Arc 3- 3 (Come One, Come Some)

The sun shines off of the windows of the Canterlot skyline, illuminating the city with thousands of little stars, and garbage twists and twirls as they are carried by the strong gusts of wind. Walking in a garbage filled alley, past a crude spray painted picture of Celestia with devil horns, is a large stallion wearing a full body cloak. The only parts that aren’t covered are his muzzle, the tip of his tail, and the bottom of his legs. He pauses to look at the picture for just a moment before continuing walk. Once he reaches the end of the alley he is forced to squint his eyes due to the bright afternoon sun, and gets a little bit of shade when one of the propaganda zeppelins glides by. Then a front page of a newspaper with Shining Armor’s face on it flies into the stallion’s face. The paper is pulled away from his face when his horn glows under the cloak.

“CAPTAIN ARMOR WANTED FOR QUESTIONING!”

Shining Armor glowers at the headline and stuffs it in a garbage can as far down as it can go, then he storms down the sidewalk, keeping his head down and body close to the walls. He passes the expected high class snobs talking in their pompous tone, some homeless ponies begging for money or food, vendors selling stuff, and a crowd of ponies at some kind of convention. Shining Armor also spots a Royal Guard patrol wagon driving dangerously close to him, but rather than making a break for it like his legs are telling him to, he keeps his walk steady and direct.

He walks into the convention and sees that it is crowded with mostly the miserable crowd, and yet they also seemed to be relieved. They are dirty and worn down, but they have smiles and are laughing and generally having a good time with one another. Shining Armor peeks over his shoulder and notices the patrol vehicle turning into plot of grass where other vehicles are parked. A couple of Royal Guard’s hop out with radio packs on and the barrels of their battle saddles pointed down. Shining Armor swears under his breath and goes further into the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlecolts!” booms a mare into a microphone, her voice echoing over the crowd chatter from a series  large speakers strategically placed around the convention. Shining Armor had the misfortune of being next to one when the mare spoke, so his ears are ringing and his heart is racing from the unexpected sound. “The pony you have all been waiting for! Mother Glory!”

The crowd cheers and stomps the ground in applause, and Shining Armor snakes his way through the crowd as the two Royal Guardponies trail him.

“Thank you, Sister,” says Mother Glory cheerfully after the crowd dies down. “You know, I have been a priestess for a long time. I’m also a priestess daughter, so I grew up with a devoted family that held the principles of Love and Tolerance to the highest standard.”

Shining Armor ducks into a food court and scrunches down in the farthest table and watches as a Royal Guard walks by, speaking into his radio.

“But the thing is, it didn’t matter. I knew the words, or more accurately, I memorized them. But I didn’t know their meaning, I didn’t comprehend the message. There is so much more to faith than just praying and donating bits to your local charities.”

Shining Armor moves from his table and goes out the back of the food court when the Royal Guard walks towards him. He briskly walks into the food storage area and lies in wait by a stack of boxes containing hay bacon. He crouches down lower when he hears two sets of hooves cautiously enter the maze of boxes.

“There is forgiveness and perseverance and deeds. Forgiveness is the root of all that is good, for without it, the cycle of hate and vengeance will never end.”

   As soon as the first soldier’s head goes into view, Shining Armor socks him in the jaw and he crumbles to the ground, unconscious with a bloody mouth.

“But forgiveness cannot last without our perseverance. We must be strong, we must have the strength to withstand all the evils in the world. We must have the strength to believe that, in the end, evil will fail and good will reign supreme.”

Shining Armor puts a shield around the remaining guard as he brings his barrels up. The guard is going to fast to not pull the trigger, and the bullets ricochet off of the rosy walls of the shield and strike the guard in the legs. The Royal Guard falls to the ground, legs bloody, and crying in pain as he feebly tries to stop the bleeding. Shining Armor approaches the guard and expands his shield so he can walk inside comfortably without anyone hearing the guard’s cries.

“And in order for us to have the strength to continue on, we must fuel our faith with good deeds. We must do right by others, we must fight evil wherever it may be, for there will be days when prayers will not be enough. A prayer, while good for a moment of bliss, is nothing compared to helping your fellow pony.”

The guard looks up at Shining Armor, eyes wide with terror and body trembling. Before the guard can muster a plea for his life, Shining Armor brings his hoof down on the injured soldier’s head, and he falls silent. Shining Armor’s shield disappears and he takes a deep, long and disappointed sigh before using his magic to carry both of the guards to a janitor’s closet. There, he ties and gags them, takes their radios and weapons and locks the door. As he puts on the radio pack, his eyes and ears scan the area for anything suspicious. Not even a few seconds in, he barely hears the clip-clops from hooves landing on concrete over the cheers responding to Mother Glory’s charismatic sermon.

Shining Armor hastily puts on a battle saddle and aims it towards the source. Right when the stranger is about to round the corner, the noise stops. Shining Armor adjusts his battle saddle as he cautiously rounds the corner, being sure to have his hoofsteps as light as equinely possible. Right as the crowd cheers in response to another well said line from Mother Glory, Shining Armor puts a shield around himself and jumps around the corner with his weapon at the ready.

A stallion with an charcoal coat, a muzzle and afro matching an ashy color with neon green sunglasses shrieks at a pitch too high for any normal stallion. The shriek was so loud that Shining Armor could see the ripples of the sound waves go against his shield. The pony’s eyes roll to the back of his head and he collapses to the ground like a bag of bricks, and all Shining Armor can do is blink. When a green coated, purple maned stallion jumps around the corner and uses his magic to cock a shotgun, Shining Armor barely reacts, he’s too stunned by the unconscious pony’s scream to do any real reacting. However, that goes without saying that the Captain still aims his weapon at the newcomer. But oddly enough, the newcomer lowers his weapon and kicks the afro-pony in the side, making him yelp and jump up.

“I almost lost my hearing again because of your stupid scream,” says the stallion coldly, his voice sounding oddly familiar to Shining Armor.

“I’m sorry, but these things just happen,” whines the other, also sounding familiar.

Shining Armor looks at both ponies, and lowers his weapon and shield while cocking his head quizzically.

“L. Roy? Colt?”

The green coated pony looks at Shining Armor and almost gets a smile.

“You got a lot of explaining to do, Sparkle Sparkle Boom Colt,” says L. Roy as he slips his weapon into a scabbard attached to his saddle.

“Don’t call me that!”

The afro-pony, Colt, snickers and when Shining Armor glares at him, his grin and laughter go away in a half blink of an eye. Then Shining Armor’s eyes go half lidded and he frowns as he does a quick inspection of Colt.

“I’m going to guess that these disguises were your idea,” says Shining Armor dryly.

Colt’s grin returns. “Yep.”

L. Roy steps in front of Colt and points at Shining Armor angrily.

“Why were the EIB all over my house? Why was Brisk Wind at my house!?” demands L. Roy.

“She was at my house, too,” adds Colt with a childish raise of his hoof.

“Was this about you murdering Quill Pen?”

“I did not kill Quill Pen!” yells Shining Armor. “And I will be more than happy to answer your questions when we get out of here.”

L. Roy and Colt stare at Shining Armor for a couple seconds, then they look at each other, and then back at Shining Armor. Each second that passes makes Shining Armor all the more anxious, up to the point where he is shifting in his spot and snapping his head to whichever direction looks more threatening at the moment.

“I got a wagon.” Colt finally says with a smile.

~~~~~~~~~~

Nearly half an hour passes before Colt’s motorized wagon grinds to a stop by the river running through Canterlot. Shining Armor remembers when the riverbed was soft and sandy, like a little beach, with a lush wall of trees along the edge. The water was, and still is, the cleanest and clearest in all of Equestria, but the little concrete barriers, chain link fences and gravel roads ruin its beauty. And even if there were none of those things, the distant, towering factories behind warehouses and rundown buildings bellowing icky smoke into the air would be enough to ruin the view.

“Alright, we’re secluded, now start talking,” orders L. Roy, his disguise now partially removed.

Shining Armor sighs. “Okay, the reason why I called you guys and the reason why we are being hunted by the EIB-”

“You’re the one being hunted,” interrupts Colt, still in full disguise, prompting the other two to look at him irritably. “I’m just saying...”

“Brisk Wind thinks I killed Quill Pen and was ordered by Celestia to bring me in,” continues Shining Armor after a moment’s pause. “She’s going after you guys because you,” he looks at L. Roy, “brought her in upon my request and you,” he looks at Colt, “are L. Roy’s closest friend.”

“Unfortunately,” mumbles L. Roy, then he adds in a clearer tone: “Also, Quill Pen ruined my career when my ‘incompetence’ brought the Eclipse Murder Case to a cold case. So that would give me motive to kill her, therefore putting me high on the list of suspects.”

“So, what are you going to do about this?” asks Colt to Shining Armor.

Shining Armor sighs and looks down while running his hoof through his mane.

“I don’t know,” he says disappointingly, “but if Brisk Wind is personally going to your homes it’s a safe bet to say that you are on her hit list.”

“You mean ‘shit list’, right?” asks Colt with a nervous chuckle. Shining Armor looks at him solemnly and L. Roy looks down, sighing heavily, and Colt’s nervous smile fades away to terror. “Oh shit! We’ve been marked!”

Colt pushes the ignition and the wagon rumbles to life. Almost as if their minds are synced, L. Roy turns the vehicle off and Shining Armor yanks out the ignition key, both using their magic to do so. Colt turns in his seat to glare at the two; he’s now hyperventilating and tearing up while Shining Armor remains calm on the outside. As for L. Roy, Shining Armor can’t tell if he’s bored or scared; he can never read the stoic unicorn that well.

“Colt, relax,” orders L. Roy.

“Relax!? Sparky here just said we’re on the EIB hit list!”

“At least we have some idea what the EIB is capable of,” states Shining Armor while placing his battle saddle in between his hooves.

“Yeah, they nearly razed an entire griffin community and got away with it!”

“They won’t get away with it because we will prove that Brisk Wind had an ulterior motive to her raid. Something of that magnitude will lead to a full on investigation that will expose everything she has done.”

“And how exactly are we going to do that?” asks L. Roy with a raised eyebrow.

Shining Armor frowns and thinks for a moment. And he continues thinking... and thinking... and thinking. Soon Shining Armor is rubbing his chin and as the seconds tick by he comes to the dreaded realization that he has absolutely no idea how he’s going to expose Brisk Wind.

He sighs heavily. “I have no idea.”

Colt groans and bangs his head on the dashboard while L. Roy merely stares at him emotionlessly. After a minute or so of Colt’s whining and swearing, L. Roy makes a suggestion.

“We could kill her. Avoid all the restraints of the legal process and her puppets and put an end her and her treachery.”

That shuts Colt up and Shining Armor finds the idea tempting. Very, very tempting. But alas, the Captain turns down L. Roy’s suggestion with a slow shake of his head.

“No, if we kill her then we’d be no better than her,” states Shining Armor.

“In your eyes, maybe,” remarks L. Roy simply, “but think of all the lives she’s ruined and how getting anything on her is near impossible. How can we trust the system when it is in her favor?”

“I don’t like the tone you’re using.”

Colt suddenly lets out a loud gasp and his head lifts up from the dashboard; then he turns to L. Roy and Shining Armor with big googly eyes and a massive grin. He holds that stupid smile for a second before Shining Armor becomes massively uncomfortable with it.

“Um, you okay, Colt?” asks Shining Armor uneasily.

“Yes! I’m more than okay!” cheers Colt. “I just had a brilliant idea that will save all three of us!” He pauses for effect. “We get the Vigilante to help us!”

Shining Armor facehoofs and L. Roy calls Colt an imbecile under his breath. Upon seeing the other two’s reaction the earth pony’s smile fades away and he looks at both of the two with worry. Before he has a chance to say anything or ask about the long faces, Shining Armor speaks up.

“The Vigilante hasn’t been seen ever since the griffins and EIB had the shootout at that apartment complex.”

“Don’t you listen to the news?” adds L. Roy snidely.

Colt waves his hoof dismissively. “Psh, no. The mainstream media is a corrupted, propaganda machine backed by corporate giants and foreign influence whose only goal is to manipulate the sheeponies so that their candidate of choice gets whatever office they’re running for. I can go on all day about this stuff.”

Shining Armor is dumbfounded by Colt’s outburst in regards to the media while L. Roy looks, as usual, unimpressed.

“Then where do you get your information?” probes L. Roy.

“...Vinyl Scratch.”

“Oh goddess, of all of the ponies out there, you just had to pick her.”

The two have a short argument about the famous DJ, and as they argued and light bulb turns on in Now it is Shining Armor’s brain. He remembers how the famous DJ spent her nights idolizing the Vigilante and taunting those that stood in the masked hero’s way. He also remembers how she sent him the yearbook, despite the danger it would put her and her friend in. When Shining Armor gets the fantastic idea, he claps his hooves together, effectively getting the other two’s attention.

“I know what we have to do.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Colt’s motorized wagon reluctantly pulls up to Vinyl Scratch’s house through the alley. The whole time they were driving Colt became less excited and more wrecked, even going as far as offering to find another DJ to go to to beg for help. However, the other two insisted on Colt taking them to Vinyl Scratch; well, more accurately Shining Armor did the insisting and L. Roy provided the silent support he’s known for. Once they approach the house, they stare at it for a few seconds before Colt smacks his lips together and points at it.

“Well, there she is. Have fun guys,” says Colt, chuckling nervously and wiping a thick layer of sweat from his brow.

Shining Armor can’t take it anymore. Colt’s actions are getting too weird for him and he demands answers! And demand answers he does; however, Colt seals his lips and L. Roy is the one that explains why Colt is acting weirder than he usually is.

“Vinyl Scratch and Colt used to date,” explains L. Roy as he wipes off the last of the dye from his face using ultra-strength wet wipes. “I’m guessing she was in her stallion-in-uniform phase.”

“So I take it their relationship ended badly?” inquires Shining Armor.

Colt lets out an exaggerated, nervous filled laugh and shakes his head like it’s a no big deal.

“Oh no, it ended on a peachy note. A really, really, really, rotten, disgusting, deformed, unholy abomination of a peach,” says Colt, sinking further down into his seat with each passing word.

Shining Armor looks at Colt one last time, now barely able to see his mane since he took the afro off, before he and L. Roy approach Vinyl Scratch’s home. As they walk towards the house, Shining Armor remains quiet about the Colt-Vinyl situation, deciding it was none of his business and best not to probe about such a matter. However, L. Roy doesn’t let it go that easily.

“Just so you know, Vinyl Scratch can practically sense Colt so-”

The door suddenly flies open and Vinyl Scratch stomps out, sporting her trademark sunglasses and levitating a shotgun next to her. Shining Armor swears and puts up a shield around himself and the motorized wagon. He can just picture Colt dying of a heart attack in the vehicle, with the last thing he’ll be seeing is a wooden ceiling in desperate need of some paint and finish.

“L. Roy, what the HELL are you and Colt doing here!” screams Vinyl Scratch, aiming her shotgun at the motorized wagon.

Shining Armor leans towards L. Roy as the stoic unicorn levitates his weapon out of his scabbard.

“I’m guessing you knew her, too,” says Shining Armor.

“Fortunately not that well,” replies L. Roy bluntly. “Vinyl, put down your weapon! We need your help with something!”

Vinyl Scratch aims her shotgun at L. Roy, and Shining Armor is sure she would’ve shot him if the shield wasn’t up.

“Buzz off! And take your hobo friend with you!” orders Vinyl Scratch.

Shining Armor doesn’t take that insult very well; he growls and pulls down his hood and points at Vinyl Scratch threateningly.

“I am not a hobo! And I swear to Celestia that if you do not lower your weapon I will personally snap it in half!” proclaims Shining Armor. “Same goes for you, L. Roy! Everypony lower your weapons!”

There is a moment of tense silence, but after that moment passes, L. Roy and Vinyl Scratch point their weapons to the ground in unison. Then Vinyl Scratch chuckles when she recognizes Shining Armor and L. Roy rolls his eyes as he returns his weapon to its proper place.

“Well I’ll be damned,” laughs Vinyl Scratch. “It’s been a while, Big Guy. How are the wife and kids?”

“Wife’s a wreck, don’t have any kids, now let us in,” orders Shining Armor flatly.

“Are you the one that needs help?”

“All three of us need help,” replies Shining Armor.

“But you’re the one being hunted by the EIB for murder.”

Shining Armor scowls. “Yeah.”

Vinyl Scratch steps aside. “Okay, you can come in.” Then she points at L. Roy and her tone suddenly becomes venomous. “You keep watch and keep that wagon running in case we run into some problems.“

L. Roy looks at Shining Armor questionably, but Shining Armor nods his head in agreement with Vinyl Scratch’s order.

“Do as she says,” orders Shining Armor, then he looks at Vinyl Scratch sternly. “We need to have a private talk, anyway.”

Vinyl Scratch motions Shining Armor inside, and once he is inside, she locks the door and he sits on the ground by a table with stacks of books. One stack is of books with a playboy type of stallion in a tuxedo standing next to a mare in a sparkly red dress with “Agent Watch Band and the...” something or other with a dozen variations. Then there is a stack of books next to that one with a gruff stallion in beat up Royal Guard armor striking a cool pose. Those books are titled “The Adventures of Jolt Mac Lane” with a few different subtitles.

“It’s been awhile, Captain. How’s life?”

Shining Armor turns to Vinyl Scratch, his hard scowl showing how unamused he is by her careless tone. His eyes are kept trained on her as she exits the room to grab something from her tiny kitchen.

“How do you think?” grumbles Shining Armor, now removing and folding his cloak.

“Could be better,” says Vinyl Scratch over the sounds of glass bottles clinking against each other.

When Vinyl Scratch exits the kitchen Shining Armor is putting his folded cloak on the table neatly. He realizes that she’s looking at him in a less than casual way, and when she removes her sunglasses, he sees those bedroom eyes. His cheeks and ears burn and the only thing he can really think of is: ‘You have got to be kidding me.’

Vinyl Scratch whistles and gets a sly smile. “Wow, you are a lot bigger than I remember. How often do you work out?”

Shining Armor shifts uncomfortably in his spot, and due to his size he accidentally bumps into the table holding the books and the stacks fall to the ground. He swears under his breath and uses his magic to restack them, but they fall over again, bringing a teasing grin to Vinyl Scratch’s face and an embarrassed blush to Shining Armor’s.

“Why does this happen to me?” grumbles Shining Armor while attempting to keep the stack of books steady. When the stack falls over he throws his hooves in the air and turns to the DJ, scowling. “Forget it. Before we do anything else, Vinyl, I know you and Aural sent that yearbook to me, and I want to know why.”

Vinyl Scratch sits on her chair by her radio equipment, grinning and sipping her drink. When she’s done sipping she sets the bottle on her table and turns her chair to face Shining Armor.

“Okay, I’ll be honest, I did get the yearbook and had Aural mail it to your office.”

“Why.”

“Because I didn’t know where your office was.”

“No, not that! Why did you send the yearbook!”

“You needed some help.”

“Not good enough.”

Vinyl Scratch leans her head against her hoof with a fan girl smile stretching across her face. “Well, Brisk Wind is somepony who needs a network to be efficient, and that yearbook showed us her closest buds. Luckily for you, two of her top guys are already dead, leaving just Glimmer and a small army of their goons. You take out Glimmer and that nutty featherbrain will have no more friends and her little army will scatter like a bunch of headless chickens on speed.”

Shining Armor ignores her interesting metaphor as he paces around the room, studying all of the radio equipment and posters, he also takes a special interest in the flag hanging up.

“I already have somepony keeping an eye on Major Fuller,” says Shining Armor, his eyes tracing the edges of the flag’s symbol.

“And you are wanted for murdering Quill Pen, so-”

“I did not kill her!” exclaims Shining Armor furiously, whirling around to glare at the DJ. Vinyl Scratch holds up her hooves defensively, inching back in her seat as far as she can go while apologizing . “I would not have even known she was dead or that the EIB was coming after me if I hadn’t been warned.”

Vinyl Scratch cocks her head quizzically. “You were warned?”

Shining Armor sighs. “Your friend called me in my office and told me that Brisk Wind is going after me for first degree murder.” He looks down and his voice quivers with anger. “She was ordered by Celestia to bring me in, but I know I was set up. Somepony killed Quill Pen and is trying to make it look like I did it, and I bet you that somepony was Brisk Wind.”

Vinyl Scratch gets up and grabs another bottle of alcohol and hands it to Shining Armor. He rejects it with a shake of his head and a quick wave of his hoof. Vinyl Scratch shrugs and takes a sip from it. She smacks her lips together as her eyes roll towards the ceiling, carefully analyzing the taste, and comes to the conclusion that she likes her other drink better. She puts the bottle down and takes a big swig from her original drink.

“Well, to be fair to the villain, you did run away, and you must’ve done something that made this all the easier to pin this on you.” She takes another sip, frowning when she realizes that she’s almost out of her precious drink. “Also, this pony you got spying on Major Fuller, how are they supposed to tell you what they know about him now that you’re on the run? Brisk Wind must’ve known you were about to hit a jackpot or something and was waiting for the perfect moment to fuck you up the ass with an iron dildo.”

Shining Armor stares at Vinyl Scratched, repulsed by what she said, and the albino pony merely shrugs and takes one last sip before burping and throwing her bottle away. He then shakes his head, trying to get the horribly disturbing image out of his head, and grumbles as he paces around the room, urging himself to think. While Shining Armor tries to think about how he can get into contact with Rainbow Dash, Vinyl Scratch takes on the second bottle of alcohol.

“So, what do you need help with?” asks Vinyl Scratch carefully.

“I need a way to take down Brisk Wind; you did quite a bit of coverage on the Vigilante and you and I both know that there is no way that the Vigilante could escape two vans of EIB agents and an entire griffin hit team.”

“Maybe she’s just that good,” suggests Vinyl Scratch. “Where’s this going?”

She casts a subtle worried glance at her container of pain and Shining Armor sits down, careful to avoid the table of books, and continues staring at Vinyl Scratch, and she stares back at him. She does a decent job of hiding her uneasiness of his constant staring, and uses the classical trick of doing something else to avoid eye contact. In her case, it is floating her pain pills over to herself and popping a couple in her mouth and drowning them with a swig of hard cider. Normally Shining Armor would scold someone for such a stupid act, but he figures he’s not sitting in a radio station-house to give lessons on proper pill popping. He has more important matters to tend to than that.

“The Vigilante was about to figure out something about Brisk Wind and the EIB wasn’t she?”

When Vinyl Scratch remains silent he asks her again and she replies with: “Mare-Do-Well was clueless about the EIB corruption, she was just cleaning up the streets, but since I’m not being haunted I’m guessing that she’s still alive. But she’s definitely going to need some help since the last time I saw her it was a miracle she was standing. Helping her will help you too since she’s going after Brisk Wind.”

Shining Armor practically jumps towards her eagerly awaiting what she has to say. So eager, in fact, that if he were a dog, his tail would be wagging at bone breaking speeds. He doesn’t care how ridiculous he looks with the hopeful smile or giddy stance; if Vinyl Scratch knows of a way to take down Brisk Wind then he’ll be more than happy to do whatever it takes.

“Okay, what is it? What does she need help with?” asks Shining Armor excitedly.

Vinyl Scratch leans forward and motions Shining Armor closer. When he scooches closer, she looks around,clearly paranoid that she is being watched, then she gives her explanation in a low voice.

“Word on the street, particularly with our griffin friends, is that Gilda has dirt on Brisk Wind. Supposedly the said dirt locked away good and tight in a safety deposit box in a bank in Bernese, and Aural -being the little spy that she is- has found that Brisk Wind has sent a small army to get it. See where I’m getting at here?”

Shining Armor slumps to the floor, his excited smile fading to a disturbed frown. “How can Brisk Wind just send an army of EIB agents to Bernese to get what ever is in that box? Even Celestia would find that suspicious.”

Vinyl Scratch shakes her head solemnly. “Nope, not EIB, she’s using ponies from the Rehabilitation Program and using some kind of backdoor funding to ferry them there. That, and they are being led by Lieutenant Andromeda so you know Brisk Wind is trying to hide something.”

“Well that’s just great!” Shining Armor swears and starts pacing around the room again, panicking at the thought of having to take on an unknown number of criminals and the EIB with severely limited resources. “How am I supposed to do get a safety deposit box in Bernese, get past Brisk Wind’s army and show it to Princess Celestia?”

“You could always ask for help,” offers Vinyl Scratch. Shining Armor stops his tangent and looks at Vinyl Scratch questionably, her look now terrifyingly stern. “I got quite a list of guys that would love to stick that bitch’s head on a pike.”

=**********=

“...But what does that say about Equestria’s security?” asks a mare in a Canterlot accent over a dial radio sitting on a nightstand. “The griffins are on a hair trigger because of their arms race with Bernese, and now they are outraged by the EIB’s raid on the griffin community in Canterlot!”

“I am certain that the griffins won’t do anything,” replies another mare sharing the same accent in a much calmer tone. “Griffins may be brutish, but they are civilized brutes. They know they cannot afford hostilities on our border with the ibex problem on their doorstep. Besides, what happened in Canterlot was an isolated incident and Princess Celestia has already apolo-”

Click.

Pinkie Pie’s hoof slides off of the radio and she moves to stare at her reflection in a mirror resting on a simple dresser. She hasn’t had much time to look at herself after Trixie broke the mirror in their apartment, but after getting out of the hospital, she’s dreading what she looks like. Her eyes are tired, and the large bags under them are darker than her mane, almost like a raccoon. Her pale coat also makes her wounds easier to see and her poofy mane is no more than a frazzled mess. Pinkie Pie, without taking her eyes off of the mirror, tenderly rubs where Octavia shot her. Her coat is thinnest in that spot and the scarring from her stitches painfully obvious.

Pinkie Pie looks down at the floor, wanting to go back to sleep so she can talk to Spike again. But as tired as her body is, her mind is too active to allow her to rest. For one, she knows her dream had told her that Roar Shock has become more dangerous and will burn Equestria to the ground should he get the chance. Also, if what Octavia said about Trixie dying in an alley somewhere is true, then Pinkie Pie knows that she has no choice but to put on the Mare-Do-Well suit and stop Roar Shock herself. Then she starts wondering about Laughter’s necklace. Celestia had said that the Elements are beyond mortal understanding, and Pinkie Pie had speculated that they are alive somehow, given that they are picky about Bearers. However, even after she had gone against everything the Elements stand for, Laughter still came to her and warmed her up in that frost field and comforted her when she first arrived in the dreamscape.

As Pinkie Pie ponders the reasons why Laughter had stuck around, she rubs the area when the pendant touched her chest. Her ear swivels towards the door when she hears it click open and sees Twilight carefully step inside the room with a tray of food and juice floating in front of her. When the unicorn sees Pinkie Pie sitting on the floor she stops and carefully sets the tray on the nightstand.

“Have you slept at all?” asks Twilight worryingly. Pinkie Pie looks down at the floor again, shaking her head in silence. Twilight sighs sadly and approaches her friend with some caution. “Pinkie, you need to get some sleep, take it from somepony who knows what little sleep can do to you.”

Pinkie Pie  swallows some tears and forces herself to look at Twilight in the mirror.

“I betcha you’re wishing you could find a stronger time travel spell to go back in time and save Spike,” she says quietly; then she looks down. “I know I wish I could do something like that. I could save Spike, Octavia, Trixie... everypony I hurt I could save if I could do something like that.”

Twilight looks at the floor, and Pinkie Pie locked on the carpet, eyes watering and gulping back a flood of tears. Twilight takes a deep breath and approaches Pinkie Pie, wrapping her hoof around her neck and bringing her in for a hug. Pinkie Pie doesn’t lift a hoof, though, she remains stiff, only leaning into Twilight’s body and closing her eyes.

There is a moment of depressing silence that Twilight tries to break, but the most she can do is open her mouth while her friend remains uncharacteristically quiet. They sit in silence for another minute or two until Twilight hesitantly pulls away from Pinkie Pie and sheepishly points at the tray.

“Well, I, um, I brought you some pancakes and orange juice.” Twilight looks at the tray, frowning in disappointment. “Or they were supposed to be pancakes and orange juice.”

Pinkie Pie gets up and shuffles towards the tray, and her droopy eyes widening when she sees the so called pancakes. Whatever Twilight had done to them makes Pinkie Pie question how Twilight survived without Spike. The pancakes are thin ashy plates that crumble to bits after Pinkie Pie poked them, and when the pink pony looks at the orange juice, the word “repulsed” comes to mind.

“How did you burn orange juice?” asks Pinkie Pie, flabbergasted by the strange sight.

Twilight looks down, blushing and stammering idiotically, and is only silenced when Pinkie Pie tells her to relax. With that being said, Twilight slumps to the ground, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, Pinkie, I... I’m just not good at cooking, and I wanted to do something for you after all you’ve been through. I tried to see you at the hospital after the newspapers said you were alive, but when I got there you were gone and,” Twilight sniffles and wipes tears from her eyes, “and then Shining was accused of murder and-and I just don’t know how much more of this I can take!”

Twilight slumps against the bed, covering her eyes with her hoof and crying quietly. Pinkie Pie sits next to Twilight and rubs her shoulder, this only makes Twilight cry harder and Pinkie Pie pulls her in for a hug. Twilight wraps her hooves around and cries into Pinkie Pie’s shoulder, and she rubs the unicorn’s back, closing her eyes and bowing her head.

“I’m sorry... for everything,” whispers Pinkie Pie.

“No, I’m sorry. I drove you to this, I broke our friendship, I broke everypony.”

Pinkie Pie pulls away and looks at Twilight’s bloodshot, soaked eyes. “What do you mean? You still have the others.”

Twilight shakes her head, sniffling and wiping a thick stream of tears from her face. “Rainbow Dash hasn’t said a word to me since the Pre-Gala. She took your death the hardest and blamed me and Rarity for what happened, and Rarity hardly talks to me now. Then when Applejack and Big Mac disappeared Fluttershy became paranoid. She told me that she saw them taken away in government vehicles and I told her she was crazy. I haven’t heard anything from her since then. And even before Shining went into hiding, we’ve been arguing a lot about what Celestia is doing... It’s all over. The Elements of Harmony are broken and nopony trusts Celestia anymore... Nopony but me.”

Twilight looks at Pinkie Pie hopefully, and her state brings a lump to the pink pony’s throat and twists her heart in a knot. She remembers when she would comfort Twilight to the best of her abilities, usually in the form a party or a treat from the Sugar Cube Corner, and in spite of what she had done to her, Rainbow Dash’s statement pertaining to the Element of Magic replays in her mind. Pinkie Pie wants to stay mad at Twilight; she wants to tell her off for how bad of a friend she was when she was needed the most; she wants punch her in the eye and-

Pinkie Pie looks away from Twilight, shivering slightly and mentally telling herself that she doesn’t want to hurt Twilight.

“And why don’t you? She was mean to us,” inquires Pinkamena grimly.

“Do you still trust Celestia?” asks Twilight, her tone matching the saddened, yet hopeful look she has.

Pinkie Pie looks at Twilight for a couple of seconds before she hugs Twilight in a tight embrace. Pinkie Pie strokes Twilight’s back when she feels her quiver; the scene reminds Pinkie Pie of when she spent those nights comforting Trixie, particularly when she nearly overdosed on her pills.

“She’s my goddess, I have to trust her,” says Pinkie Pie softly.

She feels Twilight nod her head and her tears drip on her shoulders. Pinkie Pie wishes she could stay with Twilight and tell her that she forgives her, and-

“Wow, you are so quick to forgive that meanie,” sneers Pinkamena, her voice echoing in Pinkie Pie’s mind. Pinkie Pie’s eyes snap to the doorway and expects to see her evil self to be standing in the doorway with a knife; but all she sees is the hallway wall. “This is perfect. Just one quick twist and her neck will break like a celery stick.”

“Pinkie... are you okay?” asks Twilight uneasily.

“No. What’s wrong?”

“You’re kinda strangling me with your hug.”

Pinkie Pie releases Twilight instantly and backs away from Twilight, trembling and barely suppressing a whimper. She sits on her haunches and looks at her hooves with eyes wide and stricken with terror. Her ears twitch and her eyes water while her breathing becomes heavy when she hears Pinkamena giggle.

“One quick twist,” echoes Pinkamena.

Pinkie Pie gulps. “No... No, I can’t.”

Twilight places her hoof on Pinkie Pie’s shoulder, making her jump and scream, which in turn makes Twilight jump and scream. Both ponies stare at each other, hearts racing and gulping for air with their hooves over their hearts.

“You scared me,” says Pinkie Pie after a few seconds of panting.

“Sorry,” apologizes Twilight, “but you were, I guess, talking to yourself.”

“Psychos tend to do that.” Then she gets a twitch in her leg that signals that she is being watched. “I need to go to, like right now.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“I spent too long her and need to get to Bernese.”

Pinkie Pie dashes out of the room and Twilight runs after her. When they are in the hallway,  Pinkie Pie comes to a sudden stop as her tail is enveloped in a magical aura, and when she turns around she sees Twilight’s horn glowing.

“Wha-Why do you have to go to Bernese? More importantly, how can you even think of going? Look at you! You can’t -you can’t go anywhere!” cries Twilight hysterically she motions towards Pinkie Pie’s injuries.

Pinkie Pie jabs the base of Twilight’s horn, making her yelp painfully and tenderly rub it, and Pinkie Pie continues her path. Each of her steps are filled with determination and worry, and when she passes a window blocked by a lavender curtain, her leg cramps up. Pinkie Pie winces and continues her walk, and when she passes the window the cramp disappears. She stops, and backs up to the window. Her leg cramp returns.

“Oh great,” groans Pinkie Pie.

“Pinkie, did you understand me?” asks Twilight sourly as she walks in, tenderly rubbing her horn when she comes to a stop.

“Yeah, yeah, I understood you loud and clear,” says Pinkie Pie as she moves one of Twilight’s lavender curtains out of the way for a better view of Canterlot. “But I’m still leaving since I’m putting you in danger.”

She closes the curtain and goes to Twilight’s kitchen with her “friend” in pursuit. The kitchen is small to begin with, but just large enough for Pinkie Pie to move around with bare minimum comfort. Since the kitchen is tucked away in the back of the apartment with no windows around Pinkie Pie is spared of another leg cramp.

“Okay, I think you need to tell me what’s going on,” says Twilight authoritatively.

Pinkie Pie sighs loudly and looks at Twilight, knowing that the unicorn won’t stop badgering her until she gets some answers. She tries to think of how she would explain what is going on to Twilight in the least time consuming way possible, and thinking of what to say is not made any easier by the way Twilight is staring at her.

“I guess there’s no point in hiding it,” says Pinkie Pie as she anxiously paws at the ground. “I Pinkie Promise I’ll explain everything when this done, but right now you’ll have to settle for the simple version.”

To emphasize her point, Pinkie Pie does the motions and chants the Pinkie Promise, and gets a small smile of relief when Twilight nods she motions her to explain her situation. Pinkie Pie takes a deep breath and exhales slowly while staring at the ground. Then she looks up at Twilight to give her basic story.

“The guys that attacked Ponyville and killed Spike and the Mayor are after me and I’m losing control of my sanity, so I have to leave to Bernese to get an advanced Mare-Do-Well suit from Iron Will and stay away from you and the others until I get Pinkamena under control and stop Roar Shock from killing millions of ponies.”

Pinkie Pie takes a breath and Twilight’s reaction to the really long run-on sentence is a blank blink. A few seconds of silence later, Pinkie Pie starts rummaging through Twilight’s kitchen, searching for anything she can use on her trip out.

“That... that was a very simple version,” says Twilight distantly.

“Yep, sure was.”

“So you are buying a Mare-Do-Well suit from... Iron Will? Isn’t he the minotaur that, you know, turned Fluttershy into Flutter-” the last part is too low for any normal pony to make out.

“Same guy.” Pinkie Pie opens the fridge and spots two cartons of expired milk and a wall of take-out containers. She sniffs the milk and puts them by the sink, telling Twilight to throw those out the first chance she gets. “Anyway, when I was in my coma I had a dream inside a dream and it was about Roar Shock. He was all weird and green and had destroyed Canterlot, and probably killed Celestia and Luna, and so now I have to stop him so that the dream doesn’t come true. That is where Bernese and Iron Will come in. I’ll need the suit to face him.”

Twilight stomps the floor. “But you can’t face him! You are in no condition to be doing anything! We have to alert Celestia of this! She’ll know what to do!”

Pinkie Pie ignores Twilight as she opens up the cabinet in search of something she can pack just so she won’t have to buy anything on the road. She pulls out a container of chocolate cookies with rainbow colored sprinkles on them, and while she’s pulling them out, it dawns on her as to why Twilight hasn’t starved to death. Her whole cabinet is stuffed to the brim with canned goods, insta-cook and just-add-water type of meals, and pudding. Lots and lots of pudding, all of which is organized by flavor and then sorted alphabetically, just like all of the canned items. Another thing that Pinkie Pie spots is a series of six binders resting on a lone shelf.

Pinkie Pie reaches for the nearest one, which just happens to be pink.

“Wait, Pinkie that’s-”

Too late. Pinkie Pie had already opened it and her hair stands up as she jumps back, screaming at the horrendous sight. The book falls open on the floor and Pinkie Pie shakes her head as she backs away from the monstrosity.

“Private. Thanks, Pinkie, you are the queen of overreacting,” says Twilight with half lidded eyes and drooped ears as she levitates the binder back to its proper spot.

“You have an entire cabinet filled with canned food and pudding, and a shelf full of binders with fast food and special order coupons!” says Pinkie Pie as she points an accusing hoof at the offending object.

Twilight furrows her brow. “I already told you I can’t cook to save my life.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Pinkie Pie ignores Twilight’s whiney scoff. “When this is all over, I’m going to teach you how to cook. No ifs, ands, buts or butts about it.”

“Pinkie, this is getting ridiculous.”

“You’re right. I have to hurry this up.”

Pinkie Pie opens up a container of chocolate cookies and puts four in her mouth; she chews the cookies slowly, ignoring Twilight’s flabbergasted stare, and while doing so, her eyes shift in circles, trying to figure out what is wrong with the cookies. They taste a little hard for her, like eating minty flavored sandrocks, and when she swallows them, it dawns on her what was wrong with the cookies.

“These cookies are expired,” says Pinkie Pie in a disappointed and grossed out tone while staring at the expiration date on the package.

“I knew that... I was keeping them on purpose... For science,” Twilight says uneasily as her eyes shift away from Pinkie Pie.

Pinkie Pie shakes her head and after she throws out the expired cookies she starts pulling out random assortment of canned food. Twilight arches an eyebrow and is about to ask a question regarding the cans, but Pinkie Pie is quicker in opening her mouth.

“Where is the money you found me with?” asks Pinkie Pie.

Twilight leaves the room and comes back a couple of minutes later with a tiny bag of bits floating in front of her. Pinkie Pie finishes putting a can of spinach and spaghetti on the counter when she sees that, then her eyes narrow and she points at the bag.

“That better not be all of the money,” she says dangerously.

Twilight takes a step back, stammering and looking away. “No, it’s-it’s all there, I just enchanted it so that they are, well, tiny, since walking around with all that money will be difficult. Especially for somepony in your condition.”

Pinkie Pie sighs and looks away, uttering: “I guess you’re right about that. So is it like sand? Are the bits like little grains of sand?”

Twilight nods and Pinkie Pie snatches the bag with her mouth and tests the bits by tipping the bag to its side. The grainy bits fall out and grow to their normal size, and they sound like a metallic rainstorm when they roll off the counter.

“That is pretty cool,” giggles Pinkie Pie as she stuffs the bits back into the back with the help of Twilight’s magic. The two giggle and Twilight throws in her own bragging rights, but then Pinkie Pie’s face turns deadly serious and she grabs Twilight by her cheeks and pulls her close so that their snouts are almost touching. Twilight’s eyes dart side to side nervously as Pinkie Pie zeros in on her pupils. “I’m going to need your help with something.”

“What do you need help with?” asks Twilight, her voice slightly distorted from the way her cheeks are pressed together.

Pinkie Pie’s grip tightens on Twilight’s cheeks and she moves to where their noses are nearly touching, making Twilight take a half step back and her ears fold down.

“I need you to stay away from me, and to stay with Celestia. Those guys from Ponyville know I’m alive and they will hurt you badly to get to me.”

“But-”

Pinkie Pie jabs her hoof in Twilight’s mouth. “No buts! There’s those League of Justice nuts and then there’s me. I am as much of a threat to you as them, since my alter ego kinda wants to kill you.”

Twilight pales and Pinkie Pie’s eyes zero in on Twilight’s.

“Pinkie Promise me you’ll not follow me and you’ll go to Celestia as soon as possible.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It has been a few minutes after Pinkie Pie left the apartment, and Twilight is now racing around the apartment, trying to gather as much as she can. She is levitating a saddlebag filled with to the brim, almost bursting, actually. The bag is stuffed with important documents, and notes relating to her soon-to-be position as head of Research and Development, and other office equipment.

The seriousness of Pinkie Pie’s tone made Twilight not want to question her former friend, and despite her best efforts to get out quickly, she knows she has too many important documents to be left lying around. She isn’t sure why the terrorists are after Pinkie Pie, but from what she has seen from their attack on Ponyville, she does not want them getting ahold of anything pertaining to the Royal Government. Especially if they are documents relating to Research and Development.

When Twilight runs out of her room with a framed picture of her and Spike at Shining Armor’s wedding, she tries to stuff it in her saddlebag. After a minute of struggling, she manages to squeeze it in and breathes a sigh of relief.

“Finally, now time to get out of here,” says Twilight to herself.

She closes her eyes and charges her horn, and-

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Twilight’s eyes open and she stares at her door, her heart racing and panic overtaking her. When the heavy knocking returns and a mare calls out her name, Twilight gulps and takes a step back while increasing the charge on her horn.

“Who is it?” asks Twilight cautiously as she tightens the saddlebag around her.

“Equestrian Investigation Bureau. We need to ask you some questions about your brother,” says the mare outside.

Twilight’s horn stops charging and after a moment of silence, the mare calls out to her again and introduces herself as “Agent Harp” of the EIB. Twilight hesitantly opens the door, but still keeps the chained lock on, and peeks outside. Sure enough, there are three mares and a zebra stallion outside, all of them wearing dark suits and wearing the EIB necklace around their necks. Twilight studies the necklaces and deducts that they are, indeed, real EIB badges; although she is a bit surprised to see a zebra in the ranks of the EIB. Pushing the thought aside, figuring that it is a quota thing, Twilight unlocks her door and opens it up and steps aside for them to enter. However, one thing that she finds odd is that all of them are wearing earplugs; that, and one of the mares looks very familiar. And she knows that the aquamarine unicorn recognizes her, too.

“Lyra? You’re EIB?” asks Twilight with surprise.

Twilight looks over her shoulder when she hears her door locks click, and she sees the zebra’s hoof falling from the door with him blocking her way and staring at her with cold eyes. Twilight stares at the zebra suspiciously and then her eyes meet Lyra’s.

“Lyra, what is going on?” demands Twilight.

Lyra closes her eyes and her horn glows a soft blue light, and after she takes a deep breath a strange, soothing music emits from it. It is an orchestra of flutes, lyres, and a dozen other instruments that make Twilight’s eyes heavy. Within seconds she is yawning and having great difficulty trying to concentrate. She fights to keep her eyes open, and tries to charge her horn, but when she does get a small charge, she feels a pair of hooves go on her. One wraps around her neck and the other presses down on her back, realizing they belong to the zebra when she looks out of the corner of her eye. Twilight gets a shiver and lets out a small whimper as she feels his warm breath in her ear when he sings her a hymn in his native tongue. The zebra gently pushes down on her back, thus causing her legs to buckle with minimal resistance. With each passing blink, Twilight’s world becomes hazier and her eyes become heavier. Twilight groans and wraps her hoof around the zebra’s neck in a feeble attempt to stand up while still charging her horn, but he gently removes her hoof and lays her on the ground, still keeping his cold glare and uttering the lullaby. The last thing she sees before blacking out is one of the mares walking up to her with four horn cuffs.

~~~~~~~~~~

Twilight’s eyes flutter open after what seemed like a day of darkness; with each blink her vision becomes clearer and the environment more sinister. Twilight looks around and sees that she is in a dark, gloomy room with the only light source being a single light bulb that has trouble staying on. She also hears a gentle hum and fan blades slicing the air. Twilight grunts and tries to move, but quickly finds that her legs are bound by rope, and when she tries to use her magic, she gets a pinch of pain in her horn. Twilight winces, then she lifts her forelegs up and tries to gnaw the rope off. Her gnawing makes very little progress, and when she sees the rusted metal door in front of her open with a sickening grind, she drops her hooves and glares at the two equines that walked in.

“Lyra, what’s going on!” demands Twilight ferociously.

The zebra steps forward. “The situation is simple, Ms. Sparkle, you are our prisoner and we will release you when you tell us where Pinkie Pie went.”

“Prisoner, huh?”

Twilight squeezes her eyes shut and tries to use her magic, but all she gets is a headache. She tries once again, grunting loudly and squeezing her eyes harder to where it’s bringing out tears. After a minute of struggling, she collapses, panting and sweating heavily.

“With your power nearly rivaling Celestia we did not want to take any chances with just the cuffs,” states the zebra. “So for the safety of everypony here we have nullified your magic with healing mushrooms.”

“What!?”

“You’ll get it back in a half a day’s time.”

Twilight growls and continues her struggle against the bonds, but just like all of her other attempts, she only becomes more tired and loses more hope. Her attempts to escape have left her with a brutal headache that feels like someone has cracked her horn with a hammer, and the ropes have torn into her skin and left small burn marks.

“What do you want with Pinkie?” says Twilight boldly between her pants.

The zebra frowns. “What do you care? You disowned her a lifetime ago.”

“She’s my friend, and nopony is going to hurt her, you hear me!”

Twilight’s captors stare at her, and she stares back defiantly. After a few seconds of hostile staring, the zebra turns to Lyra.

“Heartstrings, bring her in.” When she gives him a horrified look he narrows his eyes. “Now.”

Lyra gallops to the door and pokes her head out. “Adanz says to bring her in!”

Twilight ignores the stare from Adanz as she resumes struggling with her bonds, using physical thrashing and attempts to charge her horn, but her only success is making her headache and the rope burns worse.

“Who’s this secret pony you’re bringing in?” says Twilight in a brave tone, grunting when she tries yet again to slide her hooves out from the rope. “Is she-” another grunt, “some kinda psycho?”

“She’s a survivor.”

The door suddenly glows and swings open, and a unicorn mare marches in wearing a thick overcoat with the collar being extra fluffy and the shoulders having metal plates sewn on, as well as having dual mini-Gatling guns strapped to her back. Underneath is the black barding of the League of Justice with some humble modifications. Half of the unicorn’s face is covered by a metal mask that hides most of the burnt flesh and what’s left of her her mane is combed to the side to cover her exposed skull. She is also drinking a large, strawberry smoothy.

The unicorn’s breathing is raspy and each step makes a series of whirs and clicks, even her neck makes the same noise when she turns her head to look at Lyra. It is at that point that Twilight realizes that the newcomer is a crude cyborg, and her neck, and half of her body and limbs are covered with tiny wires, gears, pistons, and joint systems. When the cyborg reaches Lyra she gives her the smoothy without hesitation and looks at Twilight while hungrily licking her lips. Twilight gets a shiver up her spine and starts shaking as the deformed unicorn looks down at her with a sick, twisted smile.

Adanz steps back. “She’s all yours, Terra.”

Twilight’s eyes widen with terror and tries to shake free from her bondage and charge her horn as Terra levitates a pair of rocks from her jacket. The rocks break apart like liquid and remold into a sleek blade, and Twilight can hear Lyra demanding to know what Terra is trying to do when the crazed unicorn steps in front of her.

“Hello there, do you remember me?” asks Terra in a mocking coo, her voice being scratchy and purely psychotic.

“I-I won’t talk! No matter what you do to me I won’t talk!” cries Twilight; her eyes filling with terrified tears and body trembling as Terra stands above her, grinning and twisting the knife in front of her.

“So you don’t fear me?” asks Terra as she kneels in front of Twilight, licking her burnt lips. “Even though I killed your pet dragon. What was his name? Dike? Pike?”

“HIS NAME WAS SPIKE!” screams Twilight; swearing painfully when the collars around her horn send out a surge of magic that makes it feel like her horn had been shattered.

Twilight’s head drops to the concrete floor, sending a ripple of pain throughout her skull. She sobs quietly and squeezes her eyes shut, trying to think of someplace other than the Hell she is in. A place like her library, where she and her friends would have slumber parties and talk about girly stuff, and then tease Spike when they caught him peeking. Or the nights at the Gala where something crazy would always happen, such as Spike and Pinkie Pie breaking into the kitchen to mix chili powder with the fruit punches.

“Why did you kill him?” sniffles Twilight.

“Kill who?”

“SPIKE!”

“Oh him? I was bored.”

Twilight glares at Terra, saying: “You’ll pay for what you’ve done.” through gritted teeth.

Terra presses her blade against Twilight’s face, right under her eye and digs the blade in. Twilight screams and sobs as she tries to free herself by thrashing and using her magic. But her horn sputters uselessly and she’s too tied up to move; the only thing that happens is the knife scrapes against her skin, leaving more scratches and coating her face with trickles of blood.

“You sure about that?” sneers Terra. “Why don’t you talk first, and then I’ll remove those horn cuffs and then you can get on to the... oh wait.” She snickers and shakes her head. “I just now realized that even if I did take these horn cuffs off you would still be powerless because of the mushrooms! How stupid of you to threaten somepony who has magic!”

Terra punches Twilight in the face, and her world goes into a blur and a loud ringing noise takes over when her head creaks against the pavement. She hears Lyra shouting something and Adanz shouting back at her, but she can’t understand a word they are saying over the ringing in her ears. Twilight winces when Terra uses her magic to lift her up by her mane and look into her sick eye.

“Why don’t you just talk? It’ll be a lot less painful for you.”

Twilight gulps and fails in her fights to hold back her shakes and tears.

“I won’t let you hurt any more of my friends,” she says with her last amount of defiance.

Twilight whimpers and starts crying when Terra’s blade hovers over her eye; over her thumping heart and choked breaths, she can hear Lyra and Adanz still screaming at each other, followed by the metallic doors slamming shut. When the doors slam shut, Twilight sobs harder and twists in her spot, desperate to escape.

“Do what you have to do,” orders Adanz.

The doors open and shut and through her cloudy, teary vision, Twilight sees Terra’s twisted smile widen and the knife get closer to her eye. It is just her and the devil now, locked in the clammy, dark room with a single lightbulb.

oooOOOooo

Lyra’s hoof goes over her mouth, and she leans against the rusted wall and slides to the ground, eyes closed and sobbing, when she hears Twilight’s agonizing shriek. She jumps when Twilight lets out another bloodcurdling, even more agonizing cry over Terra’s shouts. She reluctantly opens her eyes and sees a good number of the pones with her are staring at the door, most too horrified to speak, while others try to act like nothing is wrong. She then looks at Adanz, his back is to her and he appears to be preoccupied with talking to one of his soldiers.

There is another scream that makes Lyra jump and let out a small cry. Adanz turns to her and watches her for a couple of seconds, but all she can do is tremble and sniffle as Twilight’s cries and Terra’s shouts echo from the room and bounce off the concrete walls. When Adanz realizes how much of a mess Lyra is, he approaches her and points towards the exit with a solemn expression.

“Get some air, you’ll need it for what’s coming.”

Lyra glares at him with bloodshot eyes and trembling lips, but her glare is defeated by his stare. She reluctantly gets up and walks down the hall with her head down and tail dragging behind her, squeezing a waterfall of tears from her eyes and gritting her teeth when another one of Twilight’s tortured screams echo down the hallway.

=**********=

Rainbow Dash rubs some sandman crust from her eyes when the elevator doors lazily slide open with a ding. She smacks her lips and runs her tongue around her mouth to lick up the last of her breakfast crumbs, and she checks to make sure her uniform is crisp as she walks into the hallway. If the hallway wasn’t polished then Rainbow Dash would feel like she was walking in a tomb, but its clean and brightly lit with the walls being bare, save for a single, gold stripe running down its length and a sign that prohibits flying. As she walks down the hallway, she smiles nervously at other ponies that give her nervous glances and tries to tune them out when they whisper behind her back.

After going through the tedious checkpoints that check, double check, and triple check her identity and papers, Rainbow Dash finally makes it to the lobby of Research and Development. Like most lobbies, it has a wide open area filled with polished tables and posters along the wall. The posters have a wide variety of subject matter, ranging from proper etiquette in the premise to safety instructions in cases of emergencies; they even posted step by step instructions on how to properly do exercises.

Rainbow Dash looks around the lobby for a moment just for the sake of seeing if there is anyone familiar around; she sees ponies in uniforms conversing amongst themselves about their daily activities, but it seems that once one noticed her presence, everyone noticed her. The crowd stops talking and stares at her, and she takes a deep breath and walks in, flashing a cool smile. She uses her cool charm to greet a couple of mares drinking soda and they move to another table clear across the room.

“Oh boy,” mumbles Rainbow Dash as a couple more ponies scoot away from her when she nears them.

When she reaches the door on the other side, it opens up towards her and a familiar charcoal stallion pegasus walks out with a basic uniform on. He’s talking to someone behind him, so his head is turned away and he ends up bumping into Rainbow Dash. They stumble away from each other and shake the stars out of their eyes before looking at one another. It takes the stallion a couple of seconds longer than Rainbow Dash to regain himself, but when he does, his ears droop and his eyes widen at the sight of her agitated state.

“Watch where you’re going!” snaps Rainbow Dash.

“Sorry!” blurts Thunderlane shakily as he backpedals.

Rainbow Dash scoffs and bullies her way past Thunderlane, and once she is in the hallway and the door slams shut behind her, she stops dead in her tracks and glares at the last pony she wanted to see, hear or imagine. From the looks of it, Soarin is also dreading fate’s cruel joke of having them run into each other, but he also looks as though he has something to say but is having trouble saying it. However, Rainbow Dash doesn’t give him the chance to say anything, she snorts out hot air and storms past him, making sure he sees the murderous scowl on her face. As she stomps down the hall she can feel Soarin’s eyes on her, but she doesn’t look back and is glad that he hasn’t said anything to her since she has nothing to say to him.

“Rainbow, can we talk?” asks Soarin suddenly.

Rainbow Dash swears and fights every urge to turn her head to give him her version of the Stare. The only way she can do it, though, is to pick up her pace and keep her mouth shut, which she does, but it doesn’t stop Soarin from galloping after her. He repeats his question and Rainbow Dash now thinks the best way to escape is to fly. However, it seems that as soon as she spreads her wings, a military police officer appears out of nowhere and clears her throat obnoxiously while pointing at the sign prohibiting flying.

Rainbow Dash lets out an annoyed, explosive sigh as she puts her wings to her side and slows to a trot when Soarin appears next to her. She knows there is no escaping Soarin since she’s not allowed to fly, and the last thing she needs is to get dinged after barely getting out of jail. Especially when she’s on an unofficial top secret mission from the Captain of the Royal Guard.

“Rainbow, can-”

“Yes, we can talk! But make it quick I have work to do,” snarls Rainbow Dash.

“Well, you’ve been avoiding me ever since you got back and I just wanted to talk.”

Rainbow Dash rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I got that after the umpeenth time you said it.”

Rainbow Dash comes to a stop when she bumps into Soarin’s hoof. She rolls her eyes and turns to him, and he leads her to a  secluded part of the hallway after some effort to convince her to do so. Once there, he closes the door and makes sure no one else is around before he turns to Rainbow Dash, pawing the ground nervously. Rainbow Dash scowls and taps her hoof impatiently, and when Soarin’s awkward silence passes the ten second mark she heads towards the door, but he holds out his hoof pleading her to wait.

“You better hurry up, my patience with you is shot to shit,” says Rainbow Dash with a sneer.

Soarin opens and closes his mouth a couple of time before he is finally able to form a sentence. “I want to apologize.”

“You mean you want to apologize about how you left me in a prison cell when I needed you the most?” Soarin looks down to hide the shame in his eyes and Rainbow Dash shakes her head while looking away from his ugly mug to hide the tears building up in her eyes. “And to think I actually believed you when you said you enjoyed being around me.”

Soarin barely has the courage to look at Rainbow Dash, and when she looks at him he flinches and makes a small gulp. His eyes are also shining from the small bit of tears that formed, and Rainbow Dash almost accepts his apology right then and there, but his betrayal is too great to be let off with simple misty eyes.

“I did have fun with you. I did enjoy being around you,” Soarin says quietly, “but I... this is all I know. The Wonderbolts, Air Guard, this uniform... and when you did what you did I panicked.”

“Oh bullshit.”

“You don’t know, Rainbow. You don’t know what it’s like. You don’t know how much... you just don’t understand.”

Rainbow Dash ruffles her feathers and angrily points at herself.

“I don’t understand?” she says furiously, tears now rolling down her cheeks and voice cracking. “No, I do understand! You cared more about your career than me! You abandoned me when I needed you the most! My friend nearly died and I was arrested because I saved her! And what do you do? You leave! You left me when I was in a prison cell!”

Soarin makes no attempt to counter Rainbow Dash, and he can’t even look her in the eye. Rainbow Dash watches Soarin, though, hoping he will say something that will give her a reason to scream at him or punch him in the nose. But he remains silent. Rainbow Dash grits her teeth and stomps on the floor after the silence becomes unbearable for her; her stomp makes the Wonderbolt Captain flinch and look away.

“Aren’t you going to say anything!”

Soarin reluctantly looks at Rainbow Dash, gulping back whatever tears haven’t trailed down his cheeks. “I know I hurt you, and I haven’t forgiven myself for it, and I know my apologies won’t work.” He wipes his nose. “But know that I am, and will always be, sorry for what I have done to you, and I hope you’ll forgive me someday.”

Rainbow Dash scoffs and shoves Soarin away while stomping past him, being sure to whip his face with her tail along the way. She slams the door on her way out and marches down the hallway without looking back.

~~~~~~~~~~

It had been nearly a full shift after Rainbow Dash had her unpleasant encounter with Soarin; the whole time she was drilling, her body moved as commanded by Spitfire and she answered whatever question she could in a short, blunt fashion. Overall, she was a moody zombie and nobody talked to her, save for Spitfire who barked at her rather than talked like a normal pony. Not that Rainbow Dash had any major objections to it since she has already adjusted to the lifestyle of the Royal Guard to. But when the shift ended Rainbow Dash was more than eager to leave to get some more important work done. She didn’t say her farewells or stay for a small chat or after-practice massage, she just up and left the training grounds in a colorful flash and once inside began her brisk walking.

As Rainbow Dash walks through the complex, she doesn’t even bother to force a smile, she wants everyone to know that she is pissed and that no one should talk to her. Her idea works out very well, too, given that just about everyone she passes moves out of her way. Because of this, she is able to snake her way through the twisting hallways without anyone bugging her, but that goes without saying that she still had guards to evade. It isn’t even a challenge for her given that her speed and agility is one of the best in Equestria, matched only by a select few.

While sneaking she overhears the guards and passerbys talk about Shining Armor being wanted for the murder of Quill Pen. The news has been circulating like a wildfire ever since Shining Armor disappeared from his office, leaving just an apology letter for Cadence. Rainbow Dash personally thinks the situation stinks of set-up and also wonders how she will be able to tell Shining Armor of her findings, or, more importantly, if Brisk Wind and Major Fuller knew he had someone on the inside. Someone like her. As the thoughts become more dominate, the thoughts of how much of an ass Soarin was moves to the back burner and she becomes more nervous to the point where she gets the jitters and a phony sixth sense. Her movements become more sneaky and predatory, and for the first time in her life she is cursing her parents for making her so colorful.

After spending only Celestia knows how long snooping around and evading the guards, she comes across the place she wanted to be. Major Fuller’s office. She looks around to make sure that no one is around, and when she sees that the coast is clear she pushes aside the part of her brain urging for her to leave and approaches the door. Her nervous side of the brain is now banging pans and screaming at her to leave, and when Rainbow Dash checks the door she finds it to be unlocked. She stares at the door suspiciously for a couple of seconds, waiting for any signs of someone on the other side, before doing one last look around and pushing it open. She cringes when the door hinges squeak and slides inside while carefully closing the door. After it clicks shut she gets to work.

Rainbow Dash wasn’t sure what to expect when she snuck into Major Fuller’s office. She was sure it would be clean, which it is, and she was sure it would have medals along the wall, which it does, but she was not expecting to see so many low ranking medals. One in particular is a blue ribbon with the number five imprinted on it next to a glass case holding a polished bolt action rifle. Inside the case with the rifle  is a series of spent bullet casings, each one with a dated tag, and next to the case is a square formation of pictures.

Rainbow Dash looks over her shoulder to make sure no one is coming in before she gets a closer look at them. One is a picture of Major Fuller with a group of ponies celebrating their college graduation; he is wrapping his hoof around Quill Pen’s neck, wearing a party hat, and overall looking goofy. That is something Rainbow Dash has a hard time picturing, even with the photo evidence to prove it. Another one is a wedding picture labeled “Fuller-Aural Wedding”; Major Fuller is wearing his military uniform with Lock and Brisk Wind in the positions of best stallion and mare. The third picture is of him and Shining Armor at the Gala with Prince Blueblood; Shining Armor looks bored while Major Fuller and Prince Blueblood seem to be having a good time talking to each other. The fourth and final picture has Major Fuller shaking hooves with Braeburn at some kind of outdoor event, judging from the rows of tables stacked with food and banners in the background. Rainbow Dash  is surprised by what she’s seeing, but doesn’t give it too much time since she has more snooping to do.

She walks towards a bookcase and scans the copies of books and small glass decorations. The decorations are nothing spectacular, just birds and other forest animals in various poses. Rainbow Dash also finds books on ornithology and mythology. However, one book catches her attention; it has a red spine and gold lettering that spells: Shining Path. She carefully pulls it out and flips the book open to see what she could find. One thing she finds is that it has the University of Stalliongrad seal on it, but she thinks nothing of it and flips to a random page and starts reading. She loses track of time almost immediately as she reads the confusing, yet admittedly interesting, book about social and economic philosophy, and right as she was about to finish the chapter-

“I presume you’re enjoying the book,”  Major Fuller says suddenly, making Rainbow Dash nearly jump out of her skin and slam the book shut. She steps back when he enters his office and levitates the book back. “I enjoy reading it from time to time. It helps me think about the state of our world and how it can change for the better.”

“I’m sure it does,” says Rainbow Dash carefully as she moves towards the door without taking her eyes off of the unicorn.

Major Fuller walks in front of Rainbow Dash, forcing her to back up until her backside bumps into the bookshelf, and he keeps his eye on her as he points towards the rifle in the casing.

“And that is a Shire and Waler rifle. Developed by the Shire and Waler Defense Company, this model pioneered the rifles and provided the foundation for modern ballistic weapon developments.”

Major Fuller’s horn glows and the rifle floats out of its case, towards him, and the entire time he does not take his eyes off of Rainbow Dash. She watches him carefully, tensing her body and ruffling her feathers as she waits for him to show any signs of wanting to physically harm her.

“This particular rifle got me fifth place in the Annual Appleoosa Shooting Bananza.”

“Wow, you sure wear that medal proudly... sir,” says Rainbow Dash, sliding along the wall, away from the Major when he turns the gun towards her.

She breathes a mental sigh of relief when he points the barrel to the floor and opens up the chamber, peering inside like he thinks something he lost might be hiding in there. He snaps the chamber shut and glances up at Rainbow Dash, still keeping the barrel pointed at the ground.

“It helps me put into perspective on how skilled I have become with such a weapon. You know Crackshot, correct?” asks Major Fuller.

The tone in his voice, though even as usual, had a bad vibe to it. The way those words slid out of his mouth sent a shiver up Rainbow Dash’s spine, and she tries to hide her uneasiness by holding a stern expression. However, she has a feeling that Major Fuller can see through her attempt. So, knowing that she’s in hot water, Rainbow Dash tries to leave, but the door is shut and locked through telekinetic manipulation. Rainbow Dash turns around, now growling and ruffling her feathers as her eyes narrow on her superior. She’s always had a deep seated resentment for Major Fuller ever since that day at the hospital, but now she’s adding a bit of fear to that mix. The way his calculative eyes are looking at her reminds her of one of those eerie villains she read in her Daring Do collection.

“You better open that door if you know what’s good for you,” threatens Rainbow Dash, trying to make herself look bigger with her feathers; however, Major Fuller doesn’t show any signs of intimidation.

“Braeburn Apple, informally known as ‘Crackshot’, told me that the reason why he is so accurate with his weapons is because he follows a simple rule: ‘Aim small. Miss small’.” Major Fuller steps forward, eyes narrowing on Rainbow Dash and his rifle going back to its stand. “He also said that second chances are gifts that need to be held to the highest of standards. You are back, Airmare Dash, and while I do not approve of it, it is not my decision to make. Just know that you are on thin ice as it is, and that if I catch you where you do not belong again, I will end you. Dismissed.”

Major Fuller’s horn glows and the door swings open; he narrows his eyes as he backs up and Rainbow Dash wastes no time in leaving. She walks out of the room with a brisk pace without saying a word, and when Major Fuller closes his door, she releases a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Then she leans against the wall and sits on her haunches while rubbing her eyes with her hooves, which are now shaking.

When she recollects herself a few seconds later, she trots down the hall, mumbling: “Man, what a creep.”

=**********=

Trixie screams herself awake when the foghorns of the boat blare and shake her room. She fumbles under her covers and falls out of her bed in a tangled mess, groaning in annoyance, and when she is finally able to untangle herself she realizes something. She is wet. Her whole body is soaked! As in her face is dripping and her mane is matted down to her face, and the blanket is heavy from whatever soaked it.

She sniffs herself and thankfully finds nothing out of the ordinary, but she is still perplexed about her current condition. However, all thoughts are replaced with colorful swear words when the foghorn sounds again.

Trixie swears loudly and presses her hooves against her ears. She hears someone talking, but she can’t understand him -or her- over the obnoxious horn. When the horn’s deafening signal dies down, Trixie lifts her head up from over the bed and sees Monte standing by his bed, eyes baggy and half lidded with an unimpressed look while a bucket of water floats next to his head. Trixie uses her magic to untangle herself as her cheeks flush with embarrassment; she throws in a few swear words and grunts, too, when the blanket proves to be difficult.

After wrestling herself free from the blanket, she throws it against the wall and shakes the water off of her body like she is some kind of canine.

“Magician. Masked crime fighter. Heavy sleeper. You never fail to surprise me,” says Monte dryly; then he cracks a smile. “Although, I have to say, you look good with a wet mane.”

Trixie’s eyes narrow and growls while her horn sparks a little, and while she does wince slightly she still holds her glare. Monte’s smile disappears and he coughs nervously.

“I take it you don’t like the wet mane look.”

“I hate it,” growls Trixie, ears flicking when she hears Sunshine chuckle.

“Okay, note to self then. ‘Trixie likes dry mane look’. Anything else I should know before we leave the boat?”

“I’ll think of something later.”

Trixie walks to the bathroom, ignoring his commentary about how touchy she is. Once inside their tiny bathroom she grabs a towel and rubs her mane dry, that is until she sees Monte staring at her from the room. She frowns and slams the door shut before resuming her drying.

“Oh c’mon!” whines Monte. “There’s nothing wrong with watching a mare dry off!”

Trixie throws down her towel and grabs another on, this time to dry her tail off. “There is when you throw a bucket of water on the mare!”

“Two buckets, actually. Waking you up is a chore in itself and the only reason why I didn’t think you were dead is because you snore.”

Trixie’s stops and her eyes widen and her towel falls to the floor in a damp mess as she stares the door, horrified by what she had heard. Sure, she knew that she was a heavy sleeper because Pinkie Pie mentioned it a couple of times, but snoring? She never even realized she snored. Pinkie Pie had never mentioned it, nor anyone else for that matter.

“I thought my mom snored loudly, but you? Oh man, we’re going to have to put a muffler on you or something when we get to the hotel room,” continues Monte.

Trixie grabs one of the hoof towels and wipes her face and horn, being sure to be gentle with her horn. The rubbing does feel good against her coat and horn, and she really wants to take a warm shower just so she can get the knots out of her muscles. But she knows that it would be pointless since she already got a cheap shower from Monte’s stunt and she already dampened the towels, and she has no time for a relaxing shower.

Trixie groans in frustration and stomps outside when the horn sounds again, and the very first thing she sees is Monte’s amused smile. At first she is tempted to wipe that stupid smile off with a good punch to the mouth, then she wonders if her punch will injure him beyond use when she remembers how her attacks have a tendency to leave her targets with broken bones.

“You okay, Trixie?” asks Monte, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Trixie shakes her head. “I’m fine. Just thinking about how-” The horn sounds off again and Trixie swears and stomps the ground while glaring at the ceiling. “Seriously! What the hay is up with that stupid horn!”

Monte chuckles and levitates Trixie’s bag to her. “That is the wake up alarm. They want to make sure the tourists are awake since nopony is allowed on the ship once it docks.”

Trixie rubs her ear. “Why? Are they hiding something?”

Monte raises an eyebrow. “Um, no. It’s this thing called ‘rules’; something we should follow, especially in Bernese.”

Trixie snickers and walks past Monte as she puts on her pack. “This is coming from a crime lord’s lieutenant?”

Monte holds up his hoof in protest, but ends up sighing and trotting after Trixie without so much as muttering a protest to her words.

Trixie follows a sea of crowded passengers that are being herded through the hallways with the aid of ibex shipmates giving instructions in a mix of broken and fluent Equestrian. Trixie loses Monte through the crowd, although she knows she isn’t too far from him since she can still hear him calling her over the chatter. Trixie stops by a small pocket of peace where a couple of ibex shipmates are talking. They look at her and she guesses they are trying to order her to leave by the way they are waving her towards the crowd and urgently speaking to her. She tries to explain that she’s waiting for Monte, but the language barrier becomes too annoying and difficult for her; luckily Monte shows up, breathing a big sigh of relief and speaking in the ibex native tongue to excuse the two. The ibex wave them off and Monte stays close to Trixie as they shuffle towards the stairs.

“You are a horrible bodyguard,” says Monte, raising his voice to talk over the excited crowd.

“I was scouting ahead to make sure none of Brisk Wind’s agents were around,” lies Trixie.

“Well, if Brisk Wind’s agents were on this ship they would’ve killed you in your sleep.”

Trixie glares at Monte and is about to counter his claim with the most insulting thing she could think of at the moment, but her train of thought is interrupted by a cheerful ding that is loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Damen und sanftfohlen, willkommen bei Berner!” says the intercom with great enthusiasm clearly over the chatter.

Trixie and Monte are now near the door to the docks and she keeps her eyes on the same couple that had the ice cream the previous day. The two see her and they bak up behind a bigger stallion with a tropical shirt and straw hat; needless to say, he was very confused as to why the couple did that.

“Ladies and gentlecolts, welcome to Bernese!” translates another voice over the intercom, also enthusiastic and heavy on the accent.

Trixie pushes open the door and is immediately blinded by a flash of overwhelming sunshine and cheers, but when she opens her eyes, her jaw drops at the beauty of the site. The port is enormous to say the least, and the towering monuments and buildings along the edge make it all the more surreal. When Trixie looks over the railing she sees little tugboats pulling the ferry closer to the docks with other similar boats and ibexes wearing the appropriate attire tying up the ship and pushing a ramp towards them.

“Willkommen bei Buchtseite, Madam Trixie,” says Monte with a dramatic wave of his hoof.

Once the ramp is secured against the boat, the tourists walk off with eager smiles and converse excitedly amongst themselves about the wonders they will see. Trixie and Monte go down the ramp and she orders him to stay put by a souvenir stand while she walks ahead. As she walks ahead, she scans the area for any threats. She doesn’t spot any, but her mind is racing at all the possibilities of an ambush that could lay waste to them, such as a Gatling gun hiding inside an ice cream cart, a bomb in a garbage can, or maybe an assassin posing as a souvenir merchant ready to kill their target with a poison dart!

Trixie observes Monte by the souvenir shack she left him at. So far he looks okay, seeing as how he is chatting with a female ibex clerk with the flirty look in his eyes, but Trixie will not be taking any chances! She marches towards Monte and focuses her eyes on the clerk as she butts her way next to him. The poor clerk’s cheerful smile is replaced with a nervous one and Monte gives Trixie an annoyed look.

“Having fun, Monte?” asks Trixie harshly while scanning the shack for anything that can be used as a weapon.

“I was until you crashed the party,” replies Monte.

Trixie inspects the items on display and sees lots of little nit picky things. Things such as little Bernese flags -which consist of a white winged full moon with a navy blue background, dolls of famous figureheads and Luna, sunglasses, straw hats, and an assortment of cheap toys. But there is nothing that can be considered a weapon to a normal passerby.

But Trixie is no normal passerby, she sees potentially cleverly disguised weapons everywhere.

Trixie uses her magic to grab a small tube from the display rack and inspect it. It looks like a simple toy to an untrained eye, but Trixie knows that it is obviously one of those cleverly disguised weapons she was searching for, and she calls the clerk out on it.

“How clever of you to disguise this weapon as a toy,” she says sinisterly, ignoring Monte’s facehoof. “Let me guess, a dart gun? No. This must be a radio trigger for a bomb hidden somewhere close by. Like that garbage can!”

The ibex clerk shifts uneasily in her spot as Trixie puts her hooves on the countertop and leans closer to her. She uses her magic to grab the ibex and bring her close so that they are practically touching noses and so that they can hear each other over the commotion of excited tourists.

“How much are you being paid?” asks Trixie threateningly.

“Fa-five bronze an hour?” says the ibex terrifyingly and unsurely; she is now shaking and sweating profusely.

Trixie’s eyes narrow. “And why don’t I believe you?”

The ibex gulps.

“Okay, Trixie, that’s enough,” says Monte as he gently pushes Trixie away and puts the toy back where she found it, ignoring her protests.

He then turns to apologize to the ibex, but she already slammed her window shut and locked it and now has a closed sign hanging down. Monte frowns and looks at Trixie with great annoyance as she scans the area intently. Her eyes dart between every suspicious passerby, which is basically everyone, and her ears swivel towards ever suspicious noise, which is basically everything.

“I can’t believe you!” scolds Monte, snapping Trixie out of her recon state. “You probably scarred that poor lady for the rest of her life!”

“I was doing my job, Monte, which is protecting you from any harm,” counters Trixie.

“I appreciate the notion, I really do, but-” Monte puts his hooves on Trixie’s shoulders and looks into her eyes, and she also looks back into his, although hers are hardened while his are still surprisingly soft, “you are way too paranoid for your own good and need to relax. Brisk Wind can’t touch us in Bernese.”

Trixie shrugs Monte off. “You don’t know her. I’ve seen what she is capable of.”

“I was there at the raid, too, you know.”

Trixie shakes her head and walks through the crowd, being sure to stay near the buildings and constantly looking over her shoulder to make sure Monte is okay.

“But you were never her victim,” says Trixie grimly, eyes narrowing to slits and jaw tightening as her horn sparks a little. “You were never tortured. You were never betrayed and forced to hide by the ones you trusted.”

She sees Sunshine sitting on a bench, not too far from her, smiling eagerly, but when Monte steps in front of her line of sight and she looks past his shoulder, she sees that he had disappeared. Monte looks over his shoulder to where Trixie looked, and when he sees nothing but an empty bench he looks back at Trixie with worry.

“You’re talking about more than Brisk Wind, aren’t you?” he asks.

“Let’s just get those files,” grumbles Trixie. “You said you had a hotel room rented out. Where is it?”

Monte smiles and takes the lead with a burst of enthusiasm. “Follow me, madam, for I shall lead you to one of the most beautiful buildings in all of Equus!”

Trixie huffs and follows Monte down the road, and lets out a little groan when he goes on an intellectual tangent of how it is one of the largest buildings in the world, finely crafted, and a dozen plus other praises for it.

~~~~~~~~~~

After nearly two hours of walking and trying to keep Monte out of the souvenir shops and Trixie from doing street side interrogations for anyone that looked at them, the two finally make it to their destination. When they arrived, Trixie was thankful that they got there since Monte’s need to explain everything about the building and Bernese culture in general was driving her up the wall. But upon arrival, she finds herself stopping in her tracks to drink in the beautiful architecture of the hotel, and Monte steps aside and waves his hoof towards the building with a huge grin.

“Trixie, I present to you the Großartiges Hotel der Buchtseite,” says Monte proudly.

Monte wasn’t lying when he said that the hotel was a marvel of architecture. Its blocky base stands five stories high, and each of the towers on its four corners stand another fifteen stories. Its medieval style is enhanced by the cobblestone road and decorative shrubbery surrounding it, and the marble statue of an ibex wearing a General’s fancy armor and looking gallant as he poses on a rock with four other ibex in simple armor behind him. There are ibexes that occasionally stop with their kids or mate to read the bronze plaque at the base, which is surrounded by a carved in picture of an epic battle.

Trixie walks up to it and tries to decipher what it says, but all she gets is a headache.  Trixie scoffs and paces around the statue, deciding to ignore the plaque to marvel at the elaborate carvings around the base.

“This beauty was carved by the late Herr Chisel,” says Monte with a proud smile, then he points at the General. “That is General Scroll; originally he was a scribe, but after his town was conquered by the griffins he led a resistance network that rallied the ibex tribes and pushed out the griffins. The mural thing you see at the base is the depiction of the Battle of Buchtseite, and it was here that General Grizelda surrendered to General Scroll.”

To emphasize his point, Monte taps the base of the statue with a smile, and Trixie cocks her head and looks closer at the statue. While Trixie looks at the statue, Monte coolly leans against it as he inspects his hoof.

“It’s some cool stuff. You should really read up on Bernesenese history,” he says, retaining his proud tone.

“History is boring,” remarks Trixie carelessly, now walking away from the statue.

“Boring? Boring!?” Monte gasps and shakes his head in disbelief as he gallops after Trixie. “How can you possibly say that history is boring? History, my dear wife, is-”

Trixie holds out her hoof and when Monte bonks into it he stops moving and talking and she slowly turns her head to glare at him.

“Enough with the ‘wife’, Monte, we are not married.”

“I know that, but it is part of our cover, remember? You seriously need to relax; the amount of stress you’re in is not good for your health or your complexion.”

Trixie forces herself to laugh. “You want me to relax? Okay, fine I’ll relax!”

Trixie sticks her nose in the air and trots away from Monte with a huff and a flick of her tail that unfortunately missed Monte’s face. She increases her speed to a brisk walk when she hears Monte calling and going after her. He says something about them needing to stick together and a bunch of other stuff that she could care less about at the moment. She is relaxing, after all. Or at least trying to relax. But all the noise and possibilities of sniper position and other means of attacking them from a vantage point spin around like a carousel in her mind. And just to be sure that Monte isn’t lying dead or being kidnapped by EIB agents, she looks over her shoulder. Monte is fine, and is actually not too far from her, so if something does happen she will know about it. That little bit of closure actually does make her relax a little bit.

“Trixie, hold on a second, you’re-”

“I’m relaxing, Monte, remember?” interrupts Trixie snobbishly.

When she approaches the entrance of the hotel, she goes through a revolving door and ignores the ibex in a bellhop uniform greeting her. She approaches a glass door with a fancy trim and window decorations and tries to push it open. No luck.

Trixie frowns and pushes harder against it, grunting and working up a sweat as her hooves screech against the decorative tile. Her cheeks flush red with embarrassment and anger as a small crowd of tourists gather to watch the show. After nearly twenty seconds of grunting and pushing, she stops and slumps to the ground, panting and glaring the daggers of Tartarus at it.

“What the hay is wrong with this door!” pouts Trixie.

Then the door opens up towards her and Monte steps out with a teasing grin stretched across his face. Trixie’s eyes narrow and she points at him threateningly.

“Don’t you dare,” growls Trixie through gritted teeth.

“Having trouble with the exit, my dear?”

Trixie’s eyes narrow to slits and she grits her teeth as her body trembles; if she were a cartoon character there would be steam pouring out of her ears at this point. Her situation is only made worse when she  looks to her side and sees a couple flaunting how easy it is to go through the proper door with snickering children trotting next to them. Then she looks at Monte and finds herself having a difficult time trying to hold back the urge to smack that increasingly ridiculous smile off his face. She sighs explosively, climbs to her feet and swallows her anger to the best of her abilities.

“I want a divorce,” grumbles Trixie as she walks past Monte with her head down and tail sulking.

“You know you love me.”

Monte walks next to Trixie tells Trixie her that it was stupid of her to leave him behind since he’s the translator and knows how to open doors. Trixie instantly tells him to shut up after that door remark.

“Is somepony upset?” teases Monte.

Trixie rolls her eyes and follows Monte towards the receptionist desk. While Monte talks to the female ibex working the desk, Trixie decides to look around, but her plans are shot to dust when Monte’s magic keeps her locked in place. She glares at Monte, and he looks at her out of the corner of his eye and shakes his head like how a parent would quietly tell their kid “No”. Then he proceeds to talking to the receptionist with a healthy dose of charm and most likely a bit of flirting, given how the female ibex giggles as her cheeks flush red. Seeing this, Trixie mule kicks Mont on his hind leg. He was in the middle of a sentence when she did that, and he lets out an embarrassingly feminine yelp and glares at Trixie with tears in his eyes.

“What was that for?” whines Monte.

“I thought we were married, honey,” says Trixie in a mocking singsongy voice.

“I thought you wanted a divorce, sweetie,” retorts Monte, mimicking Trixie’s tone.

Trixie frowns and rolls her eyes to the ceiling when she hears Monte say something that made the receptionist giggle like a filly. Not wanting to hear any more of Monte’s nonsense, she tunes him out and scans the area.

The hotel is lobby is huge and well furnished, with full sets of furniture resting in their own areas marked by lavish rugs. There is also a huge fireplace that has a massive oil painting above it, as well as crystal chandeliers hanging down from the ceiling. And to finish it off, there are flags of the different regions of Bernese and many smaller pictures of famous ibexes. While the lobby is inviting and great to look at, Trixie is more focused on the picture above the fireplace.

The oil painting depicts a crowd of ibexes wearing high class clothing of their time, all in various poses that point to them being pleasantly surprised. The crowd is inside a large, rustic type room with an early Bernese flag hanging behind them with olive branches and weapons on either side of it. And in front of the crowd is General Scroll graciously accepting a book from Princess Luna.

Trixie does a double take and looks closer at the picture and realizes that the alicorn is, in fact, the Princess Luna, and the book she is giving away has the upside down, winged crescent moon on it that’s been popping up all over Equestria. When Trixie looks at the title, Geburt der Republik, she tries a mental translation, but ends up being thinking about how cool the painting is instead.

Then a pair of keys dangle in front of her face and she hears Monte singing: “Oh sweetie bell, lookie what I got.”

Trixie looks at Monte. “Did you just seriously call me ‘Sweetie Belle’?”

“No, I called you ‘sweetie bell’, not the overrated singer. Anyway, lookie what I got. The keys to our room.” He grins and raises his eyebrows playfully. “Deluxe suite.”

Trixie takes her key and groans angrily when she sees her least favorite number on it.

“What’s wrong?” asks Monte.

“That!” snaps Trixie as she points to the “505” imprinted on her key. “That number is what’s wrong!”

Monte arches an eyebrow. “You don’t like our room number?”

“No! I mean, yes! I hate this number! I see it everywhere and I don’t know why!”

“Maybe it likes you.” Trixie scowls and Monte trots towards the master staircase. “C’mon, we have a room to claim.”

~~~~~~~~~~

When they reach their room, Trixie stares at the gold plated numbers etched into their stylish door. She can feel her vein throbbing and her teeth ready to break from how hard she’s grinding them together. After Monte opens up the door he lets out a little girly squeal and runs inside, saying how beautiful the room is while Trixie remains outside, staring down the mysterious number.

When she walks inside, she closes the door with her magic and as soon as she sees the room she can see why Monte acted like a giddy filly. The room is spacious, like a loft, and has an uncompromised view of the city and ocean; the walls are decorated with warm colors and flowery wallpaper and pictures, the floor has a simple natural color to it, and there is a fancy furniture set that looks to be hoof-carved with great care. And to top it off, there is a dial radio resting on a nightstand beside the lamp, and next to the lamp is a copy of the Lunar Republic. Overall, the room looks like a place anyone can stay in, but there is just one little problem that does not sit well with Trixie.

“Monte,” sighs Trixie irritably.

“Yes?”

Trixie points to the queen sized bed in the hotel room, the only bed in the room, eyes half lidded and lips curled to a frown.

“Why is there only one bed?”

“I made arrangements to check up on the files before Brisk Wind went psycho on Gilda,” says Monte coolly. Trixie stares at him skeptically and he sighs heavily. “I’ll take the couch, you can have the comfy bed.”

Trixie yanks her bag from Monte. “Oh no, I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to guilt trip me into sleeping on the couch.”

Monte turns around and stares at Trixie with an unimpressed look.

“Can you explain how that makes sense?” he asks bemusedly.

Trixie sticks her nose in the air and puts her hoof to her chest while closing her eyes.

“Simple,” she says snobbishly, “a pony of your ego and stature would never sleep on a couch, therefore he would guilt trip his rival into sleeping on the couch while he gets the comfortable bed.” She opens her eyes to glare at Monte. “Not that I care anyway, since I’m your guardian and guardians don’t sleep on comfortable beds. We get couches; it helps us stay awake and alert.”

“So now you’re an expert on what it means to be a guardian?”

Trixie nods. “That is correct.”

Monte sighs and rubs his brow. “Just one problem with that, Trixie.”

“And what is that?”

“It is not proper for a mare to sleep on the couch.”

Trixie scoffs and marches after Monte as he puts his bag at the foot of the couch and pulls out a lavender jacket and with a matching vest. When Monte puts on his outfit, Trixie jabs him in the chest, making him grunt and stumble back.

“How dare you talk about etiquette when you are one of the slimiest ponies I have ever met!” yells Trixie angrily, having more fuel thrown on her annoyance when Monte rolls his eyes mockingly. “And don’t do that! That’s rude!”

“Oh please,” scoffs Monte. “You’re the last pony to be complaining about my manners.”

Trixie gasps at Monte’s insult, and struggles to find a proper response to it as he checks the softness of the couch by pressing his hooves down on it. When he’s done testing it, he lies on the couch and stretches himself out. Trixie watches him in his blissful state and when he closes his eyes and lets out a dreamy sigh while stroking his hooves against the fabric, she stomps her hoof. Monte jumps a little and gives her a quick, annoyed glance before resuming his snuggling with the cushions.

“What is wrong with my mannerism?” demands Trixie.

Monte looks at the clock hanging on their wall. “Well that only took you thirty seconds.”

“Monte.”

Monte reluctantly rolls off of the couch and sits in front of Trixie, and she remains standing and giving him the annoyed death glare.

“Okay,” begins Monte with a sigh, “for starters, you swear a lot, secondly, overreacting is like breathing to you, and thirdly, you never excuse yourself after you burp.”

“And that is sooo much worse than somepony who would mount any mare that bats her lashes at him?”

Monte points at Trixie defensively. “Hey, I always make sure they agree before I do any mounting.”

Trixie scowls. “Doesn’t make you any less of a pig.”

“Actually, it does make me less of a pig since I’ve never forced myself on any pony for any reason. I ask if they are okay with it, and if they say ‘Yes’ then we have fun, if not then I move on and play a board game or something with them. Although, I have to say with my looks and charm I get them ninety percent of the time.”

Trixie feels her blood boiling with agitation while Monte inspects his hoof while a cheesy, victorious grin stretches across his face.

“You don’t get it, Monte! What you do is disgusting, no matter if they say yes or no, and you probably have a disease from all your little sexcapades!”

Monte holds up his hoof, his grin replaced with a frown. “Okay, that’s enough! We need to move on to more important things. Like a certain safety deposit box.”

Realizing that Monte is right, Trixie carelessly tosses her bag on the queen sized bed with a huff and opens up the door to the hallway. Once the door is open she pokes her head out cautiously and scans the halls for any trouble. She doesn’t see anything in the hallway except for the nice furnishing and a couple of ibexes in maid outfits taking a service elevator.

Trixie looks back at Monte and waves him forward.

“C’mon, Monte, the coast is clear.”

“Roger that, Agent Moon Pie.”

Trixie shoots Monte a dirty look and he smiles innocently as does some last minute adjustments to his jacket and hat. When that is said and done he follows Trixie out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~

A taxi slows to a stop outside of the Bank of Bernese. It is a towering building with marble pillars and a domed roof with a statue of Princess Luna at the top of the stairs with her wings outstretched and looking down on the Bernese symbol painted on the staircase. The dome has the same winged full moon on the top and the rim has mountains with a moon behind them carved into it.

After the taxi stops, Monte climbs out and opens the door for Trixie, and after she climbs out she gives him a suspicious look.

“Are you doing this because I called you a pig earlier?” asks Trixie.

“How about a ‘Thank you’?” retorts Monte.

“Fine. Thank you, Monte.”

Monte smiles and closes the door. “It was my pleasure.”

Trixie stares at Monte out of the corner of her eye as she walks forward and he gives her a quick wink. Trixie rolls her eyes and scans the area. Naturally she sees a lot of ibexes walking leaving and entering the building, and when she looks over her shoulder she doesn’t see any suspicious vehicles.

Monte leads Trixie forward and as they climb the decorated stairs she spots a couple of ibexes wearing dark barding and armed with small battle saddles. She stares at them and they stare back, both parties ready to duke it out in an instant. One of the guards takes a step forward and Trixie snorts out some hot air, but Monte steps in front of her, blocking her view of the pair, before something horrible could happen.

“Not to worry, Trixie, they are just guards,” assures Monte.

“Cheerful bunch,” mutters Trixie.

Monte puts his hoof on Trixie’s back and guides her towards a pair of finely carved double doors. “If there is one thing an ibex values, it is their property, and that includes-” Monte pushes the door open and lets Trixie in first, “stuff they hold in their safety deposit boxes.”

Trixie looks around the area for just a moment before Monte guides her towards their destination. The inside of the bank is decorated with warm, natural colors and pleasant pictures and healthy flora. The walls are made of stained oak boards and hanging from the ceiling are numerous crystal chandeliers. Some of the pictures are even on the ceiling, and they consist of landscaping, city views, sailing ships, and, in the case of the ceiling, the night sky and Luna. The furniture they have consists of fancy desks and red velvety cushions and couches. And to finish it off, a massive Bernesenese flag is hanging from the backmost wall, looking over everything, and next to it is a sign saying: Tage bis Luna Tag: 1.

Monte and Trixie approach an old male ibex with a fading white coat and a gray goatee sitting behind an oak table with stacks of papers in baskets and office supplies; he is wearing a gray suit with a matching vest and little spectacles that fit perfectly with someone his age. His desk has a name placard that says “G. Bit” printed on it in gold letters.

When G. Bit sees them approach, he smiles and limps out from behind his desk, and Trixie tries very hard not to stare at the brace around his leg; she fails miserably. His motions are very stiff and each step makes a small clicking noise and when he reaches the two, he and Monte touch hooves, then Monte proceed to do a light hug. Trixie rolls her eyes and silently wishes that Monte would hurry up and get their box.

"Hallo, Herr Bit," says Monte cheerfully as he pulls away from G. Bit.

"Guten abend, Herr Fountain,” G. Bit says, returning the smile and walking back to his seat, his voice quivering slightly, “bist du hier auf dem safe zu überprüfen?"

"Ja."

G. Bit nods and gently eases himself in his seat. “Sehr gut.”

Then he looks at Trixie and smiles and says something to her; naturally she doesn’t understand a word he said, so she stares at him with a blank expression that would make a fresh whiteboard proud. Luckily for her, Monte wraps his hoof around her neck and pulls her in for a half-hug while interjecting in Bernesenese. But whatever Monte said makes G. Bit chuckle and move around his table just to kiss Trixie’s hoof. Trixie’s cheeks flush and she smiles politely, albeit with her uneasiness showing clear as day, and when G. Bit moves back to his seat she glares at Monte.

“What did you say to him?” asks Trixie in an angry whisper.

“What? You don’t like your hoof being kissed by an old guy?” remarks Monte with a teasing smile.

Trixie punches him in the shoulder and he chuckles like it was nothing, but Trixie smiles when Monte brings his hoof to his mouth to stifle his whine. Trixie jumps slightly when she hears a loud BANG! When she sees that G. Bit had pulled out a large, locked book with a thick cover, she breathes a sigh of relief, glad that it wasn’t a gunshot. The ibex taps the side of his brace and a key pops, and then he goes on to unlock the said book. Once the lock clicks open, he smiles and looks at Monte.

"Sehr gut, ich muss nur das passwort ein," says G. Bit while opening up the large book he pulled out.

Monte smiles proudly, adjusts his seat, and then puffs out his chest slightly. "Dweeb."

Trixie looks at G. Bit with a smug smile, glad that something is finally going in her favor.

G. Bit clicks his tongue and shakes his head sadly as his eyes scan the page he’s on. "Es tut mir leid, Herr Fountain, aber dies ist das falsche passwort."

Monte deflates and Trixie, still holding her smug smile, albeit with a lot of force, slowly turns her head to him. She has an idea of what’s going on and if Monte was paying any attention to her he would realize that her eye is twitching slightly.

"Aber du weißt, ich bin Monte und für die ich arbeite Gilda. Öffnen sie nun den safe!"

G. Bit slams the book shut and locks it good and tight before putting it away. "Nicht ohne das richtige passwort, Herr Fountain!"

Trixie facehoofs and chuckles irritably with a mix of whining when Monte gets up and shouts something to G. Bit in their tongue. G. Bit also stands up and shouts something back at Monte, and soon both of them are yelling at each other in a language that now sounds incredibly harsh to Trixie. When the two’s argument passes the minute mark, Trixie slams her hooves on the table, eyes narrowed, teeth grinding against each other, and horn glowing.

“Listen here, you little shit!” screams Trixie, prompting everyone in the bank to stop and stare at the table while Monte’s eyes widen as he scoots away from her. “I did not come all the way from Equestria after almost dying just to be told ‘No’! So give us the box!”

“No.”

That simple two letter word makes something snap in Trixie;. her ears fold back and her eyes narrow on the ibex, and he, in turn, glares back at her. Trixie’s horn glows brighter and sparks as she aims it at G. Bit; the ibex gulps, but remains in his seat and in eye contact with her.

“Monte, hold him down,” orders Trixie.

“Uh, Trixie...”

“JUST DO IT, MONTE!”

Trixie shifts her position and next thing she knows, Monte’s hoof jabs her horn, making her swear painfully and collapse to the ground while rubbing her horn, which is no longer glowing. Trixie growls demonically as she glares at Monte while using the desk for support, but Monte isn’t looking at her, he’s staring at someone behind her.

Trixie turns around and stomps her hoof, shouting: “Oh great!”

Standing in front of Trixie and Monte, clad in suits with dark barding and armed with small battle saddles are four buff ibexes. All four of them are staring at the two ponies with stone cold glares and tight jaws. Monte steps forward while putting on a sweet smile.

“Hallo-”

Monte’s sentence is cut short when the lead guard socks him in the jaw. Monte cries out in pain, pressing his hoof against his jaw as he twirls to the ground, and the remaining three lunge forward.

Next thing Trixie knows, she and Monte are sailing through the air, outside of the bank, and they land on a pile of garbage in the alley behind the building. Trixie swears up a storm while ferally kicking garbage bags away from her, and Monte whimpers as he tenderly rubs his jaw.

When both of them are up, Monte wobbles in his spot and wipes some blood off of his maw. Meanwhile, Trixie screams and bucks a garbage bag down the alley and then stomps on an old box until it is nothing but a flattened mess dented with hoof shaped indents. After destroying the defenseless box, Trixie slumps to the ground panting and eyes watering.

“I can’t believe this,” whines Trixie angrily. “Our one chance to take down Brisk Wind is ruined because you,” she glares at Monte, “forgot the damn password!”

Monte sputters incoherently for a couple of seconds while sitting on the ground and wanting to yank out his mane with his hooves.

“Wha-Wha-What! I- How was I supposed to know that Gilda changed her password?”

“How did you not know that Gilda changed her password? Weren’t you one of her top guys?”

“I was her postmaster! The bottom of the bottom of leadership status!”

Trixie, slumps on her haunches, throws her head back while groaning angrily and covering her eyes. At the moment she wishes she could rip her ears off and throw them at Monte. She can’t believe her miserable luck! Of all the ponies in Equestria that could get the files to destroy Brisk Wind, she gets stuck with the bottom feeder of higher-ups! And its a bottom feeder that can’t even do its job!

“A bucking postmaster!” cries Trixie.

She throws down her hooves, seething and face red from rage, and focuses her mental crosshairs right on Monte’s nose. Monte seems to know this, though, because he takes a step back.

Both of them snort hot air and keep their eyes glued to each other, and Trixie has a hard time thinking clearly due to the accusing thoughts screaming in her mind. She doesn’t understand how a postmaster would forget the password or why Gilda wouldn’t tell Monte something as important as a password change. She knows something’s not right. She smells a betrayal.

Trixie’s eyes narrow to slits and in a flash, Monte is thrown off of his feet, into the brick wall behind him. While he struggles to get up, Trixie jumps on top of him, ignoring his painful grunt and the unpleasant feeling in her horn. She then presses her hoof down on his neck, breaks an empty bottle, and aims the jagged edge at his jugular.

“What’s your play, Monte! Are you you working for Brisk Wind!” demands Trixie over his whimpering.

Monte’s jaw drops. “How can you say that! I have done nothing but tried to help you!”

“Oh really?”

“Yes! Really!”

“Name one time you tried to help me!”

Monte uses his magic to throw Trixie off of him, towards a pile of garbagee bags, and he scrambles to his feet, heart racing and face wet from sweat and tears.

“Are you kidding me!?” cries Monte.

“Answer the question!” yells Trixie after throwing the bottle at Monte’s head; he barely dodges it and takes a split second to watch it shatter to an oblivion.

“FINE!” screams Monte as he lunges closer to Trixie, making her take a couple of steps back in a defensive stance. “Let’s count shall we? First, I have offered you a job by my side! Secondly, I have shown you my tricks in hopes that somepony like you would say ‘Gee, Monte, that was a cool trick. Let’s work together.’! But no! You act like you’d rather be some poor sap stuck at an entry level job because you are too afraid to succeed!”

Trixie grits her teeth and growls at Monte, and he, in turn, does almost the identical thing. So now both of them are practically touching horns, their veins are throbbing, and their eyes are magnitized by the furious state they are in.

“You wanted to use me to make your shows better!” accuses Trixie, jabbing Monte in the chest.

Monte retaliates by poking Trixie in the chest. “Your sponsors used you but you didn’t seem to mind that little detail, now did you!?”

Trixie screams furiously, claiming it was just business as she stomps the ground while Monte remains planted in his spot, keeping his glare fixated on her.

“And you know what else? I’m here in Bernese risking my life for you.”

“Oh you’re so full of shit!” screams Trixie in disbelief.

Trixie remains standing her spot and watches Monte approach her, panting with a huge scowl on his face and eyes becoming bloodshot.

“No I’m not! You are my priority! Not me! Not Gilda! You!” Monte practically jabs Trixie in her chest again, but she takes a couple of steps back so he doesn’t touch her. “I am doing this for you! Even though your father practically enslaved me because of how much I owed him! Even though your arrogance made a couple of idiots bring in an Ursa Minor to Ponyville! Even though you ruined Hank’s career! I’m still doing this! For! You!”

With each passing sentence Trixie stepped back a little and Monte stepped forward, but his strides were larger than her’s and she soon found herself slightly cowering before him. Trixie stares at Monte with wide eyes and her disbelief replaced with shock; he is now panting and his mane is a mess.

Monte steps back and brushes his loose mane away while trying to keep his eyes off of Trixie. Trixie goes to grab his hat, but he uses his magic to snatch it away and place it neatly on his head, still keeping his eyes off of her.

“But you’re right. I don’t... I don’t deserve your trust,” he says in a softer tone after slumping to the ground. “I’m not a good pony. I’m a pig. I’ve done terrible things to others, and yet, here I am... with you, Equestria’s very own, real life comic book hero, ready to take on an entire corrupt agency.”

Trixie quietly watches Monte slump to the ground and brush more of his mane back; he lets out a deep, depressing sigh and stares up at the sky before looking somewhere other than at Trixie. Trixie stares at him for a couple more seconds before looking down at the box she mutilated during her fit. As she stares at the box, she tries to think of something, anything, but her mind is completely blank. All she can really do is register the sounds of passing vehicles, the warmth of the sun, and the alley dirt under her hooves. Nothing about what had just happened within the past day, or more importantly, the past fifteen minutes. She opens her mouth to say something to Monte, but closes it when she can’t find the words to say. She tries again, this time looking up at him, but the same thing happens and his impatient look isn’t helping her any. When Monte looks away from her, she lets out a small sigh and cautiously approaches him, biting her lip when he turns away from her.

“Why are you...?”

"Doing this?"

Trixie fights to keep her eyes on Monte as she nods her head, and he swallows some spit and wipes his maw.

“Because you’re better than me. Always have been, always will be,” replies Monte quietly before wiping his eyes. “And you need this more than I need a check from Gilda.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small book  and a bag of money with his magic and gives it to Trixie. “Here’s some money and a basic Bernesenese language book; it’ll have all the greetings, leavings, and basic questions and a small map of the city in there. Relax. Have fun. I’m going back to the hotel. I need to figure out Gilda’s new password, anyway.”

“But-”

Monte holds up his hoof sternly. “As my bodyguard, I am ordering you to enjoy the sights. Now go and let me work.”

It takes Trixie a couple of seconds to reluctantly grab the offered items with her magic, and after doing so, she silently watches Monte walk away in a sluggish pace with his head down. Trixie sighs heavily and stares at the book, when she looks up she barely catches Monte rounding the corner. Trixie then looks around nervously before she grumbles and kicks away more garbage and walks away in the opposite direction of Monte.

~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours later, with the moon looking down on the brightly lit city, Trixie wobbles down the street, levitating abag, a bottle of alcohol and a small plastic container of cheap pills with an ibex on it that has an exaggerated grin. As she trots down the sidewalk, she tries to focus on her surroundings, but she’s seeing doubles and it seems like the light from the lamp posts are being stretched out while the noise is garbled. In spite of these things, though, Trixie still loves the feeling of bliss she’s getting from the drink; she feels lighter, like all of her troubles were lifted off and drowned in a river, and when she bought those pain pills from the convenience store, after some trouble from the language barrier, she couldn’t feel any of her sores from the cumulative injuries. To her, it was like having a soda and candy snack that gave her more pleasure than the sugary treats. They eliminated her pain and worries. Something those treats cannot do.

Trixie continues her walk down the colorful street, surprised that there are civilians walking around with shopping bags and chatting like it is in the middle of the afternoon. A smile flickers across her face as she  remembers those days in Equestria, when ponies can walk around Canterlot at night without worry. However, one thing that she finds odd is that there is a lot of military propaganda posters plastered all over the walls of the buildings. One poster that catches her eye is a poster for the what she is guessing is their army. It displays a fierce ibex soldier, wearing combat armor and aiming his battle saddle at a griffin soldier swooping down with their claws extended and battle saddle aimed; the soldier is also standing in front of a cowering family and underneath is a sentence that Trixie does not care to translate. The other posters show things like a line of ibex in uniform standing proudly and looking off in the distance with a heavily armed and armored zeppelin flying above them; or soldiers on the deck of a ship guarding a city in the background. The thing that makes her stomach churn, though, is an instruction poster that is clear enough to where she doesn’t even need to read it to know what it is about. The pictures show basic, easy to read, step-by-step instructions on what to do in case of a bombing raid. The bomb is marked by a silhouette of one inside a warning sign, and every ibex in the picture is designed to be simple silhouettes as well; there are examples on how to properly carry injured, what to bring and what not to bring, how to stay together, and they even have arrows to bomb shelters and medical stations with the crossroads labeled.

Trixie shakes her head and makes her way back to the hotel, drinking her drink and staying close to the walls so that when she does lose balance, she’ll have something to lean on. When she is almost at the hotel she passes a group of young ibexes giggling and standing in front of a poster of a group of ibex soldiers; only the lead soldier has a mirror where his head is supposed to be. Each of the children take turns trying to look at their reflection, throwing in their own commentary and laughs, and Trixie continues to watch them until they are called away by their parents. Once they leave, Trixie resumes her trek back, stopping by a garbage can when she feels like she’s going to hurl. She coughs and gags and tries to force herself to barf, but nothing comes out, thus making her grumble unintelligibly and leave the trash can before any more ibexes give her funny looks.

Once she reaches her hotel room, she tries unlocking the door, but the key refuses to go into the darn lock. Trixie swears loudly and stabs at the door, leaving scratches on the doorknob and paint, and when the door opens up, she accidentally pokes Monte’s hest with the key. Monte jumps back and rubs the spot Trixie stabbed. Trixie giggles when she sees Monte’s reaction and leans against the doorway for a moment when it feels like the floor shifts from under her.

“Sorry, honey,” giggles Trixie.

“I take it you had fun,” says Monte sourly; his eyes are bloodshot and he is reeking with alcohol.

“Trixie had all kinds of fun! Trixie found all kinds of cool stuff and no Brisk Wind or Shocky was around to ruin it! Ibex sound funny. Do you think they sound funny?”

“Considering I grew up here, no.”

Trixie snickers as she wobbles past Monte, brushing her tail against his coat in the process. “Well Trixie thinks they sound funny. You sound funny, too when you speak Burnaniece.”

Monte closes the door. “It’s Bernesenese.”

Trixie chugs the last of her beverage and throws it in their room carelessly. She then tries to skip around the apartment, but she nearly falls flat on her face; luckily for her, Monte quickly catches her and sets her upright. When he notices Trixie’s pills he yanks them away from her, but she’s too tipsy to care at the moment. Besides, she’s too busy taking out her next bottle, and when Monte sees what she’s drinking his jaw drops.

"Uh, Trixie, I wouldn't drink that if I were you," says Monte uneasily while pointing at the bottle of Wild Pegasus that Trixie is holding. "You already had quite a bit to drink, and ‘Wild Pegasus’ is for professional liquor holders."

"You don't think Trixie can’t not not hold her liquor?" accuses Trixie, slightly wobbling in her spot.

Monte blinks. "Um, let’s just say you are having a lot to drink in a short amount of time, which is not good, especially for-”

“No, it’s naughty,” slurs Trixie, putting a lot of sensual emphasis on “naughty” and adding a sultry tail flick to the mix.

Trixie snickers when Monte turns away from her, rubbing his face in a feeble attempt to hide the raging blush conquering his face and ears. She gets a large, devilish smile as she watches the Montes mumble incoherently, then she sashays over to him; or tries to at least. She ends up tripping over her own hoof and face-planting the floor. Trixie feels Monte’s hoof wrap under her and gets a surreal feeling as she’s lifted off of the ground and eased into the sitting position. She giggles and sways in her spot, despite Monte’s best efforts to keep her still, and when she leans against him, he lets out a nervous whimper. Then Monte suddenly darts away from Trixie, and she falls to the ground laughing idiotically. He uses his magic to grab the bottle Trixie tossed in their room; it’s another Wild Pegasus.

“You had two of these!” cries Monte, eyes bulging and jaw almost falling off from how far it dropped.

“Of course Trixie had two of those, Mutie,” chuckles Trixie, giggling louder after letting out a sickly hiccup. “Trixie does like a good bottle of the good stuff from time to time.”

Monte shakes his head, throwing the bottles aside and sitting on his haunches. He grabs his head and mumbles something Trixie cannot understand. But she doesn’t care, she has a fantastic fire in her belly, three Montes to tease and the world is spinning! It doesn’t get any more fun than this, especially after the fiasco at the bank.

“Relax, Monte number-o one,” giggles Trixie as she jumps towards the bed; she underestimated the distance, though, and ends up crashing into the foot of the bed, but before Monte can help her, she clambers onto the bed as if nothing happened. She paws on the bed like a picky feline before looking at Monte number two. “Monte Dos, tell Monte One to relax.”

“It’s you who needs to relax!” exclaims Monte when Trixie leaps off the bed, singing the Smile Song in the worst singing voice he has ever heard. “You just mixed pills and two bottles of Wild Pegasus! Do you have any idea-”

“That’s what she said!”

“That doesn’t even make sense! Get back here!”

“You’ll have to catch Trixie first!”

Trixie makes a run for the door, but before she can reach it, Monte zips in front of her and she ends up tackling him. Both ponies roll over each other and bounce across the floor, coming to a stop by the garbage bin.

“Ooh, do you want to wrestle, Funtan?” teases Trixie, her slur seemingly worse than earlier, and her tail flicking provocatively against Monte’s. “Trixie can garrat-teen that you’ll lose.”

Monte pushes Trixie off.

“Okay, Trixie, you had way too much to drink. You need to relax or else you’ll puke up everything.”

“And Trixie will puke all over you.”

Monte frowns. “That was nasty.”

Trixie points and laughs at Monte, eventually rolling on her back and kicking her hind legs wildly while still managing to keep her forehoof pointed at him. She doesn’t know how or why, but something about Monte’s facial expressions and nervous behavior is cracking her up. Maybe it’s the way the stallion’s face is red, or how he’s stumbling over his words constantly? Or perhaps it’s because she has never seen him so nervous before, even when he was in the middle of a bloody raid at the griffin enclave.

Trixie becomes relentless in her teasing, and starts to get even more obnoxious when Monte tells her to knock it off in a whiney tone.

Then she feels it.

Trixie suddenly feels her stomach contents surging to her throat and her face turns green as she bolts to the bathroom. When she slams the door shut and pukes her guts out in the toilet, she hears Monte taking full advantage of her misery by laughing obnoxiously. Trixie groans and rubs her head, wanting to puke again when she sees the chunky, orange vomit floating around in the toilet water. She then glares at the door when Monte laughing shows no sign of stopping, Trixie grits her teeth and pushes the door open as hard as she could, wobbling in place and having some difficulty focusing on the zony. Monte holds up his hoof defensively when he sees Trixie seething at him; but despite her glare, he is still smiling and struggling to hold back his laughter.

“Don’t you dare say it,” growls Trixie, her slur retaining a small presence.

“I-”

“Don’t!”

“But I-”

“Monte!”

“I told you-”

“MONTE, DON’T SAY IT! DON’T YOU BUCKING SAY ANYTHING!”

Monte puts his hoof over his mouth, and his shoulders buckle as he fights a losing battle to keep his laughter under control. Trixie watches Monte for a couple of seconds before she sits down and gently rubs her temple. She then lets out a deep, aggravated sigh and rubs her eyes to ease the discomfort before brushing loose, sweaty strands of her mane from her face.

“Oh goddess, I feel like shit,” groans Trixie.

“I told you so,” blurts Monte.

That does it. Trixie screams furiously and charges Monte. He holds up his forehooves defensively, laughing and managing a “Don’t hit me!” before being tackled to the ground by the azure torpedo.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, Trixie groans and shifts under her cover, the hotel's fluffy, silky cloth rubbing against her coat is like music to her ears. When she shifts the pillow to make it more comfortable using her hoof, she realize that her body feels numb, like she's recovering from a strenuous, but well worth it, exercise. Also, every bit of light and city noise brings pain to her eyes and ears, making for a very odd combination.

'Perfect,' thinks Trixie wryly as she squeezes her eyes shut and buries herself under the blanket.

Trixie also presses her face harder against her pillow in hopes that its cloudy comfort will outweigh the discomfort from the morning activity. But she can't because the hangover she's experiencing is demanding her price be paid in suffering; plus her pillow is wet. She reluctantly opens her eyes she sees a massive drool stain on her pillow. Her eyes narrow in on the menace and before she can curse herself for drooling, the worst morning breath she's ever experienced attacks her mouth in full force. Aside from the natural, painfully icky morning breath, there's also a weird taste in her mouth that she can't explain. Trixie gags and breathes into her hoof, scrunching her nose when she gets a better scent of her horrid breath.

Trixie groans quietly as she runs her hoof through her messy, bedheaded mane, and her eyes widen when she realizes that the numbness she's feeling is strongest in the lower parts of her body. She stops messing with her mane and looks at the blanket. She winces as she reluctantly lifts it up, and what she sees is so horrifying that she slams it back down with her hooves covering her mouth. Her silvery, curly tail and lower body is caked in something she has seen all too much when she was desperate for money. She looks over at the couch, and to her horror, Monte is not on it, just some garbage, and a lump next to her snores and mumbles something softly in the zony’s voice.

Trixie's worry increases tenfold as she sits up, doing her darndest to ignore the aches, and lifts up the blanket to see Monte sleeping peacefully next to her. His mane ruffled and he looks way too happy, and it concerns Trixie how he’s hugging a drool covered pillow like it was his prized lover. He mumbles something again and Trixie's jaw drops when her mind puts the pieces together. No recollection of last night. Hangover. Mysterious aches. Mysterious bad morning breath. Messy, blissful Monte next to her in a bed.

Trixie clamps her hooves over her mouth, blushing furiously, after letting out a terrified squeak that makes Monte stir.

"Mmmm, Trixie, you taste good," mumbles Monte happily, dragging his tongue along the pillow.

Trixie's eyes bulge and when she realizes how messy the room, she just wants to die from humiliation. Along with empty bottles all over the floor, Monte's clothes are in the weirdest of spots and there are empty food containers from room service scattered with food stains all over the place.

Trixie trembles in her spot.

Then she looks at Monte.

Then around the room.

Then at the wall directly in front of her with horrible outcomes playing through her mind.

Trixie shrieks at the top of her lungs and Monte screams in pain and falls off of the side of the bed, clutching his ears.