh yeah, I know all about that. Had to tell that mare she'd never see her father again. No Anonymous, you're the scum here."

"Takes one to know one."

He tapped his chin and said: "Sounds mighty unsatisfactory to me."

Applejack screeched. Shell could have kept her mouth closed, but he wanted me to hear. He wanted me to suffer. He was succeeding. I could see his spells going to work on her. I could see ligaments and musculature twisting and writhing under her coat. She screamed and cried until no more tears came. I shouted, begged Shell to stop. He didn't. Only once her torture had gone on for half a minute did he stop.

"Feel like talkin' yet?" he asked. He was sweating, exhausted. Not long. Not long now. Delay him. It was soul-destroying, but I had to make time. I needed a lucrative detail. Something that would hold his interest.

I nodded and said, through a wall of tears: "The crystal killer."

He raised an eyebrow. "Keep talkin'."

"I know who it is." I said. "Six feet tall. Mostly hairless. Bipedal. I can find him for you. You'd like that wouldn't you?"

"I wanna know what happened. Tell me everything, from the beginning, or you know what comes next."

I swallowed.

"Shrike and Bouros foalnapped Applebloom after they killed Zecora. I followed their tracks to Canterlot, trying to catch up with them. I found out they were heading to the crystal caverns. When I went in, I found them dead, and Applebloom unconscious. I took her home."

"Why didn't the crystal killer kill her too?"

"I don't know. He wouldn't say."

Shell rubbed his face. He looked confounded.

"What about Python. You knew Shrike and Bouros worked for them same as you."

"I didn't at the time. The Grey Arbitress found out what happened to them, and then found me. She forced me to work for her."

"What work?"

I hesitated, and Shell sighed. He glanced towards Applejack. Her eyes were shut, her shoulders twitching in time with her sobbing. She screamed again as Shell worked her ligaments. I begged and pleaded for him to stop again, and again, he didn't for a good thirty seconds.

"What work." he restated.

"Those ponies she sends me after. They've got these things."

"What things?"

I faltered again. Shell blinked once and went back to Applejack. I screamed for him to stop. Applejack screeched in pain. I couldn't do anything. When it came down to the wire, I was powerless. Earth ponies are good at blending in, staying unnoticed, creeping. I learned this quickly. It was a massive help. It wasn't helping right now, when all I could do was look on as my greatest friend writhed and twisted on the wall.

Then, the whole left side of my face stung. The world was a merry-go-round of colour and sound. I felt Shell's spell lose grip over my body. I touched my face with my hooves. There were small, sharp things embedded in my cheek. I picked a piece out. Glass.

I looked to my left. A large section of the wall had been blown in. Shell lay prone, cradling an arm with a large splinter of wood buried in it.

A maroon aura constricted Shell. He levitated for a moment before being thrown into the far wall. He was held there for a moment, and slammed into the floorboards. They splintered under the force of the throw. I heard him howl in pain. I might have laughed if I wasn't in so much agony myself.

I slid across the room to where Applejack lay. She was curled with her knees into her chest. Her eyes were shut tight, believing that if she couldn't see what was happening, it couldn't hurt her. I whispered to her.

"AJ." I said. She opened her eyes a little. "It's fine now. Everything's fine."

Nobody moved. We were either too scared or too hurt to do so. Big Mac held Granny Smith close. Our eyes moved to the smoldering hole in the wall.

"You're a disgrace, Shell." Twilight said, stepping over the rubble and into the room, closely followed by Applebloom. Her horn glowed bright and hot. The quiet fury of a princess. Calm on the surface while true wrath burned behind her eyes. Applebloom ran to her sister and me. "A disgrace."

"Princess." he groaned. "Lemme, lemme explain-"

"-No explanation is necessary, nor will it be remotely adequate for justifying your actions here tonight." she said, keeping the anger out of her voice. She surveyed the room for a moment, and sniffed the air. Her coat prickled from neck to hoof.

"Are you okay?" she said, never breaking eye contact with Shell.

"No." I said, picking out more glass. "I think everyone else is."

Twilight nodded absently, and cleared her throat.

"Shell. You have trespassed on private property, intimidated, and tortured multiple witnesses. Not only that, but you have also tortured an element of harmony, their family, and their friend. An attack on an element bearer is no less than treason of the worst kind, second only to an attack on the princesses themselves." she said. Shell was about to speak when Twilight forced his mouth shut. She levitated him, and let him hang in the air for a moment. "Which gives me permission to act at my own judicial discretion."

"Applebloom. Close your eyes. Cover your ears." I said. I forced her head into my chest. No filly should have to see what came next.

Twilight threw Shell to the ground. He shrieked as the splinter in his arm went deeper. She dragged him across the floorboards and rubble, out into the night. Like a destructive child, Twilight tossed Shell around, slamming him into the ground. Dirt and grass kicked up with every blow. Over and over, she beat him against the ground. Over and over, he screamed. Many of his bones were broken now.

"Twilight." I called. She didn't hear me, or she ignored me. I didn't know which.

I got up, an act that took gargantuan effort, and walked to her. I stood by her, watching her dole out her own form of professional justice for a moment.

"Twilight." I said, putting a hoof on her back. She flinched at the gesture, and I backed away a little. "Let the ECMB deal with him."

She looked deep into my eyes, still suspending Shell in the air just before us. With a final, defiant flick, she threw Shell into the ground.

"We need to have words, Anon." she said.

"At a time like this?"

"Not now, obviously."

We walked back to the house.